A New Halakhic Compendium of Jewish Belief

A New Halakhic Compendium of Jewish Belief

Y. Tzvi Langermann

Professor Y. Tzvi Langermann is Professor Emeritus of Arabic at Bar Ilan University in Ramat Gan, Israel. He has published widely on science, religion, and philosophy in medieval Jewish and Islamic cultures.

Over the past thirty-plus years Rabbi Eliezer Melammed (b. 1961) has been issuing volumes of up-to-date rulings on halakhah. The series, called Peninei Halakha (“Pearls of Halakhah”) is very popular; on sale in most Israeli bookstores, it is also now freely available online, translated (in part at least) into English, French, Spanish and Russian. There is also a children’s version in comic book form. The series covers the usual topics, such as laws pertaining to the Sabbath or the kosher kitchen, but also complete volumes on topics that were little studied, such as conversion, or that have come to prominence only recently, such as women’s prayer gatherings.

The volume I am speaking of is not a philosophy of Judaism but a halakhic (legal, normative) compendium, following the example (but in a very different format, not to mention content) of the first section of Maimonides’ great legal code Mishneh Torah. In this connection, perhaps the most striking observation is the following. Rabbi Melammed’s approach is non-dogmatic. It is usual in formulations of normative religious belief for the author to present his personal opinion as the one and only correct one. (Maimonides mollified this attitude in the presentation of his famous set of thirteen foundational doctrines…) In his preface Rabbi Melammed relates that he consulted with the staff at his yeshiva and, on occasion, modified his position in response to feedback which he received.

He also is willing to acknowledge that his position differs from what he and/or his staff understands to be the current consensus, and to make some effort to accommodate opposing views. For example, in the chapters on magic, clairvoyance, augury and “practical kabbalah,” the Rabbi explicates the “spiritual roots” that enable such practices, both from the features of holiness and the features of impurity that may be involved. However, his draft was strongly criticized for two main reasons: his staff alerted him to the fact (if only this were true!) that the current consensus concurs with Maimonides’ denial of occult powers. Moreover, those who believe in occult powers have a tendency to fall into serious error “in the fundamentals of belief and morality.”

The rabbi was not convinced by their arguments. However, he decided to present the position of Maimonides and the Maimonideans “respectfully” for a number of reasons, most notably “so that anyone who tends toward their position may feel comfortable even though they patently reject the position of Nahmanides and the kabbalists” – the latter, needless to say, accept occult powers as true features of our world, and Rabbi Melammed relies upon their authority. Dogmatic theology, intentionally or not, alienates those who cannot accept its precepts. Rabbi Melammed is aware of this danger and does his best to avoid doing so.

Just as his series includes volumes on new or neglected topics, so do the two volumes on belief extend their range beyond what one finds in the earlier (in fact, it is much earlier) literature. For example, there are sections on how Judaism looks upon Christianity and Islam; Jewish thinkers have engaged with those two religions since their inception. However, there is also an independent section on “eastern religions,” most of it devoted to Hinduism. Though Jews have visited India, and lived there, for quite some time, it is only in the twentieth century that Jews in significant numbers (and some influential individuals) began to take a serious, personal and spiritual interest in eastern religions – mostly Buddhism, which receives less attention. It should not come as a surprise that Rabbi Melammed is not all that well informed about these religions, but that is not the point. His engagement is far removed from religious polemic following that is a section on “The Future of Religions” which is strongly influenced by the views of Rabbi Avraham Kook (1865-1935). Rabbi Melammed acknowledges that his book is based by and large on the teachings of Rav Kook, which he absorbed from his youth from his father, who was a devoted disciple of Rav’s Kook son, Tzvi Yehudah Kook, who published his father’s writings, interpreting or rather re-interpreting them – some would say misinterpreting them. However, in “The Future of Religions” he re-emphasizes that what he writes is based on the writings of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook –perhaps because they do not square with views held by “Kookists” of various sorts, students of students of the great rabbi? Rav Kook was of the opinion that there is an innate sense of, and quest, for God in all humans. (This reminds me of the Islamic notion of fiṭra; but that is a story for another day.) However, some humans are unable to refine their quest so as to divest their conception of God of any and all materiality. Hence, the proliferation of idol worship in ancient times, and the continual employment of icons and other images into our own day. Significantly, this perspective detects a positive element in idol worship – the idolaters are trying to worship the one and true God, but they don’t know how to do it. (Shades of the Khazar king in Halevi’s seminal Kuzari – but this point too cannot detain us here.) One of the main tasks of the people of Israel is to guide all nations towards the “light” of the true conception.

This section accordingly carries many footnotes, some quite lengthy, with liberal quotations from Rabbi Avraham Kook. Rabbi Melammed masses additional support for this approach to religion from a range of earlier Jewish thinkers: passages from the medieval philosopher Joseph Albo (c. 1380 – c. 1444), the nineteenth-century Italian rabbis Marco Mortara (1815-1894) and Elia Benamozegh (1823-1900), as well as short, surprising (for me at least) quotations from the Vilna Gaon (1720-1797) and Jacob Emden (1697-1776).

This post is nothing more than a small Vorspeise. It will be interesting to see what if any interest this volume stimulates.

 




‘And Moses Hid His Face’: Isaac Abarbanel and Maimonides on the Nature of Prophecy

‘And Moses Hid His Face’: Isaac Abarbanel and Maimonides on the Nature of Prophecy
Eric Lawee

Eric Lawee is a full professor in the Department of Bible at Bar-Ilan University, where he teaches the history of Jewish biblical scholarship. His *Rashi’s Commentary on the Torah: Canonization and Resistance in the Reception of a Jewish Classic* (2019), published by OUP, won the 2019 Jewish Book Award in the category of Scholarship of the Jewish Book Council (Judges’ Remarks below) and was finalist for a Jordan Schnitzer Book Award of the Association for Jewish Studies in 2021. He holds the Rabbi Asher Weiser Chair for Medieval Biblical Commentary Research and directs Bar-Ilan’s Institute for Jewish Bible Interpretation.

Throughout his life, the great commentator on the Torah of the “generation of the expulsion,” Isaac Abarbanel, engaged in a searching, fruitful, and at times highly conflicted dialogue with Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides), the medieval predecessor whom he most admired. Some elements of the Maimonidean legacy Abarbanel greatly esteemed but others he strongly rejected. One teaching of Maimonides on a fundamental issue that Abarbanel considered dangerously wrongheaded lay in the sphere of prophetology. Maimonides understood prophecy as a natural occurrence. On this view, anyone who fulfilled the necessary conditions for prophecy would prophesy. Concomitant with this approach was Maimonides’ notion that a prophet had to engage in “preparations,” moral and especially intellectual, to attain prophecy, which Maimonides viewed as the highest form of human perfection.[1]

In discussing the nature of prophecy, Maimonides outlines three positions. The first is the belief held by the vulgar (pagan as well as some simpler adherents of the Torah) that God can transform whomsoever God chooses into a prophet. On this view, prophecy is a miraculous phenomenon and an expression of the sovereign will of God. Since the prophet is chosen by God’s will without precondition, there is no need for “preparations” to become a prophet. By contrast, Maimonides claims that there is consensus between the philosophers and the Torah that prophecy is a natural phenomenon. Those who, over the course of their lifetimes, attained the requisite moral perfection and, above all, intellectual perfection, would necessarily achieve prophecy, as it was not contingent in any way on the volitional intervention of God. From this understanding, it followed that prophecy demands arduous preparation.[2]

In responding to this presentation of the matter in his commentary on The Guide of the Perplexed, Isaac Abarbanel departed from the role he assigned to himself exclusively as an expositor of Maimonides. Unable to hold back, he sharply criticized Maimonides’ positions on the subject:

I say that the first principle upon which the Rabbi built his “line of confusion and a plummet of emptiness” (cf. Isa. 34:11)—that is, that prophecy is a natural perfection that comes to one prepared for it […]—is false.” Prophecy is a miraculous occurrence, contends Abarbanel, “that comes directly from God.”[3]

Put otherwise, Abarbanel’s view aligns with that of “the multitude of ignorant individuals among those who believe in prophecy,” whom Maimonides dismissed with derision. Since, according to Abarbanel, prophecy is a supernatural occurrence, it does not require preparation on the part of its recipient, though it does require moral rectitude on the part of the prophet.[4]

While, however, vehemently rejecting Maimonides’ understanding of prophecy in his commentary on The Guide of the Perplexed, Abarbanel strikes a different note in his commentary on Exodus in the course of explaining a midrashic debate concerning Moses’ behavior at the burning bush: “And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God” (Exod 3:6). Abarbanel quotes a disagreement between R. Joshua ben Korḥah and R. Hoshaya:

One [R. Joshua ben Korhah] said: Moses did not act properly when he hid his face, for had he not hidden his face, the Holy One, blessed be He, would have revealed to him what is above and what is below, what was and what is to come. Later, Moses requested to see, as it is stated: “Show me, I pray, Your glory” (Exod 33:18). The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “When I wished [to show you], you did not wish [to see]; now that you wish [to see], I do not wish [to show you],” as it is stated: “For no man shall see Me and live” (Exod. 33:20). And R. Hoshaya said: Moses acted properly when he hid his face. The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “I came to show you My face, and you honored Me by hiding your face. By your life, as a reward for this, you shall sit on the mountain for forty days and forty nights and enjoy the radiance of the Divine Presence,” as it is stated: “And Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone” (Exod. 34:29).[5]

At this point, in a pattern widely attested in his biblical commentaries, Abarbanel diverges from his task of engaging in running exposition of the Torah to offer a detailed interpretation of the midrash that he cites, stating: “It is fitting that we understand in what these sages disagreed and what the intention of each of them was.”

Beginning with Joshua ben Korḥah, Abarbanel explains the somewhat elusive dispute in terms of the debate over the nature of prophecy that so sharply divided him from Maimonides:

It seems that the dispute between these two perfect ones was about whether prophecy requires some sort of prior natural educational preparation or does not, it being from the divine will alone, [these two views being] in accordance with those opinions mentioned by the master and guide in chapter thirty-two of part two [of the Guide]. R. Joshua ben Korhah would then be saying that training is not a necessary precondition for [achieving[ prophecy since it is by the will of God that the prophet prophesies.[6]

Abarbanel attributes the opposing view to R. Hoshaya:

However, R. Hoshaya praised Moses for what he did, for he held the view that prophecy requires prior preparation in the prophet […] as the master and guide [Maimonides] wrote. Therefore, Moses, being at the beginning of his prophetic journey, hid his face because he was not yet prepared for the great perfection he would later attain.[7]

Bearing in mind the implacable opposition that Abarbanel expresses in his commentary on the Guide to the claim that prophecy is a natural occurrence requiring “preparations” (“line of confusion and a plummet of emptiness”), it is nothing short of astonishing that Abarbanel utters no criticism of this view when explicating the midrashic controversy over Moses’ conduct at the burning bush.[8] Indeed, by ascribing what he considers Maimonides’ wholly deviant view to one of the “perfect” sages, Abarbanel gives the naturalistic understanding of prophecy that he finds so repellent a grounding in classical Jewish tradition. The result of such forays into interpretation of rabbinic sayings is twofold: a midrash whose meaning is unclear is made to speak to profound issues of theology and, as noted, by engaging in such interpretations, Abarbanel will at times give a home in the Jewish tradition to a philosophically informed position of Rambam that he otherwise strongly contests.[9]

Notes:

This essay is based on an article that appeared in Daf Shvui (Bar-Ilan University), no. 1602: Parashat Shemot (18 January 2025): 1-2 (Hebrew).

[1] Many have analyzed Maimonides’ teaching on prophecy. For a comprehensive discussion, see Howard Kreisel, Prophecy: The History of an Idea in Medieval Jewish Philosophy (Dordrecht, 2001), 148–315.
[2] Guide of the Perplexed, 2:32 (in the Hebrew translation of Michael Schwarz [Tel Aviv, 2003], vol. I, pp. 373–376). Maimonides does claim a second-order distinction between the philosophic teaching and that of the Torah, stating that according to the latter even one who has completed all the necessary preparations for prophecy might yet not attain prophecy due to divine intervention that prevents that person from prophesying. Most classical commentators on the Guide—Joseph Ibn Kaspi, Moses Narboni, Isaac ben Moses Halevi (Profeyt Duran / “Efodi”), and Shem Tov ben Joseph—argue that Maimonides’ esoteric opinion on the matter aligns with the philosophers. In contrast, Abarbanel claims that Maimonides’ view is the one he casts as “the opinion of our Torah.” See David Ben Zazon, Nevukhim hem: masa‘ be-be’uro shel don Yiṣḥaq ’Abravanel le-‘moreh ha-nevukhim’ (Jerusalem, 2015), 215–217; Kreisel, Prophecy, 227–229.
[3] Moreh nevukhim le-ha-rav Moshe ben Maimon… be-ha‘ataqat ha-rav Shemu’el ibn Tibbon ‘im ’arba‘ah perushim (1872; photo offset Jerusalem, 1961), part II, chapter 32, 69r.
[4] See Alvin J. Reines, Maimonides and Abrabanel on Prophecy (Cincinnati, 1970), lxxiv.
[5] Isaac Abarbanel, Perush ‘al ha-torah, 3 vols. (Jerusalem, 1964), Shemot, 28. See Shemot Rabbah 3:1.
[6] Perush ‘al ha-torah, Shemot, 28. On Abarbanel’s tendency to interpret midrashim in his biblical commentaries, see Eric Lawee, Isaac Abarbanel’s Stance Toward Tradition: Defense, Dissent, and Dialogue (Albany, 2001), 119–122.
[7] Perush ‘al ha-torah, Shemot, 29.
[8] This even-handedness may partially reflect Abarbanel’s dilution of Maimonides’ teaching: he ascribes to R. Hoshaya a weak version of the insistence that prophecy has preconditions that plays down the need for “preparationsof a specifically philosophic sort.
[9] For another example in which Abarbanel, in effect, projects a medieval controversy involving him and Maimonides onto a midrashic screen in a way that finds a home in classical tradition for a view of Maimonides that he rejects, see his interpretation of the maxims in the second chapter of tractate Avot, which he presents as a running dispute between sages over the crucial question of the path that leads a person to perfection. In particular, Abarbanel asserts that the issue at bar is whether Judaism’s approach to this question is enhanced by incorporating elements of philosophical ethics. See Perush ’Abarbanel ‘al mesekhta de-’avot (= Naalat -’avot), ed. Aron Golan (Ashkelon, 2012), 62–107.




Two Books by R. Bezalel Naor, R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk, Michael Lerner, and More

Two Books by R. Bezalel Naor, R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk, Michael Lerner, and More

by Marc B. Shapiro

1. R. Bezalel Naor is well known for his enormous contributions to what we can call “Rav Kook Studies”. His outstanding translations and analysis have cemented his reputation as one of the leading interpreters of Rav Kook, as well as the most prolific writer on Rav Kook in English. I personally owe a great debt to Naor, as can seen in my forthcoming book on Rav Kook (though I suspect he will reject some of my readings).

Yet many are unaware of Naor’s numerous writings that are not focused on Rav Kook and that go back decades. (Unfortunately, they are not all available on Otzar Hachochma.) In fact, my first exposure to Naor was as a graduate student when I came across his 1984 edition and commentary on Rabad’s hasagot to Mishneh TorahSefer Ha-Madda and Sefer Ahavah. As with all of Naor’s writings, he discusses a variety of matters that arise from the text he is commenting on. (In Naor’s Ma’amar al Yishmael, he published the letter sent to him by Prof. Isadore Twersky upon receiving Naor’s edition of Rabad’s hasagot.)

In this post, I would like to focus on two books from Naor that deal with Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. The first is Shod Melakhim,[1] published in 2018, and the second is Ya’akov mi-le-Var Moshe mi-le-Gav,[2] published in 2024. These and other books written by Naor can be purchased here.

Shod Melakhim contains studies of Naor on aspects of the Mishneh Torah, such as the mitzvah of knowing God, Maimonides and Sefer Yetzirah (including Naor’s suggestion that a halakhah in the Mishneh Torah was influenced by Sefer Yetzirah[3]), and analysis of R. Hayyim Soloveitchik’s commentary on various halakhot of the Mishneh Torah. He also brings into his discussions works by R. Abraham Abulafia, R. Isaac Arama, R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto, Solomon Maimon (including a work still in manuscript), Rav Kook, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, and so many others. The book also contains a piece by the late R. Joshua Hoffman, reworked by Naor, together with a short memorial to this scholar who unfortunately was taken too soon from us.

Shod Melakhim is so rich, and its learning so profound, that it would require a very lengthy review, if not an actual book, to satisfactorily treat all the important issues Naor raises. In the interests of space, let me offer a few points that came to mind as I went through the book.

Pp. 50ff. Naor cites examples where earlier authorities mention that Maimonides derives halakhot from the Torah,[4] and he notes the dispute about whether medieval Ashkenazic sages independently came up with derashot to derive halakhot. In a recent issue of Ha-Ma’yan, R. Yisrael Reisher published an interesting article in which he discusses when and why post-talmudic sages stopped using independent derashot to derive halakhot.[5] Let me give an example of what I originally thought was a derashah by R. David Abudarham. He lived in the fourteenth century, so it would be significant if someone this late was still independently coming up with derashot. Last summer I brought a group to Spain on my Torah in Motion tour, and one of the places we visited was Seville.[6] That gave me the opportunity to speak about Abudarham as he too was from Seville.

Abudarham, Seder Tefilot ha-Ta’aniyot, says that if the fast of the Tenth of Tevet falls out on Shabbat, that we fast. Now it is true that according to our calendar this can never happen, but if we were proclaiming the new moon with witnesses it could fall out on Shabbat, and Abudarham says that we would fast, something we do not do even with Tisha be-Av. In fact, there are times, like this year, when the Tenth of Tevet falls out on Friday. (With our calendar, Tisha be-Av cannot fall out on Friday.[7]) When we fast on Friday-Tenth of Tevet, the fast is only over at darkness on Friday night. In other words, the fast continues into Shabbat.

R. Meir Mazuz explains Abudarham’s position that we fast when the Tenth of Tevet falls out on Shabbat by saying that he derived it from a derashah.[8] Here is the passage from Abudarham:

ואפילו[9] היה חל בשבת לא היו יכולים לדחותו ליום אחר, מפני שנאמר בו (יחזקאל כד, ב) בעצם היום הזה, כמו ביום הכפורים

Regarding the Tenth of Tevet, Ezekiel 24:1-2 states: “And the word of the Lord came unto me in the ninth year, in the tenth month, in the tenth day of the month, saying: ‘Son of man, write thee the name of the day, even of this selfsame day; this selfsame (בעצם) day the king of Babylon hath invested Jerusalem.” When the Torah speaks of Yom Kippur in Lev. 23:28 it also uses the expression בעצם היום הזה. R. Mazuz thinks that Abudarham made his own derashah, that just as these words are used regarding Yom Kippur and we fast on Shabbat Yom Kippur, so too the same applies to the Tenth of Tevet. However, if you look at the new, heavily annotated, 2015 Kerem Re’em edition of Abudarham, vol. 2, p. 357, you find that there were others before Abudarham who had the same position. Thus, I think it is obvious that rather than coming up with his own derashah, from which the halakhah was derived, Abudarham is simply trying to offer an ex-post facto explanation for the practice of fasting on the Tenth of Tevet that falls on Shabbat. He presumably saw this as a long-standing tradition and was offering a possible explanation for why earlier generations, including perhaps the talmudic sages, adopted this viewpoint.

P. 73 n. 95. Naor points to two views of Nahmanides in his commentary on the Torah that Naor identifies as having their origin in Ibn Ezra. In the second example, dealing with how Jacob married two sisters and Amram married his aunt, Nahmanides does not mention Ibn Ezra, and in the first example, although he cites Ibn Ezra, one could equally well argue that the citation does not mean that this is his source, but rather an opinion he cites that agrees with him. In general, I would like Naor to elaborate on how one is to know in cases like this that we are dealing with real influence from one thinker on another. (See also pp. 97ff. where he identifies clearer evidence of geonic influence on Maimonides.)

P. 125 note, p. 129 note, Naor refers to R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk’s Torah commentary asמש”ך חכמה. Yet this is a mistake. The first word does not have a double apostrophe and is simply written asמשך, as seen on the title page of the first edition of the work. The title is derived from Job 28:18: “the price of wisdom”, and the letters of the word משך obviously allude to the name Meir Simhah. Incidentally, R. Meir Simhah is known both as the “Meshekh Hokhmah” and the “Or Sameah”. Other than R. Israel Meir ha-Kohen, who is known as the “Mishnah Berurah” and the “Hafetz Hayyim”, are there any others who are also known by two separate book titles?

Pp. 129ff. Naor probes how the king has the power to kill people even if there is no halakhic testimony or they have not been warned. He refers to Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Rotzeah u-Shmirat ha-Nefesh 2:4:

When a Jewish king desires to slay any of these murderers and the like – who are not liable for execution by the court – by virtue of his regal authority, in order to perfect society, he has the license. Similarly, if the court desires to execute them as a hora’at sha’ah, because this was required at the time, they have the license to do as they see fit.

We see from this that in order to improve society the king is not bound by normal halakhic restrictions when it comes to punishing evildoers. Naor also refers to Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melakhim 3:10, which has the same message:

A murderer against whom the evidence is not totally conclusive, or who was not warned before he slew his victim, or even one who was observed by only one witness, and similarly, an enemy who inadvertently killed one of his foes – the king is granted license to execute them and to improve society according to the needs of the time. He may execute many on one day, hang them, and leave them hanging for many days in order to cast fear into the hearts and destroy the power of the wicked of the earth.

Finally, Naor refers to Guide of the Perplexed 3:40, where Maimonides writes: “Even if a court does not execute him [the murderer], the ruler can, since he can execute on circumstantial evidence.”[10]

Following this, Naor cites R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk who compares the Law of the King with Noahide laws, as both of them have the same goal, namely, establishing a functioning society. As such, when it comes to judicial matters, the Law of the King is equal to that of the power given to non-Jewish courts. Since non-Jewish courts can kill a criminal based on a single witness, so too the king can do so.

Naor then expands on this and makes a fascinating suggestion, that the law of ben sorer u-moreh is an example of an emergency measure where the beit din functions by using the Noahide laws. As with Noahide law, the ben sorer u-moreh does not need to be warned about his action. Naor connects this to Yerushalmi Peah 1:1 that with non-Jews: מחשבה רעה הקב”ה מצרפה למעשה. This would explain why a ben sorer u-moreh is punished for something that will happen in the future, as punishment in the Noahide code can be decreed even for just having an intention.

Pp. 157ff. Naor deals with this passage of Maimonides in the Guide 3:45:

He [Abraham] specified due west as the direction to face in prayer, the Holy of Holies lying to the west. That is what the Sages mean by saying, “God’s Shekhinah is to the west” [Bava Batra 25a]. They explain in tractate Yoma that in prayer, we face the Holy of Holies, the direction that Father Abraham[11] set.

The problem is where in Yoma do we find that Abraham set the direction of prayer? This is an old problem and Naor offers a new solution which strikes me as far-fetched, and he himself refers to it as a חידוש נורא. He suggests that Maimonides is referring to Yoma 28b which in our text states: קיים אברהם אבינו אפילו עירובי תבשילין. Naor suggests that Maimonides’ text had עירוב תפילה (or maybe the abbreviation ע”ת) instead of עירובי תבשלין, and elaborates on how that could be understood to mean “west”. Even with all of Naor’s great learning, his solution is still not satisfying to me.

Let me now turn to Ya’akov mi-le-Var. The first part of it contains newly published comments on Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah by the 17th-18th century Jerusalem sage, R. Jacob Molho. Naor adds his own explanations and elaborations to these comments. The second part of the book is Naor’s Torah insights on a range of matters with his typical originality and breadth.

Pp. 69ff., Naor discusses R. Nissim of Gerona’s famous idea of Torah law and Law of the King. R. Nissim acknowledges that other systems of law work more efficiently in society than certain aspects of Torah law (e.g., how difficult it is to convict criminals according to Torah law). R. Nissim does not see this as a problem as the king will legislate in these areas. For R. Nissim, this is not an ad hoc approach to make the system run smoothly, but this is part of the Torah system given at Sinai, that there is both Torah law and also the Law of the King that work in tandem. Naor suggests that R. Nissim might have been influenced by Nahmanides’ famous notion of a scoundrel with the permission of the Torah, which is how he interprets the verse Kedoshim Tihyu (Lev. 19:1). Just like there is an individual who can be a scoundrel and the general laws of the Torah do not protect against him, thus we need a special law of Kedoshim Tihyu, so too when the written laws of the Torah do not suffice, according to R. Nissim we need the Law of the King.

Naor goes even further and connects R. Nissim’s idea with R. Mordechai Joseph Leiner of Izhbitz[12] and other Polish hasidic figures who have a conception not of Torah law and Law of the King, but of the law of God and the will of God, which are not always in tandem. In this section, Naor shows his great learning in hasidic literature.

P. 141. Naor cites R. Jacob Emden in his note toNiddah22b that not everyone assumes that one needs to receive a gezerah shavah by tradition, meaning that one can create his own gezerah shavah. Naor notes that this is a שיטה יחידאה. Does the notion that one need to receive a gezerah shavah by tradition mean that it must go back to the beit din ha-gadol, as Naor quotes one source as saying? I think not, and to give one example, R. Gedaliah Nadel writes that it is enough for a gezerah shavah to have come to us by tradition, and if previous generations of great scholars, who understood the nuances of Hebrew, accepted a gezerah shavah, we can rely on them.[13] In terms of scholarly studies on the gezerah shavah, to the sources cited by Naor I would also add Michael Chernick, Midat “Gezerah Shaṿah”: Tzuroteha ba-Midrashim u-va-Talmudim (Lod, 1994) and Yitzhak Gilat, Perakim be-Hishtalshelut ha-Halakhah (Ramat Gan, 1992), pp. 365ff.

2. As I mentioned R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk earlier in this post, let me add a few more points relevant to him.

I find it of interest that in 1925 R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg stated that R. Meir Simhah was “truly the gadol ha-dor”.[14]

As to why the kiruv yeshiva was named Or Somayach,[15] Yonoson Rosenbloom writes:

The immediate impetus for the change in name was a powerful shmuess given in the beis midrash by Rabbi Shlomo Freifeld. Rabbi Freifeld quoted the hesped given for Rabbi Meir Simcha by the Rogachover Gaon, his contemporary Torah giant in Dvinsk. The Rogatchover said of Rav Meir Simcha that he learned with the intensity of one who felt flames raging all around and that only his learning could extinguish them.[16]

In 1919 there was a false report that R. Meir Simhah had been murdered in a pogrom. This event was covered by newspapers around the world.[17] Here is a poster that was hung up after the false information arrived in Eretz Yisrael. (The information that appears at the bottom indicating that this poster is from 1926 is incorrect. 1926 was the year of his actual death.)[18]

In response to the false report, there were a number of eulogies given. R. Yisrael Abba Citron, rav of Petah Tikvah, delivered a hesped which was later published.[19]

Are there any other examples of giving a hesped for a great rabbi who was not actually dead?

Speaking of the death of R. Meir Simhah, we are fortunate that he was not killed on another occasion. Yoel Hirsch called my attention to something that is not mentioned in all the discussions of R. Meir Simhah. As is well known, R. Meir Simhah only had one daughter, and she was mentally ill. According to R. Israel Dusowitz in Ha-Mesilah 1:5-6 (Sivan-Tamuz 5696), p. 6, R. Meir Simhah’s daughter tried to kill her father, stabbing him in the neck. Miraculously, he survived.

3. Earlier in this post I mentioned how Naor cites R. Meir Simhah’s notion that a king can execute certain people even though this would not be permitted under Torah law, since his power functions in accord with Noahide law which has a much wider range of possibility to punish than Torah law. R. Meir Simhah was referring to executing people based on lesser standards of evidence, not killing innocent people. Yet I would like to make a few comments about the latter point, as it is precisely with regard to the power of a king to kill innocent people that we see a change in how the generations have regarded certain moral issues.

Contemporary moral judgments are sometimes far removed from those of previous generations, even when dealing with great sages. For instance, R. Levi Ben Gershom recommends that if you are holding a prisoner who has been a constant enemy of the Jewish people, he should be executed.[20] R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes claims that a king has the right to kill the innocent children of someone who rebels, because of tikun olam,[21] and the Hatam Sofer, in a letter to Chajes, find this a reasonable position.[22] The purpose of this killing would be to put fear into others, who while they may be willing to risk their own lives in rebellion, would be deterred if their children were to be wiped out. This is certainly not what pretty much anyone today would regard as “Jewish values.” But I find it fascinating that in previous years, among some great Torah scholars, this was regarded as acceptable, even if only in a theoretical discussion. Naor, p. 136, provides additional sources for this matter, and I would add that R. Kook was also inclined to think that in extreme circumstances it would be permissible to execute innocent people such as children of an evil doer.[23] Let me stress again that all the discussions mentioned in this paragraph were theoretical, no different than so many other theoretical discussions found in rabbinic literature, and I wonder if they could have ever decided this way in a real-life case.

Regarding the power of the king, R. Jacob Kamenetsky has an unusual passage in his Emet le-Yaakov, 1 Kings 3:28. He says that in the story of Solomon and the two harlots, where Solomon said to cut the baby in half, if the real mother had not spoken up, they would have actually cut the baby in half, as the king has the authority to order this.[24]

ונראה לומר, דהנה מה היה קורה אם האמא האמיתית היתה מסכימה שיחתכו את הולד לשנים, בבחינת “תמות נפשי עם פלשתים”. הרי בפשטות מבינים ששלמה המלך היה חוזר בו מיד ואומר, “לא התכוונתי ברצינות שיהרגו את הילד”. אבל זה אינו, כי ביד המלך סמכות מסויימת על חיי נתיניו, כמו שיכול לשלוח אותם למלחמה אף על פי שנהרגים שם, אף כאן מאחר שציוה לחתוך, כאילו שיש כאן דין של ממון המוטל בספק חולקים, היו חותכים משום כבוד המלכות, שהרי אצל מלך אין חרטה

I don’t know why R. Kamenetsky finds the common understanding, that Solomon never really intended his words to be implemented in practice, to be mistaken. Certainly, killing an innocent child does not bring any honor to the king. Even if R. Kamenetsky is correct with regard to Solomon, speaking from our 21st-century perspective, the Jewish people, with their current moral sense, would never accept something like this, and I feel confident that a future Sanhedrin would never countenance it.

It must also be noted that Sforno, Netziv, and Meshekh Hokhmah, in their commentaries to Deut. 24:16 (“Children shall not be put to death for the fathers”), specifically reject the possibility that the king could kill the children of one who rebels, with Sforno noting how this was a typical Gentile practice that the Torah is legislating against.[25] In areas of controversy such as this, I think we should follow the guidance of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg who believed that if there is a dispute among halakhic authorities, the poskim must reject the view that will bring the Torah into disrepute in people’s eyes:[26]

ואגלה להדר”ג [הגרא”י אונטרמן] מה שבלבי: שמקום שיש מחלוקת הראשונים צריכים הרבנים להכריע נגד אותה הדעה, שהיא רחוקה מדעת הבריות וגורמת לזלזול וללעג נגד תוה”ק

R. Shlomo Aviner has the same approach. He notes that conceptions of morality change over time and not every decision of a posek is an eternal decision. Today, when we have different standards of morality than in previous years, if there is a dispute among the authorities, we should adopt the position that we regard as more moral.[27]

וברור שבהלכה פנים לכאן ולכאן. לכן כיוון שנתיבים אלה הם נתיבים מוסריים יותר, עלינו להכריע על פיהם. לפעמים ההלכה מוכרעת, בגלל שעת הדחק, ולפעמים ההלכה מוכרעת כי כך המנהג. אם כן, בימינו ‘המנהג’ הוא להיות מוסרי . . . יש גם מושגים מוסריים המשתנים על פי המציאות. אב הסוטר לבנו הקטן, אינו דומה לאב הסוטר לבנו בן השמונה עשרה. האם סטירת לחי לבנו היא מעשה מוסרי או לא מוסרי? תלוי בנסיבות. לא כל הכרעות הפוסקים הן הכרעות נצחיות . . . במצבנו כיום ישנם שיקולים מוסריים שמצטרפים להכרעותינו ההלכתיות

R. Yuval Sherlo acknowledges moral advancement and concludes: “Despite all the hypocrisy and cynicism there is moral progress in the area of human rights. True religious people believe that this is the will of God.”[28]

3. Michael Lerner recently passed away. I mention this because I recently found a letter from Lerner’s mother, Bea Lerner, who served as chairwoman of the New Jersey Democratic Party.[29] The letter is undated, but was obviously written in 1970 at the time that Lerner was on trial as part of the “Seattle Seven”, charged with having incited a riot. I found the letter in the Heschel archives[30] which I assume means that Mrs. Lerner had sent it to Heschel—who knew Michael Lerner from the Jewish Theological Seminary—and others as part of a request that they submit letters to the court testifying to Lerner’s non-violent nature. I had intended to send the letter to Lerner, but alas, this was not to be. I think the letter, which will be valuable to Lerner’s future biographer, is a wonderful example of parents’ unconditional love for their son, even if he chooses a path that they do not understand or agree with.

Since I just mentioned Heschel, and in honor of Rabbi Dr. Yechiel Leiter, Scranton native and new ambassador from Israel to the United States, let me also include this letter from Leiter’s grandfather, R. Moshe Leiter, to Heschel.[31]

R. Moshe Leiter authored a number of seforim, and in the letter above he is offering condolences about the passing of Heschel’s brother in London, R. Jacob Heshel. Interestingly enough, he is not entirely sure if people had informed Heschel of his brother’s passing, and we know that in the past people did withhold such news. R. Jacob Heshel was the rabbi of the Edgeware Adath Yisroel Congregation, and this is a picture of him with his family that I found here.

4. In my post here I presented some liberal views of euthanasia, views that for some reason are not part of the discourse in Orthodox circles. I forgot to include the following letter from R. Joseph Elijah Henkin which is found in the memorial volume Ner Shaul, p. 502.

See nos. 2, 3, 5, 8. While R. Henkin does not offer any firm rulings, you can see that he does not reject the liberal perspective and might even be inclined to it. No. 4 is also fascinating, for if we accept his suggestion it would mean that even if we assume that brain death is not halakhic death, it would still be permitted to remove a heart from a brain-dead person to save another’s life (as it appears reasonable to assume that a brain-dead person is a goses).

5. In my last post here I raised the question of whether Neturei Karta allies of Hamas can be counted in a minyan, whether their businesses should be boycotted, etc. Someone commented to me that however evil their actions, the Neturei Karta are still Jewish and Torah observant and thus they need to be treated as part of kelal Yisrael. This is a specious argument. Even a cursory familiarity with Jewish history shows that by means of the herem religiously observant people were removed from the community for all sorts of reasons. Because the herem was so successful, these removals only needed to be temporary as the excommunicated people inevitably felt compelled to ask the community leaders for forgiveness.

Yet I want to focus on the point that the Neturei Karta are still Jewish with the implication that since this is their birthright, it cannot be removed from them. (Despite what some people have claimed, from everything I have seen they are indeed halakhically observant and have not violated Shabbat by speaking on microphones, carrying signs where there is no eruv, etc.)

R. Moses Sofer, in his comment to Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim no. 39, has a fascinating idea that has been discussed by many.

ועיין בתוספות יום טוב משנה ד’ פרק ז’ דנדה דתמה על כותים אי גירי אמת הן איך עשאום כנכרים לטהר נדות ואהלות שלהם. ונראה לפענ”ד שיש כח בכלל ישראל להוציא המורדים מכלל האומה ויחזרו לגוים גמורים אף להקל . . . והם נמנו וגמרו להוציאם מברית ישראל לגמרי

According to the Hatam Sofer, “Kelal Yisrael”, which I assume is represented by the rabbinic leaders, has the ability to remove someone from the Jewish people and turn him into a complete non-Jew. This would mean that you can lend money to him on interest, if he marries a woman it does not take effect, and even if he is already married the woman would not need a get. So we can leave it to the gedolim if they wish to go this route with the Neturei Karta.

As mentioned, the Hatam Sofer’s novel position—R. Asher Weiss[32] terms it a חידוש עצום—is discussed by many. However, while everyone tries to understand the basis of the Hatam Sofer’s view and its implications, there is one exception, namely, R. Moshe Feinstein.[33] R. Feinstein comes at the matter from a completely different perspective. Finding the Hatam Sofer’s words incomprehensible, he writes:

וברור ופשוט שא”א דבר כזה בעולם . . . וברור שאין זה מדברי החת”ס

R. Feinstein denies that the Hatam Sofer could have written what is found in his commentary. In a number of previous posts I have discussed this tendency of R. Feinstein to reject the authenticity of texts that he sees as completely mistaken. At certain times I think R. Feinstein really means what he says, that the text is not authentic. Yet on other occasions, and the example of the Hatam Sofer’s commentary would be such a case, I agree with R. Betzalel Deblitsky[34] that when R. Feinstein said that the text is not authentic, he did not mean it literally. Rather, this was his way of respectfully registering his strong disagreement. R. Deblitsky compares this to the rabbinic expressionכי ניים ושכיב אמרה, “When he was sleepy and lying down [to rest] he said this halakhah.” Everyone knows that this is just a figure of speech, and it would make no sense for one to reply that on the contrary, when the rabbi issued the ruling he had just finished his coffee and was completely sharp. In fact, R. Samuel Ibn Tibbon even uses this expression about the man he idolized most, Maimonides.[35]

6. My forthcoming book on Rav Kook is now available for purchase on Amazon (although it won’t appear for another couple of months). Once the book reaches America, I will be doing an event at Mizrahi Book Store so stay tuned for that.

* * * * * * * * *

[1] The title is taken from Isaiah 60:16.
[2] For the meaning of this kabbalistic expression, see Yosef Kalner, Milon ha-Re’iyah, vol. 2, p. 199.
[3] See also p. 21 n. 22 where Naor mentions his discussion in this regard with Prof. Abraham Joshua Heschel.
[4] In Kol Torah, Av-Elul 5728, p. 20, R. Nahum Drazin mentions what he heard from R. Moshe Soloveitchik, how R. Hayyim explained a position of Maimonides as arising directly from the verses in the Torah. As this appears to be completely unknown, here is the page.

[5] “Al Perek ‘Ein Dorshin’”, Ha-Ma’yan, Nisan 5784, pp. 93-104. Regarding derashot to establish, or at least support, minhagim, see e.g., Tur, Orah Hayyim 493, regarding women not working after sunset during the period of the Omer:

ונהגו הנשים שלא לעשות מלאכה משתשקע החמה . . . וכתיב שבע שבתות תמימות תהיינה, מלשון שבות ולשון שמיטה שבע שבתות . . . מה שנת השמיטה אסור במלאכה אף זמן ספירת העומר דהיינו לאחר שקיעת החמה אסור במלאכה

R. Eliyahu Zini, Etz Erez, vol. 2, p. 224,  is troubled by this derashah:

ויש לשאול: ממתי רבותינו הראשונים דורשים פסוקי תורה להוציא מהן הלכות, יהיו אלה אפילו מנהגים בלבד

[6] For my 2025 summer Torah in Motion tours, see here.
[7] Mishnah, Ta’anit 4:7 deals with a case where Tisha be-Av falls out on Friday.
[8] Bayit Ne’eman, 16 Tevet 5777, p. 1.
[9] The word אפילו is supposed to be recited with the accent on the final syllable. But does anyone, even Sephardim, pronounce it this way?
[10] The English is taken from the brand-new translation of the Guide by Lenn E. Goodman and Phillip I. Lieberman. This work is a wonderful achievement. It should give Goodman and Lieberman great pride to know that, from this point on, anyone who studies Maimonides will have to turn to their translation, which by the way also contains valuable notes. As a companion volume to the translation of the Guide, Goodman has also just published A Guide to the Guide to the Perplexed.
[11] The translation is from the Goodman and Lieberman edition. Pines has “Abraham our Father” which I think people will be more comfortable with, as “Father Abraham” sounds Catholic.
[12] Again, I do not know why Naor records the name of R. Leiner’s book as מ”י השילוח. The title is מי השלוח without any apostrophes.
[13] Mi-Torato shel R. Gedalyah, p. 25. Regarding gezerah shavah, see the brand new book by Moshe Sokolow, Pursuing Peshat: Takakh, Parshanut, and Talmud Torah, pp. 85-86, where he calls attention to R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk, Meshekh Hokhmah, Num. 30:10, where he creates his own gezerah shavah. In justification of this step, R. Meir Simhah cites the Jerusalem Talmud, Pesahim 6:1: “A man may initiate his own gezerah shavah in order to sustain his study.” R. Yehudah Copperman, in his edition of the Meshekh Hokhmah, notes the originality of R. Meir Simhah in this example:

הפירוש המקובל לאמרה זו (וכך אמנם משתמע מסוגית הירושלמי) היא לפי בעל קרבן העדה: לקיים תלמודו שקיבל מרבו, דאין הפסד בדבר, שהרי בלאו הכי הדין כן, ואין גזירה שוה זו אלא לסמוך בעלמא (עכ”ל). לעומת זאת מושך רבינו את הכלל אף להלכה שלא קיבל מרבו אלא שחידש הוא בבית מדרשו! ועיין בהרחבה בפרקי מבוא פרק יד, כי זה חידוש גדול בבית מדרשו

[14] Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 2, p. 235.
[15] Regarding the word שמח, I transliterated Sameah, but the official name of the yeshiva is Ohr Somayach. So which pronunciation is correct? It turns out that both are correct, as some grammarians claim that before the furtive patah in שמח there is an aleph sound, and others think that there is a yod sound. The same thing would be with the word ריח, which can be pronounced either as רֵיאַח or רֵייַח, or the word פענח which can be pronounced פענֵאַח or פענֵיַח. See R. Benzion Cohen, Sefat Emet, pp. 59-60; R. Adir Amrutzi, Dikdukei Abiah, p. 19.
[16] Rosenbloom, Rav Noach Weinberg: Torah Revolutionary (Jerusalem, 2020), p. 72 n. 1.
[17] See details here.
[18] The poster is taken from here.
[19] See Zev Aryeh Rabiner, Maran Rabbenu Meir Simhah Kohen (Tel Aviv, 1967), pp. 232-233. For another published eulogy, by R. Ben Zion Cuenca, see Mekabtze’el 39 (2013), pp. 739ff.
[20] Commentary to 1 Kings, ch. 22, Toelet 34.
[21] Torat ha-Nevi’im, ch. 7.
[22] She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim no. 108 (end).
[23] See Da’at Kohen, no. 193.
[24] Regarding the Solomon story, a real-life version of this is reported to have occurred in the early twentieth century. A woman who was nursing the baby boy of the rabbi mistakenly slept on the boy, killing him. Fearful of what would happen, she gave her own son to the rabbi’s wife, and this boy was then raised as the child of the rabbi. The matter was only discovered years later. When the woman’s husband died, the dead husband appeared a number of times in the rabbi’s son’s dreams asking why he was not saying kaddish for him. Here is R. Eliezer Deutsch’s description of the case in Va-Yelaket Yosef, vol. 10:20 (1908), no. 194.

The story is also told in R. Zvi Hirsch Friedling, Hayyim ha-Nitzhiyim, p. 54, as an illustration of the importance of kaddish.
[25] See Encyclopedia Talmudit, vol. 33, s.v. לא יומתו אבות על בנים, col. 947; R. Shimon Krasner, “Ishiyuto u-Feulotav shel Shaul ha-Melekh,” Yeshurun 11 (2002), pp. 779-780.
[26] Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 60.
[27] Am ve-Artzo, vol. 2, pp. 436-437.
[28] Reshut ha-Rabim, p. 102.
[29] See David Horowitz, Radical Son (New York, 1997), p. 175.
[30] Heschel Archives, Duke University, Box 8, Folder 1.
[31] Heschel Archives, Duke University, Box 17, Correspondence 1970-1971.
[32] See R. Asher Weiss’ weekly shiur, Toldot 5785, p. 11, called to my attention by Baruch from Monsey.
[33] Iggerot Moshe, vol. 9, p. 162 (Yoreh Deah 5:41)
[34] Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 122 (Kislev-Tevet 5766), p. 170.
[35] See Carlos Frankel, Min ha-Rambam li-Shmuel Ibn Tibbon (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 300:

כי ניים ושכיב רבינו ז”ל אמר זה הדבר




Maimonides on Free Will, Divine Omniscience and Repentance

Maimonides on Free Will, Divine Omniscience and Repentance

Ben Zion Katz

The problem of reconciling the notions of man’s free will and Divine omniscience is an ancient one. As early as Mishna Avot 3:15 Rabbi Akiva states that “everything is known [by God] but permission (i.e. free will) is given [to people]”. Maimonides begins to tackle this question in his Laws of Repentance (הלכות תשובה) from Book One (The Book of Science סּפּר המדע) of the Mishnah Torah. In chapter 5 paragraph 5 Maimonides brings up the conundrum of Divine Omniscience vs human free will: How can people have free will if God knows the future? Maimonides insists that one who claims that God does not know people’s (future) actions is a heretic (Chapter 3 paragraph 8). He also claims that there is no doubt that people have free will (מעשה האדם ביד האדם) and that there are clear philosophical proofs (ראיות ברורות מדברי החכמה) for this. So how can these two competing concepts be explained? Maimonides insists that there is an answer, but that it is quite complicated/long (תשובת שאלה זו ארוכה). In the Mishnah Torah itself Maimonides only hints at a possible solution, stating that God’s knowledge is different (כי לא מחשבותי מחשבותיכם; Isaiah 55:8).

To pursue this matter further, one must turn to the Rambam’s philosophical masterpiece, The Guide of the Perplexed, where in Book Three, Chapter 20 Maimonides explains this idea further: that God’s knowledge is different from human knowledge because ”His knowledge is His essence and His essence is his knowledge” (Shlomo Pines, Moses Maimonides The Guide of the Perplexed, University of Chicago Press, 1963, hereafter “Pines”, p. 481). The reason for this is that “His knowledge is not a thing … outside of His essence” (Pines, p. 482). In simpler terms, for people, knowledge is separate from their being, but this is not true for God. A consequence of this idea, according to Maimonides is that “His knowledge concerning what will happen does not make this possible thing quit its nature” (Pines, p. 482). In other words, if human nature includes free will, the fact that God knows what will happen does not in any way abrogate that free will. Stated differently, if an event has two possible outcomes, “God’s knowledge…does not bring about the actualization of one of the two possibilities” (Pines, p. 483).

Several examples are often given to explain this difficult concept. The first is that if one is atop a mountain and sees two trains at right angles hurtling towards each other, foreknowledge of the impending collision does not in any way effect the outcome. The second, more philosophical approach is that for God who does not change, time is meaningless; future and past are equivalent. Therefore, just as one’s knowledge of the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo does not affect its outcome, so too God’s knowledge of future events does not affect their outcome. Thus God can be omniscient in a way we cannot fully comprehend, man can have free will, people have the capacity to repent and God can still punish evildoers.

This question of free will vs God’s omniscience comes up again in a different way in chapter 6 of the Laws of Repentance, paragraph 3, where Maimonides discusses the difficult question of the stiffening of Pharoah’s heart, a common trope in the story of the Exodus (see Exodus 4:21 and the discussion therein in Nahum Sarna, The JPS Torah Commentary Exodus, Jewish Publication Society, 1991, p. 23). Here again, the question is: if God stiffens Pharoah’s resolve, why was Pharoah deserving of God’s punishment? It seems as if Pharoah had no free will in the matter. Maimonides also discusses the fact that God prophesied to Abraham that Abraham’s descendants (the Israelites) will be oppressed by the Egyptians (Genesis 15:13). If this oppression was pre-ordained, how could God then exact punishment upon the Egyptians (Genesis 15:14) since seemingly God’s omniscience rules out free will on the part of the Egyptians? Maimonides answers the latter question in paragraph 5 of chapter 6 of the Laws of Repentance by explaining that God’s prophecy concerned the Egyptians as a nation but not individual Egyptians. Thus, presumably only those Egyptians who chose to torment the Israelites would be punished. Maimonides answers the first question regarding the stiffening or hardening of Pharoah’s heart by explaining that after Pharoah repeatedly sinned, part of his punishment was God’s withholding from Pharoah the latter’s ability to repent.

Thus, as has been pointed out by many others, Maimonides had a single philosophical program running through all of his major works (see e.g., Herbert Davidson, Moses Maimonides: The Man and His Works, Oxford University Press 2005, pp. 303-4). By reading about similar themes both in the Mishnah Torah and the Guide of the Perplexed, one can obtain a better idea of Maimonides’ contributions to Jewish thought. Using this approach we have shown that Maimonides was able to retain expansive concepts of Divine omniscience and man’s free will, and demonstrate the importance of repentance even if God “knows” whether or not you are actually going to repent.




Final Response

 Final Response

By Marc B. Shapiro

In response to Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s strong criticisms of my Limits of Orthodox Theology, I wrote four responses on the Seforim Blog. You can view them hereherehere, and here. I then stopped responding even though there are still many criticisms I could have commented on. Readers can compare Grossman’s arguments with my replies and draw their own judgment. Grossman has recently responded to my posts and offered further criticisms in an article published in Dialogue. See here.

I do not wish to respond to all of his points in his new article, but I feel I need to make some comments and then I will leave this matter and let the readers decide which side is more compelling. Because Grossman complains in his article that “the merits of the arguments are easily lost in the loose internet format and enthusiastic cheering of his online supporters,” I have decided not to allow comments to this post. I can only express my regret at the style that Grossman chose to adopt in his articles. Had he written in an appropriate fashion then it would have been possible to have had a constructive discussion and debate.

P. 161: “DIALOGUE editors offered the author, Dr. Marc Shapiro, an opportunity to respond directly in these pages. He chose instead to issue a response on his own blog, where he wrote a number of lengthy posts in his defense.”

Dialogue never offered me an opportunity to respond in the journal. The Seforim Blog is not my own blog. I am a writer on it like lots of others.

P. 162: “In his [Shapiro’s] view, the tenets of belief are Rambam’s innovations and are therefore disputable.” The word “innovation” implies that the Rambam invented the doctrines he includes in his principles. I never said such a thing.

P. 163: In giving examples of supposed distortions in my book, Grossman writes: “One example is when Shapiro cites Rivash in support of the statement that Christians believe in a three-part God while the Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God – a clear rejection of the Second Principle. A quick glance at Rivash reveals that he does indeed say such a thing as a quote from a philosopher, which he then proceeds to debunk.”

I would like readers to take a look at the relevant page of my book (p. 40) and see if what Grossman says is correct, that I cited Rivash in support of the statement that Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God.

Pp. 166-167. Readers should see my discussion here. I cite a number of sources that support what I say, and thus contrary to what Grossman states, I do not just insist on my right to offer an interpretation. In note 21 Grossman writes: “Dr. Shapiro attempts to salvage his theory by speculating that the Vilna Gaon may not have really meant what he wrote.” Readers can turn to my discussion here and will see that I never said that.

p. 173. We see here an example of how Grossman just talks past me, leading to nothing productive. I had questioned why in the Mishneh Torah the Rambam did not require that the convert be instructed in the Thirteen Principles. In his original essay, Grossman criticized this question which he said showed lack of understanding of the method of the Mishneh Torah. In my response here I cite rabbinic authorities who deal with this very question, thus showing that it is not an ignorant point, as Grossman portrayed it. One of those I cite is R. Chaim Sofer who writes [1]:

והדבר נפלא הלא יש י”ג עיקרי הדת והי’ לו לב”ד להאריך בכל השרשים

Grossman replies that while I quote R. Sofer, I neglect “to apprise [my] readers of R. Sofer’s subsequent words ‘Rambam didn’t add to the talmudic formula,’ exactly as I had written and directly in contradiction to Dr. Shapiro’s position.”

Here is the paragraph from R. Sofer.

R. Sofer says exactly what I quote him as saying. The final passage in the paragraph, which is mistranslated by Grossman, has nothing to do with my point and does not refute it in any way.

I would also note that in his fascinating Ha-Emunah ha-Ne’emanah, p. 142, R. Dovid Cohen offers an explanation as to why אין לומדים כל י”ג עקרים טרם שיתגייר הגר

P. 174. In Limits I discuss different approaches to the phenomenon of tikkun soferim. While the generally accepted approach is that tikkun soferim is not to be taken literally, I cite a number of authorities who did take it literally and assumed that Ezra or the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah made changes to biblical texts (including the Torah). In a later post here (which has nothing to do with Grossman), I cited some other examples of sources that understood tikkun soferim literally. One of those I mentioned is R. Pesach Finfer.[2] He states as follows:

ראוי הי‘ עזרא שתנתן התורה על ידו . . . והוא ונחמי‘ עשו תיקון סופרים וכינויי סופרים

Grossman says that it is unclear what I see in this line. What I see is that R. Finfer states that Ezra and Nehemiah were responsible for tikkunei soferim. This is the same language that is used in other sources that take the notion of tikkun soferim literally. For those who don’t take it literally, Ezra has nothing to do with tikkun soferim. Following the sentence I quoted from R. Finfer, he refers in parenthesis to Radbaz’s comment which offers a different perspective, that tikkun soferim is halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai. Here is the page.

While on the topic of tikkun soferim, let me share something else that is relevant. In Limits I mentioned that the evidence points to Rashi understanding tikkun soferim literally, namely, that the biblical text was changed by the Scribes. There was some pushback to this assertion by those could not accept that Rashi would ever hold such a position. Yet subsequent to my book, Yeshayahu Maori also came to the conclusion that Rashi understood tikkun soferim literally.[3] Furthermore, R. Avraham Pessin also explains that Rashi understands tikkun soferim literally.[4] He states that according to Rashi the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah had the authority to alter the text of the Torah:

ומבואר ברש”י שניתן הכח לאנשי כנסת הגדולה לשנות גם תורה שבכתב

I find this significant, because although one can point to numerous statements that such an approach in unacceptable, R. Pessin sees it as the clear meaning of Rashi (and among traditional interpreters he is not alone in this understanding[5]). Here are the pages from R. Pessin’s sefer.

Speaking of tikkun soferim, the most famous of which is Gen. 18:22: ‘ואברהם עודנו עומד לפני ה, I found something in R. Solomon Algazi’s Yavin Shemuah (Venice, 1639), p. 15a, which is fascinating and, as far as I know, unique in rabbinic literature. It is also in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle which establishes that the Torah in its entirety was delivered by God to Moses. In discussing ‘ואברהם עודנו עמוד לפני ה, R. Algazi claims that when God dictated the Torah to Moses, He said that God was standing before Abraham. But Moses on his own, out of respect for God, changed the verse to read that Abraham was standing before God. I guess we can say that this falls between the traditional view that the verse was never changed and the view that the Scribes altered the verse out of respect for God. For R. Algazi it was Moses who made the alteration, but as far as Maimonides is concerned, this is just as problematic as viewing tikkun soferim as an alteration of the Scribes. Here is R. Algazi’s surprising interpretation.

כיון דהב”ה היה אומר לו על כל מלה כתוב א”כ ודאי דהב”ה אמר לו וה’ עודנו עומד דלא איש אל ויכזב ומשה היה משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב ואברהם עודנו עומד א”כ מה שייך בזה הלכה למשה מסיני והוא על דרך המשל שדוד המלך יאמר לסופר מהי’ [מהיר] כתוב שדוד מצוה לפלוני והסופר משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב המלך דוד אבל המלך בעצמו אינו אומר כתוב המלך מצוה כך הב”ה יתעל’ לא אמר למשה שהיה סופר כתוב ואברהם עודנו עומד שהוא דרך כבוד אלא אמר לו האמת וה’ עודנו עומד ומשה שינה על דרך תיקון סופרים

Pp. 175-176. I wrote here: “Even when it comes to other basic ideas of Maimonides, which are not included as part of the Thirteen Principles, we find that scholars wondered why Maimonides did not include them in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah.” I then cited Joseph Ibn Caspi in support of this statement. Here is the page from Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113.

What I would add here is the interesting point that Ibn Caspi, Commentary on Guide 2:32, actually concludes that the Mishneh Torah’s formulation is in line with Maimonides’ true view, namely, that prophecy is a completely natural phenomenon which will of necessity occur if someone has both the ability and training. On the hand, he thinks that the view expressed in Guide 2:32 as being the “opinion of our Law and foundation of our doctrine”, namely, that God might prevent a prophet from prophesying, is not Maimonides’ true opinion, but is an example of the famous “seventh contradiction”.

Grossman is also mistaken when he writes, “In Moreh Nevuchim [2:32], Rambam argues—in opposition to the philosophers—that prophecy is only activated proactively by God, even if the requisite conditions are met.” Maimonides actually says the exact opposite of this. He states that the Torah view of prophecy is identical to the philosophic view except that God can choose, if He wishes, to prevent someone from prophesying even though according to nature he would be a prophet. This is the opposite of what Grossman states, that “prophecy is only activated proactively by God.”

Pp. 176-177: I stated that the notion that Maimonides changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment among the Principles was suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm. To this Grossman replies that Maimonides did not withdraw his belief in Reward and Punishment. It is just that in the Mishneh Torah he classified things differently. Again, Grossman misunderstands. I never said that Maimonides rejected the idea of Reward and Punishment. I was only referring to whether it should be included as part of the Thirteen Principles. As R. Solomon of Chelm explains, Maimonides’ later understanding is that Reward and Punishment is included as part of other principles and thus does not need to be listed separately.

Pp. 177-178. Grossman claims that I cite R. Avraham Hochman in an improper way, and in response R. Hochman states that the entire theme of his sefer “is to show that Rambam’s Principles are absolute and that he derived all of the Thirteen Principles from the Talmud.” He also is quoted as saying, “Academics often quote a question and forget that for the wise, the question is half the answer. But the professors stick to the question and don’t wait around for the answer.” Grossman then speaks of my “brazenness of citing a recognized authority to promote a position that the author himself openly rejects.”

I don’t know if R. Hochman reads English, and could see what I actually wrote, or if he only is responding to what Grossman told him. Either way, his letter, published at the end of Grossman’s article, is a complete distortion of my position. Leaving aside the particular examples that people can see, look at this characterization:

ולפי הבנה מוטעית זו שפך חמתו על הרמבם מנין לו לחדש הלכה שאינה במשנה . . .

Talk about describing a writer inaccurately!

And what is one to make of this statement from him?

אין שום חולק על עיקר מיסודי הדת אלא שנחלקו על מספר העיקרים

It is precisely against such a false view that I wrote my book in the first place. A typical response to the book has been that the opinions in opposition to Maimonides are “not accepted.” But here he denies that anyone actually disagrees with any of Maimonides’ principles. With such an outlook, we can’t even begin to have a dialogue.

The following paragraphs are what I quoted from R. Hochman. Nothing I quote here has any connection to what Grossman states or what R. Hochman writes in his letter responding to my supposed incorrect conclusions that I derived from his words. As the reader can see, contrary to what R. Hochman states, I mention not just his question but his answer as well. Of all of Grossman’s criticisms this one is very difficult to understand, because there is nothing at all controversial in what I write, and my summary of R. Hochman is accurate.

As for my wondering why the Principles are not listed together as a unit, which Grossman sees as an illustration of how I am unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah, let me begin by repeating what I wrote in my last post: R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, on the very first page of his commentary Mishnat Yaakov to Sefer ha-Madda, also wonders about the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. (Had I known this when I wrote my book, I certainly would have cited it.)

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמב“ם בספרו ה”יד החזקה” את הענין הזה של י“ג עיקרי האמונה, וצ”ע

R. Avraham Menahem Hochman writes:

מאחר וכל כך חמורה הכפירה, וגדולה החובה לדעת את י”ג העיקרים, כיצד זה השמיטם מספרו ה”יד החזקה”, ולא כתבם כפי שסדרם בפירוש המשנה

והנה אחר שהתבאר שהאמונה בי”ג העיקרים היא בסיס לתורה נשוב לשאלה הרביעית (בסוף פרק ה’) אשר לכאורה היא פליאה עצומה מדוע השמיט הרמב”ם ביד החזקה את החובה הגדולה להאמין בי”ג עיקרים, באופן חיובי, ולא סדרם כי”ג יסודי האמונה שחובה להאמין בהם

R. Hochman goes on to explain that most of the Principles are indeed mentioned in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah in a positive sense (even if not as a unit of Thirteen Principles). He also notes the following important point, that when principles of faith are mentioned in the Talmud, they are never listed in a positive sense, that one must believe X. Rather, they are listed in a negative sense, that one who denies X has no share in the World to Come. Why Maimonides, in his Commentary on the Mishnah, chose to formulate the Principles in a positive sense and require active belief as a necessity for all Jews—something the Talmud never explicitly required—is an interesting point which we will come back to. Regarding some of the Principles the difference is clear. For example, according to the Talmud, denial of Resurrection is heresy, but one who has never heard of the Resurrection and thus does not deny it, or affirm it, is a Jew in good standing. For Maimonides, however, the doctrine of Resurrection must be positively affirmed. In a future post we can come back to which Principles even the Talmud implicitly requires positive affirmation of (obviously number 1, belief in God, but there could be others as well).

After reading these paragraphs, please look at Grossman’s article, pp. 177-178, and R. Hochman’s letter, pp. 188-191, and you will see that nothing there has any connection to what I actually say when referring to R. Hochman. I simply cite him to show that the question I asked is not an ignorant one, as Grossman stated. I also cite R. Hochman’s answer. So Grossman’s seizing on this and printing a lengthy letter from R. Hochman is nothing short of bizarre.

Pp. 178-179. Grossman writes:

Things really start to go “off the rails” when we examine Shapiro’s claim in the name of R. Shlomo Fisher, zatzal, that one need not accept Mosaic authorship, that the Rambam abandoned his principles, and that “Rambam’s formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief was far from universally accepted.”

Grossman responds that he found these attributions questionable so he checked with the family and students, and “they were horrified that anyone would be using R. Fisher’s name in this way.”

What exactly did I say that Grossman finds so objectionable? In Limits of Orthodox Theology, p, 126, I quote the following sentence from R. Bezalel Naor, Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (Spring Valley, 1999), p. 8: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor tells us that he heard this insight from his teacher, R. Shlomo Fisher. (Anyone needing any indication of the high regard that R. Fisher held R. Naor in can examine their published correspondence.)

Grossman sees this as a radical statement whose authenticity he cannot accept. I don’t think readers of this blog will find it radical at all. In fact, I have elsewhere mentioned that R. Fisher made this statement in discussing R. Judah he-Hasid’s view on the authorship of the Torah, which diverges from Maimonides’ Eighth Principle. Contrary to Grossman, in none of my posts did I quote R. Fisher as saying that one need not accept Mosaic authorship. I simply cited his view about R. Judah he-Hasid. I also quoted his opinion that medieval Ashkenazic authorities had a different view on the matter of complete Mosaic authorship than Maimonides in that they did not regard the assumption that there are post-Mosaic verses in the Torah as heretical (a view also argued by Prof. Haym Soloveitchik, see here). Grossman claims that R. Fisher could not have said this, even though students can testify to him having said it. In fact, I can state right here that I too heard him make this distinction.

The final point that Grossman can’t accept is what I mentioned in 2007 here, from a student who attended R. Fisher’s weekly shiur on Avnei Miluim. “Interestingly enough, he reported to me that a few weeks ago R. Fisher declared that he believes the Rambam abandoned his system of 13 Principles, the proof being that they are never mentioned as a unit in the Mishneh Torah. In my book, I noted that R. Shlomo Goren held the same view.” Grossman summarizes my statement as “the Rambam abandoned his principles,” which would lead the reader to think that I was saying that the Rambam no longer accepted the truth of his 13 Principles, which would indeed be a radical position. But what I was really talking about, and I refer to this approach in my book, is the notion that the Rambam no longer accepted a system of 13 Principles. This would mean that he adopted another model to categorize the essential dogmas of Judaism, or as R. Goren suggested, maybe he later advocated a conception of Jewish theology like that held by Abarbanel, that one should not distinguish between so-called principles of Judaism and other aspects of the religion, since all must be regarded as equal.

When all is said and done, nothing I have attributed to R. Fisher is strange, radical, or unbelievable. Why Grossman would be horrified by what I wrote is anyone’s guess.

Grossman quotes from a 2018 letter put out by R. Fisher (some might say, put out by his family). In the letter, R. Fisher writes that no one is to quote anything he said in matters of Aggadah and hashkafah without the approval of his sons. This was because in the past he had been misquoted. We all know that misquoting of gedolim is nothing new. There are numerous examples of particular great rabbis being quoted as saying contradictory things, and of these rabbis stating that no one should believe anything they hear in their names unless they hear it directly from the rabbi. Yet this has never stopped people from quoting the gedolim and never will. This is simply the nature of the world. 

R. Fisher gave thousands of shiurim (a tiny percentage of them are online) and there are thousands of students who heard words of Torah from him. As with all students, they have repeated, and will continue to repeat, that which they heard from the rav, just like all students do. They have been doing this for at least fifty years. If R. Fisher’s letter means what it says, that no one is to repeat things that R. Fisher said, then this is simply an impossible request, and it also seems unprecedented in Torah history. It would mean that one who listens to a shiur from him dealing with non-halakhic matters, e.g., this one here, is not allowed to repeat any insights he heard. It would also mean that much of what was mentioned at the many eulogies, where people recalled things R. Fisher said, or on sites such as this and this, is inappropriate. It would mean that students are not allowed to repeat that which they heard from their rebbe. I don’t see how this is possible.

P. 179. Here is something that is really comical. Take a look at this page.

Grossman states that I mention that Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto) claims that Ibn Ezra believed in post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. He writes: “Upon checking the source, we find yet another instance of Dr. Shapiro citing an author as believing something he actually vociferously denies. As Shadal points out, the primary source for this take on Ibn Ezra was the noted heretic Baruch Spinoza.”

I say this is comical since Grossman doesn’t have a clue as to what is going on here. The only way I can explain this is that Grossman merely skimmed the passage and thus misread it.

Shadal rejects Spinoza who (intentionally?) misunderstood Ibn Ezra to be hinting to the notion that Moses was not the author of the Torah.[6] This misinterpretation of Ibn Ezra is what Shadal rejects (and this is not mentioned in my book because it has nothing to do with what I was discussing). However, exactly as I said, Shadal also states that Ibn Ezra believed in certain post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. Here is the page in Shadal that I cited (as well as the subsequent page) so everyone can see it with their own eyes.

Shadal’s outlook in this matter is no secret, and he repeats this point elsewhere. See e.g., Mehkerei ha-Yahadut, vol. 2, p. 195:

מה שכתב ראב”ע ברמז, היות בתורה מקראות שנוספו בה אחר כמה דורות

In Iggerot Shadal, vol. 2, p. 246, he writes:

כי סברתו שיש בתורה מקראות נוספים קשה מדעת זולתו שקצת מלות מוטעות

In my book and subsequent posts I have identified around forty medieval and more recent authorities who share Shadal’s viewpoint in this matter.[7] Incidentally, R. Joseph Kafih, in his first work written when he was seventeen years old, attacks Shadal for attributing this view to Ibn Ezra. See Sihat Dekalim (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 90.

I must also note that Grossman does not simply miss Shadal’s meaning, but he also compares me to Spinoza in trying to ensnare the unsuspecting masses. If this wasn’t so comical, I might actually take offense. But I think readers should wonder how an author could say such a thing, and how a journal could publish it. It is simply beyond belief, made all the more absurd since Grossman is so mistaken about what Shadal actually states.

Incidentally, since we are talking about Shadal, it is worth noting that R. Elijah Benamozegh, whose commentaries on the Torah continuously dispute with Shadal, when it comes to Ibn Ezra and post-Mosaic additions, Benamozegh has the same position as Shadal. Here is what he writes in Ha-Levanon, July 3, 1872, p. 351, now easily available in the new edition of Em la-Mikra: Bereshit (Haifa, 2021), p. 114:

בראש ספר דברים ובמקומות אחרים רומז בעיניו מולל באצבעותיו ועל דלתות השער יתאו לרמוז שיש דברים בתורה נוספים ולא משה כתבם רק נביאים וצופים. ואני הפרתי את עצתו וקלקלתי את מחשבתו

P. 181. “Shapiro’s weakest scholarship appears when discussing kabbalistic matters.” I agree, which is why I try not to discuss these matters. If I do have to deal with them, I only rely on what recognized authorities have said,

P. 182. I wrote that according to Maimonides’ Seventh Principle, Moses was the greatest prophet who ever lived and there will never be a prophet as great as him in the future. Grossman says that I am mistaken, and that Maimonides does not declare that Moses was the greatest prophet, only that he was the “father of all prophets.” This statement is astounding. There are hundreds of discussions of the Seventh Principle in traditional rabbinic literature, and as far as I know they all agree with what I have written. The entire basis of the Seventh Principle is that Moses was greater than all other prophets. Maimonides states explicitly in the principle that “All are below him in rank . . . He reached a greater understanding of God than any man who ever existed or will ever exist.” This is so obvious that I do not want to spend any more time on it. It is only a mystery how Grossman could say something so wrong, and I do not know of anyone else who has ever written on this principle and made such a mistake (which Maimonides regards as heresy). Did no one from the editorial board of Dialogue read the article before publication? It is nothing short of incredible that an issue of Dialogue includes the false claim that there is no principle of faith to believe that Moses was the greatest prophet in Jewish history.

In addition to his explicit assertion that Moses was the greatest prophet, Maimonides does have an interesting formulation, stating that Moses is the father of all the prophets who preceded him and all who came after him. How can one be the “father” of those who came before him? R. Hayyim Dov Moshe Halpern explains it well[8]:

“אב” הכונה במעלה ולכן שייך לומר שהוא אב גם למי שקדם לו

Here are some passages from other authors whose books are found in my library. They all explain the principle correctly.

R. Yochanan Meir Bechhoffer writes[9]:

רבינו השווה את האמונה בעליונות משה רבינו על הנביאים הקודמים לו, לאמונה בעליונותו של הבאים אחריו. ואף כי אמת היא, שכך נחתמת התורה, לא קם כמשה וגו’, מ”מ יש לעיין מה הצורך בזה. נהי דהמאמין שאחר משה בא נביא גדול ממנו שיכול לבטל דבריו, כפר בנבואת משה, אך מה הסתירה לנבואת משה בחשבה שמי שקדם לו היתה גדול ממנו, הלוא הנביא הקדום לא יחדש דבר על פני משה

R. Ben Zion Epstein writes[10]:

ולכן נתנה למשה דוקא, כי היה דבוק כולו באין סוף ב”ה. ולכן היתה מדרגת נבואתו גדולה מכל הנביאים, ושכינה מדברת מתוך גרונו.

R. Avraham Menachem Hochman’s heading to his discussion of the Seventh Principle reads[11]:

להאמין בנבואת משה רבינו שהוא למעלה מכל הנביאים שהיו לפניו ולאחריו

And to mention one classic text (I could mention many more), R. Elchanan Wasserman writes[12]:

והנה בעיקרי הדת שמנה הרמב”ם בפירוש המשניות (פרק חלק) מנה שם עיקר אחד שכל דברי נביאים אמת, ועוד עיקר אחר שנבואת מהרע”ה היתה למעלה מנבואת כל הנביאים

R. Yaakov Weinberg in his Fundamentals and Faith, pp. 73ff. elaborates on Moses’ “prophetic superiority” (p. 81)

And finally, R. Yehudah Meir Keilson’s new edition of Kisvei ha-Rambam (which I encourage everyone to acquire), affirms my point (which as mentioned, is simply what Maimonides himself explicitly says, so it is not a question of how to interpret him).

Keilson, p. 82: “The Seventh Principle teaches that the nature of Moshe’s prophecy is unparalleled. . . . Rambam elaborates on Moshe’s prophetic superiority, which was the result of his moral and intellectual perfection.”

Keilson, p. 82 n. 1. “The title ‘father of all the prophets’ . . . Rambam takes this to refer to Moshe’s superiority in prophecy to that of all other prophets.”

Keilson, p. 154: “Rambam uses the expression that Moshe was the ‘father of all prophets’ to signify that he was the greatest of all prophets – that the level of his prophecy was superior to that of any prophet who ever was or who ever will be.”

Pp. 184-185. None of this makes any sense, and what Prof. Menachem Kellner writes has no relevance what I was referring to. I asked a simple question, which I later found that others asked as well (see here): Why does the Rambam not specify that future converts are to be instructed in the 13 Principles?

Coming next: Reviews of books by Benji Levy and Eitam Henkin, and an unknown article by R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

* * * * * * *

[1] Mahaneh Hayyim, Yoreh Deah 2, no. 25 (p. 139).
[2] Masoret ha-Torah ve-ha-Nevi’im (Vilna, 1906), p. 6. Regarding tikkun soferim as seen in the Genizah, see Joseph Ginsberg’s post here.
[3] “‘Tikkun Soferim’ ve-‘Kinah ha-Katuv’ be-Ferush Rashi la-Mikra,” in Yaakov Elman, et al., eds. Neti’ot le-David (Jerusalem, 2004), pp. 99-108.
[4] See his Temurat Ayil, Megillah, vol. 2 , pp. 93-95.
[5] In addition to the sources I have cited in Limits and here, see R. Petahyah Berdugo, Pituhei Hotam (Jerusalem, 1980), p. 187.
[6] Regarding Spinoza’s interpretation of Ibn Ezra, see Warren Zev Harvey, “Spinoza on Ibn Ezra’s “secret of the twelve,” in Yitzhak Y. Melamed and Michael A. Rosenthal, eds., Spinoza’s Theological-Political Treatise: A Critical Guide (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 41-55. See also Bezalel Naor, Ma’amar al Yishmael (Spring Valley, 1998), pp. 23-24.
[7] Shadal’s negative view of Ibn Ezra (and Maimonides) is well known. R. Jacob Bacharach’s poem in this regard is apt; Ishtadlut im Shadal (Warsaw, 1896), vol. 1, p. 19b:

הוא האיש אשר שם את הרמב”ם סיר רחצו, ועל הראב”ע השליך נעלו

[8] Hemdah Tovah (Lakewood, 2012), p. 131 n. 1.
[9] Even Shetiyah (Ramat Beit Shemesh, 2005), p. 74.
[10] Yud Gimmel Ikkarim (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 95.
[11] Ha-Emunah ve-Yud Gimmel Ikkareha (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 46.
[12] Kovetz Ma’amarim ve-Iggerot (Jerusalem, 2006), vol. 1, p. 57.



Notes on the Book of Samuel, and the Eternal Sanctity of the Temple in Maimonidean Thought

Notes on the Book of Samuel, and the Eternal Sanctity of the Temple in Maimonidean Thought

By Rabbi Avi Grossman

avrahambenyehuda.wordpress.com

Rabbi Label Dulitz, who passed away last week, was an iconic figure at YUHSB. I was privileged to first meet him when I began my studies at the school in the fall of 1996. That year, Rabbi Dulitz was teaching Talmud to part of the tenth grade, but some of us lucky freshmen got to sit in his afternoon Navi class. His photographic memory of the Bible, Talmud, and Shakespeare has already been recounted by many; what struck me more about the man who sought to mold men was his persistence, his insistence that all of his students put every ounce of their efforts into their studies. For years, I found myself more comfortable in the library than in the beis midrash, not because I was not interested in Torah study, but rather because of the atmosphere. In this, I found a model in Rabbi Dulitz, who made the third-floor gallery of our high-school library his personal study and let me spend as much time as I wanted at his table, even when I was cutting other classes. (I am also indebted to the long-time librarian, Mr. Wexler, for his support and dedication.) 

That year, Rabbi Dulitz did not teach us about the Book of Samuel; he drilled it into our minds as though using a thumbscrew (his word), and when we did not do well enough on our exams, he would wail like Achish, “do I lack crazies?”  When I was fifteen years old, I had questions about Samuel, but it took almost 25 years for me to even begin to articulate them. I regret that I had not sought the opportunity to thank Rabbi Dulitz before he was gone, but I pray that this serves as a fitting monument to him.

This is the story of an interesting argument over the interpretation of historical matters incidentally described in halachic works. For a few years, I made a number of assumptions regarding Maimonides’s views in this regard but recently those assumptions were challenged. 

A note on terminology: I will follow Maimonides’s precedent in this regard. That which the Israelites built in the wilderness and then established in a number of places within Israel is referred to as the mishkan, which is invariably rendered as Tabernacle, or as ohel mo’ed, Tent of Meeting, while the Temple is the translation of habayith, or some other construction, like beith adonay, and the word miqdash, Sanctuary, is the term that includes both Temple and Tabernacle alike, and which Maimonides uses to halachically define and equate all of the historical Sanctuaries:

מצות עשה לעשות בית לה’, מוכן להיות מקריבים בו הקרבנות, וחוגגין אליו שלוש פעמים בשנה–שנאמר “ועשו לי, מקדש” (שמות כה,ח); וכבר נתפרש בתורה משכן שעשה משה רבנו, והיה לפי שעה–שנאמר “כי לא באתם, עד עתה . . .” (דברים יב,ט)

 ואלו הן הדברים שהן עיקר בבניין הבית:  עושין בו קודש, וקודש הקודשים, ויהיה לפני הקודש מקום אחד והוא הנקרא אולם; ושלושתן נקראין היכל.  ועושין מחיצה אחרת סביב להיכל, רחוקה ממנו כעין קלעי החצר שהיו במדבר; וכל המוקף במחיצה זו שהוא כעין חצר אוהל מועד, הוא הנקרא עזרה. והכל נקרא מקדש

כיון שנכנסו לארץ, העמידו המשכן בגלגל ארבע עשרה שנה שכבשו ושחלקו.  ומשם באו לשילה, ובנו שם בית של אבנים; ופרסו יריעות המשכן עליו, ולא הייתה שם תקרה.  ושלוש מאות ותשע וששים שנה, עמד מקדש שילה. וכשמת עלי, חרב ובאו לנוב ובנו שם מקדש, וכשמת שמואל חרב ובאו לגבעון ובנו שם מקדש. ומגבעון באו לבית העולמים וימי נוב וגבעון, שבע וחמישים שנה

However, in many instances, the Bible uses all four and even some others as poetic synonyms. For the sake of clarity, I shall not.  

For some years now, I have  wondered about three things: Why is the destruction of the Tabernacle at Shiloh, although alluded to in the Book of Samuel and explicitly described in the Psalms and Jeremiah and the Mishna, not explicitly mentioned in Samuel? On the other hand, why does the Torah devote so much detail to the materials and construction of the Tabernacle, and why do the prophets give so much detail concerning the materials and construction of the First Temple, and then so much detail and reiteration when describing the First Temple’s destruction? Lastly, although we have no clear Talmudic or Mishnaic source for this claim, why is it that many commentators echo the claim of the Or Hahayim, that had the Temple been built by Moses, it never would have been destroyed? How did the Or Hahayim know that?

This website analyzes a number of topics which we have studied in the past, and its author, a prominent faculty member at Merkaz Harav with whom I have corresponded on this matter, offers an explanation that does not satisfy me because part of its basis is the assumption that the Tabernacle as it stood in Nov and Gibeon was not considered a full, halachic Sanctuary, whereas I feel it is clear from both the Yerushalmi and Maimonides’s commentary on the Mishna that the Tabernacles at Nov and Gibeon, despite the fact that they never housed the Ark of the Covenant, were as much complete sanctuaries as those at Shiloh and Jerusalem. While I  agree with his assertion that the main tragedy of Shiloh was the Ark of the Covenant’s falling into enemy hands, the idea that the rest of the Sanctuary’s destruction was insignificant because the Ark was already removed does not satisfy me, because by that logic, according to the major opinions that the Ark had been removed from the Temple decades before the Temple’s destruction, the Temple’s destruction would have also not been so tragic. Similarly, the Second Temple, which never housed the Ark, would also not have had a remarkably tragic destruction. These ideas are untenable.

Instead, I answered that the Torah dedicates so much detail to the construction of the Sanctuaries because they were the physical manifestations of Israel’s dedication to God’s service. The contributions of gold and silver transcended their physical value. They were the pride and joy of our people. The tragedy of the destruction of the First Temple was that due to our sins, the neglect of God’s law, the great riches that had been dedicated to the Temple fell into the hands of the heathens for their own profane use. This is a theme addressed by the prophets and sages, and part of the consolation of Zion that led to the building of the Second Temple was that they were returned. However, as history attests, the only component of the Mosaic Tabernacle that ever fell into enemy hands was the Ark, while the rest of Tabernacle, including its structural components and appointments, was evacuated from Shiloh before the Philistines got there, and eventually made its way to Nov, then Gibeon, and then was brought to be put into g’niza, permanent storage, under the Temple in Jerusalem. The Philistines merely demolished the stone walls that held up the impermanent, tent-like roof of the Shiloh Sanctuary and its stone altar, but the original altars of wood, bronze, and gold, for the burnt offerings and the incense, were saved. Thus, major tragedy was averted, although the people learned a harsh lesson. This explains why the prophets did not in any way detail the destruction of Shiloh like they did that of Jerusalem. No spoils were taken. I therefore suggest, as others have done before me, that the fact, mentioned in Sota 9b, that Moses’s major handiwork, the Tabernacle, never fell into enemy hands, is the basis for the idea that the same would have been true for the Temple. 

I recently had the honor of discussing these issues with Rabbi Shendorfi, and in response to his challenges, I collected the various sources within the writings of the Meiri, the Meshech Hochma, and the Hevel Nahalato that point to the absence of the Ark of the Covenant from the Sanctuaries at Nov and Gibeon as the reason, or perhaps the halachic mechanism that allowed, for the hetter bamoth, the permission to offer sacrifice outside of the Sanctuary. The original and complete Hebrew version of my analysis and conclusions is available here,, while an oral explanation thereof can be found in a series of Youtube videos here. God willing, their English counterparts will be made available soon.

The following is a summary of my main original arguments:

Maimonides describes two positive commandments (to offer all sacrifices in the chosen Sanctuary, and to bring all sacrificially designated things outside of Israel to the Sanctuary) and two negative commandments (not to slaughter sacrifices outside the Sanctuary courtyard, and not to burn any sacrifice outside the Sanctuary courtyard) that, as the sages point out in Z’vahim 14:4-10, did not apply when the Sanctuary stood in Nov and Gibeon. This is the state we refer to as hetter bamoth, when anyone could build his own bama, a “high place”, i.e., an altar, for private sacrifice.

The aforementioned commandments were taken very seriously early in our history; Joshua 22 describes how shortly after the Sanctuary was established at Shiloh, the Transjordanian tribes of Israel built a large, purely symbolic altar along the Jordan, and the other tribes were prepared to go to war against them for what was their seeming intention not to follow these commandments, while the book of Kings judges every single king of both Israel and Judah by how well each upheld these commandments. Every king of Israel starting from Jeroboam onward with the exception of Hosea son Elah, the last king of Israel, is faulted for maintaining places of sacrifice other than Jerusalem, while many kings of Judah are criticized for not abolishing the private altars that stood in their realms, and Hezekiah is the described as the greatest, most righteous king because he finally put an end to the practice. (I have always said that the modern political and religious establishment preventing Jews from visiting the site of the Temple, etc., is merely another manifestation of Jeroboam’s main policies, policies he and almost every one of his successors adopted in order to maintain their own grips on power. Thus, until an Israeli Prime Minister once again allows the Jewish People to worship God as per the Torah, they will all have “done evil in the eyes of God.”)

The main question before us is, therefore, on what basis did our ancestors establish altars and offer sacrifice outside of the Sanctuary during the time when it stood in Nov and Gibeon? What was the source or reason for this temporary suspension of a number of Biblical commandments?

The Meiri, noting that since the Ark of the Covenant was never present in the Sanctuaries at Nov and Gibeon, as is clear from the Book of Samuel, writes that its absence was the ostensible halachic allowance for sacrifice on private altars:

 הואיל ולא היה הארון קבוע עם המזבח – הותרו הבמות

Many similar sources can be found in Hevel Nahalato, available here. One of them is the Meshech Hochma, who claims that the Israelites were permitted, in isolated incidents, to offer sacrifice beyond the Shiloh Sanctuary when the Ark was temporarily removed from the Sanctuary. The problem is that this view of the Meshech Hochma, and the views of those who followed him, can not be resolved with Maimonides’s own commentary to the fourteenth chapter of Z’vahim, in which he explicitly writes, as per both Talmudim, that the hetter bamoth of the  Nov/Gibeon era was on the authority of an expository tradition of our sages (Z’vahim 119a):

When they came to Gibeon [and set up the Mishkan there], bamoth were [once again] permitted. How do we know that? — Because our Rabbis taught: “For you have not yet come to the m’nuha, the resting place and the nahala, the inheritance.” ‘The resting place’ alludes to Shiloh, ‘the inheritance’ alludes to Jerusalem. Why does Scripture separate them? [That is, why does scripture mention that there are two destinations?] In order to grant permission between one and the other.

See Maimonides’s complete commentary to Z’vahim 14, in which he also describes how the bamoth that existed before the Tabernacle was at Shiloh, when it was in Gilgal, were allowed by yet another derivation from the relevant verses, and not because the Ark was usually outside of the Tabernacle:

לפי שתלה הכתוב איסור הבמות במחנה והוא שנאמר אשר ישחט שור או כשב או עז במחנה ונתן טעם בזה למען אשר יביאו בני ישראל את זבחיהם וגו’ וזהו איסור הבמות לפי שמיום שפסקו המחנות [תרגום הרי׳׳ק: ״חיסול מחנות״] ונכנסו לארץ ר”ל ארץ כנען והוא הזמן שבאו לגלגל נסתלקה מצות לא תעשה זו ונשאר מותר 

As a matter of fact, according to the non-Maimonidean school, it would actually be quite imprecise for the sages of the Mishna to declare that there was a hetter bamoth during the Gilgal period, or any period for that matter. As a matter of fact, the entire style of the Mishna, to state whether there was a hetter bamoth or issur bamoth when the Sanctuary stood in any place, is pointless according to the Meiri and Meshech Hochma. Instead, the Mishna should have just stated a general rule at the outset that when the Ark was kept in the Tabernacle, the bamoth were prohibited, and when the Ark was taken out of the Tabernacle, the bamoth were permitted. As we will be reminded later on, the fact that the Mishna describes certain periods is exactly as the Talmud concludes: the permissibility of the bamoth depended on the time period, and not on a particular condition that could change during that period. 

One particular passage in Hevel Nahalato is particularly perplexing because he acknowledges Maimonides’s explanation for why the bamoth were permitted during the Gilgal period, but he then writes that the permission during the Nov/Gibeon period was granted because the Ark was absent.

 ישנה הסיבה בזמן נוב וגבעון שארון לא היה במקומו ואז המזבח ירד ממדרגתו להיות במה גדולה. וישנה הסיבה שהיתה בגלגל שבטלה החלוקה למחנות שכינה לויה וישראל ולכן אף המשכן כולו ירד ממדרגתו לדרגת במה גדולה\

This idea, which explicitly contradicts Maimonides’s own words, is echoed in later works, including those on the internet, such as this article by Rabbi Prof. Yoel Elitzur, son of the late Bible scholar Rabbi Yehuda Elitzur, and in it, he brings an answer that I recall hearing was also offered by Rabbi Soloveichik. He begins by citing another relevant passage from Maimonides’s laws (4:1):

When Solomon built the Temple, he was aware that it would ultimately be destroyed. [Therefore,] he constructed a chamber, in which the Ark could be entombed below [the Holy of Holies] in deep, maze-like vaults. King Josiah commanded that [the Ark] be entombed in the chamber built by Solomon, as it is said: “He said to the Levites, consecrated to the Lord, who taught all Israel, ‘Put the Holy Ark in the House that Solomon son of David, king of Israel, built…’” (II Chronicles 35:3).

This is unusual, as Rambam generally does not rule on historical questions in Mishneh Torah, including the interpretation of texts and even halakhic questions that were only relevant in the past (such as the permissibility of the bamoth), unless there is some practical halakhic implication for the present or the future, or if the question touches on a fundamental foundation of faith. In light of this, why did Rambam choose to rule with such certainty in our case, weighing in on what amounts to a Tannaitic historical dispute?

It is likely that the reason behind this ruling can be found in the Talmud Yerushalmi:

Rabbi Yassa said in the name of Rabbi Yohanan: “This is the rule – whenever the Ark is within [the Sanctuary], the bamot are forbidden; when it has left [the Sanctuary], the bamot are permitted.” Rabbi Ze’ira asked Rabbi Yassa: “Even [when the Ark has left the Sanctuary] temporarily, as in the case of Eli?” (Yerushalmi Megilla 1:12)

In the style of the Yerushalmi, Rabbi Ze’ira’s question that was seemingly left unanswered serves as its own conclusion: Indeed, even when the Ark leaves the Sanctuary temporarily, the bamot become permitted. Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma commentary on Parashat Re’eh, expanded on this notion, using it to explain the apparent violation of the prohibition on bamot during the Shiloh period. According to him, during the time of the Mishkan in Shiloh, the Ark would be removed regularly from its place to be present at national gatherings elsewhere, and sometimes it would even remain in those other locations for extended periods of time. During those periods when the Ark was absent from the Mishkan in Shiloh, claims the Meshekh Chokhma, the bamot were permitted.

Now we can return to Rambam’s unusual ruling. In a different, well-known statement that is accepted as the normative halakha, Rambam rules that the “first consecration” performed by Solomon in Jerusalem applied “for that time and for eternity” (Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 6:14). This ruling has several halakhic implications, both positive – we can offer sacrifices on the Temple site even without the Temple itself; we can eat the “most holy” sacrifices even without the “hangings” of the Courtyard; we can eat sacrifices of lesser sanctity and ma’aser sheni even without the wall surrounding Jerusalem (Mishna Eduyot 8:6; Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 6:15) – and negative – the impure may not enter the area of the Courtyard; and bamot are prohibited outside of Jerusalem. In order to reconcile this ruling with the statement of the Yerushalmi, Rambam was forced to rule in accordance with Rabbi Judah son of Lakish – the Ark was hidden in its own place![11] If so, according to Rambam the Ark is still in its original location, waiting for us in the depths of the Holy of Holies, beneath the Foundation Stone in Jerusalem.

I wrote to Prof. Elitzur about how this is not a valid resolution to the question regarding Maimonides’s formulation because it assumes that the exchange between Rabbi Yassa and Rabbi Ze’ira is the bottom-line halacha and the conclusion of that Talmudic discussion, but in reality, the Talmud continues, and brings, at the conclusion of that section cited above, an elaboration of the mishnayoth in Z’vahim we saw above. There, at the conclusion of the first chapter of YT M’gilla, it explains why bamoth were prohibited during the Shilonic period, then permitted in the intervening period, and then permanently prohibited once the Temple was built: it was a d’rasha, an esoteric rule encoded in the unusual language of the prohibition, and it did not condition the hetter bamoth on the Ark’s constant presence in the Sanctuary, and is along the lines of the passage from Z’vahim 119a, above, and in the corresponding section from the Yerushalmi, after quoting the same verse referencing “the resting place” and “the inheritance,” and explaining that the former was Shiloh and the latter was Jerusalem, the consequences are explained:

Thus, while the Tent of Meeting [stood during the sojourn in the wilderness], the bamoth were prohibited. While [it stood] in Gilgal, the bamoth were permitted. While [it stood] in Shiloh, the bamoth were prohibited. While [it stood] in Nov and Gibeon, the bamoth were permitted. While [it stood] in Jerusalem, the bamoth were prohibited. [This can be compared] to a man who told his servant, “do not drink wine from Tiberias, nor from Caesarea, nor from Sephoris,” implying that from areas between those places, he could [drink wine].

And that is how Maimonides explains the Mishnayoth in his uncensored commentary to Z’vahim. This seems necessary, because the exposition of the verse about “the resting place” and “the inheritance” does not seem to teach anything about the Gilgal period, and it must be that the hetter bamoth of that period was due to some other factor. Be that as it may, Maimonides reiterates why there was a hetter bamoth between the Shiloh and Jerusalem eras: Moses, when he related this command, had implied that there would be a period between the two major Sanctuaries when the bamoth would once again be permitted.

It therefore turns out that Rabbi Yassa’s rule, actually a k’lal in the original Hebrew, should more accurately be translated as a “general principle,” less a declaration of halacha, and more of a mnemonic, a correlation that does not imply causation. If you will ask, how are we to remember if high places were permitted during the days of a particular sanctuary, then look for the Ark. The Ark stood in Shiloh, so the high places were then prohibited, but it did not stand in Nov and Gibeon, and therefore high places were permitted in their days. But Rabbi Ze’ira points out that this is too simplistic, because it implies that if the Ark were to have been removed from Shiloh temporarily, then the high places would have been temporarily permitted, or if the Ark were to be removed from the Temple in Jerusalem, it would also result in a hetter bamoth until it would be brought back, which is untenable, and explains why Rabbi Yassa has no rejoinder for Rabbi Ze’ira’s point, because the hetter bamoth, according to the conclusion of this Yerushalmi, and according to the plain meaning of the Bavli in Z’vahim, and according to Maimonides’s commentary, does not depend on the strict and immediate presence of the Ark of the Covenant in the Sanctuary, and that is why the Temple is still the Temple in its state of desolation according to Maimonides, even though the Ark has not been present therein since the late First Temple Period.

I also have a hard time accepting Rabbi Shendorfi’s terminology which implies that when the Ark is absent, the Sanctuary’s altar loses (lit. descends from its level of) sanctity and becomes a “bama g’dola, a great high place.” This term, bama g’dola, is actually greatly misunderstood, as we shall see. We also disagreed regarding the application of the word miqdash to the Tabernacles of Nov and Gibeon; I had written that the interpretation of what Maimonides wrote in the first source cited above meant that the Nov and Gibeon Sanctuaries were מקדשים לכל דבר, “Sanctuaries for all intents and purposes,” and this was also stated by Rabbi Bar Hayim in a series of recent lectures posted to Youtube, but Rabbi Shendorfi argued that Nov and Gibeon were not ״,מקדשים לכל דבר״ that they were somehow inferior or of lesser status, and the prophets never referred to Nov and Gibeon the way they referred to Shiloh and Jerusalem, and challenged me to prove my assertion. I think Maimonides’s opening ruling/definition is sufficient, and my challenge was instead to answer why the destruction of Shiloh became an afterthought, and why the subsequent Sanctuaries were not described with reverence.

I Kings 9:2-5, I Chronicles 22:1, and Psalms 132:14, and other relevant verses, as well as Laws of the Chosen Temple 1:3 and 6:13-16 show beyond any doubt that according to Maimonides, there is no indication that the sanctity of the Temple and the eternal prohibition against bamoth that were initiated with the Temple’s inauguration had anything to do with the absence or presence of the Ark in the Temple. Rather, they were made known to us expressly by the prophets and the Mosaic tradition.

Not only that, in those latter laws, Maimonides actually explains the nature of the Temple’s eternal sanctity and its halachic ramifications, and how their unconditional nature stands in stark contrast to the sanctity of the land of Israel, which is conditional, and therefore subject to nullification:

How was [the Second Temple] consecrated? With the first consecration initiated by Solomon, for he consecrated the Temple Courtyard and Jerusalem for that time and for eternity. Therefore, we may offer all the sacrifices [at the Temple], even though the Temple itself is not built. Similarly, the most holy sacrifices can be eaten in the entire [area of the] Courtyard, even though it is in ruin and not surrounded by a formal wall. We may also eat less holy sacrifices and the second tithe throughout Jerusalem, even though it is not [presently] surrounded by a wall, for through its original consecration, it was consecrated for that time and for eternity.

Why do I say that the original consecration sanctified the Temple and Jerusalem for eternity, while with regard to the consecration of the remainder of the Land of Israel, specifically regarding whether the Sabbatical year, tithes, and other related [agricultural] laws are in force, [the original consecration] did not sanctify it for eternity? Because the sanctity of the Temple and Jerusalem stems from the Divine Presence, and the Divine Presence can never be nullified. Thus, Leviticus 26:31 states: “I will lay waste to your sanctuaries.” The Sages declared: “Even though they have been devastated, their sanctity remains.”

In contrast, the [original] obligation to keep the laws of the Sabbatical year and tithes on the Land stemmed from the fact that it was conquered by the [Jewish people as a united] community. Therefore, when the land was taken from their hands [by the Babylonians,] their [original] conquest was nullified. Thus, according to Torah law, the land was freed from the obligations of the Sabbatical year and tithes because it was no longer “Land of Israel.”

That is, according to Maimonides, the sanctity of something is whether or not the relevant commandments and laws apply to it. An Aaronite priest is holy because specific commandments apply to him beyond those that apply to an ordinary Jew, whereas a halal, the offspring of a priest and a woman not fit for him, is desecrated, and the commandments and laws of the priesthood do not not apply to him. The land of Israel was promised to the Patriarchs and is eternally in the possession of the Jewish people, but its sanctity only exists under certain conditions, and it is only under those conditions that the laws and commandments actually apply therein. The idea of sanctity is a fundamental tenet of halacha, and applies in various forms to inanimate objects, vegetation, animals, people, places, and even time periods.

Most importantly, Maimonides writes explicitly how the Holy of Holies was holier than every other place:

בית קודש הקודשים מקודש ממנו שאין נכנס לשם אלא כהן גדול ביום הכיפורים, בשעת העבודה

The Holy of Holies is holier than [the rest of the Sanctuary edifice], as only the High Priest may enter there on Yom Kippur at the time of the service.

We see from this halacha that the essence of the Holy of Holies’ sanctity derived from the fact it was the place designated for more commandments than the other places, i.e., it had even stricter rules of limited entry than the rest of the Temple, and it was designated for a unique sacrificial service not performed elsewhere, and that is what made it holy, even when, for centuries perhaps, the Ark of the Covenant was absent. In the Guide to the Perplexed (3:45, based on the Friedlander translation), Maimonides explains that these defined areas of additional sanctity have a specific utility:

It is evident that the object of giving different degrees of sanctity to the different places, to the Temple Mount, the place between the two walls, to the women’s courtyard, to the Hall, and so on up to the Holy of Holies, was to raise the respect and reverence of the Temple in the minds of all who approached it.

The sixteenth-century commentator Radbaz has a classic explanation of Maimonides’s distinction between the sanctity of the Temple and the sanctity of the land, and it answers a question regarding the Mishna (Keilim 1) that Maimonides cites regarding the ten levels of sanctity within the Land of Israel:

The land of Israel is sanctified above all other lands. What is its sanctity? From it we bring the ‘omer, the bikkurim, and the two loaves of (pentecostal) bread.

Why doesn’t the Mishna just state that the land’s sanctity is that the mitzwoth hat’luyoth ba’aretz, the agricultural commandments that are contingent on the land, only apply in the land of Israel?

The answer is that the Mishna was aware that the main sanctity of the land is transient, that it was once conditional and then nullified, and therefore there were times when the land had no sanctity, i.e., the usual commandments were not in force. But, because the Temple’s sanctity is eternal and unconditional, and never lapsed, the sacrifices were always required, and the offerings mentioned in this Mishna are all public offerings of the Temple, and therefore this aspect of the land’s sanctity, which is a derivative of the Temple’s sanctity, is also eternal. That means, for example, that if during the times of the Babylonian exile, before work even began on the Second Temple and the altar was rebuilt, the Jews had an opportunity to offer sacrifice at the Temple ruins, as apparently happened at certain times even after the destruction of the Second Temple, and it was Passover or Pentecost, they would have to make sure that the grains they were using for the ‘omer and the pentecostal loaves, (also called bikkurim) had to come from the land of Israel, even though they could not and did not count the years of the Sabbatical cycle, or tithe their crops, or keep the other commandments that were contingent on the land.

Were the Temple’s sanctity conditional like that of the land’s sanctity, as the Meiri and the Meshech Hochma claim, I would have expected Maimonides to say so, just as he wrote how the land’s sanctity was once conditional and subject to nullification, and just as he wrote in the Book of Commandments regarding a similar issue:

If we were to suppose that the people of Israel were to disappear from the land of Israel – although it is sacrilege to say that God allow such a thing, as He has already promised that the remnant of this people shall neither be erased or uprooted – then our calculation [of the calendar] would not be of any utility to us whatsoever, because we are not supposed to calculate and intercalate the years and establish new moons outside of the land except for specific circumstances, and as we have explained, “for Torah shall go forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

According to Maimonides, the complete removal of the Jews from the land of Israel would be the destruction of the Jewish people.

This passage teaches us that the responsibility/necessity of a court to establish the Jewish calendar is, at least in theory, conditioned on the presence of that court within the land of Israel.

Thus, if the Temple’s sanctity was conditional, for example, on the presence of the Ark of the Covenant, we would have expected Maimonides to write something along the lines of:

If we were to suppose that the Ark of the Covenant were to disappear from the Temple – heaven forbid – then the entire sanctity of the Temple would be nullified, and we would not be able to offer any of the public sacrifices therein, even though the Temple would still be standing in all its grandeur, and we would not be able to eat the most holy sacrifices in the Temple Courtyard even if its walls were standing, and neither would we be able to eat less holy sacrifices and the second tithe within Jerusalem even if it had a wall, because the original sanctification of the Temple only has effect as long as the Ark remains in the Temple.

But Maimonides never wrote any such thing. It is very difficult to argue that according to Maimonides, or the sages for that matter, the sanctity of the Temple would be contingent on the presence of the Ark.

We will now turn to explaining what Maimonides’s intent was in seemingly ruling that the Ark of the Covenant was hidden in a secret chamber beneath the Temple Mount. The matter of the Ark’s disappearance from history is a matter of dispute both among secular researchers (at least among those who believe it ever existed) and our sages, and it seems that many of the proposed narratives are speculative and conjectural. How and why did Maimonides see fit to take sides in this argument?

As we have mentioned, the Meiri and Meshech Hochma et al. claim that the Ark must have stayed within the Temple for its sanctity to be able to persist, thus allowing for us to keep all of the positive and negative commandments of the Temple throughout history, even during the times the Temple stands in ruins, and even during Second Temple times. Although this could very well be a valid explanation for why some of the sages may have claimed that the Ark was hidden under the Temple, it certainly could not have been Maimonides’s reason.

My tentative answer is that with regards to historical and halachic disputes that have no clear resolution, it is Maimonides’s general practice to side with the position that draws the most scriptural support. In this case, there is a verse that seems to describe Josiah instructing the Priests and Levites to hide the Ark, and although Kings, Jeremiah, and Chronicles describe how the Babylonians destroyed and despoiled the Temple in great detail, no mention is made whatsoever of the Ark. This seems to indicate that the Ark was safely hidden before the destruction. This may also be the reason why the Mishna assumes that the Ark was hidden under the Temple, even though differing opinions existed among the sages. 

But why would Maimonides include his historical view at this point in the laws of the Temple?

My first answer is that just like in his introduction to the Yad, Maimonides lists all of the transmitters of the Oral Tradition in order to emphasize that the halachoth he records are solidly grounded in positive tradition, and in the first chapter of these laws he emphasizes the unbroken Jewish tradition of Sanctuary service since the revelation at Sinai until the permanent Temple in Jerusalem, and in the second chapter he brings the importance of the historical, eternal tradition of the location of the Altar, and in this fourth chapter, Maimonides emphasizes the Foundation Stone that lay prominently in the Holy of Holies, which has a long history parallel to that of the location of the Altar, and serves as its reference point. Yes, in the First Temple the Ark and the manna and Aaron’s staff rested upon the stone, but in the Second Temple, when they had already been hidden, the Foundation Stone was still there, and that was the important part. That is why Maimonides then describes how, because the location of the Holy of Holies needs to be exactly that as demanded by positive tradition, the builders of the Second Temple adjusted the plan of the partitions between the Holy and the Holy of Holies because of the doubt that had arisen. In each of these chapters, Maimonides’s purpose is to define a specific place to the exclusion of all others: The Temple Mount in Jerusalem to the exclusion of all other places in Israel, the place of the Altar as it always was to the exclusion of any other place on the Mount; the place of the Holy of Holies to the exclusion of any other place on the western part of the Mount. 

(Considering that because Maimonides already wrote in his commentary to the Mishna that the Temple’s sanctity is eternal and inalterable, and certainly not contingent on the presence of the Ark, I would have expected the Meshech Hochma and others to suggest that the sanctity of the Temple emanates from the presence of the Foundation Stone. I would not be surprised to learn that others have already suggested this.)

On the other hand, one might have thought that perhaps the location of the Holy of Holies should depend on that of the Ark, for example, if the Ark were now hidden 30 feet underground and a few hundred feet to the east of the where the foundation stone is (the Chamber of Wood was at the eastern end of the Temple’s outer courtyard), the Second Temple’s edifice should have been built directly over that new spot.

Secondly, Maimonides mentions that the Ark and the other items, Aaron’s staff, and the manna and the anointing oil, are still intact because these items serve as the tokens of the covenant (see below). A couple can not stay together alone in the house, or vacation on the opposite side of the world together, if they do not know where their k’thuba is. So too, Maimonides needed to write that the Temple is still God’s chosen place to be with His chosen people, and the marriage contract and the tokens of the covenant are still there for safekeeping.

Thirdly, Maimonides is following an idea found in the Midrash (Genesis Rabba 79:7):

“[Jacob] bought the section of the field where he had pitched his tent for one hundred qesita.” Rabbi Judah b. Simon said, “this is one of three places with which the nations of the world cannot deride Israel saying, ‘they are not lawfully yours:’ the Cave of the Patriarchs, the Holy Temple, and Joseph’s burial plot.

The verse described how all of these places were bought by Abraham, David, and Jacob respectively, for large sums. History has shown time and again that the people of Israel have endured the strange fortune of having to fight to maintain their historical connection to their eponymous land, even though the Chinese and Bulgarians and most others have not had to fight to maintain theirs.

Maimonides foresaw how one day, the nations of the world would challenge Israel’s right to the land of Israel, Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, and the places of the Altar and the Sanctuary, and that they would thus challenge the intrinsic and eternal holiness of those places. He thus brought the history and the enduring connection of those places to the Jewish tradition when explaining how their eternal sanctity affects the commandments that are meant to be performed in those places.

Rabbi Shendorfi used Rashi’s comments on Z’vahim 61b in an attempt to show how the Sanctuaries at Nob and Gibeon were of lesser holiness, but I disagreed with him because, in that context, Rashi was specifically addressing the construction of the altars at those two Sanctuaries, and as per the discussion on the previous folio, those altars only possessed a temporary sanctity that had long since passed, as opposed to the sanctity of the transportable, bronze altar of the Tabernacle, which maintained some of its sanctity even when it was not in usable condition, and the holiness of the Temple altars, which exists to this day at the site of the altar, even though the altar itself still awaits to be rebuilt. 

I will not translate the detailed disagreement regarding the interpretation of Z’vahim 119a, regarding where the second tithe was consumed in the years after the destruction of Shiloh and before the Temple was built. The Hevel Nahalato wondered why Maimonides and the Bartenura did not interpret the Mishna according to Rabbi Judah’s position if the halacha is normally in accordance with Rabbi Judah. My answer is that the Hevel Nahalato assumes that Rabbi Judah’s opinion is as explained by Rashi, but Maimonides and Bartenura understand the discussion entirely differently, and in their view, they do interpret the Mishna as being in accordance with Rabbi Judah. 

I suggest that it is a fallacious tendency to causally link the facts that the Ark was not present in both Nov and Gibeon and that at those times there was a hetter bamoth. However, correlation does not mean causation, as can be seen from the conclusions of both Talmudim and Maimonides’s commentary. The hetter bamoth was not due to the absence of the Ark, although it did coincide with the absence of the Ark. As I wrote earlier, this was even a rejected hawa amina in the Talmud. I am therefore not surprised that the rabbinic-literary record shows that this hawa amina appeared a few times in history. 

In the 20th century works that did assume this causal relationship, a slew of Biblical and Talmudic sources was marshaled as proof, but each time the indication was that indeed there was a correlation, but no proof of causation. For example, the Tosefta at the end of Z’vahim says “What was the great bama during the period of the hetter bama? The Tent of Meeting was pitched as normal, but the Ark was not there.” This, as the Hevel Nahalato and Rabbi Shendorfi pointed out, seems to say that the hetter bamoth may have been due to the absence of the Ark, but we should first ask what this teaching tells us beyond what is explicitly mentioned in many verses in Kings, Chronicles, and Samuel, including this one (I Kings 3:3-4):

Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of David his father; he would only slaughter and sacrifice in the [official] high places. The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there; for that was the great bama; Solomon offered a thousand burnt-offerings upon that altar. 

The answer happens to be found in the two previous verses (ibid., 1-2):

Solomon married into Pharaoh, king of Egypt’s, family; he married Pharaoh’s daughter, and brought her to the city of David until he completed building his own house, the Temple of the Lord, and the wall of Jerusalem roundabout. Yet the people still sacrificed at the high places, because there was still no Temple built for the name of the Lord in those days. 

That is, the bamoth would become prohibited once the Temple was built. This verse is the clearest Biblical source for the Talmudic/Maimonidean position. Indeed, the Tabernacle stood in Gibeon while the Ark was first in Abinadab’s house and then in Jerusalem, and at that time Gibeon was called the “great bama” and other bamoth were permitted, but the reason for bamoth being permitted was because the permanent Temple had yet to be built.   

This is actually quite profound. One might have argued that if a “great bama” was at Gibeon, while an ordinary [minor] bama is any other private altar, then ever since David brought the Ark to Jerusalem and the prophets had endorsed his plan to build a permanent Temple in Jerusalem, and they had established an altar at what would be the site of the future, permanent Temple, there were actually two national central places of worship: the great bama in Gibeon, and the bama that already stood in Jerusalem, at the site of the future Sanctuary which God had chosen and which was accompanied by God’s messiah and His Ark. The verses therefore teach us that even though Solomon was stationed in Jerusalem, and he already had an established altar at the designated site of the Temple and the Ark of the Covenant was already waiting there in Jerusalem, the Tabernacle at Gibeon, where only Aaronite priests could serve and where the sacrificial service was done on the nation’s behalf every day “as per the the Torah of Moses” (I Chronicles 16:39-40) was still the only place true place of national, central worship, and for example, the Paschal offering could only be brought there (Laws of the Paschal Offering 1:2-3). I believe that there were perhaps thousands who were of this belief already in the last few years of David’s reign, especially after many Israelites became uncomfortable with making their pilgrimages to Gibeon, which, although a priestly city (Joshua 21:17), was also inhabited by cruel, unforgiving non-Jews (II Samuel 21:1-7), and had twice been the site of inter-Israelite, political violence (II Samuel 2:12-17 and 20:8). 

This idea is actually alluded to in Moses’s prayer when the Israelites would begin their journeys in the wilderness. “the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant would travel before them… to seek out m’nuha, rest, for them” (Numbers 10:33). “And when the Ark traveled, Moses said, Arise O Lord, and Your enemies will be dispersed, and those who hate You will flee from before You” (ibid., 35). As we saw, m’nuha is a reference to the Shiloh Sanctuary and its time period. That is, when the Israelites first came into Canaan, as Maimonides described, the land was sanctified through their conquests, when the Ark of the Covenant would lead them out to war. (As we wrote earlier, every one of the Israelite’s journeys from Sinai were acts of war and conquest). The Ark would go out to war with the people throughout their conquests, until at the end of those conquests, it, along with the rest of the Tabernacle, was brought to its first resting place in Shiloh, but after that, once God had come to His permanent resisting place, His nahala, portion, the Land would be sanctified not through war and conquest, but by the mere presence of His people. 

Another ramification of the Talmudic outlook regarding the hetter bamoth is that we are not obliged, like the Meshech Hochma and others were, to explain examples in the Books of Joshua and Judges wherein the Israelites built altars and offered sacrifice beyond the Shiloh Sanctuary as instances of when the Ark was temporarily removed from the Sanctuary. Instead, just like we find explicitly regarding Elijah at Mt. Carmel, and Gideon (Judges 6:25-26) and Manoah (ibid., 13:16), God expressly instructed them to offer sacrifice then and there, what the sages called a hora’ath sha’a, a one-time dispensation, the other instances were also similarly prophetic temporary dispensations. 

Another Biblical passage presents a challenge to the Meiri’s position. Upon witnessing the Clouds of Glory fill the Temple, Solomon declared (I Kings 8:18-21):

Now it was in the heart of my father David to build a temple for the Name of the Lord, God of Israel, but the Lord said to my father David: Because it was in your heart to build a temple for My name, you have done well with what was in your heart; However, you shall not build the Temple. Rather, your son, who shall come from out of your loins, he shall build the Temple for My Name. The Lord has kept His word that He spoke, and I have risen up in place of my father David, and I have sat on the throne of Israel, as the Lord spoke, and I have built the Temple for the Name of the Lord, God of Israel, and I have set therein a place for the Ark in which is the covenant of the Lord, which He forged with our fathers when He brought them out of the land of Egypt.’

According to the Meiri et al., why would Solomon need to say this? Isn’t the Temple’s very sanctity conditional on the presence of the Ark? Isn’t it supposed to be there? So why is it remarkable that Solomon’s magnificent Temple had a place for the Ark?

The answer is that, as Maimonides already implied, the Temple does not necessarily need the Ark. Yes, it was there during our best eras, but, as the Gibeon/Nov and Second Temple eras show, the Ark is far from necessary, and one should not assume that it would always be housed in the Sanctuary. An amazing aspect of the First Temple was that for the first time in decades, the Ark could once again be housed in the Holy of Holies.

Concerning the fact that Maimonides did not list an independent commandment to fashion the Ark, it must be noted that as he lists only one commandment to build and upkeep the Temple, and all of the service vessels within the Temple are included in the one commandment, and he does even count independent commandments to make those vessels that were actually used in the course of the service, e.g., the altars and the candelabrum, it is understandable why the Ark, which served no ritual purpose, enjoys no commandment regarding its own fabrication. This also explains why no replacement ark was created for the Second Temple: it served no practical purpose and did not and could not be replaced, because its purpose was disconnected from any Temple service. Only Solomon, and not Samuel, David, or Saul, installed the Ark in the Sanctuary when the time came. We see from this that it did not bother anyone that the Sanctuary lacked the Ark until then.

Josiah’s aforementioned removal of the Ark from the Temple did not in any way change the function or sanctity of the Temple.

Zerubbabel and Jeshua the High Priest received a mandate from Cyrus to do whatever was necessary to found and rebuild the Temple, and although they were guided by three prophets, they never sought to locate the Ark and return it, and they were never told to do so. Neither Ezra nor Nehemiah tried to do so even though they could have. Neither did any subsequent Jewish ruler: Simon the Just, the Maccabees, Simon ben Shetah, or Herod, who demolished the original structure of the Second Temple in order to build an even grander one under the guidance of the sages. All of these Second-Temple figures had just as much legal access to the entire Temple Mount as the modern Israeli government, and much less outside interference, if any at all. 

The Mishna does mention that there was a priest who believed that he may have found an indication of the Ark’s hiding place, and that he died a miraculous, sudden, and horrific death before he could share his find. This was a heavenly sign that the Ark was not supposed to be in the Second Temple. (In a nod to the teachings of R’ Avigdor Miller, I would argue that the benefit here was that the testimony contained in the Ark could not be claimed and hijacked by sectarian groups, the Sadducees, the Boethusians, and the Christians, that arose in that era and who did hijack the Temple and our scriptures when they had opportunities. At the very least, the Philistines who seized the Ark respected it as a vanquished god and learned to treat it with awe, and one could imagine that the Babylonians, who, according to some scholars both Jewish and non-Jewish, may have likewise shown some reverence to the Ark, but in the hands of the Christians it would be treated in a manner completely sacrilegious, or, God forbid as proof to their legitimacy. Until today, the Ethiopian Christians make such claims regarding the non-Ark they claim to possess.)

From a philosophical perspective, there never was and still is no reason to seek the Ark. In Hebrew, the Ark is referred to as both the Ark of the Covenant and the Ark of the Testimony because it holds the testimony, the physical relics, of the covenant enacted at Sinai: the tablets and the Torah are analogous to the Jewish institution of the marriage contract which is signed by both parties. In this case, the covenant has one document signed by God Himself, so to speak, the tablets, and the other by Israel’s legal representative, Moses, the Torah written by his hand. The Torah scroll itself was finalized by Moses on the day he died, when he contracted a second covenant with Israel, the covenant in the Plains of Moab, with the new generation that replaced the first. Nahmanides writes about how the Redemption from Egypt climaxed with the construction of the Tabernacle, while Solomon, in his speech at the Temple’s dedication, emphasized that the new edifice was to house the Ark of the covenant that began with the Exodus, which is why, of all of the events in scripture aside from the Passover observed in the wilderness a year after the Exodus, the dedication of Solomon’s Temple is dated to the year of the Exodus, as it was a continuation of that redemptive process.

However, in the interim exile, when the Second Temple’s construction was drawn out, the Jews reaccepted the Torah and the commandments anew, and out of love, as per the sages’ teaching regarding the ninth chapter of Esther, “the Jews accepted and upheld for themselves and for their descendants” that which they had previously accepted, and thus we had a new diaspora-born covenant that ascended to Israel with the builders of the Second Temple. The signing of this New Deal took place in the rebuilt Temple, as described in the latter part of the book of Nehemiah, among the people and their representatives led by Ezra, who, as the sages tell us, was worthy of receiving the Torah on Israel’s behalf, and was the one who had the final say as to the authorized text of the Torah, and who changed its script. The new tokens of this new covenant, Ezra’s Torah scrolls, were kept safely in the Temple, while the artisans fashioned new, engraved cherubim to adorn the back wall of the Holy of Holies, as though a replacement for the Ark of the Covenant, and analogous to the replacement marriage contract that the sages ordered a man to write for his wife if the original is no longer. The Ark of the Covenant was made to contain the physical evidence of the covenant and act as a divine antenna, but during the time of the Second Temple, the people saw how the Divine Presence rests upon Israel even in the Ark’s absence, and the people themselves carried or demonstrated the tokens of the eternal covenant with their very bodies.

This was foretold in Jeremiah 31:

Behold, days are coming, says the Lord, and I will enact a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah; not like the covenant that I made with their fathers the day that I took them by their hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, for they abrogated My covenant, although I lorded over them, says the Lord. For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will have placed My Torah within them, and I will write it upon their heart; I will be a God for them, and they shall be a nation for Me.

(See also Rashi’s commentary to Jeremiah 3:16.)

Even when the Ark’s whereabouts were known, its function was exclusively as a prophetic antenna, and even when it is was stowed away in Abinadab’s house, the prophets flourished, and when it was ultimately hidden, Josiah told the people that although the priests no longer had any responsibility to protect and transport the Ark, the people should continue to serve God as they always were supposed to have done. And even after that, new prophets arose in Israel. Thus, nothing actually changed when the Ark was lost, and we are hard-pressed to find any example of how, when the Ark’s location was known, our manner of serving God was supposed to be different from the way it is now.

The Mishna mentions that the sages approved of Hezekiah’s destruction of the brazen serpent Nehushtan that Moses had fashioned. At the time, the people had started to ascribe powers to the inanimate object, and this smacked of idolatry. I believe his great-grandson Josiah’s decision to hide the Ark was along the same lines, especially given the impending destruction which he sought to avoid. Shortly before the destruction of Shiloh, the people had looked to the Ark in an inappropriate manner, thinking that it somehow guaranteed them divine protection and victory in battle, and this was also slightly idolatrous. The Ark contains the documentation of the covenant, but the covenant still has to be kept if the Jews wish to merit divine protection. At that point, they were punished by being routed in battle, and having the Ark captured and the Sanctuary destroyed, and much of Samuel’s subsequent work was to get the people to abandon the idolatry to which they had become accustomed. The verse explicitly connects the Ark’s concealment with the people returning to the pure worship of God (I Samuel 7:2-3):

It was that from the day that the Ark abode in Kiriath-Jearim, that many years passed, it was ultimately twenty years, and the entire house of Israel was drawn to the Lord.

Samuel said to the entire house of Israel, saying: If you return to the Lord with all your heart, then get rid of the foreign gods and the ashtaroth from among yourselves, and direct your hearts to the Lord, and serve Him exclusively, and He will deliver you from the hand of the Philistines.

The first of these two verses describes the entire twenty-year period, the latter describes Samuel’s initiation of the repentance movement.

Josiah was trying to pre-empt this type of after-the-fact reaction to retribution. His generation believed that the very Temple was invincible and would afford them lasting protection (Jeremiah 7:4), and this may have been due to an overly literal understanding of the Sanctuary as God’s residence, as that is what seems to be indicated by the words in Exodus, but in actuality, in Moses’s own words in Deuteronomy and in the traditional Targumim, the Temple did not and can not possibly contain the One Whose glory fills the universe, but rather, it is a place dedicated to His name and service. Their reliance was possibly fatal, and Josiah therefore sought to show them that the Temple did not need the Ark in order to function, and that it was not some sort of talisman. In essence, he wanted to bring about the pure state of both private religious devotion and public sacrificial service that had been in Samuel’s time, but without having to suffer the destruction of the Sanctuary. The sages themselves discuss such forms of pre-emptive remedies, such as self-imposed lashes and exile for penitents, and praying outdoors and visiting cemeteries on emergency fast days.

This argument can be seen from the progression of events in II Chronicles 34 and 35. There are those who argue that the proof text for Josiah hiding the Ark, 35:3, actually describes Josiah returning the Ark to its rightful place within the Sanctuary, because either his father or grandfather had removed it, but if that were the case, we would have expected to find Josiah doing so much earlier in the narrative, when he became an adult and ordered the refurbishing of the Temple, during the course of which the priests found the ominous Torah scroll which prompted the king and his advisors to seek Hulda’s guidance. When her prophecy of impending destruction was heard, Josiah began his national campaign of repentance in an effort to stave off the impending disaster, ridding the land of idolatry and having the people enter into a new covenant to keep the Torah. In context, the hiding of the Ark can be seen as an act meant to ensure that the people’s intentions in their worship of God would be pure and exactly as the Torah had commanded.

Indeed, in the recently released Steinsaltz Tanakh in English, a similar point is made in the commentary to Jeremiah 3:16.

As for the important question, “isn’t the idea of the Sinaitic covenant being superseded dangerously close to the Christian doctrine which proposes a New Testament and a new covenant with a newly chosen people to replace Israel?” The answer is thankfully no, because what we have seen in our very own Torah (the covenant in the Plains of Moab) and in the rest of the Bible, as we mentioned, are not new covenants but merely reaffirmations of the original eternal covenant, and that which has been replaced is limited to the documentation thereof. To what is this analogous? To a lender who lost his promissory note, and has a new one issued to him by the court. The attestations are the same, that the loan was given on such a date to so-and-so and due at such time, except that it now supersedes the previous note if it were to be found. So too, the covenant since the time of the Second Temple is the same covenant of Abraham and Sinai, just attested to by different exhibits.

I certainly do not buy the argument that Josiah hid the Ark of the Covenant in order to protect it from falling into the hands of the Babylonian conquerors because there does not seem to be any scriptural support for this contention, and because unlike the other Temple appointments, which fell into the hands of both the Babylonians and Romans, and were then desecrated, we already have seen what happened to the Ark when it was captured by the uncircumcised heathens: it brought retribution upon them. Had the Babylonians or Romans been foolish enough to take the Ark, they would have learned their lesson even faster than the Philistines did.

Instead, I offer this passage from Sh’qalim (6:1):

מי גנזו יאשיהו גנזו כיון שראה שכתוב (דברים כח) יולך ה’ אותך ואת מלכך אשר תקים עליך אל גוי אשר לא ידעת אתה ואבותיך עמד וגנזו הדא הוא דכתיב (דברי הימים ב לה) ויאמר ללוים המבינים ולכל ישראל הקדושים לה’ תנו את ארון הקדש בבית אשר בנה שלמה בן דוד מלך ישראל אין לכם משא בכתף אמר להם אם גולה הוא עמכם לבבל אין אתם מחזירין אותו עוד למקומו אלא (שם) עתה עבדו את ה’ אלהיכם ואת עמו ישראל

Josiah said to the Levites, “if the Ark goes into exile with you, you will never return it to its place.”

Notice that Josiah was not afraid of the Babylonians taking the Ark; as we saw it it could take very good care of itself. Instead, he was afraid the Levites would take it to accompany the people in exile, and then once it would be there in Babylonia, the Levites would, for whatever reason, not return it to the Temple when the time came. Why not? Well, as we read in Ezra, there was little enthusiasm to leave Babylonia when the time came, and the Levites were especially lackadaisical. Nothing has changed in all these centuries. To take the Jews out of the exile, you first have to take the exile out of the Jews. Now imagine the Ark had joined the Jews in exile. They would have come up with all sorts of lofty-sounding divrei torah about how the Divine Presence is with them in Babylonia, how their synagogues are much more than miqd’shei m’at, and other such justifications, just as today we delude ourselves with excuses for not leaving the diaspora, not voting for leadership that pledges to uphold the Torah, and not pressing for the building of the Temple. W’hameivin yavin.

Rabbi Shendorfi then asked me incredulously, “The Ark does go in the Holy of Holies. Is that not what grants it its holiness?” and my answer was no, it has intrinsic holiness in that it has limited access, as the Mishna states. However, it is also the ideal place for storing not only the Ark, but also other major symbolic objects, like the manna and Aaron’s staff, but even so, sometimes circumstances call for some or all of those items to be removed from the Holy of Holies, but that by no means detracts from its holiness. 

Finally, returning to terminology, the sages followed the Biblical precedent of using the terms “great bama” and “minor bama” in the same way they referred to synagogues and study halls since the times of the Babylonian exile as miqd’shei m’at (based on Ezekiel 11:16), lit. “minor sanctuaries,” as opposed to THE miqdash. That is, during David’s time, because altars were called bamoth, even if they were not literally “high places,” the central, national altar was called “the great bama.” 

We should also note that even though we find the term “great bama” regarding Gibeon in the Bible, we do not find it regarding Nov, even though it is obvious that the Tabernacle stood there. Further, it is well known that the site of the Sanctuary at Shiloh was neither on top of any hill or mountain, nor was it in a particularly low spot, but rather in a level area on the side of a hill.

(The author standing in the vineyards below the site of the Tabernacle at Shiloh. The Tabernacle stood on the side of the hill in the center of the picture, above his left shoulder.)

We also have no indication that the Tabernacle, at any station in the wilderness or at Gilgal, was ever erected at a particularly high place. Thus, it seems to me that the novelty of these verses is two-fold: Gibeon was the first place that the Israelites erected the Tabernacle in a place that was noticeably elevated, and that place was called “the [great] bama” because of its appearance. That it, is in the Bible, the Sanctuary was always referred to as “the  Tabernacle” or House of the Lord, etc., while its location in Gibeon was descriptively called “the great bama,” and many years later, long after the Jerusalem Temple became established, the altar at Gibeon was then referred to as “the great bama“, and the sages eventually referred to the entire Sanctuary at Gibeon as “the great bama.” This is reminiscent of how, in the language of the Talmud and the Rishonim, there is the issue of k’nisa, entering, or biath, coming into, the miqdash (Maimonides even has a whole class of laws called “biath miqdash“), whereas today, the controversy is referred to as k’nisa l’har habayit, “entering the Temple Mount,” or even more distantly, aliya l’har habayit, “ascending the Temple Mount.” I, in the spirit of accuracy and fidelity to tradition, use the Maimonidean term in order to stress the importance of the commandment in our day; we are not just walking around the perimeter of the Temple Mount. לשכנו תדרשו, ובאת שמה. We are going to the Temple.[1]

Thus, we see that the prophets never referred to the Gibeon Sanctuary as “the great bama,” but rather to only its location as “the great bama,” and every halachic distinction between the private bamoth and “the great bama” discussed by the sages is only in the realm of the service on those altars, but with regard to every other aspect of the service that did not involve the altar, e.g., the services done with the other appointments, such as the candelabrum, the golden altar, and the table of the shewbread, and all the laws of the priesthood, there were no differences. That is, contrary to what the Hevel Nahalato argued, the public sanctuary service throughout the Nov and Gibeon periods was in no way different from that of the Shiloh and Jerusalem periods, with the only exception being the allowance to eat “the less holy sacrificial foods in any city of Israel,” as the Mishna states explicitly. Many, as can be seen, have suggested that certain sacrifices were simply not offered during the Nov and Gibeon periods, but these arguments can not be made within Maimonides’ understanding of the sources. 

I was then challenged by the following passage from the Guide wherein Maimonides proposes reasons for the Temple appointments (ibid.):

It is known that the heathens in those days built temples to stars, and set up in those temples the image which they agreed upon to worship; because it was in some relation to a certain star or to a portion of one of the spheres. We were, therefore, commanded to build a temple to the name of God, and to place therein the Ark with two tables of stone, on which there were written the commandments “I am the Lord,” etc., and “Thou shalt have no other God before me,” etc. Naturally the fundamental belief in prophecy precedes the belief in the Law, for without the belief in prophecy there can be no belief in the Law. But a prophet only receives divine inspiration through the agency of an angel… From the preceding remarks it is clear that the belief in the existence of angels is connected with the belief in the Existence of God; and the belief in God and angels leads to the belief in Prophecy and in the truth of the Torah. In order to firmly establish this creed, God commanded [the Israelites] to make the form of two angels on top of the Ark. The belief in the existence of angels is thus inculcated into the minds of the people, and this belief is second in importance to the belief in God’s Existence; it leads us to believe in prophecy and in the Torah, and opposes idolatry. If there had only been one figure of a cherub, the people would have been misled and would have mistaken it for God’s image which was to be worshiped, in the fashion of the heathen; or they might have assumed that the angel [represented by the figure] was also a deity, and would thus have adopted a Dualism. By making two cherubim and distinctly declaring “the Lord is our God, the Lord is One,” Moses clearly proclaimed the theory of the existence of a number of angels; he left no room for the error of considering those figures as deities, since [he declared that) God is one, and that He is the Creator of the angels, who are more than one.

Although this could be seen as Maimonides stressing that the Ark was an almost critical fixture of the Sanctuaries, when we consider that in his definition, three Sanctuaries never housed the Ark, we realize that here Maimonides is actually emphasizing the form of the Cherubim that adorned the Ark, and that, as pointed out by the sages, even when the Ark was absent from the Sanctuary, other Cherubim were still within the Holy of Holies: Solomon constructed two, larger wood and gold Cherubim that stood in the First Temple, while in the Second Temple there were Cherubim carved into the wooden interior wall of the Holy of Holies (Yoma 54), and they were overlaid with gold. Thus, the important symbolic and ideological message of the Cherubim was never missing from the Temple, even if the Ark was. 

This entire discussion began with an attempt to explain why the destruction of Shiloh was almost ignored in the book of Samuel, and is only invoked in passing in other prophetic books. In truth, the book of Samuel is entirely transitory in nature. It is the story of the transition between the old, egalitarian system, to a rigid, exclusive establishment.

In one of his previous videos, Rabbi Bar Hayim discussed the commandment to build the Temple, specifically the statement of the sages that the Israelites were commanded to appoint a king, destroy Amalek, and build the Temple, implying that the order described is required, and meaning that the Temple could only be built by a king, which many authorities understood to mean that in the event there is no king in Israel, as is the case, for example, now, then there is no obligation to build the Temple. Rabbi Bar Hayim disagrees with this position; Maimonides for example, in the previously cited section from the Guide explains that a king would only be required not for the construction of the Temple per se, but 

chiefly, every one of the twelve tribes would desire to have this place in its borders and under its control; this would lead to divisions and discord, such as were caused by the desire for the priesthood. Therefore it was commanded that the Temple should not be built before the election of a king who would order its erection, and thus remove the cause of discord. 

The king is necessary for us to get past the selection of a place for the Temple, but once that is no longer going to be disputed, a king would not be necessary.

Alternatively, a hereditary monarch might not be totally necessary; perhaps, as we have seen before, the role of a Jewish king can also be filled by a prophet or Judge, as Maimonides writes specifically regarding the commandment to conquer the land. This would explain how the Tabernacle and the Second Temple were built under the leadership of Moses and Zerubbabel as the undisputed leaders of Israel, respectively, even though neither held the title of king. A prime minister would be no different.

It is therefore my proposal that in the days of Joshua, who was the most faithful to Moses’s teachings and knew the Torah better than anyone else, the Israelites did fulfill these three commandments. Joshua was for all intents and purposes the king of Israel just like Moses was, the Israelites had concluded their wars for the security of the people, which is the essence of milhemeth amalek, and by building a semi-permanent Sanctuary at Shiloh, they fulfilled the commandment to build the Temple. For close to four hundred years, no one doubted that the Israelites and their chosen leader had not done exactly “as God commanded Moses.” However, as history has shown, the prophets were still among us, and even though once upon a time, certain crowns had yet to be taken, the prophets could inform us that eventually those crowns would fall into certain hands exclusively. 

Before David, they knew that the Tabernacle could be transferred to a new place, as long as God ordained it. Even Shiloh, the place that God did choose, was eventually “rejected” (Psalms 78:60, 67). The Tabernacle reverted to its original, transportable condition, until It finally found its permanent, never-to-be-replaced home. In that intervening period, the Ark was even waiting  for the Tabernacle to leave its temporary place in Gibeon and join it in Jerusalem. The Tabernacle was moving frequently, and when it reached its penultimate station, it was even rivaled by its eventual replacement. With regards to the priesthood, in the old system any of Aaron’s descendants were eligible for the high priesthood, and the sages pointed out that the high priests had been descended from both of Aarons’ surviving sons, Elazar and Ithamar. However, even though Eli’s family held the high-priesthood at the end of the Shiloh period, as we see from Saul’s massacre of that family at Nov, and the subsequent transfer of the Tabernacle to Gibeon where Zadok’s family apparently had lived since Joshua’s days, in the intervening period both Abiathar and Zadok enjoyed the privileges of the high priesthood, and many verses in Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles, as well as teachings of our sages, point to the growing tension between the two men and their families throughout David’s reign, leading to a dangerous intrigue that saw Zadok being appointed the exclusive high priest and Solomon letting Abiathar live despite his perhaps selfish involvement in insurrection. From then on, the prophets would describe how the high priesthood would be exclusively in the hands of Zadok’s house. The high priesthood was up for grabs, and when it reached its penultimate officeholder, he was rivaled by his eventual replacement. Most noticeably, in the old system leadership was open to all of the tribes of Israel, and the sages claimed that every tribe produced one of the Judges. However, Samuel, who was a Levite just like Moses, presided over the transition from his unofficial role in lieu of king, to a temporary, conditional, Benjamite dynasty, to a state of two competing kingdoms (Ishbosheth and David) to that of an eternal, Davidic dynasty, and even David’s own family suffered from instability until Solomon was a few years into his reign. Leadership was changing hands, and when it reached its penultimate office holder, he was even rivaled by his eventual replacement. These three houses, the House of God in Jerusalem, the House of David, and the House of Zadok, would form an inseparable union, and they would forever retain the crowns they had earned, even though those crowns used to change hands regularly.

These transitions were all described by Samuel and the anonymous prophet who preceded him (I Samuel 3:11-14). The destruction of Shiloh:

The Lord said to Samuel: Behold, I will do a thing in Israel, at which both ears of everyone who hears it shall tingle.

This expression is an allusion to the destruction of the Sanctuary, as can be clearly seen by its use in two later prophecies of the Sanctuary’s destruction, in II Kings 21:12 and Jeremiah 19:3. 

The House of Eli would be cursed:

On that day I will execute against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from the beginning even unto the end. For I have told him that I will judge his house forever, for the iniquity, in that he knew that his sons did bring a curse upon themselves, and he did not rebuke them. Therefore, I have sworn unto the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall never be expiated with sacrifice nor offering. 

and replaced:

And I will raise up a faithful priest for Myself, who shall do according to that which is in My heart and in My mind; and I will build a steady house for him, and he shall walk before My anointed forever. 

And this prophecy foreshadowed the rise of the Davidians, under whose tenure the Zadokite priests officiated (I Chronicles 29:22):

They ate and drank before the Lord on that day with great gladness. They made Solomon the son of David king for a second time, and anointed him for the Lord as ruler, and Zadok as priest.

Later, in the days of the building of the Second Temple, the prophet Zechariah described how these three great houses which had suffered from so much corruption leading up to the First Temple’s destruction, would experience a period of divine renewal (Zechariah 4:9-13):

The hands of Zerubbabel laid the foundation of this house; his hands shall also finish it, and you shall know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you. For who has despised the day of small things? Even they shall see with joy the plummet in Zerubbabel’s hand, even these seven [candles], which are the eyes of the Lord which dart to and fro across the whole earth. I Then responded, and said to him: ‘What are these two olive-trees on the right of the candelabrum and on its left?’ I responded a second time, and said to him, ‘What are these two olive branches, which are beside the two golden spouts, that empty the golden oil out of themselves?’ He answered me and said, ‘Do you not know what these are?’ And I said, ‘No, my lord.’ Then he said, ‘These are the two b’nei yitzhar,  those anointed with oil, who stand by the Lord of the whole earth.’

The anointed ones being Zerubbabel and Jeshua, the high priest. 

This explains why the destruction of Shiloh is almost ignored in the book of Samuel, and why Nov and Gibeon were not treated as full-fledged Sanctuaries in the eyes of the prophetic authors. They are not described with the same reverence and majesty that Shiloh and Jerusalem enjoyed, and Nov is nowhere explicitly described by any of the usual Biblical terms for any of the Sanctuaries, even though from a halachic standpoint it was a Sanctuary. This explains why Saul, after being rejected, was no longer an ideal, legitimate king even if he was halachically king even after David was anointed. This explains why Abiathar (II Samuel 15:24, according to the sages) and his father (I Samuel 14:3, 18, 19, 37) received no answer from the Urim and Tummim even though they were halachic high priests.  

II Samuel 7:18 states that, “David came and sat before God.” This could mean that David either sat before the Ark of the Covenant in the tent that he had pitched for it in Jerusalem, or that he went to the Sanctuary at Gibeon, but the Talmud, in a number of places, declares that only Davidic kings may sit in the Temple courtyard, and uses this verse as the proof text for this important exception, meaning that David did go to Gibeon, and that the sages assumed that the laws that applied to The Temple courtyard in Jerusalem once accordingly applied to Gibeon. Similarly, just as Maimonides rules (Laws of Murderers and the Preservation of Life):

The altar in the Temple serves as a refuge for [unintentional] killers… if a person kills unintentionally and takes refuge at the altar, and the blood redeemer kills him there, [the blood redeemer] should be executed as if he had killed him in a city of refuge.

it would seem reasonable that both Joab and Adonijah fled to Gibeon, and not the Jerusalem altar, to seek refuge from Solomon, even though they were not priests.

A possible challenge: Midrash Tanhuma (Wayaqhel 6) states that the entire Tabernacle was made for the sake of [housing] the Ark!

Indeed, this may be a challenge, but Maimonides already wrote that the initial commandment to build the Tabernacle is the also the eternal commandment to build the Temple: 

It is a positive commandment to build a House for God, ready for sacrifices to be offered within. There, we are to make celebratory pilgrimages three times a year, as it says [Exodus 25:8] states: “And you shall make a sanctuary for Me.”

And the purpose of any sanctuary from a halachic standpoint is sacrifice and pilgrimage. The Midrash, which discusses Bezalel’s seemingly supernatural wisdom, is describing a deeper, esoteric idea. 

Secondly, the Midrash is answering a potential challenge. The sages, as we have seen, said that the Israelites were to keep three commandments when they would settle in the land of Israel, and the building of the Temple is one of them. Why then would God command Israel to construct His house even before they would arrive in the land? Indeed, the sages debated to what extent the service was even conducted in the wilderness Tabernacle (Hagiga 6. See also the commentaries to Amos 5:25). None of the seasonal offerings were ever brought, and it is a matter of Talmudic dispute as to what, if any, of the daily and holiday public offerings, including offerings of mineral, vegetable, and animal origin, were actually brought! According to Maimonides, the Tabernacle was not only temporary, it was never used as a place of pilgrimage and used for very limited sacrifice! Rather, it must be that although the main purpose of the Tabernacle/Sanctuary would only be realized once Israel settled the land, the covenant they entered at Sinai required of them to have a proper place of storage for the tokens of that covenant, the Torah and the Tablets, and that is why the Tabernacle had to at least be built decades before it could be used as completely intended.

In Conclusion: An Interesting Symmetry and the Nov Novelty

According to the Talmudic chronology in the last chapter of Z’vahim and quoted by Maimonides:

The Tabernacle was in the wilderness for 39 years (almost exactly, from 1 Nisan until the second week of Nisan 39 years later).

The Tabernacle stood at Gilgal for 14 years.

The Tabernacle stood at Shiloh for 369 years. 

The Tabernacle stood in Nov and Gibeon for 57 years.

We do not have strong traditions regarding the dates of all of these; for example, although the Tabernacle was brought to Gilgal in Nisan, we do not know at what time of year it was then transferred to Shiloh, nor at what times of year Shiloh and Nov were destroyed. However, I propose that because the sages said that Israel began to count toward Sabbatical years after the 14 years of conquest, which ended when the Tabernacle was brought to Shiloh, and that the count traditionally starts on Rosh Hashana, the Tabernacle was therefore officially inaugurated at Shiloh on or about Rosh Hashana, just like the Temple eventually was.  

The First Temple stood for about 410 years, and sat in ruin for 70 years.

These figures are also rounded. The Temple was inaugurated on the 8th of Tishrei, but destroyed on the 9th of Av, while construction on the Second Temple began in Iyar. 

Thus, the total years that the Tabernacle stood and there was an issur bamoth is 369 + 39 = 408, while there were 14 + 57 = 71 years of the Tabernacle’s history that there was a hetter bamoth.

The First Temple stood for 410 incomplete years of issur bamoth, and lay in ruins for 70 years. I have not seen any treatment of this strange, chronological symmetry.

Now, I find it very interesting that the Daat Mikra and other modern-day commentaries struggle to positively identify the location of Nov. Unlike other major Biblical locations, there is still no consensus as to where Nov was. People visit Shiloh everyday, and if Gibeon were not in Area A, it would probably have many visitors. Where is Nov?

Further, I Samuel 21 describes Nov as both the home of the Tabernacle and as a priestly city, yet unlike Gibeon and Anathoth and the rest of the classical priestly cities within the territory of Benjamin, Nov is not on the lists as they appear in Joshua 21:17 and I Chronicles 6:45. When did Nov become a priestly city?

Next, I Samuel 22 describes how the women and children of Nov, the priests’ families, were also massacred. That is, unlike Shiloh and Jerualem, which the on-duty priests visited without bringing their families, who were left behind in their hometowns, Nov was apparently originally a priestly town even before the Tabernacle was brought there. Abiathar was the sole survivor of Nov, yet, when Solomon expelled him from Jerusalem and the priesthood, he commanded him to go back to “his field” in Anathoth. This is strange, because I would have expected Solomon to send Abiathar back to Nov, from which he had fled, and why would a priest own a field in a priestly city? The Levites and priests were given personal possession of the houses within the city, while the limited open areas around the cities were public spaces not owned by anyone!

Lastly, where does the name Nov come from, and what does it mean?

The answer to all of these questions is mentioned in the Zohar: Nov is Anathoth! That is why Gibeon and Anathoth are listed as priestly cities within Benjamin’s territory, but Nov is not, why the priests’ wives and children were also present in Nov, and how Abiathar as the sole survivor of the family that resided in Nov would eventually return to the ancestral fields that he came to possess in Anathoth. This also adds an ominous allusion to Jeremiah’s story (1:1): the prophet of the destruction of Jerusalem and its Sanctuary hailed from a town that had once housed the Sanctuary, and that had been destroyed and had its people massacred just like what would happen to Jerusalem. As we have written before, a prophet from, say, Shiloh, would not have been so ominous, because the destruction of Shiloh was not as tragic, because its holy vessels and treasures did not fall into enemy hands, and its people were evacuated before they could be slaughtered. 

At first I did not like this answer, because, as Prof. Elitzur pointed out to me, there is ample Biblical evidence that Nov was somewhere in the area of what is now Mt. Scopus/Shuafat, while Anatot is considerably farther to the north-west, but then he also pointed out to me that the modern-day settlement of Anatot/Almon which I had in mind is not the Biblical Anathoth. Rather, the Arab neighborhood of Anata is generally identified with Anathoth. 

It seems that the western end of Anata, northeast of where Highway 60 crosses Route 1 (just to the left of the red place marker on the map) is right about where Nov stood. I wonder if any particular place around there has been offered as a possible location for the Tabernacle? Considering that all of the Tabernacle’s components were moved intact to Gibeon, that King Saul had the place destroyed in his anger, and that the Tabernacle was not there for long, there might be very little archeological evidence remaining. I would imagine that Saul would have also ordered that no one ever again refer to the place as Nov. Thus, upon his return to Anathoth/Nov, Abiathar would not have found much of a city, but instead a large city-sized scene of desolation entirely belonging to him and his children, which they would build up anew. 

(Interestingly, the Zohar also rejects this opinion that identifies Nov with Anathoth, arguing that while Nov was a city, Anathoth was just a village. As Yehuda Kyl and others have pointed out, the Bible does refer to both towns as cities, so the Zohar’s rejection is itself denied.)

So why was Anathoth called Nov during Samuel’s time, if when it was first settled it was called Anathoth and then shortly thereafter reverted to Anathoth?

I believe the answer is that when Eli’s surviving family evacuated the Tabernacle from Shiloh to Nov, they had to find a place outside of their original city large enough to accommodate the Tabernacle and its courtyard and its other attendant facilities, and the many expected pilgrims, who, like Doeg himself, would need places to stay overnight after discharging their sacrificial obligations. They would have to put this new Temple-precinct to the west of the city, closer to the ancient highway that also served Shiloh to the north, the aforementioned Route 60 of today, and where the weather was more pleasant and the views prettier (the Judean Desert basically begins just to the east of Anata), and not within the areas designated by Torah law outside of the city for the Levites’ fields and vineyards and for open space, just like the Shiloh Sanctuary was erected outside of the walls of the ancient city. By the sages’ count, for about fourteen years, including the entire tenure of Samuel as Judge, this “New Anathoth” served as our people’s religious nucleus, and its name, like a handful of other words in the Bible (alon, m’cherotheihem, hein, hadar, amor, totafoth, etc.,) is borrowed from the ancient Mediterranean Languages; in Old Latin, as in Classical Latin, “nova” means “new.”

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6lHPQvYX4A