1

Comments on This and That, part 2

|
Comments on This and That, part 2
by Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.

Barth’s opinion was shared by R. Joseph Hertz, who referred to Song of Songs as a “collection of ancient lyrics of the spring-time and youthful love.”[1] Some might regard this as a radical, even un-Orthodox opinion, but from Avot de-Rabbi Natan 1:4, we see that the early Jewish leaders did not regard the Song of Songs (and Ecclesiastes and Proverbs) as anything special.


Originally, it is said, Proverbs, Song of Songs, and Ecclesiastes were suppressed, for since they were held to be mere parables and not part of the Holy Writings [the religious authorities] arose and suppressed them. [And so they remained] until the men of Hezekiah came and interpreted them.

I already quoted a couple of times from R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi’s Ho’il Moshe, so let me mention that in the introduction to his commentary on Song of Songs, he assumes that the book was indeed sung as part of the wedding celebrations, and as with Barth, he thinks that this was the original purpose of Song of Songs. He also suggests that perhaps שיר השירים אשר לשלמה  does not mean that Solomon wrote it, but that it was written for Solomon. He compares this to Psalm 72:1 which begins לשלמה and means “[A Psalm] for Solomon.” Interestingly, he also thinks that the Shulamite (7:1) is none other than Abishag the Shunamite.[2] Here is the title page of his book.


While Artscroll sees a literal interpretation of Song of Songs as blasphemous, Ashkenazi (together with Breuer and Barth) sees the book as teaching the values that make for a successful marriage. This viewpoint is also expressed in the introduction to the Soncino translation:

The main moral of the Book is that love, besides being the strongest emotion in the human heart, can also be the holiest. God has given the gift of love to sweeten the toil of the laborer, as in the case of Jacob to whom the fourteen years in which he toiled for Rachel appeared but a few days, for the love he had for her (Gen. xxix. 20). Love transfigures and hallows, but it’s a boon that requires zealously to be guarded and sheltered from abuse. This Book pictures love as a reward enjoyed only by the pure and simple, a joy not experienced by the pleasure-seeking monarch and the indolent ladies of the court. It is a joy reserved for the loyal and the constant, and is denied to the sensual and dissolute.

Ashkenazi concludes with these strong words:

גם אם נפרשהו ע”ד הפשט, נוכל ללמוד ממנו דברים נאותים. . . . רק אנשי חונף העושים מעשה זמרי ומבקשים שכר כפנחס יטילו בו דופי, בעוד שהם בשבתם על השולחן בבית חתן וכלה יוציאו מפיהם דברי נבלה המלבינים פני כל אדם ישר השמועה; והלואי ואולי היו משוררים שיר נחמד זה בסעודת חתנים. ויופי הקולות והנגינה ישמחו הלבבות ויגדילו חשק חתן וכלה זה לזה, ויגביהו לבות הבחורים והעלמות ברחשי הכבוד הראוים והנאותים להם.

Finally, let me mention Amos Hakham’s introduction to the Daat Mikra edition of Shir ha-Shirim. While he isn’t sure if the entire book can be traced to wedding feasts, he is certain that this is so for at least one section, namely, the song that ends in 5:1:: “Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.” How could this not originate in a wedding feast? As for dance songs, Hakham points to 7:1 as an example: “Return, return, O Shulamite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee.” As with those already cited, Hakham argues that the allegory only adds a deeper level to our understanding, but it in no way discounts the peshat of the verses.[3] This is in direct opposition to Artscroll’s position that “The literal meaning of the words is so far from their meaning that it is false” (Artscroll Pesach Machzor, p. 567).

Hakham also calls attention to Va-Yikra Rabbah 9:6, where R. Yohanan understands Song of Songs on the peshat level to be referring to a real married couple. Based on two verses in Song of Songs, R. Yohanan derives “that a bridegroom should not enter the bridal chamber unless the bride gives him permission.”

Hakham states: “It is unimaginable that prophecy would use matters that are distasteful in themselves as an allegory for holy and pure matters.” Here is how he sums up his main point (pp. 8, 9):

כלומר שאמנם לפי המשמעות המילולית הפשוטה מתוארת בשיר השירים אהבה שבין דוד ורעיה שהם שניהם בשר ודם, אלא שבהיות אהבה זו תמה, זכה, טהורה וקדושה, ראויה היתה שתשמש סמל ודוגמה לאהבה נעלה יותר. . . . טעות ביד מי שחושב, שחז”ל דרשו את שיר השירים על דרך הרמז משום שבפירושו כפשוטו היה נראה בעיניהם כשיר העוסק בענינים שאינם ראויים להכלל בכתבי הקודש. לא כן הדבר. כבר העירו גדולי המפרשים שאין להעלות על הדעת, שהנבואה תקח עניינים מאוסים כשלעצמם כמשל לענינים קדושים וטהורים, אלא ודאי שכמו הנמשל כן גם המשל קודש הוא. ואם מצאנו שהנבואה ממשילה את הברית שבין כנסת ישראל ובין הקב”ה כברית שבין איש ואשתו, משמע שהברית הזאת שבין איש ואישה קדושה היא ונעלה. וכבר אמרו חז”ל: איש ואשה, זכו – שכינה ביניהן.

I would assume that if a Modern Orthodox Machzor for Passover is ever published, that Hakham’s perspective will be the one to be included rather than what we find in Artscroll.

R. Zvi Yehuda has the same perspective, writing that the literal meaning has an independent existence, and “it too is raised to the level of holiness, not just on account of the nimshal, but on its own strength.”[4] He quotes Rashi who in his introduction to Song of Songs stresses that the allegory must be attached to the peshat of the verse:

ואף על פי שדברו הנביאים דבריהם בדוגמא, צריך ליישב הדוגמא על אופניה ועל סדרה.

Yehuda brings a wonderful example of this. Song of Songs 4:1 reads: “Behold, you are fair, my beloved; behold, you are fair; your eyes are [like] doves; from within your kerchief your hair is like a flock of goats that streamed down from Mount Gilead.” Rashi explains the second part of the verse as follows: “This praise is a paradigm of the praise of a woman beloved by her bridegroom. Within your kerchief, your hair is beautiful and glistens with brilliance and whiteness like the hair of white goats descending from the mountains whose hair gleam in the distance.” The biblical text does not give any color to the goats, and Yehuda notes that the standard approach is that the goats are black, so that the hair being praised is also black. Yet Rashi speaks of light hair as being beautiful, and therefore he understands the color of the goats differently. Based on this, Yehuda concludes that “Visions of female beauty, in his [Rashi’s] time and place, influenced his commentary.”

The fact that the mashal needs to reflect reality is seen in another Rashi as well (not cited by Yehuda). Song of Songs 7:5 reads אפך כמגדל הלבנון. Rashi writes: “I cannot explain this [אפך] to mean a nose, either in reference to its simple meaning or in reference to its allegorical meaning, for what praise of beauty is there in a nose that is large and erect as a tower? I say therefore that אפך means a face.”
If the allegory is all that is important, then Rashi would not have a problem. He could translate אפך as nose, which is the literal translation,[5] and offer the allegorical explanation. Yet precisely because it is important that the peshat be coherent, Rashi is forced away from the literal meaning, for what man can praise his bride as being beautiful for having such a nose?[6]

One other interesting point that I learnt from Yehuda’s article is that the rishon, R. Avigdor Kohen Tzedek, gives the following strange explanation for why God’s name doesn’t appear in Song of Songs.[7]

ולא נכתב שם קודש בשיר השירים לפי שנאמר כל הספר בלשון חשק ואהבה ואינ’ דרך כבוד להזכיר השם ב”ה על דבר חשק.

Yehuda also cites the sharp comment of R. Solomon Akriti in R. Joseph Kafih, ed., Hamesh Megilot (Jerusalem, 1962), p. 19:

ואחרי אלה ההערות אינני רואה שיסופק שום משכיל בדברי הספר לחשב בם שהם כפשוטם, ואלו היו כפשוטם לא היו חולי חולין בעולם כמותם, ולא היה נזק גדול לישראל כיום שניתן להם שיר השירים, כי פשוטו יעורר תאוה וביותר תאות המשגל אשר היא המגונה מכלם

Yet after quoting these passages, which Artscroll would be very happy with, Yehuda takes his place with the others I have referred to and insists on the validity, and holiness, of the peshat interpretation (p. 478):

שיר השירים, על כל בחינותיה ורבדי מובניה – ואף לפי פשוטה – היא “קודש קודשים”. האהבה האנושית המתוארת בה – מתרוממת לגובהי קדושה.

He concludes (p. 481) that it is a mistake to think that the Sages explained Song of Songs allegorically because they had a problem with its literal meaning. According to Yehuda, the opposite is the case, and it is precisely because the Sages valued the literal meaning of the book that they explained it allegorically. It is because they saw the human love described in the book as so exalted that they were prepared to also view the book as an allegory for heavenly love.

With reference to Song of Songs, there is another reason why it is important to know the peshat. Maimonides’ Hilkhot Teshuvah 10:3, speaks about the love of God. He compares it to the love of a woman. Just as one who is in love constantly thinks about the woman, so too should be your love for God. He concludes that “The whole book, Song of Songs, is an allegory on this subject.” In other words, only one who understands what human love is all about can move to the next level and achieve love of the Divine. This is elaborated upon by R. Mordechai Gifter in his Hebrew preface to the Artscroll Shir ha-Shirim. One can only wonder why Artscroll did not see fit to translate R. Gifter’s important words into English. R. Gifter even mentions the importance, indeed centrality, of sexual desire. He does so not to speak of its great danger, as is often the case, but to stress how vital the sexual urge is even from a spiritual sense:

וכל זה מבו’ בדבריו של ר’ יצחק דמן עכו ז”ל שהביא בראשית חכמה – בסוף פ”ד משער האהבה – שמי שלא חשק לאשה הוא דומה לחמור ופחות ממנו והטעם כי מהמורגש צריך שיבחין העבודה האלקית.

He also writes:

שכל הלשונות שבמשל הן עצמיים ובשרשם העליון ענינם נשגב למאד, אלא שהענינים הרמים אלה משתלשלים ויורדים מעולם לעולם עד שמגיעים אלינו מצטיירים לנו צורה זו הנאותה לפי מציאות האדם בעולם הזה.

With regard to Artscroll, everyone knows that the “translation” they provide of Song of Songs is allegorical. In the Passover Machzor that is all you get, but in their separate edition of Song of Songs they do provide the literal translation in the commentary, for those who wish to look at it. Artscroll’s approach vis-à-vis the Song of Songs has been the subject of harsh criticism in the Modern Orthodox world, especially from its intellectual elite. In fact, I think when people criticize Artscroll, this is one of the things that is high on the list of what annoys them.

Yet it must also be noted that Artscroll’s method of translation is exactly what the Targum does.(See also R. Nahum Finkelstein’s Yiddish “translation” of Song of Songs [Jerusalem, 1929]) So it is not like Artscroll invented this approach. In addition, there is a responsum of R. Joseph Hayyim in Rav Pealim, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 56, that is relevant. Here he states that a teacher in Baghdad translated the Song of Songs into Arabic, and the children copied this translation. R. Joseph Hayyim opposed this, stating that one should not teach the children and the masses the literal meaning of the words because they are not meant to be understood literally. The literal meaning of the book, he states, is no different than a love song (he adds “has ve-shalom”),[8] and unlike the opinions we have already noted, for R. Joseph Hayyim (as with Artscroll) the literal meaning of the Song of Songs is obscene.[9] The same viewpoint is expressed by the nineteenth-century R. Elijah Schick in his Ein Eliyahu, Yadayim 3:1:

כל הכתובים יש פשטות ג”כ אבל בשיר השירים אין שום פשטות אלא הכל קאי על יראת שמים וקבלת עול מלכות שמים, כי על פי פשט היא דברי חשק וזה אי אפשר לומר וקאי הכל על דביקות בה’.

Today we have an interesting phenomenon. When the Targum was written the vernacular was Aramaic, so the typical Jew would not be able to understand Song of Songs in the original. Only the scholar could understand the actual words, and he would know that they were to be interpreted allegorically. Today, in America, the situation is the same, as the typical Jew also cannot understand the Hebrew. Artscroll’s English “translation” therefore serves the same function as the Targum did centuries ago.

Yet what about Israelis? We now have a situation where “the masses” can understand the Hebrew Bible since Hebrew is their vernacular. This is a completely new phenomenon. How are these masses to be protected from reading the text literally, for as we have seen, Artscroll tells us in the Pesach Machzor that “the literal meaning of the words is so far from their meaning that it is false”? In the Introduction to the Artscroll Shir ha-Shirim, p. lxiv, we are told that when the words שני שדיך, “your bosom” [Artscroll won’t use the word “breasts”] refer to Moses and Aaron, this is not

departing from the simple literal meaning of the phrase in the least. Song of Songs uses words in their ultimate connotations. Just as geshem, rain, means the power of stimulating growth, shodayim, the bosom, refers to the Heavenly power of nourishment. . . . They [Moses and Aaron], Israel’s sources of spiritual nourishment, are not implied allegorically or derived esoterically from the verse; the verse literally means them.

In other words, Shir ha-Shirim (in this instance, at least) is not even speaking about a woman, not even on the level of peshat. I have to admit that all this seems like a lot of double-talk to me. I can understand if you tell me that “breasts”, excuse me, “bosom”, allegorically means “Moses and Aaron.” But when you tell me that even the literal meaning of shodayim is “Moses and Aaron”, that’s when I have difficulty.

(Speaking of haredi circumlocutions, since the Agudah convention is in a few days I can’t resist mention of the following. A letter was sent out to attendees inviting them to a breakfast at which they will be addressed by a psychologist and and rabbi-lawyer. You can see the letter here. Notice that the letter speaks about how “the issue of child abuse has become a major topic in our society and children in our community have been and continue to be at risk.” Of course, child abuse is not the issue at all. We are not being confronted on an almost weekly basis with stories of children in our communities being beaten or anything like that. What we have is child sexual abuse, and yet the author of this letter can’t even bring himself to say the word “sexual.” It’s like we are all in grade school and this word is off-limits.)

One opinion in Shir ha-Shirim Rabbah 1:10 states that Solomon wrote Song of Songs in his youth. This is elaborated upon by R. Hayyim Jeremiah Flensburg, Markevot Ami (Vilna, 1910), p. 6. He explains how Solomon’s words are indeed drawn from the real world he experienced, which once again shows how important the peshat, the literal meaning of the words are:

שאף שהנמשל של שיר השירים הוא קודש קדשים, עכ”ז מתוך המשל שעשה לעטוף בו הנמשל, ניכר שהיה אז ילד, שהוא נשא משלו מחתן וכלה, ומגנים ושושנים יפים, ומכל הדרת האביב, וזמרת צפרים.

R. Yosef Ben Arzah, in his popular Yosef Da’at, Bava Kamma 97, also explains in this fashion.

וידוע, האהבה זמנה בימי הנעורים, משא”כ בימי הזקנה “ותפר האביונה”. וכמו שאמרו ששלמה המלך עליו השלום, בילדותו אמר שיר השירים, שהוא תוקף האהבה.

When Ben Arzah writes that the time of love is the youth, he is clearly referring to sexual love, for he follows this by noting that this is not the case in old age when (quoting Eccl.12:5) “[sexual] desire fails.” In other words, the Midrash means that because Solomon wrote the Song of Songs in his youth, that is why it has sexual imagery, for sexual love is strongest when one is young.[10]

I don’t think anyone is going to suggest that Artscroll produce a Hebrew version of its allegorical translation and that this is what the masses should be looking at during the reading of Song of Songs. But why not? If it is religiously objectionable for English speakers to be exposed to the literal meaning of the words of Song of Songs, then it is just as objectionable (if not more so) for Hebrew speakers to read the actual words and understand them literally.

Despite my facetious comment, no one has ever assumed that the Israeli masses should be told not to look at the actual text of Song of Songs. Rather, they are provided with commentaries that explained what the allegorical meaning of the text is. If it is therefore acceptable for Israelis to first understand the text literally, and then see what the allegorical meaning is, I ask Artscroll, why can’t American Jews be given the same prerogative, namely, to have a literal translation together with a commentary that offers the allegorical interpretation?

Finally, let me mention that for Sefer Hasidim it was important to know what the Song of Songs literally meant, for he declares that all the parts of a woman’s body mentioned in the book are forbidden to be seen. See no. 110: שער באשה ערוה לגלות וכל האמור בשיר השירים כגון בטנך ערימת חטים שוקיו עמודי שש שני שדיך וכו’ וכל שדרך לכסות ערוה לאשה לגלות He repeats this in no. 614 where he also adds the following, which never became normative halakhah: צריך להזהר שלא ישמע קול אשה והוא הדין לאשה שלא תשמע קול איש.

Adopting this position might be a good strategy for those who have been trying unsuccessfully to shut down the Jewish concert scene. They haven’t been able to convince the haredi masses that these are in any way problematic, especially when men and women sit separately. But perhaps the new humra that could achieve their objective is that it is forbidden for women to hear men singing. A few years of indoctrination of this view in the various Bais Yaakovs should be able to convince the younger generation, and would mean the end of the haredi concerts.[11]

* * *

Returning to my post on Adon Olam, the other point dealt with in that post was the meaning of the abbreviation ס”ט. I don’t think anyone who read the post still thinks that it means “Sephardi Tahor.” But in case there are still any doubters, let me offer the following. Here is a page from R. Joseph Shabbetai Farhi’s Tokfo shel Yosef (Livorno, 1846), p. 38b. It contains the end of a letter from none other than Jacob the Patriarch, and you can see clear as day that he also signed himself ס”ט. Now if that isn’t a proof, I don’t know what is. . . .


There was, in fact, one person who did refuse to change his mind, even after I presented him with the evidence. I refer to the late R. Meir Amsel, editor of Ha-Maor. Amsel is deserving of his own post, having edited Ha-Maor for over fifty years. If I were to ever write a history of Orthodox Jews in America, this journal would be an important source, together with its competitor, Ha-Pardes, because in these journals one finds most of the important issues that were part of the American Orthodox experience. Ha-Maor was the more extreme of the two journals, and all sorts of polemics were carried in its pages. But it would also contain all sorts of surprises, and Amsel’s viewpoints were not always predictable. Yet as I mentioned, he didn’t accept what I told him, and changing his mind even in the face of evidence to the contrary was not something he was prepared to do.

Imagine my surprise when after sending Amsel a letter on the topic he published his response in his journal (Jan.-Feb., 1993). Here it is.

I sent him a second letter which he published, together with his response, in the March-April 1993 issue. Notice how he subtly mocks me at the beginning of this reply.


I didn’t take offense at the mocking as this was classic Amsel. Few had such a sharp pen as he, and woe to those he turned it against. To give one example of his many polemics, readers of the journal will never forget how he targeted R. Elya Svei. Yet he wouldn’t mention him by name. Instead, and as a way to show how little he thought of Svei, he referred to him as “the melamed in Philadelphia.”[12]

The March-April 1993 issue of Ha-Maor, in which he responded to me, is of broader interest for another reason. It contains his hesped for R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, who had recently passed away. In this hesped he mentions a few things, among them that the Rav told him that he wasn’t really a Zionist, and that while Yeshivat R. Yitzhak Elhanan was not in accord with his family’s philosophy, nevertheless he taught there as it provided intellectual freedom.

In the next issue (June-July, 1993), Amsel printed a letter he received from R. Norman Lamm, thanking Amsel for what he wrote about the Rav, and also criticizing him for mentioning the point about the Rav not feeling connected to RIETS. Note how Lamm specifically asked Amsel not to publish his letter, and Amsel published it anyway.

Also, look at the first paragraph on p. 35, as it shows how the Hungarian extremist Amsel was happy to point out how Lamm was head and shoulders above those in the Lithuanian yeshiva world. (I wonder, where did Amsel get the crazy figure of eight thousand students, that he mentions in the second paragraph? Even if you include the post-graduate schools you won’t get to that number. Did Amsel even realize that non-Jews attend Yeshiva University’s medical and law schools?)


* * *

In my original post on Adon Olam I dealt with Artscroll, so here is as good a time as any for some assorted Artscroll comments.

The custom on Rosh ha-Shanah is to sound additional shofar blasts towards the end of the morning prayers. Most sound these blasts after Musaf of Rosh ha-Shanah, while some sound thirty of them during the silent Amidah. There is no talmudic source for this practice. Why then do we do it? Here is how the Artscroll Machzor explains the matter, citing Eliyahu Kitov’s Sefer ha-Toda’ah as the source:

The source of this custom is the Scriptural narrative of the triumph of Deborah the Prophetess over Sisera, the Canaanite conqueror. In her song of gratitude for the victory, Deborah noted that Sisera’s mother whimpered as she worried over the fate of her dead son. Her friends comforted her that he had surely won a great victory and was apportioning spoils and captive women among his officers and troops (Judges 5:28-30). According to the Midrashic tradition she whimpered and groaned 101 times. Although one cannot help but feel sympathy for a worrying, grieving mother, one must be appalled at the cruelty of a mother who could be calmed by the assurance that her son was busy looting and persecuting innocent victims. The Jewish concept of mercy is diametrically opposed to such barbarism. By sounding the shofar one hundred times, we seek to nullify the forces of cruelty exemplified by Sisera and his mother, and bring God’s compassion upon us. Although she whimpered one time more than a hundred, we do not sound the shofar 101 times, because we, too, feel the pain of a mother who loses a child, even one as loathsome as Sisera.

The first thing to note is that for some reason, the explanation offered by the Taz is ignored. According to the Taz, the reason for the extra blasts is because people might not have properly heard the earlier kolot (Orah Hayyim 596:1). Furthermore, despite what is written, there is no source that speaks of Sisera’s mother whimpering 101 times. What we have is a story in the Arukh s.v. ערב , about Sisera’s mother (אימיה דסיסרא) and her one hundred cries or laments (פועיות This does not mean whimpers! The Arukh cites the story as coming from the Jerusalem Talmud. It is lacking in our versions of the Talmud, but the term “Yerushalmi” was also used for various Midrashim written in the Land of Israel.)

Ashkenazim, therefore, indeed sound the shofar the same amount of times as Sisera’s mother’s cries. Yemenites and Sephardim, on the other hand, blow an extra kol at the end, called Teruah Gedolah,[13] so they actually sound 101 blasts. Many explain that they do this precisely in order to be different than Sisera’s mother.

Here for example is what R. Ovadiah Yosef states, Shiurei Maran ha-Rishon le-Tziyon (Jerusalem, 2008), vol. 1, p. 75:

והנה אם סיסרא פעתה ובכתה מאה בכיות, ואנו תוקעים מאה תקיעות ועוד אחד, כדי לבטל הקטרוגים הנמשכים מהבכיות שלה . . . וזהו “הן אתם מאין ופעלם מאפע.” “מאין” = 101 הן ה100 פעיות של אם סיסרא שבמאה ואחת תקיעות שלנו ה’ מכפר לנו, ומתקנים אנו את הפעיות [“אפע” נוט’ פעיות אם] של אם סיסרא.

The Arukh’s explanation is quoted in a number of medieval sources, Yet what is the logic here? Why would anyone have thought of connecting Sisera’s mother’s cries with how many shofar blasts we sound, as they have nothing to do with each other? Is it really possible that how we blow the shofar has anything to do with what the mother of the wicked Sisera did?

It has been suggested by R. Hayyim Yehudah Ehrenreich[14] and R. Menachem M. Kasher[15] that there is a copyist’s error in the Arukh, and instead of reading it should read אמנו שרה , or something along these lines. This suggestion is made based upon the following passage in Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer ch. 32:

When Abraham returned from Mount Moriah in peace, the anger of Samael [Satan] was kindled, for he saw that the desire of his heart to frustrate the offering of our father Abraham had not been realized. What did he do? He went and said to Sarah: “Hast thou not heard what has happened in this world?” She said to him: “No.” He said to her: “Thy husband, Abraham has taken thy son Isaac and slain him and offered him up as a burnt offering upon the altar.” She began to weep and to cry aloud three times corresponding to the three Tekiot, three howlings corresponding to the Teruot. and her soul fled, and she died.

In this text we have a connection made between the cries of Sarah and the blowing of the shofar. Here it states that she cried three times corresponding to the Tekiah and three times corresponding to Teruah. (What we call Shevarim is one possibility for how the Teruah should be sounded.) Alternate versions have Sarah crying aloud six times or ninety times.

We still have the problem: How did the name Sarah become confused with Sisera? It turns out that there is indeed a connection between the mother of Sisera and the shofar. Rosh ha-Shanah 33b states:

The length of the Teruah is equal to the length of three yevavot. But it has been taught that the length of the Teruah is equal to three Shevarim. Abaye said: Here there is really a difference of opinion. It is written, It shall be a day of Teruah unto you [Num. 29:1], and we translate [in Aramaic], a day of yabava, and it is written of the mother of Sisera, Through the window she looked forth [va-teyabav; Judges 5:28]. One authority thought that this means drawing a long sigh, and the other that it means uttering short piercing cries.

We see from here that the Sages, in attempting to figure out how the Teruah should be sounded, looked for evidence in a biblical passage dealing with Sisera’s mother. Since she is thus connected to the Shofar blowing, it is not hard to see how the other passage, which describes how Sarah cried, could have morphed into Sisera’s mother.

The problem with this suggestion, one must acknowledge, is that we have no evidence of a text that has Sarah crying one hundred times. Yet it is certainly possible that this tradition did exist, and is now lost.

Here are some more comments about Artscroll. In the original post I mentioned how in the Artscroll Siddur, p. 870, it mistakenly places R. Elaazar Kalir in the second century. R. Avrohom Lieberman pointed out to me that in the original edition of this Siddur they placed Kalir centuries later. Here is a copy of the page.

The change was obviously made in response to criticism. Yet they should have stuck with the original version, since what appears in the “corrected” edition is mistaken. I assume that Artscroll knows it is mistaken, but leaves it in anyway so as not to antagonize its critics.

Before Lekhah Dodi the Artscroll Siddur writes: “לכה דודי is recited responsively. In most congregations, the chazzan repeats each verse after the congregation. In others the procedure is reversed.” More Artscroll siddurim are sold to Modern Orthodox synagogues than to anywhere else. This is especially the case due to the RCA version of the siddur. So wouldn’t one expect that the instructions would reflect reality? In my entire life I don’t think that I have ever been in a Modern Orthodox synagogue that recites Lekhah Dodi responsively. While in the previous post I wrote how the Artscroll instructions have changed how Modern Orthodox synagogues recite Hallel, as far as I know no synagogue has given up the practice of communal singing for Lekhah Dodi because of this particular instruction. As it stands, this particular instruction is a sign of how little Artscroll respects the customs of the Modern Orthodox world.

Also on Friday night, the Siddur states that each stanza of Shalom Aleikhem is recited three times. Why not mention that there is also a common practice to only recite each stanza one time?

In the Machzor for Sukkot, p. 132, in discussing the different practices when it comes to wearing tefillin on hol ha-moed, it states: “It is not proper for a congregation to follow contradictory customs. Thus, if one whose custom is not to wear tefillin during Chol haMoed prays with a tefillin-wearing minyan, he should don tefillin without a blessing. Conversely, if one whose custom is to wear tefillin prays with a non-tefillin-wearing minyan, he should not wear his tefillin while praying but may don them at home before going to the synagogue.” The source for this ruling is the Mishnah Berurah. Yet with the exception of hasidic synagogues, where I presume everyone does the same thing, this ruling is no longer applicable. In all the synagogues I have ever been in, both Modern Orthodox and non-hasidic haredi, there is no one minhag and everyone does what his family practice is. In other words, the minhag today is for everyone to follow his own personal minhag, and shuls do not have a “custom” in this regard.

Also in the Sukkot Machzor, p. 957 (as well as in the other Machzors), it writes as follows: “It is virtually a universal custom that those whose parents are still living leave the synagogue during Yizkor. This is done to avoid the ‘evil eye,’ i.e., the resentment that might be felt by those without parents toward those whose parents are still living.” Can one conclude from this that Artscroll has a Maimonidean approach to the concept of the “evil eye”?

Quiz

In past posts I have offered a quiz and given out prizes to the ones who answered the questions. People have wondered why I stopped doing this. The answer is simple: I didn’t have anything to give out. But now I have a few items so I can do some more quizzes. For the winner of this one I can give a CD of the music of R. Baruch Myers, rav of Bratislava. Rabbi Myers is a trained classical musician and his music is very different from what you think of when you think hasidic music. Unlike in the past, I will not give the prize to the one who answers the question first. This is unfair as due to the different time zones, some people won’t see the question until it has already been answered. I will give people a couple days and if more than one has answered correctly, I will randomly choose a winner. You will also have to answer two questions, in different genres. Yet even if you only know the answer to one, send it in, for if no one gets both answers, I will give it to a person who got one correct. Send answers to shapirom2 at scranton.edu

Question 1: The word for turkey is תרנגול הדו There is a dagesh in the dalet. Why? Bring a proof for your answer from Berakhot between page 34a and 38a.

Question 2: There is a rabbinic phrase that today is used to praise a Torah scholar, but in talmudic days was used in a negative fashion (at least according to Rashi). What am I referring to?

* * * *

Some people have asked me if I am leading a Jewish history trip to Europe this summer. Actually, I am leading two trips, one to Italy and the other to Central Europe. (The latter is a repeat of the sold-out trip from last summer). Both trips are sponsored by Torah in Motion and details will be available soon.


* * * *

Here is something I think readers will enjoy. It is a picture from Prof. Isadore (Yitzchak) Twersky’s wedding. I thank R. Aharon Rakefet for sharing the picture. According to R. Rakefet, the man second to the left, whose face is obscured by an unknown rabbi, is R. Zev Gold. (R. Rakefet claims that the hair gives it away.) Beginning with Gold, we find Dean Samuel Sar, Isadore Twersky (standing) R. Dovid Lifshitz, R. Eliezer Silver, the Rav, R. Chaim Heller, R. Meshullam Zusia Twersky, Tolner Rebbe of Boston, R. Moshe Zvi Twersky, Tolner Rebbe of Philadelphia.

[1] Authorized Daily Prayer Book, p. 790.

[2] This identification has recently been advocated by Christopher W. Mitchell in his massive work, The Song of Songs (St. Louis, 2003), pp. 130ff.

[3] Medieval commentators, notably Ibn Ezra, put a great deal of effort into explaining the peshat. See also the medieval commentary on Song of Songs written by R. Joseph Ibn Aknin, entitled Hitgalut ha-Sodot ve-Hofa’at ha-Meorot (Jerusalem, 1964). Ibn Aknin provides a three part commentary, with one section focused on peshat, and the other two on derash and sod. From more recent times, see R. Samuel Naftali Hirsch Epstein, Imrei Shefer (Vilna, 1873), and R. Eliyahu Halfon Shir ha-Shirim im Perush Ateret Shlomo (Nof Ayalon, 2003).
[4] “Shir ha-Shirim” Kedushatah shel ha-Megilah u-Farshanutah,” Sinai 100 (1987), p. 475.
[5] Soncino explains: “The comparison is between the well-proportioned nose and the beautiful projecting tower.”
[6] This point was made by R. Isaac Jacob Reines. See R. Judah Leib Maimon, ed., Sefer Rashi (Jerusalem, 1956), vol. 2, pp. 12-13. See also Rashi to Song of Songs 1:2 “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” Rashi comments: “In some places they kiss on the back of the hand or on the shoulder, but I desire and wish that he behave toward me as he behaved toward me originally, like a bridegroom with a bride, mouth to mouth.” Artscroll does not mention this Rashi. The Vilna Gaon has an interesting comment on this verse. He notes the plural “kisses,” and explains: כמו שנושק הבעל לחשוקתו א’ על מה שמתחברת עמו והב’ על שאינה מתחברת באחר
[7] Perush Shir ha-Shirim (Jerusalem, 1971), p. 11.
[8] See also Ibn Ezra’s introduction to Song of Songs: וחלילה חלילה להיות שיר השירים בדברי חשק Despite saying this, he still feels it is important to explain the peshat.
[9] See also Rav Pealim, vol. 4, Sod Yesharim no. 11, where R. Joseph Hayyim explains why God’s name does not appear in the Song of Songs.
[10] Since we are speaking of love, I should also mention Elhanan Reiner’s provocative claim, put forward in very stylistic Hebrew, that R. Yair Haim Bachrach’s responsum, Havot Yair, no. 60, is not a real case, but simply a fictional love story that Bacharach inserted into his responsa. See here. For Raphael Binyamin Posen’s response see here, and Reiner responds to Posen here.
[11] Incidentally, the opposition of haredi gedolim to these concerts is often portrayed as if the only issue is tzeniut, and therefore, when men and women sit separately there should be no problem. This is a complete distortion of the issue, for even without tzeniut concerns, the main reason for the opposition, and I know this will be hard for American haredim to stomach, is that the Israeli haredi gedolim are opposed to all musical entertainment, and “fun” in general, when not connected to simchah shel mitzvah, such as Purim, a wedding, etc. Concerts are doubly problematic since these gedolim believe that is forbidden to listen to live music when not connected to a seudat mitzvah. Here is one proclamation that makes this clear (from Hashkafatenu [Bnei Brak, 1985], p. 77).

In R. Yaakov Yisrael Lugasi’s Mar’ot ha-Tzovaot (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 401, he states flatly: “The entire concept of entertainment is pasul. This is a condition of moshav leitzim and throwing off the yoke, and is the culture of the non-Jews and the secularists.” Interestingly, a few pages after this, Lugasi prints the herem against wearing jeans skirts. For those who never saw it, here it is.

[12] It is no secret that R. Svei was a polarizing figure in Orthodoxy, even in haredi circles. This is also seen in the book on R. Ahron Soloveitchik written by his son, R. Yosef. It was uploaded to the internet a few weeks ago and until recently was found here. Since many people downloaded the book when it was up, I think it is worthwhile to make some comments about it. I understand that it is a preliminary version of what will be published in book form. I hope the author takes the necessary time to revise it properly, because as it stands, it is an unfortunate publication. On the positive side, it includes a great deal of Torah from R. Ahron, and shows his strong insistence on honesty when it comes to dealing with non-Jews and the government. There are also wonderful tidbits of historical interest. See p. 5 that R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz used to stand up for R. Ahron when he was a child, since he was, after all, the grandson of the Rebbe (R. Hayyim).

See also p. 404 for the following incredible statement: “Rav Ahron told his son that it is not right to print his brother’s דרשה of יוסף ואחיו about the Mizrachi because his brother regretted saying this דרשה ” This is perhaps the most important derashah the Rav ever delivered and is a basic text of study for religious Zionists. It explains how the Rav could break from his family tradition and become a Zionist. It is also the derashah that R. Shakh attacked, saying that it contained דברים שאסור לשומען וכש”כ להפיצן ברבים (Mikhtavim u-Ma’amarim, vol. 4, no. 320). What are we to make of R. Ahron stating that the Rav regretted this derashah?

Among other passages that caught my eye, see e.g., p. 6, where R. Ahron tells a bubba maisah about a rabbi in Auschwitz who killed some twenty Nazis with a chair. On p. 327 R. Ahron claims that Bible Criticism “paved the road for the Nazi ideology.” On this page he also states that Catholics do not support Bible Criticism. This is incorrect. The Catholic Church accepts Bible Criticism and does not see this as harming the holiness of the Bible. In fact, there are only two religious groups that do not accept the academic approach to the Bible, namely, Christian fundamentalists and (most) Orthodox Jews. (In a future post I will explain why I use the word “most”.

Why do I say that this is an unfortunate publication? Because there is a way to write and a way not to write, and someone who is very upset about how his father was treated is not the best person to review important incidents in his life. I can’t see how anyone could believe that the book brings honor to R. Ahron. I am impressed, however, that despite the harshly polemical tone, the author included documents directed against R. Ahron, as this helps with the historical record.

I have to say that after reading the publication, I think I have a better understanding of why R. Ahron had so many difficulties. In order to be a successful leader, one must, at times, be willing to compromise. One must also recognize when the time for battle is over. R. Ahron was so guided by the truth as he saw it, that he appears to have been unable to do this. For him, it was worth fighting a battle to make a point, even if there was no chance of emerging victorious and it would cost lots of money to do so. (I refer to his attempt to cancel the sale of the Chicago Mizrachi building to Buddhists.)

When publishing the letter of the other faculty members of Hebrew Theological College stating that they do not want R. Ahron in a leadership position, the author would have been wise to explain the different perspectives of the protaganists, rather than heaping abuse on them. The same is true when it comes to how he describes the haredim. There is no question that many of his complaints are justified. This is especially the case when he deals with the support given by the haredi gedolim to Elior Chen, which makes everything else pale in comparison. Yet despite this, the language Soloveichik uses in is really over the top.

I also can’t imagine that the family of the Rav will be happy to see how he too makes appearances in the book. Is it really appropriate to quote the Rav’s harsh comment against a certain Agudah leader? And I have a more fundamental question with regard to this last example. When two people agree to take their dispute to a beit din, not a government beit din but a private beit din, don’t they have an expectation of confidentiality? This is especially the case when one of the disputants is still alive. What gives the author the right to reveal the content of a private dispute brought before a private beit din, even if one of the participants did act in a disgraceful manner?

Apropos of R. Ahron, let me mention two things he told me so as to preserve them for posterity.

1. He stated that because of what R. Moshe Stern wrote about the Rav, one should not quote Stern in halakhic discourse. In truth, as I later learnt, it is not so clear that Stern’s harsh comments (pigul, metuav) are about the Rav. It is possible that he is referring to teaching and study at Yeshiva University. (See David Berger in Tradition 27 [Winter 1993], p. 94.) I will let readers judge for themselves. The text appears in Be’er Moshe, vol. 8, no. 3.

2. R. Ahron told me, halakhah le-ma’aseh, that if you have food in the oven when Shabbat starts, that this food can be returned to the oven on Shabbat morning in order to heat it up. I have heard that the Rav gave the same pesak to NCSY, but I have not confirmed this.

[13] See Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 596:1; Sefer Zikaron Divrei Shelom Hakhamim (Jerusalem, 2003), p. 264.
[14] Otzar ha-Hayyim, Tevet 5695, pp. 87-88.
[15] Ner Maaravi 2 (1925), pp. 227-228; Divrei Menahem, vol. 4, no. 13.



Comments on This and That, part 1

|
Comments on This and That, part 1
by Marc B. Shapiro

1. In this post I referred to R. Hayyim Hirschensohn’s Nimukei Rashi, and stated that I thought it was one of his best works. This led to some correspondence with readers regarding the commentary. I have no doubt that I could devote ten posts to Hirschensohn, but then what would happen to everything else I want to discuss? But there are people who want me to call attention to some more interesting comments from Hirschensohn. I know that among them are those who go to hebrewbooks.org and print out some of the sources I refer to and bring them to shul on Shabbat. That is fine, as long as you aren’t looking at it during the rabbi’s sermon. As it is, Hirschensohn writes a good deal about how the rabbis are not given proper respect, and how ignoramuses have all too much power. At least in one respect, however, things have gotten better since Hirschensohn’s day. In Nimukei Rashi, Bereshit, pp. 46a-46b, he speaks about how the people give more respect to the hazzan than to the rabbi. This doesn’t apply anymore because there are hardly any synagogues that still have a hazzan.

In response to requests, let me therefore mention one more very interesting passage in Hirschensohn’s Nimukei Rashi in this post (with more to come in future posts). But my real suggestion is to study it yourself, even though it might make for difficult reading at times. To paraphrase Chazal (Avot 5:22), “no pain, no gain.” Or as R. Tuvia Hanks put it: “It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”[1]

Before quoting the comment in Nimukei Rashi that I have promised, I also want to record one formulation of Hirschensohn that I think it is magnificent. While R. Soloveitchik undoubtedly would disagree with much of what Hirschensohn writes, if he would have heard the following, I know that he would have regarded it wonderful, expressing the essence of what real Torah learning is all about. In his Musagei Shav ve-Emet, Section Penei ha-Hamah, p. 64, Hirschensohn gives his definition of a lamdan. I am sure readers have their own definitions. Some will say that one who knows a few tractates is a lamdan, while other will say that one who gone through the Ketzot ha-Hoshen earns the title. Hirschensohn has his own approach:

אינני קורא למדן (שם זארגני על ת”ח גדול) רק את זה אשר רמב”ם קשה או רש”י סותרות או תוספות מופרך לא מניח לו לישון

When one can honestly say that a difficult Rambam or Rashi keeps you up at night, only then can you be called a lamdan. As I mentioned, this is a formulation that the Rav would have embraced, and he actually lived this way. I heard from Dr. David Fand, a student of the Rav from the 1940s, who studied in Boston’s Yeshivat Heichal Rabbenu Hayyim Halevi, that one night the Rav woke some students up in order to tell them a hiddush.

In Nimukei Rashi, Bereshit, p. 48b, Hirschensohn discusses the comment of Rashi, Gen. 26:8. The verse states that Abimelech looked out his window and saw that Isaac “was amusing himself with Rebekkah.” Upon this verse, Rashi, based on a Midrash, states that Abimelech saw them having marital relations. The question is, of course, obvious. How is this possible that Isaac and Rebekkah would do this in such a way that people could observe him? As Hirschensohn puts it:

ובאמת זה קשה מאד לחשוב כזאת על עולה תמימה כיצחק שיעשה דבר מגונה כזה ונגד היכל מלך

Hirschensohn therefore refuses to take this Midrash literally. He sees it as a mussar derash about how people living among those at a lower moral level can be negatively influenced by them. He offers his own example of this: elderly women in America. (By “elderly”, I think he means women over sixty.) In Europe they used to dress modestly but in America they were negatively influenced to dress in an inappropriate fashion. He continues:

ואינני חושב שחשבו חכמים שבאמת שימש יצחק מטתו ביום לפני חלון פתוח נגד היכל המלך, רק זה אחד מדרכי הדרוש המוסרי לקשור אותו לאיזה צלצול בלשון להפריז הדבר להגדיל את מוסרו.

Hirschensohn’s comment is not surprising. We have come to expect that anytime there is an unusual Midrash, or one that reflects poorly on a biblical figure, that one of the aharonim will argue that it is not meant to be taken literally. This is no different than the attempts to understand various strange Aggadot allegorically.[2] A good rule of thumb is if the Aggadah is strange, then someone will interpret it in a non-literal fashion. I opened up the Artscroll Rashi translation for the verse we are discussing and was therefore not surprised to find the following: “In truth, according to the Zohar, Isaac conducted himself modestly with Rebekkah. Abimelech did not see them in a physical sense; he understood through some astrological means that they were having relations (Maskil LeDavid).”

Regarding the character of Isaac, Hirschensohn writes:

על יצחק אשר ישב ארבעים שנה בלא אשה ולא שם עיניו על בנות הארץ וישב עשרים שנה עם אשתו בלא בנים ולא לקח אשה אחרת עליה אשר לזה הי’ דבר הרגיל מאד בכל איש שם להרבות נשים ופלגשים ושפחות, אות הוא שהי’ מצונן או מצדקתו משל ביצרו, ואיש כזה לא ישמש מטתו נגד חלון פתוח מול היכל מלך.

In dealing with the issue raised, Hirschensohn appears to be correct that there are only two options in describing Isaac. Either that he didn’t have a sexual drive or that he overcame it. Nevertheless, it does strike me as a bit strange to be speaking of the Patriarch in this fashion, although maybe this is just my own prudishness. Here, for example, is what R. Yehiel Michel of Glogau (died 1730) says about this episode with Isaac in his Nezer ha-Kodesh, vol. 3, p. 329a (64:5), a classic commentary on Bereshit Rabbah.

אע”ג דאמר ר”י המשמש מיטתו ביום ה”ז מגונה והיינו כמ”ש המפרשי’ דמיירי אפילו בבית אפל או במאפיל טליתו דאל”ה מה מגונה דקאמר הא אפילו איסורא איכא . . . ולא שרי בכה”ג בת”ח אלא לצורך שעה בראותו שיצר תאותו מתגבר עליו הרבה כדי שלא יבא לידי הוצא’ ש”ז לבטלה או הרהור רע אצ”ל דבאמת הוי נמי כה”ג ביצחק וזה רמז הכתו’ באומרו והיה כי ארכו לו שם הימים כלומר שאירע לו מקר’ כזה להתגבר יצר תאותו ע”י שארכו לו הימ’ שלא נזדווג לאשתו משו’ שמקמי הכי אפילו בצינעא בלילה לא שימש מיטתו פן תתעבר ויתפרסם הדבר לפני אבימלך ועמו אבל אז הי’ צורך שעה לכך ולזה לא נזהר מלשמש אף ביום.

The author might think he is helping Isaac’s reputation with his explanation, but I actually think just the opposite, that what he says reflects negatively on Isaac. Let’s remember who we are speaking about here. We are not talking about some average guy. We are speaking about the Patriarch Isaac, whom many sources portray as the holiest of the Patriarchs. And regarding him R. Yechiel Michel says that it was צורך שעה?! Does he really expect us to believe that it was such an emergency that Isaac couldn’t have waited until the night? With all due respect to the author, who certainly knew who Isaac was, I can’t understand how he could suggest this. Hirschensohn’s description of Isaac is thus much more in line with how the Tradition encourages us to view the Patriarchs. Of course, I understand what is driving R. Yechiel Michel, namely, the reality of Isaac having sexual relations in the daytime. Unless one is prepared to read this in a non-literal fashion, as did Hirschensohn, there is a real problem and I guess the answer he offered was the best one he could come up with.

I am sure most readers are with me in not feeling comfortable engaging in speculation about the sexual life of the Patriarchs, and yet the truth is that we find such speculation among the commentators. Let me give one example. The Torah states (Gen. 29:20): “And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.” R. Hayyim Zev Rosenfeld, in his Sefer ha-Hayyim (London, 1922), p. 22, asks a very good question. If you love someone, and desperately want to be with her, then it is not seven years that will seem like a few days, but precisely the reverse. A few days would seem like seven years. So why does the Torah say that the years went by very quickly for Jacob? According to Rosenfeld, the answer is that Jacob’s love for Rachel had no sexual component.

Rosenfeld brings the following support for his contention. In blessing Reuben, Jacob says (Gen. 49:3): “Reuben, thou art my first-born, my might, and the first-fruits of my strength.” As a number of talmudic and midrashic passages explain, the sperm that impregnated Leah was the first one ever to leave Jacob’s body.[3] Since the Talmud tells us that a woman cannot become pregnant from the first intercourse, [4] how is it that Leah became pregnant? The Maharsha, Yevamot 34b, deals with the problem. In what can only be described as an exercise in original Midrash, Maharsha suggests that since Jacob was able to prevent any seminal emissions for more than eight decades, one can assume that in his first intercourse with Leah he also did not ejaculate (so that the sperm not be wasted). Therefore in truth, Leah did not become pregnant from the first intercourse.

Maharsha’s explanation, which shows how far removed Jacob was from carnal pleasures, is cited by Rosenfeld as support for his assumption that Jacob’s love for Rachel was entirely non-sexual:

שפיר נוכל לומר עליו באהבתו אותה שלא היה כונתו תאות המשגל

And since his love was non-sexual, that is why the long time waiting seemed like a short time.

(As is often the case with biblical commentaries, Rosenfeld’s question is better than his answer. We can all point to plenty of examples of non-sexual love in which a short time seems much longer [e.g., a parent longing for a child]. Just because Jacob’s love was non-sexual, why should that mean that seven years seemed like a few days?)

The Rashi dealing with Abimelech, Isaac, and Rebekkah reminds me of how in high school, when we first learnt Rashi intensively, we would sometimes come across texts which created all sorts of problems, and the teachers often didn’t deal with them properly. Would it have been so hard for the rebbe to acknowledge that yes, he too finds certain Midrashim strange? I specifically remember when we learnt Rashi to Gen. 25:26, which quotes a Midrash that explains why Esau was born first even though Jacob was conceived first. At the time, we were studying biology and knew that the biological description in this Rashi was incorrect. In what was for me a prologue to the Slifkin affair, one of the students raised this point. I also recall how his question was pushed aside, as if it was unimportant.[5] (Later, I was surprised to find that even in the nineteenth century R. Akiva Eger was clueless about the anatomy of pregnant women. Here is what he writes in his comment to Berakhot 63b, quoting a medieval source:

דז’ חדרים יש באשה שלשה מימין ושלשה משמאול ואחד באמצע אם תתעבר מימין יהיו זכרים ובשמאל נקבות ובאמצע טומטום או אנדרוגינוס)

Another Rashi which raised a problem, for me at least, was Gen. 24:2. Commenting on the biblical expression, שים נא ידך תחת ירכי, Rashi quotes the Midrash that Abraham asks Eliezer, in taking his oath, put his hands on Abraham’s circumcision.

לפי שהנשבע צריך שיטול בידו חפץ של מצוה, כגון ספר תורה או תפילין, והמילה היתה מצוה ראשונה לו ובאה לו על ידי צער והיתה חביבה עליו ונטלה

I remember in high school thinking that this was very strange. But I assumed that it was only since I was corrupted by modern values that I found this strange, and that those who had a pure “Torah hashkafah” would not even raise an eyebrow. I was even too embarrassed to ask the rebbe about this Rashi (which comes from Bereshit Rabbah).[6] It was only many years later that I found that the great R. Raphael Berdugo (1747-1821), known as the מלאך among Moroccan Jewry, had the same response as a fourteen-year-old American student. He does not hesitate to tell us that he finds this Midrash quite strange (Mesamhei Lev, ad loc.).

שהמילה אין בגופה קדושה אדרבה הוא מקום הבושת ואיך יקח בידו ערות חבירו ויזכיר שמו ית’ . . . גם אם רבינו הקדוש לא הניח ידו למטה מחגורו ק”ו אברהם אבינו ע”ה, גם מאכילת עץ הדעת יבושו בני אדם זה מזה וזילותא הוא לאדם נכבד שיחזיק אחר במבושיו

What this shows us is that when a rebbe is asked about this Rashi by one of his students, he should not put on an act and make believe that he too doesn’t find it strange. Instead, he should be honest, just like Berdugo, and acknowledge that this is indeed an unusual Midrash. Such an honest approach will earn the respect of the students and come in handy as the class comes to other strange Midrashim.[7]

Rosenfeld, whom we just cited, also deals with this passage and has a very interesting formulation (p. 21):

שים נא ידך תחת ירכי: כאשר רמזתי לעיל שהיה כלי הולדה קדוש בעיניו, אך משה אסר זאת בתורתו להיות קדושים.

In other words, the old way of taking an oath, which was acceptable in Abraham’s day, was later rendered invalid due to the heightened moral standards of the Torah. His comment, that Abraham regarded the genitals as holy, is explained by him as follows (p. 19):

שאצל אברהם היתה המילה תיקון הדת להקדיש כלי הולדה שהוא המקור מכל מין האנושית, ולכוף את תאותיו . . . וגם המילה היא מקור הולדה והשפע בא על ידו

I will return in a future post to discuss Rosenfeld, who was very unconventional and expressed all sorts of provocative notions.[8] He was also unusual among those born in Eastern Europe in that he published many books in English. Here is his picture, which appears in his Sefer ha-Hayyim, showing that despite his unusual ideas he certainly had the rabbinic look.


2. I want to now go back to one of my earliest posts, from four years ago, in which I discussed the meaning of the word olam in the Bible and how the words Adon Olam should be translated. See here.

I received many e-mails after this post, and there were many important comments posted online. I told a number of people that I would try to mention their comments in a post. Although I can’t get to all of them, at least with regard to some, better late than never.

With regard to appearances of the word olam in the Torah where modern scholars say it means eternal (or something along those lines[9]) and traditional interpreters understand it to mean “world”, R. Nathan Kamenetsky called my attention to Gen. 21:33, where it is clear from Onkelos, Rashi, and Ramban that the word means “world.”[10] To this I will add that Maimonides also understands olam in this verse to mean “world”. See Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 1:3 (Simon Glazer, in his translation, mistakenly renders it “Everlasting God” instead of “God of the World”, “God of the Universe” or something like that. Similarly, Eliyahu Touger, in his translation of this halakhah mistakenly renders it “eternal God”.) See also the index to Pines’ translation of the Guide under Gen. 21:33 for instances in the Guide where Maimonides refers to the verse, and also Schwartz’ edition of the Guide 2:13 n. 14. We must also translate Maimonides’ opening words of each of the three sections of the Guide (and elsewhere[11]) בשם ה’ א-ל עולם as “In the Name of the Lord, God of the World.”

As for what the words Adon Olam mean, in a comment to the original post, Kovner clinches the meaning, I think. He called attention to Berakhot 7b: “From the day that the Holy One, blessed be He, created the world (olam) there was no man that called the Holy One, blessed be He, Lord, until Abraham came and called Him Lord (adon).” I had forgotten about this passage, and I think it is obvious that the words Adon Olam are based on this text, meaning that the passage should be translated as “Master of the Universe”, or something along those lines. A very learned reader also pointed out to me that this same point is made by R. Pinchas Zebihi in his Mi-Zahav u-mi-Paz (Jerusalem, 1993), at the end where there is a commentary on Adon Olam. See also the online discussion here.

Responding to Kovner, R. Yitzhak Oratz e-mailed me that Kovner’s very point was approved by the Vilna Gaon and repeated by none other than the Brisker Rav. See Dov Eliach, Sefer ha-Gaon, vol. 1, pp. 425-426, where it states that the Gaon was shown this point in the siddur Magid Tzedek and said that the entire siddur was worthwhile for this one point. Ad kan R. Oratz.[12]

With regard to the word olam, it is true that in rabbinic literature it means “world”, but I would be remiss in not mentioning that the older meaning is found as well. Sometimes, it is unclear which the correct meaning is. For example, Mishnah Yadayim 3:5 reads:

אין כל העולם כולו כדאי כיום שניתן בו שיר השירים לישראל

Soncino translates: “The whole world is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel.” Others translate similarly. Yet A. S. Halkin renders it: “All of time is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel.”[13] Halkin’s opinion is noted in a comprehensive article devoted to the very issue here being discussed.[14] Fuderman and Gruber, the authors of this article, also point to two biblical texts “of Hellenistic date” in which they claim olam means “world.” One of them is Dan. 12:7: .חי העולם They translate this as “the life/vital force of the world,” and note that this usage is found in the Jewish liturgy where it has been transformed into חי העולמים, with the same meaning.

The other example they give is Eccl. 3:11: גם את העולם נתן בלבם. They are not the first to translate olam here as “world.” The old JPS also translated it this way: “He hath set the world in their heart.” But in the Soncino edition, which uses the old JPS, the commentary rejects this translation, commenting that “the only signification” olam has in the Bible is “eternity.” The translation would therefore have to read: “He hath set eternity [i.e., a sense of the future] in their heart.” Soncino’s note might be based on Ibn Ezra’s comment to this verse, where he says flatly that in the Bible the word olam only means “eternity,” not “world.” (He says likewise in his Short Commentary to Exodus 31:17; Commentary to Psalms 66:7, 89:4.) Daat Mikra agrees with Soncino, explaining the verse as follows: את העולם: את השאיפה לחיים עולם ונצחיות ולדעת את הנעלם, מה שהיה לפנים ומה שיהיה לאחור [15]

I will leave the meaning of olam in this verse to the biblical scholars to fight over. But I want to return to the point made by Fuderman and Gruber that Ecclesiastes was composed in the Hellenistic period, many centuries after Solomon. Based on this they don’t see it as at all incongruous that the word olam means “world” in this book because we are dealing with a later development of biblical Hebrew.[16] This relates to another interesting point.

At the beginning of the standard Vilna edition of the Mishnah there is an essay on R. Judah the Prince by R. Moses Kunitz. Here is the first page.

This essay is excerpted from Kunitz’ Beit Rabbi (Vienna 1805), most of which is actually a play in six acts.[17] Kunitz is best known for his Ben Yohai which is a valiant, if unsuccessful, defense of the ancient dating of the Zohar against R. Jacob Emden’s Mitpahat Sefarim. He was a very pious man and in his lifetime was treated with great respect.

In the next issue of Milin Havivin I will have information regarding this, so there is no need to repeat it here. Here is his picture.

Kunitz is also famous as one of the rabbis whose responsum to the early Reformers is printed in Nogah ha-Tzedek. This was from a time when the Reformers made it seem that all they were looking for was a more lenient halakhic approach. They also succeeded in receiving letters from two Italian rabbis. Just as these rabbis were not Reform in any way, neither was Kunitz. Not knowing who the Reformers were, he fell into their trap, which is perhaps the best way to put it. Yet as I mentioned, this didn’t greatly affect his standing in the rabbinic world, because people assumed that his was an innocent error. In fact, in all the polemics against the Reformers, none of the great rabbis of the day even mention Kunitz.[18]

A few years ago a new edition of the classic Vilna Mishnah was reprinted, and lo and behold, Kunitz’ essay is missing. The publisher was obviously told that there was some controversy around Kunitz, and he therefore just cut out the essay. Yet if the publisher wanted to censor, he missed the real thing. (I wouldn’t be surprised if following this post, future printings of the Mishnah also cut out what I will now discuss. That is the reason why I don’t call attention to various “interesting” books that have been put up on hebrewbooks.org [including Karaite literature], at least until they are also on Google books. I know that soon after I discuss them, they will be taken down. As it is, a number of anti-hasidic and Haskalah works have already been removed from the site. Sometimes these books have come down within a day or two of being put up, after someone has informed the site that they put up a “dangerous” volume. So you have to be quick when they post the new books and download anything you think might be removed.)

Immediately following Kunitz’ essay, there is another article on the grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew by Solomon Loewisohn. In the very first note he refers to the book of Ecclesiastes, and concludes his comment with והטעם ידוע למשכילי עם Here is the page.


What he is alluding to in this note is that Ecclesiastes is a late biblical book, and thus could not have been written by Solomon. To show this he points to the word חוץ, which in its usage in Ecclesiastes 2:25 is an Aramaism, and thus post-dates the biblical Hebrew of Solomon’s day.[19] To use an expression of the Sages, we live in an olam hafukh. Kunitz’ essay was thought worthy of censorship, and at the same time this note remains in every printing of the Vilna edition of the Mishnah. Yet as I mentioned above, let’s see how long it is before this note, or even the complete essay, is also removed.

Regarding the book of Ecclesiastes, in Limits, p. 26 n. 140, I referred to a comment of R. Israel Bruna which appears to say that Ecclesiastes was not divinely inspired. R. Yonasan Rosman (one of whose seforim I mentioned in an earlier post) has taken issue with me in this. However, he also points out that this is exactly what Maharsha seems to be saying in his commentary to Shabbat 30b. I also found that R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes, in his note to Berakhot 4a and in Kol Sifrei Maharatz Chajes, vol. 2, p. 927, states explicitly that Ecclesiastes was not divinely inspired. R. Michael Broyde has noted that this is also stated by R. David Ibn Zimra in his responsa, vol. 2, no. 722.[20]

Rosman also points out that Maimonides, Hilkhot She’ar Avot ha-Tum’ot 9:6, states that Ecclesiastes (and Song of Songs) are “words of wisdom”, with the implication that these books are not divinely inspired. This expression, “words of wisdom”, comes from Tosefta Yadayim 2:14, where it is explicitly contrasted with ruah ha-kodesh.

ר’ שמעון בן מנסיא אומר שיר השירים מטמא את הידים מפני שנאמרה ברוח הקדש. קהלת אינה מטמא את הידים מפני שהיא מחכמתו של שלמה.

Based on the passage just mentioned, I initially assumed that Maimonides is indeed saying that Ecclesiastes was not written with divine inspiration. I also found that the important commentator R. Masud Hai Rakah is of this opinion. Yet then there is a problem, because according to the Tosefta, Song of Songs was written with divine inspiration and yet Maimonides also refers to this book as “words of wisdom.” Rakah himself raises this problem and can offer no solution,[21] but it is likely that when Maimonides speaks of these books as being “words of wisdom” it does not mean that they are lacking in divine inspiration. We can see this from Hilkhot Talmud Torah 5:4, where he quotes Song of Songs and writes regarding it אמר שלמה בחכמתו. The same words are found in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 2:12 and Hilkhot Deot 3:3, 4:15, 19 and in these cases Maimonides is quoting verses from Proverbs. Maimonides believed that both Song of Songs and Proverbs were written with divine inspiration, and yet we see that he uses the term “wisdom” with regard to them. The truth is that this phraseology comes directly from the Talmud,[22] and need not have anything to do with whether the text being described is divinely inspired. This whole problem is dealt with by the brilliant R. Meshulam Roth in an article in Sinai 17 (1945) pp. 267ff. With his typical erudition, Roth shows that Maimonides indeed regarded Ecclesiastes as being divinely inspired and in fact states so explicitly in Guide 2:45. Roth also shows how in a few places he describes Solomon as a prophet.[23]

Many might find this entire discussion strange, for they assume that if a book is in the canon that means it must be regarded as having been divinely inspired. I have found such a conception in many books.[24] Yet it is incorrect, and as Shnayer Leiman has shown, the tanna R. Simeon ben Menasia, while he regarded Ecclesiastes as an uninspired book, also thought that it was canonical. Thus, while he states that Ecclesiastes does not defile the hands, he also expounded a verse from Ecclesiastes.[25]

As far as I know, the Sages never “decided” that Ecclesiastes is a divinely inspired book. It would therefore seem to be entirely acceptable for one to hold the position of R. Simeon ben Menasia, which was shared by Beit Shammai and R. Meir,[26] that the book is not a product of ruah ha-kodesh. Obviously, one who rejects the book, or any other biblical text, claiming that it was a mistake to have been included in the Canon, has to be regarded as a sectarian. However, here too I think that there is more room for personal opinions than people often think. For example, what about someone who accepts Ecclesiastes as part of the Canon but thinks that the Sages were wrong in this decision, and that they should have adopted the view that the ideas of this book are not fit to be included in the Bible? This was Samuel David Luzzatto’s early position, although he later became more sympathetic to Ecclesiastes. Yet despite this negative view, Luzzatto never rejected the canonical status of this book.[27]

Or what if someone thinks that the halakhah should have been decided in accordance with Samuel (as understood by a number of rishonim)[28] that the book of Esther should not have been included in the canon? As long as one accepts the halakhah as recorded by the Sages he is not to be regarded as a Zaken Mamre, which shows that acceptance of the halakhah in practice is what is important, but one doesn’t have to think that the Sages were correct. After all, in the story of the Oven of Akhnai (Bava Metzia 59b), while R. Eliezer was forced to accept R. Joshua’s viewpoint, I don’t think there can be any doubt that R. Eliezer still believed that he was correct. How could he not, when God Himself agreed with him? Yet the most R. Eliezer could hope for was that his decision would be adopted by a future beit din, and maybe only after the arrival of the Messianic era. Let us not forget that the Mishnah in Eduyot 1:5 explicitly tells us that minority opinions are recorded so that a later court can rely on them, meaning that there is no problem for one to argue the case of a rejected opinion, as long as one does not adopt it in practice (i.e., before a later court gives its imprimatur to do so).[29]

All this seem to be no different than someone who, after examining a talmudic dispute, thinks that the weight of the evidence shows that the halakhah should be in accordance with Abaye, and yet the Talmud decides the halakhah in accordance with Rava. Such a person accepts the practical halakhah, and this is no different than someone who thinks that the Shulhan Arukh decided the halakhah improperly, but who nevertheless follows the law as recorded. You can even argue that this is a very high level of commitment, namely, one who thinks the halakhah should be different, but nevertheless sublimates his personal feelings and accepts the law as we have it.[30]

Similarly, the assumptions of academic Talmud study lead, in theory, to the undermining of many talmudic conclusions. But the practitioners of this form of study have always insisted that since they don’t seek to change the accepted halakhic practice, there can be no religious objection to their approach.

The only reason the Song of Songs was included in the Canon is because it was interpreted in an allegorical fashion.[31] Does this mean that one must accept that this was the original meaning of the book? Jacob Barth (1851-1914) certainly didn’t think so. Barth was the son-in-law of R. Esriel Hildesheimer and one of the most brilliant Semitists of his day. In addition to teaching at the University of Berlin, he was also a long-time and revered faculty member at the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin. Just to give one example of this, in discussing the great achievements of German Orthodoxy, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg lists the following four men as examples of what German Orthodoxy can be proud of: Hirsch, Hildesheimer, Hoffmann, and Barth.[32]

Here is a picture of Barth.


Barth argued—and taught his students at the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin—that the Song of Songs was not originally intended as an allegory, but this was a later interpretation of the Rabbis, and as already mentioned it was precisely this interpretation that enabled the book to be included in the Canon.[33] Barth believed that the Song of Songs was actually a collection of different songs, composed in various periods.[34] They were designed to be sung at a wedding and the days of feasting, and give expression to marital happiness and love which are basic to the Jewish family. According to Barth, just like the Psalms were originally written by the Psalmist with specific circumstances in mind, but their meaning for the Jewish people throughout history is not tied to this original intent, the same can be said for the Song of Songs. What it originally meant is different than what it later came to mean for generations of Jews.[35]


To be continued
* * * *
In my last post, available here, I wrote about the issue of lo tehanem. As far as the Modern Orthodox are concerned, based on the Meiri and others, these laws are no longer regarded as applicable in modern times. (Although as I mentioned, the Centrists are trying to bring them back.) Someone sent me a link to Dov Bear’s post available here. Dov Baer included the following text that recently appeared (and highlighted certain sections).

I have already mentioned the Slifkin controversy in this post, and regarding matters of science and Torah there definitely are differences between the Modern Orthodox and the haredim. However, I think that when it comes to matters like lo tehanem, the divide is much more significant. If the haredi/ hasidic world really accepts the outlook of the page printed above, then its understanding of what “Jewish values” are all about is far removed from that of the Modern Orthodox.[36] We can also see how secure haredi Jews in America must feel in order for them to put this sort of material in the English language, for all to see.

In two posts from now, I will discuss a dispute currently taking place in the hasidic world in America about how to relate to non-Jews. For now I will simply note that a common theme among virtually all who abandon hasidic life, in explaining what they found objectionable in their former lifestyle, is the denigration of “the other” found in the hasidic world. In the forthcoming post, I will deal with a brave voice from that world who is putting forth a different approach.


[1] See here.
[2] Here is what Louis Ginzberg wrote about the unusual aggadot (On Jewish Law and Lore [New York, 1970], p. 77 (I thank Gershon Bacon for reminding me of this passage.) There is a lot one can say about this comment.

With your permission I shall commence my lecture by recounting an incident that happened to me. It is a memory from boyhood, which means the time when I had already been liberated from the hard discipline of the master of the heder, and, though yet a child of nine, had begun to study, in the traditional phrase, “by myself.” I was then studying the tractate Baba Bathra. When I reached the tales of Rabbah bar bar Hannah, doubts began to disturb my mind; my peace was particularly troubled by those geese who were so fat that they had streams of oil flowing from them and by the bird that was so big that the waters of the sea reached only to its ankles and its head split the heavens. My joy was great when I came across a book by one of the “enlightened” of the older generation (if my memory is correct it was the Maphteah by Shatzkes), from which I learned that these geese were neither fat nor thin and that the giant bird possessed neither feet nor wings, but that the whole tale was merely a flight of the imagination, or, as the ancients used to say, it was only a parable—the moral I have forgotten. I was a child then; but when I reached maturity I realized that in truth the geese of Rabbah bar bar Hannah were real geese and the giant bird was literally a bird. When regarded as natural creations of the folk imagination, they lost their strangeness and incomprehensibility. On the contrary, it would be all the more strange if we possessed no such tales; in that case it would be extremely difficult to explain so striking a difference between our people and all others, one involving so great a triumph of reason over imagination that the latter had become completely atrophied.


[3] See Torah Shelemah, Gen. ch. 49, note 47.
[4] Do any of the readers know where the Talmud picked up this piece of folklore? I assume it was a common notion in ancient times. See Bereshit Rabbah 45:5, where the matter is disputed. Noda bi-Yehudah, Even ha-Ezer no. 22, recognizes that there are women who do become pregnant after first intercourse, and therefore claims that the Talmud was only giving a general rule, but there are exceptions. See R. Neriah Gutel, Hishtanut ha-Tevaim (Jerusalem, 1995), pp. 88ff.
[5] I assume that the rebbe’s response was due to the fact that the passage quoted by Rashi is a Midrash. If it was Rashi’s own explanation, I don’t think he would have regarded it as a disrespectful question. In general, and readers can correct me if I am wrong, I don’t think that the opponents of Slifkin assume that together with Hazal the greatest rishonim are also infallible on scientific matters (the one exception perhaps being the Lubavitchers when it comes to the Rambam). When I was in yeshiva I never came across a rebbe who thought that, although I can’t remember anyone actually spending time on one of the rishonim and explaining why what he says is not correct scientifically, or, to take a different issue, that perhaps the rishon’s view of women doesn’t reflect how we currently think. Had they done so, it would have had an enormously positive influence on some of the students who instead came to believe that the Torah was out of date and not relevant to their lives.

To give one example of many, the online elucidation of Tosafot, available here, in discussing Tosafot, Shabbat 65b. s.v. sahada, offers the following preface:

Before we approach this Tosfos we must realize that during the times of the Reeshonim, there were very few if any maps in Europe of any of the areas that are being discussed in the G’moro. All the knowledge that they had about the rivers and places was what they gleaned from the G’moro or Midrosh about these places.

What forces the translator to add this comment is that Tosafot rejects Rashi’s explanation (which I will soon come to) and incorrectly states that all rivers flow from east to west. (Among European rivers, the Danube flows west to east.) It turns out that Rashi’s explanation is also geographically incorrect. Rashi, Shabbat 65b s.v. sahada, writes about the Euphrates: שהוא יורד מארץ ישראל לבבל

In other words, Rashi thought that the Euphrates originated in the Land of Israel, and flowed from there to Babylonia. Yet this is incorrect as the Euphrates is not within the Land of Israel. Artscroll recognizes the problem and states that the Euphrates is on the northern border of “Greater Israel,” i.e., the land promised to Abraham. I believe that this is an apologetic explanation. The Euphrates will only be part of the Land of Israel in messianic days. It was never a part of Israel during the First Temple, or during the Second Temple. Yet Rashi is speaking about the river as actually part of the Land of Israel. See Isaac Samuel Reggio, Ha-Torah ve-ha-Filosofyah (Vienna, 1827), p. 63.

[6] See also the various Midrashim cited in Torah Shelemah, Gen. 47:29, where Jacob is speaking to Joseph and he too says שים נא ידך תחת ירכי.
[7] There are other ways of dealing with the Midrash. See e.g., R. Paragi Alush, Ohev Mishpat (Djerba, 1928), vol. 1, no. 3, that Eliezer only touched the organ from outside of Abraham’s clothes. R. Eliyahu Katz, Amar ve-Amarta (Beer Sheva, 1994), Gen. 24:2, finds the Midrash so strange that he can’t take it literally, and even uses the term has ve-shalom with reference to the literal meaning. He does so even though, as far as I can tell, all the standard commentaries on the Midrash and Rashi do take it literally. Here are his words:

תמוה מאד שהמילה נחשבת כחפץ של מצוה. והרי אין בזה מן הצניעות . . . אך ודאי שאין הכוונה ח”ו כפשוטו, אלא הכוונה שהזכיר את המצוה כמו שאומר שנשבע בשם ה’.

[8] For now, here is one just one example. He assumes that Gen.36:31-43 is post-Mosaic.

ואלה המלכים אשר מלכו בארץ אדום לפני מלוך מלך לבני ישראל: מזה נראה כי זמן רב נכתבה פרשה זו, כי ידע כבר את מלכי ישראל.


[9] See Sacha Stern, Time and Process in Ancient Judaism (Oxford, 2003), pp. 75 n. 43, 109ff.
[10] Mordecai Spitz called my attention to Neh. 9:5, where the traditional commentaries also understand olam to mean world.
[11] See Saul Lieberman, Hilkhot ha-Yerushalmi, p. 5 n. 7.
[12] I should also mention that there is dispute about how the word חבלי should be translated in Adon Olam. According to Salomon Speier the meaning is “my portion” and not “my pain” See his note in Journal of Jewish Studies 4 (1953), pp. 40-41. Zebihi, Mi-Zahav u-mi-Paz, at the end, also argues for this understanding. None of the many translations I have checked agree with this. [S. of On the Main Line calls my attention to David Levi’s London 1794 Rosh Hashanah Machzor, where the passage is translated as “Rock of my portion in time of distress.”]
[13] The meaning of olam in Avot 1:2 – על שלשה דברים העולם עומד – has also been called into question. See Judah Goldin, Studies in Midrash and Related Literature (Philadelphia, 1988), p. 34.
[14] Kirsten A. Fudeman and Mayer I. Gruber, “’Eternal King/ King of the World’: From the Bronze Age to Modern Times” A Study in Lexical Semantics.”REJ 166 (2007), pp. 209-242.
[15] R. Elijah Benamozegh translates Ps. 106:48: ברוך ה’ אלקי ישראל מהעולם ועד העולם as “Blessed is the Lord, God of Israel, From World to World,” and Ps. 145:13 מלכותך מלכות כל עולמים as “Your kingship is a kingship of all worlds.” See Israel and Humanity, trans. Maxwell Luria (New York, 1995), p. 184. I wonder if Benamozegh meant these as scientific translations, or if this is to be regarded as derush.
[16] See also Robert Gordis, Koheleth—The Man and His World (New York, 1968), pp. 231-232.
[17] The version of Kunitz’ essay that appears in the Vilna Mishnayot is not identical to that which appears in Beit Rabbi. In particular, a few footnotes have been added. This is not the only example where the editors of the Vilna Mishnayot (Romm) tampered with texts. See Kalman Kahana, Heker ve-Iyun (Tel Aviv, 1960), vol. 1, p. 134 (called to my attention by Eliezer Brodt).
[18] Anyone who wants to visit Kunitz’ grave can find it in the Kozma cemetery in Budapest. For people looking to visit graves, the most famous in the Kozma cemetery is R. Shimon Oppenheim, and he is easy to find. He is not that well known and yet his grave is visited more than many other gedolim who were of much greater significance. This is because R. Shimon promised, as it states on his tombstone, that whoever comes to his grave and recites the Menuhah Nekhonah, his prayers will be answered. (The E-l Male Rachamim commonly recited is an abridged version of the Menuhah Nekhonah, which is found in the kabbalistic work Maavar Yabok) . Since this is a guarantee from a holy rabbi, it is not surprising that his grave would attract people.

So how to find Kunitz’ grave? Unfortunately, the computer print-out provided by the cemetery directs people to the wrong place. If you are standing at R. Shimon’s grave, the plot to the left is that of R. Israel Wahrmann. He was the first chief rabbi of Pest. His grandson, Mor Wahrmann, was the president of the Jewish community from 1883-1892 and a member of parliament from 1869. He was a proud Jew, no question about it. He once even had a duel with an anti-Semite. Neither was killed, but Wahrmann was sentenced to eight days in prison. See Kinga Frojimovics, et al, Jewish Budapest (Budapest, 1999), pp. 214ff., 260. However, he despised the Orthodox (and they detested him). During the debate in Parliament over the Orthodox request to create separate communities, he stood up and started reading sections of the Shulhan Arukh to show how foolish the Orthodox were. All three of his children ended up converting to Catholicism. See Jewish Budapest, p. 216 and R. Leopold Greenwald, Korot ha-Torah ve-ha-Emunah be-Hungaryah (Budapest, 1921), p. 78, and in Apriyon 2 (1925), p. 130.

Two graves to the right of R. Shimon’s is that of Kunitz. Unlike R. Shimon, no one has yet stepped forward to redo Kunitz’ tombstone, which is in bad condition. In another hundred years it will probably be entirely illegible. However, a good portion of it can still be read. This left me perplexed, as it is not the same inscription as that found in Greenwald’s Mekorot le-Korot Yisrael (Humenne, 1934), p. 27. How to explain this?

[19] See R. Meir Mazuz, Kovetz Ma’amarim (Bnei Brak, 2003), p. 60. There are a number of other unusual words in Ecclesiastes, such as pardes (2:5) and pitgam (8:11; both Persian loanwords), which academic scholars have pointed to to show that the book is post-Solomonic. (Pardes is also found in Song of Songs 4:13.) See Shadal in Otzar Nehmad 3 (1860), p. 19, who discusses this and among other points notes that the words כבר and ענין do not appear in any other biblical book. See also Robert Gordis, “Koheleth: Hebrew or Aramaic?” Journal of Biblical Literature 71 (1952), pp. 93-109. In Amos Hakham’s introduction to the Daat Mikra Shir ha-Shirim, pp. 12-13, he rejects the significance of Persian loanwords in dating the text.

Incidentally, R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi, Ho’il Moshe: Hamesh Megilot ve-Sefer Mishlei (Livorno, 1880), pp. 80-81, states that you can also find some Aramaic words and expressions in Proverbs, as well as later Hebrew forms, none of which could originate in Solomon’s era. Yet this discovery did not trouble Ashkenazi in the slightest.

אין לתמוה אם נפלו בספר זה כמה תיבות ומליצות מל’ ארמי וגם איזו זרות בדקדוק הלשון כמו פעל נשתוה (סימן כ”ז ט”ו) בנין נתפעל ע”ד נשתנה נתרפא נצטרע ודומיהם בלשון חכמים . . . לפי שמפי שלמה יצאו המשלים בל’ מדויק, רק בעברם מפה אל פה דור אחר דור בעוד שקרבת ארם הכניסה בשפת ב”י [בני ישראל] תיבות ומליצות נכריות, נהיה שבבוא יום ונרשמו על ספר כבר הורגלו לאמרם כמו שנמצאו אצלנו, ואם היו מחליפים בהם דברים היו נגרעים מערכם, כי כן יארע לכל משל מאיזה לשון שיהיה שצריך לאמרו כמו שהוא בפי המון העם ואין לתקן בו או להוסיף עליו או לגרוע ממנו

[20] “Defilement of the Hands, Canonization of the Bible, and the Special Status of Esther, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs,” Judaism 44 (Winter 1995), p. 70.


[21] Ma’asah Rakah,ad loc.: לא ידעתי למה קרי שיר השירים דברי חכמה דהלא ברוח הקודש נאמר וקדש קדשים הוא He does not ask this question about Ecclesiastes, which shows that he assumes that according to Maimonides Ecclesiastes is only divrei hokhmah.
[22] See R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes, Kol Sifrei Maharatz Chajes, vol. 1, p. 439; Sid Z. Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture (New Haven, 1991), p. 173 n. 317.
[23] For examples from the Talmud where Solomon is described in this fashion, see R. Betzalel Zev Safran, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rabaz, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 64 (in the note). Regarding R. Meshulam Roth, it is unfortunate that almost nothing has been written about him. The Tchebiner Rav is reported to have stated that had R. Meshulam been a member of Agudat Israel, the haredim would have crowned him gadol ha-dor. I hope to discuss him in a future segment of my Torah in Motion classes.
[24] Pretty much everyone also seems also to assume that a divinely inspired book included in the Canon had to be have been written in Hebrew. Yet Ibn Ezra, Job 2:11, thinks that the book of Job is a translation from another language, and that is why it is so difficult to understand.
[25] See Leiman, Canonization, p. 113.
[26] Megillah 7a.
[27] Shadal originally thought that Ecclesiastes taught heretical doctrines and was fraudulently attributed to King Solomon. Along these lines, I should note that there were talmudic sages who thought that Solomon had sinned so grievously that he lost his share in the World to Come. See Saul Lieberman, “Hearot le-Ferek Alef shel Kohelet Rabbah,” in Studies in Mysticism and Religion Presented to Gershom G. Scholem (Jerusalem, 1968), pp. 163ff. If someone today expressed agreement with this rabbinic position, I am certain that he would be roundly condemned.
[28] See Broyde, “Defilement of the Hands,” p. 68.
[29] By the same token, someone I know once commented that while in practice he accepts the halakhah as recorded in the Talmud and Shulhan Arukh, some of these halakhot relating to economic matters derive from a very different circumstance than what we have today. He assumes that a future Sanhedrin will revise some of these halakhot which are economically counterproductive and out of touch with how markets work.
[30] See Seridei Esh, vol. 3 no. 54 where R. Weinberg admits that a halakhah in the Shulhan Arukh causes him anguish.

ואודה על האמת, שאיסור זה גורם לי צער גדול

Weinberg was dealing with whether a woman whose father isn’t Jewish can marry a kohen. He would have liked to permit it, but the Shulhan Arukh ruled otherwise. What made the Shulhan Arukh’s ruling so frustrating to Weinberg is the fact that R. Joseph Karo went against his own principle and ruled in accordance with R. Asher, despite the fact that the Rif and Rambam ruled differently. Furthermore, the Vilna Gaon agreed with the Shulhan Arukh. So in the end, Weinberg felt that he must accept the Shulhan Arukh’s ruling. While Conservative halakhists are able, in cases like this, to fall back on conscience, which can trump even biblical law, Orthodox halakhists cannot do so. They must accept the halakhah even if they think it should have been decided differenttly.

[31] Interestingly, Daniel Boyarin has argued that the earliest rabbinic approach to the book was not allegory. He writes as follows:

According to the earliest strata of Rabbinic hermeneutics, the Song of Songs was not an allegory in the sense of paradigms projected onto the syntagmatic axis or concrete entities and events that signify abstractions. Rather it was an actual love dialogue spoken by God to Israel and Israel to God in concrete historical circumstances, or written by Solomon, as if spoken by Israel and God in those circumstances. . . . If the impulse of Origen is to spiritualize and allegorize physical love quite out of existence in the allegorical reading of the Song, the move of the midrash is to understand the love of God and Israel as an exquisite version of precisely that human erotic love. Reading the Song of Songs as a love dialogue between God and Israel is then no more allegorical than reading it as a love dialogue between King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The Song is not connected with an invisible meaning but with the text of the Torah and thus with concrete moments of historical memory.

See Boyarin, “The Eye in the Torah: Ocular Desire in Midrashic Hermeneutic,” Critical Inquiry 16 (1990), pp. 543, 549. See also Gerson D. Cohen, Studies in the Variety of Rabbinic Cultures (Philadelphia, 1991), pp. 3-17.
[32] Li-Frakim (1967 edition), pp. 232-233.
[33] “Hartzaotav shel Yaakov Barth al Sefer Yishayahu ba-Beit Midrash le-Rabanim be-Berlin” in Uriel Simon and Moshe Goshen-Gottstein, eds., Iyunei Mikra u-Farshanut (Ramat Gan, 1980), pp. 83-85. (Regarding the dating of Ecclesiastes, discussed earlier in this post, see ibid. for Barth’s view that Ecclesiastes was written ca. 200 BCE.) I have elsewhere discussed the controversy that broke out when R. Raphael Breuer published a commentary to the Song of Songs that interpreted the book in a literal fashion. See Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, p. 83, and my article on the Frankfurt rabbinate in Milin Havivin 3 (2007), available here.

This commentary was one of the issues that led people to oppose Breuer inheriting his father’s position as rabbi of the Frankfurt separatist community. I find it hard to understand why this commentary aroused such opposition. After all, why can’t the Song of Songs be understood as describing a loving Jewish marriage? Breuer was not denying the allegorical interpretation, only adding an additional level of meaning.

Incidentally, once when a cantor at a wedding sang some words from Song of Songs as the bride walked around the groom, R. Soloveitchik “was not happy. This, after all, was a passuk [verse] in Shir Hashirim which he felt should not be applied to a man and woman in a literal sense.” See Heshie Billet, “Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik (The Rov) ZT”L: Role Model Par Excellence,” in Zev Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations (Jersey City, 2008), p. 152. The same opinion is expressed by R. Yosef Lieberman, Mishnat Yosef, vol. 7, no. 101. See also R. Moshe Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah II, no. 142. In addition, Sanhedrin 101a states הקורא פסוק של שיר השירים ועושה אותו כמין זמר . . . מביא רעה לעולם (Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, ch. 36, states that such a person has no share in the World to Come.) However, Kallah Rabati: Baraita, ch. 1, explains this passage as follows: היכי דמי כמין זמר כגון דזמיר ביה ודעתיה על הרהור See also R. Jacob Emden’s note to Sanhedrin 101a:

הקורא פסוק של שיר השירים ועושה אותו כמין זמר נראה דהיינו שמשתמש בו לעשות ממנו זמר לחשוקה אילת אהבים ולחבר אותו לשיר עגבים

This means that there is no objection to singing a song from Shir ha-Shirim in a “kosher” fashion, such as at a wedding or if sung as praise of God. (Emden’s note was published from manuscript in the Wagschal Talmud, and does not appear in the standard editions. I learnt of this from R. David Teherani, Divrei David, vol. 2, Orah Hayyim no. 37.)

See R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yabia Omer, vol. 3, Orah Hayyim 15:5, that in Egypt the practice was to sing verses from Song of Songs in the synagogue between Passover and Shavuot. He also quotes R. Meir Abulafia, Yad Ramah, Sanhedrin 101a who writes:

ויש לפרש דהני מילי מאן דקרי ליה דרך שחוק אבל מאן דמיכוין לשבוחי ביה לקב”ה דרך ניגון שפיר דמי ומילתא צריכא עיונא

Returning to the Rav, it must be noted that he was opposed to all singing under the chupah. See Daniel Greer, “Ma’aseh Rav – V’dok,” in Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations, p. 177, that at his wedding Rav stopped the cantor from singing Im Eshkochech Yerushalayim. (Others are opposed to all songs which use biblical verses, whether the words are taken whether the words are taken from Song of Songs or from any other biblical text. The only permission would be at a seudat mitzvah. See R. Ben Zion Abba Shaul, Or le-Tziyon, vol. 2, ch. 14 no. 35.) As for the Song of Songs, the Rav also stated that it is “forbidden” to interpret it literally. He even put this into a halakhic context:

בשיר השירים איכא הלכה שאין בו פשט אלא כפי הבנת הרמז הדרש והסוד. המקרא יוצא מידי פשוטו והדרש הופך להיות הפשט

See Reshimot Shiurim, Bava Kamma, ed. Reichman (New York, 2005), p. 494 (to Bava Kamma 83b). See also R. Hershel Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav, pp. 289-290.

[34] אפריון and פרדס (3:9, 4:13) are among the late Hebrew words he points to show that some sections of the book were composed in the post-exilic period, many centuries after Solomon. R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi, introduction to Ho’il Moshe: Hamesh Megilot ve-Sefer Mishlei, rejects the notion that based on a couple of individual words one can establish the book’s date. Yet while Ashkenazi defends the Solomonic authorship of Song of Songs and Proverbs (see above, n. 19), he does not believe that Ecclesiastes was written by Solomon. One of his proofs is from Eccl. 1:16: “Lo, I have gotten great wisdom, more also than all that were before me over Jerusalem.” According to Ashkenazi, since Solomon was only the second king to reign in Jerusalem, he never would have written in this fashion. See also 2:7. 9 where the author writes about how he differs “from all who were before me in Jerusalem.” Again, Jerusalem had not been in Israelite hands for that long so it is hard to see Solomon saying this. Ashkenazi also points to the numerous Aramaic words in the book as showing that it had to have post-dated Solomon.
[35] I found a difficult passage in the Netziv’s commentary on Song of Songs, (Metiv Shir). Commenting on the first verse, he writes:

וכן שיר אחות לנו קטנה נאמר בימי א”א [אברהם אבינו] כמבואר בב”ר פ’ לך, ויבואר במקומו, אבל שלמה אסף השירים ברוה”ק וגם הוסיף הרבה משלו ועשאן שיר נפלא אחד.

The Netziv states that the section of Song of Songs beginning with ch. 8:8 (“We have a little sister . . .”) was written in the days of Abraham. What is his proof? Bereshit Rabbah 39:1 states: “R. Berekhiah commenced: We have a little sister (ahot; Song of Songs 8:8), this refers to Abraham, who united (ihah) the whole world for us.” R. Berekhiah continues to find allusions to Abraham in the next couple of verses as well. In other words, R. Berekhiah offers a nice Midrash about how Song of Songs homiletically refers to Abraham. But how does the Netziv possibly derive from this that the verses were written in the days of Abraham? The very next section in Bereshit Rabbi cites a verse from Ecclesiastes and states: “this refers to Abraham.” Does the Netziv assume that this too was written in the days of Abraham? Midrash is full of this type of homiletic comment, so why here does the Netziv think that we can learn something historical from R. Berekhiah’s statement?

[36] See also my post here.


New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 5

|

New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 5
by Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
The next post (or perhaps the one following) will return to my analysis of R. Kook’s recently published Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor with which this series began. Yet before doing so, there are a number of other points I would like to make and respond to some comments and questions.

1. In previous installments I have mentioned how R. Kook compares the Torah scholars and the masses, and how the masses have elements of natural morality that are not to be found among the scholars. This is not the only provocative distinction R. Kook makes. He also distinguishes between the great tzadikim and everyone else. These two groupings are, of course, different in many ways. Yet one of the most interesting distinctions R. Kook makes—and one can find parallels to this in Ibn Caspi and hasidic texts— is that for the elites the nitty-gritty of halakhic study can have a negative affect on their spiritual life. Here is what he writes in Shemonah Kevatzim 1:412:

האדם הגדול כשהוא מכניס את עצמו יותר מדאי במדת הפרטים, בין בלימודם בין בחרדתם, הרי הוא מתקטן, ומעלתו מתמעטת, וצריך לשוב בתשובה מאהבה, מתוך גדלות הנשמה, לקשר את תוכן חיי נשמתו בענינים גדולים ונשגבים.

R. Kook goes so far as to say that for these elites the very practice of mitzvot is not part of their spiritual identity per se. They have, as it were, moved beyond this, and their involvement with the practical sphere of mitzvot is based on their connection to the larger world.[1] I think that this passage, from Shemonah Kevatzim 1:410, is the most antinomian in all of R. Kook’s writings. In it we also see how problematic the halakhic details of life are to the special personality who wants to soar the heights of spirituality and yet has to be involved with practical halakhic matters. I think it obvious that R. Kook is reflecting his own personal spiritual struggle here. On the one hand, he wants to lose himself in love of and experience of God, to bind his soul with the divine. On the other hand, as a practicing rabbi he was called upon day in and day out to answer all sorts of everyday halakhic questions. One can imagine him alone in his study, enraptured in mysticism, even nearing prophetic insights, and someone comes to his door asking him to determine the kashrut of a dead chicken. With this he is brought down to the mundane halakhic world.[2]
ישנם אנשים גדולים כאלה, שמהלך רוחם הוא כל כך נשא, עד שמצדם אם כל העולם היה במעמדם, היו המצות בטלות כמו שיהיה לעתיד לבוא, לימות המשיח או תחיית המתים. והם בכל זאת מקושרים הם במצות הרבה מאד, לא למענם, כי אם למען העולם כולו, המקושר עמם. וכשהם באים אל הפרטים, לעסוק בהם מצד עצמם, מוצאים הם סתירות נפשיות גדולות האלה, שהם נמוגים מרוב יגונם. וכשבאים לעסוק בתורה ובמצות בפרטיות בשביל העולם, יושפע עליהם מעין של גבורה ושל קדושה, שאין דומה לו.
Let me also return to the issue of the Jewish masses’ natural morality vs. the rabbinically tuned morality of the scholars, and how according to R. Kook the former is superior to that of the latter. I was asked if I can provide some examples of this. I think the most obvious such example is the response to sexual abuse that we have witnessed in the Orthodox world. While the natural impulse of the masses was that abusers must be immediately removed from any contact with children, many of the learned rabbis were able to come up with all sorts of reasons why this was not necessary, and why the police should not be called. Over time the view of the rabbinic class has evolved and many of them now advocate a strong response to sexual abuse. However, what took them a long time to get to was immediately understood by the Jewish masses, and they understood it intuitively. Years from now people will wonder how it was that rabbis refused to protect children. It will be incomprehensible to them how this could have happened. We who lived through this experience know that it was precisely the pressure on the ground, from the Jewish laypeople (and the bloggers and newspapers), that forced changes in this matter.[3] Here I think is a good example where talmudic learning led scholars לטהר את השרץ בק”ן טעמים, while the Jewish masses, with their intuitive natural morality, saw that evil must be exposed and they emerged victorious.[4]

The same phenomenon was seen in the Leib Tropper affair, where once again it was the masses, together with a couple of indefatigable bloggers, who saw what was really going on, and forced the issue. This happened while many leading rabbis continued to stand by Tropper. They were oblivious to what was unfolding before their eyes and what was obvious to everyone but them.[5] And let’s not forget about all the gedolim who signed a letter in support of the monster Elior Chen.[6] It is difficult to make sense of these terrible lapses of rabbinic judgment with a haredi Daas Torah perspective, but with R. Kook’s analysis all becomes clear.

I thought of R. Kook’s comments on the intuitive morality of the masses after hearing a few shiurim on the subject of lo tehanem. One of them has since been removed from the site. Listening to these shiurim was shocking to me, not simply because I found the views discussed at odds with what everyone in my community regards as basic Jewish values (and matters about which we would be quick to criticize non-Jews if they ever spoke this way). What was particularly surprising was how the speakers, all learned talmudically, have fallen into what I would call the textualist trap of Centrism. What this means is that the written word has become so sanctified that they feel it is their obligation to resurrect every halakhah recorded in the standard codes in order improve the masses’ behavior.

Yet for all their learning, these rabbis don’t appreciate that there are some halakhot that simply fell out of practice. This happened in pre-modern times, before there were Reform and Conservative movements. In other words, it happened at a time when communities had the status of kehillah kedoshah. Because of this, historically the poskim generally tried to be melamed zekhut on the actions of the people, on the assumption that kol hamon ke-kol sha-dai, which is in line with how R. Kook understood the pious Jewish masses. That explains why, to give just one example, confronted with the fact that pious people did not wash before eating wet food, the vast majority of poskim tried to find a justification for this. They did not lecture the people about how they were sinning and try to resurrect a practice that had fallen out of fashion. Their assumption was that there must be some justification for the practice of the masses, even if it is not readily apparent.[7]

As Haym Soloveitchik discussed in “Rupture and Reconstruction,” there is today no faith in the practice of the masses. Therefore, instead of justifying the practices which oppose the textual tradition, the rabbis are attempting to reestablish the textual tradition. The problem with this is that there is also what I call an aggadic tradition, where values and morality were passed on, and this sometimes was in tension with the letter of the law. The Jewish people, acting with their innate Torah-intuitive morality, developed an approach, and this was recognized as legitimate until recent times.[8] So we now have a situation where shiurim are being given on the prohibition of lo tehanem telling people all sorts of things about how to relate to non-Jews that no one, and this includes great rabbis, ever paid attention to (e.g., one can’t say that X is a good baseball player!).

I am not going to get into the halakhic justification which can be offered as to why the pious Jewish people didn’t follow the letter of the law. There is indeed halakhic justification. (See R. Eliezer Waldenberg, Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 15 no. 47.) Yet my point is that the Jewish people didn’t need any specific halakhic justification, because they knew from their intuitive natural morality what was proper. This is what R. Yehudah Amital meant when he said that growing up in Hungary he never heard anyone talk about “halakhah this, and halakhah that”.[9] As R. Amital pointed out, the people who speak like this, who have an endless focus on halakhic particulars, are those who have lost touch with the tradition. In a traditional society there is no need for one to delve into endless halakhic details, as simply by growing up in this society one knows how to conduct oneself. In a traditional society, you don’t need books to tell you, for example, how big the matzah needs to be and how much water you need to wash your hands, and by the same token you don’t need books to tell you what you can and can’t say about the Mets’ leading slugger or whether or not you can give your maid a gift on her birthday. There has been so much discussion about how Haredism is a modern invention, but the truth is that Centrism, with its Pan-Halakhism, is just as much a modern invention as haredism. Looking around, it is actually some groups of Hasidim who are the only real traditionalists, the ones who have a mesorah and who don’t need to constantly look into a book to tell them how they should live. As the great Hungarian scholar Ludwig Blau put it, “A drop of tradition is worth more than a ton of acumen.”[10]

2. In my last post I summarized R. Eleazar Ashkenazi’s position in his Tzafnat Paneah, pp. 29-30, as follows:

He also offers another explanation for the lengthy lifespans [in the Torah], namely, that the Torah recorded what the popular belief was, no matter how exaggerated, and Moses was not concerned about these sorts of things. In other words, just like today people say that the Torah is not interested in a scientific presentation of how the world was created, R. Eleazar’s position is that the Torah is not interested in a historically accurate presentation.
Dr. Eric Lawee, who has a chapter on Ashkenazi in his forthcoming book, wrote to me that he reads Ashkenazi differently than I did. I went back to the text and thanks to Lawee, I would like to clarify some of what I wrote.[11] It appears that the first part of Ashkenazi’s comment is merely stating that the Torah recorded exaggerated numbers as figures of speech, much like the Land of Israel is described as flowing with milk and honey which was never meant to be understood literally. Although it is true that people understand the lifespans literally, Ashkenazi sees this as a misinterpretation of the Torah. In other words, it is not correct to say that the Torah recorded the exaggerated numbers because that was what the people believed.

Yet in this very discussion, Ashkenazi also states that the exaggerated numbers are only found in the very ancient stories. However, with regard to events closer to Moses’ time the latter was more careful about recording the details accurately. It is because of this comment that I wrote that Moses left the stories of the distant path cloaked in legend. I should have also clarified that Ashkenazi is only referring to the ענייניהם ושנותיהם of the ancients who are not part of the prophetic tradition which includes Adam, Noah, and the Patriarchs. Here Ashkenazi does seem to be saying that the Torah records popular conceptions, for if not from these conceptions, where did Moses get the inaccurate information that he recorded?

It is possible to explain that the lengthy lifespans of people like Adam and Noah, whom Ashkenazi stresses were of concern to Moses and he was therefore careful with regard to their details, were always intended be understood figuratively. However, with regard to the others mentioned in the early chapters of Genesis, Ashkenazi speaks of הגוזמות הספוריים הבלתי מדוקדקים , and here it seems that he does advocate the notion that the Torah is including material that was popularly believed, even if not accurate.[12] He also writes about how certain matters in the Torah were recorded בבלבול ובקיצור מופלג ומקומותיהם ומקריהם שלא בדקדוק One such matter is the genealogies, about which he writes: לא היתה הכוונה לדקדק במספר שנות חיי כל איש כי אם על דרך כלל

Ashkenazi’s viewpoint is interesting because he acknowledges that in certain factual matters the Torah is not exact, and indeed this is not a concern of the Torah. This sounds very similar to how many people explain the first few chapters of Genesis. Yet it is much less common for Orthodox spokesmen to extend this approach to later chapters of the Torah, e.g., to say that say the genealogies recorded are not accurate. But is there a conceptual difference between saying that the Torah is not interested in presenting creation in a historically accurate form, and that is why there is no mention of billons of years or of evolution, and saying that the Torah is not interested in exact genealogies, but simply presents what was commonly thought and this explains the lengthy lifespans? If there is no conceptual difference, where does one draw the line? Surely there are some parts of the Torah in which factual history must be assumed. This is an issue that has not yet been adequately dealt with, and I will soon be publishing a letter by a great Torah scholar which refers to this problem.

3. In the last post I cited an example where R. Shalom Messas was criticized for not understanding an Aggadah literally. More than one person thought that I should have cited sources showing how foolish it is to take bizarre aggadot literally. It is, of course, easy to cite such sources, beginning with the Rambam’s Introduction to Perek Helek.[13] Most of these are quite famous, so let me call attention to a book not so well known. It is R. Eliezer Lippmann’ Neusatz’ Mei Menuhot, published in 1884. Here is its title page.

Neusatz was a student of the Hatam Sofer, and this book appears with the approbation of R. Simhah Bunim Sofer (the Shevet Sofer).


Here is the first page of the approbations to his book Be-Tzir Eliezer. Pay careful attention to how R. Abraham Samuel Sofer (the Ketav Sofer) describes Neusatz’ standing as a student of the Hatam Sofer.
On p. 16a, after citing Maimonides’ words that the majority err in understanding aggadot literally, Neusatz comments that this was the situation in earlier times, which were less religiously sophisticated than later generations. The proof that the earlier generations were religiously naïve is that belief in divine corporeality was widespread then. According to Neusatz, people who were so mistaken about God that they imagined him as a corporeal being would obviously not be able to understand Aggadah in a non-literal fashion. He contrasts that with the generation he lived in, which was able to properly understand Aggadah.

אמנם בדורנו זה נזדככו יותר הרעיונות ונלטשו הלבבות והמושגים האלהיים הנשגבים האלה מצטיירים בלבות המאמינים בטוהר יותר ורוב זוהר, ונתמעטו אנשי הכת הזאת, ותה”ל רובם יודעים שחז”ל כתבו אגדותיהם ע”ד משל ומליצה וחדות וכפי הצורך אשר היה להם לפי ענין הדורות אשר היה לפניהם, פנימיותם הם ענינים אמתיים נשגבים עומדים ברומו של עולם.
I assume that Neusatz would say that the traditional notion of the generations declining only refers to the scholars, as it is obvious from his words that when it comes to the masses the generations have been getting better.

Neusatz also has an interesting explanation as to why certain prophecies, in particular those of Ezekiel, are not written in proper grammatical Hebrew. This was already commented on by Abarbanel. Abarbanel simply attributes this to Ezekiel’s and Jeremiah’s unpolished Hebrew skills![14] He further claims that this is why there are an abundance of keri u-khetiv, ketiv ve-lo keri etc. in the book of Jeremiah. The original Hebrew had to be corrected!

Neusatz has a different approach to explain certain prophets’ apparent deficiencies in the Hebrew language. He explains that since the prophets were speaking to the lower classes, and they wanted their message to sink in, they adjusted their language accordingly. (Mei Menuhot, pp. 13b, 34b). This is also how he explains certain passages in the book of Ezekiel which would appear to be at odds with modest and proper speech. Since the prophet was speaking to the masses, he had to use their coarse language (p. 35a). This is no different than politicians today, who adopt a certain mode of speech to connect with the listeners. It also explains many of R. Ovadiah Yosef’s outrageous comments. In speaking to the masses he forgets who he is, and uses the sort of lower class language that allows him to connect with his listeners, but that is not acceptable for someone in his position.

Neusatz calls attention to R. Joseph Albo’s comment, Sefer ha-Ikarim 3:25, that even the Torah was written so as to speak to its various audiences, which included not just the wise people but also the foolish ones:

לפי שהתורה לא נתנה לחכמים ולמשכילים בלבד, אבל לכל העם מקצה גדולים וקטנים חכמים וטפשים, ראוי שיבואו בה דברים מוכנים [צ”ל מובנים כמ”ש במהדורת הוזיק] לכל.
Neusatz is also explicit that very few aggadot are actually the result of the Sages’ ruah ha-kodesh (p. 32a). He states that Maimonides’ astronomical views in the Mishneh Torah do not come from a holy source, but from the Greeks, and in our day must be rejected (p. 38a). He also acknowledges that at times the Sages’ opinions were based on the best scientific knowledge of their time, which we now know is mistaken (pp. 36a-36b, 38a-38b). On page 39b he discusses Maimonides’ rejection of astrology. The problem with Maimonides’ position is that the Talmud clearly accepts astrology. In Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters I argue that Maimonides must have assumed that the greatest of the Sages rejected astrology. Yet the problem is that although Maimonides might assume this, is there any rabbinic source to justify this assumption? Neusatz argues that there is. There is a famous rabbinic statement in Shabbat 156a: אין מזל לישראל This means that Israel is not under the planetary influence. However, the statement is not a denial of the efficacy of astrology per se, and indeed assumes that the nations of the world are under the planetary influences. In very original fashion, Neusatz argues for a different understanding of the statement that he believes was shared by Maimonides:

והנה ידוע דעת הרמב”ם שהמזל אינו פועל כלל ונ”ל דס”ל שזה הוא כונת ר’ עקיבא ור’ יוחנן ורב ושמואל ורב נחמן ב”י בסוף מסכת שבת שאמרו אין מזל לישראל, וכונתם שאין ראוי לישראל עם חכם להאמין שמזל פועל.

In other words, אין מזל לישראל means that it is not proper for a smart people like the Jews to believe in the efficacy of astrology!

Neusatz also discusses Maimonides’ general attitude towards superstition, and argues that today, when all the superstitious beliefs have been proven false, it is a religious requirement to advocate Maimonides’ approach in these matters (p. 40b). As to why the Sages appear to believe all these superstitions, Neusatz assumes that they had to deal with the masses who were enmeshed in these notions, and that as long as the superstitious ideas were not idolatrous, the Sages were willing to tolerate them (p. 41ff. This is exactly Meiri’s view with regard to Zugot, but Neusatz had no way of knowing this as this section of the Meiri had not yet appeared in print.) Neusatz adopts the same view with regard to demons, which like Maimonides he too sees as non-existent (pp. 43ff.).[15]

Neusatz sees no harm in the Sages using common figures of speech if they never actually took them literally. Just as today we use expressions such as “the devil is in the details,” so too the Sages would refer to phenomena as due to a demon even though they didn’t believe this literally. To support this assumption, he brings a very interesting example where the Sages even used a mythological image (p. 45a). Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 6, in speaking of the sun, writes: “The sun rides in a chariot and rises, crowned as a bridegroom.” This is obviously taken from the Greek myth of Helios, the god who drives the chariot of the sun across the sky every day. Yet despite this mythological origin, which Neusatz assumes must have been known to the Sages, the image appears in a Midrashic text. Neusatz writes:

ומי לא יבין? שרק על צד יופי הדבור והמשל אמרו כן לציירה כפי פעולתה, באשר מימי קדם ועד היום מפורסם משל זה לפעולת השמש ניתן לה מאת בעלי הממשילים (קראם הרמב”ם טלסמאות ובל”א מיטאלאגיע) ועד היום מציירים הממשילים את פעולת השמש בתמונה זו וכנודע.
It is in his discussion of demons that Neusatz brings amazing testimony from the Hatam Sofer, rejecting the authenticity of the vast majority of what is included in the book known as the Zohar.[16] Before quoting it, let me repeat that this book has the haskamah of the Hatam Sofer’s grandson, R. Simhah Bunim Sofer (the Shevet Sofer). Here is what Neusatz writes on p. 43b:
בפירוש שמעתי כן מפה קדוש אדומ”ו גאון ישראל קדוש ד’ מכובד מוהר”ר משה סופר זצוק”ל אב”ד ור”ם דק”ק פרעשבורג שאמר בפני רבים מתלמידיו, אלו היה יכולת ביד אדם להעמיד מדרשי רשב”י על טהרתן לבררם מתוך מה שנתחבר אליהם מחכמי הדורות שאחריו לא יהיה כולו רק ספר קטן הכמות מאד מחזיק דפים מעוטים.
The Hatam Sofer is often portrayed as both a religious extremist as well as lacking a critical sense. The first assumption, that he was an extremist, is absolutely false and is a creation of the nineteenth-century Reformers. I won’t go into it here, but suffice it to say that the Hatam Sofer was often a very lenient posek, the exact opposite of what people mean by “extremism”.

As for not having a critical sense, this too is false. I am not saying that he viewed matters as did R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes or R. Solomon Judah Rapoport,[17] but the quotation from Neusatz shows that the Hatam Sofer was much more complex than he was caricatured by his opponents. There are numerous examples that could be cited to illustrate this. In Limits of Orthodox Theology I mentioned that the Hatam Sofer leaned towards Ibn Ezra’s view that the entire last chapter of Deuteronomy was not written by Moses. He also wondered whether the Targum on Ruth was of Sadducean origin.[18] Another example relates to what was discussed in this post regarding the Jerusalem Talmud’s view that there is a mistake in the book of Jeremiah. (I neglected to mention that the J. Talmud there also states that there is a mistake in the book of Ezekiel.) According to the Hatam Sofer, the mistake in our book of Jeremiah is due to an erroneous emendation that dates back to biblical times.[19]

4. In my last post I quoted what R. Itzele of Ponovezh said about the superiority of the religious masses’ outlook to the Daas Torah of the gedolim. I had originally quoted this in an earlier post and referred to what R. Avraham Shapiro said about it. R. Avraham, before he became known as the Rosh Yeshiva of Merkaz ha-Rav and Chief Rabbi of Israel, had published R. Itzele’s teshuvot, Zekher Yitzhak, in 1949. Here is the title page of the book (taken from hebrewbooks.org).
Unfortunately, the version on Otzar ha-Hokhmah has been censored. Here is the title page at it appears on Otzar ha-Hokhmah, with no indication as to who brought the book to publication.

The Otzar ha-Hokhmah version is also missing R. Avraham’s learned introduction. I have no doubt that Otzar ha-Hokhmah is innocent in this matter, and was unaware that the volume it put online had been tampered with. (If you have Otzar ha-Hokhmah there is actually no reason to use the first edition of Zekher Yitzhak, as a second edition, with an additional volume, was published by Machon Yerushalayim in 2000, and this is also found on the Otzar.)

All this is by way of introduction to saying that a couple of people wondered if R. Avraham had any interesting ideas in addition to being a posek and Talmudist.. Many people indeed only see him in the latter mold. I remember some years ago when I asked an acquaintance in Israel how it was possible that some people in Merkaz ha-Rav were willing to go against the Rosh Yeshiva, R. Avraham, and establish Yeshivat Har ha-Mor. It was explained to me that “if you want to know if something is muktzeh, then you should ask R. Avraham. But in terms of hashkafah, R. [Zvi] Tau is the one to follow.”

Yet I think this is an exaggeration, and those who are interested in R. Avraham can find lots of interesting things in his book Morashah, as well as in the two volumes published on R. Avraham by R. Yitzhak Dadon, Imrei Shefer and Rosh Devarkha. (Dadon is the man – ספרא וסייפא – who killed the terrorist who attacked Merkaz a few years ago.) I have also given two lectures on R. Avraham at Torah in Motion that can be downloaded.

R. Avraham knew an enormous amount about the history of great Torah scholars, and while he didn’t have a critical sense, he knew when a story was nonsense.[20] For example, R. Shalom Schwadron told a story about how when R. Kook, R. Isser Zalman Meltzer, and R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein were together once, they decided that each one should repeat a tractate of Talmud by heart.[21] That was the extent of their conversation. R. Avraham thinks that the story is, to put it bluntly, crazy. No normal person could sit and listen to someone else rattle off an entire tractate. Furthermore, are we supposed to think that these gedolim had no Torah to speak to each other about and that they would be happy to just sit and listen to the other repeat the Talmud? (Imrei Shefer, p. 269).

A valuable story is recorded in Imrei Shefer, p. 34. One of the students asked as follows: If when peeling a cucumber he mistakenly took off some of the cucumber itself, is that is regarded as ba’al tashhit? The students started laughing upon hearing this question, but R. Avraham became very serious. He replied:
זו שאלה של “עצבנות”, יש עצבנות ביראת-שמים, לכן מגיעים לשאלות כאלה. אדם נורמאלי מקלף וזהו! אסור לבחורים להגיע למצב של שאלות כאלה.
We see from here that R. Avraham was aware that there is a fine line between religious practice and obsessive-compulsive behavior. Many readers have probably come into contact with individuals who unfortunately have crossed the line. It is interesting to speculate if observance of halakhah can sometimes lead to obsessive-compulsive behavior or if it is simply that an obsessive-compulsive personality is able to function very well in the halakhic system. As for humrot and hiddurim, which many critics see as connected with obsessive-compulsive behavior, R. Avraham had a simpler approach. He believed that the humrot we see are simply because people have more money today than in the past. When you have money, you can adopt hiddurim that no one dreamed about years ago.[22]

Since many people who read this blog are very interested in R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik and his family, let me mention something fascinating in Imrei Shefer, p. 251. R. Yehoshua Magnes, one of R. Avraham’s leading students, is quoted as follows (and the information certainly come from R. Avraham): R. Moses Soloveitchik supported R. Isaac Rubenstein. The extremists wanted to put R. Moses in herem until R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz told them in no uncertain terms that one doesn’t put “the son of the Rebbe” in herem!

This is referring to the great dispute in Vilna over the chief rabbinate in the late 1920s. The Mizrachi decided to put forth their own candidate, Rubenstein, who emerged victorious. This was seen as a terrible slap in the face to R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski, who until then was regarded as the unofficial chief rabbi of Vilna. The election of Rubenstein was also a rejection of the tradition that, since the late eighteenth century, there was no chief rabbi in Vilna.[23]

This story, assuming it is true, answers a perplexity I had for some time. Making of a Godol, p. 749, relates how some Polish rabbis were so upset at R. Moses Soloveitchik that they threatened to put him in herem. In response to this threat, R. Baruch Ber is quoted as saying that one doesn’t put the son of the Rebbe in herem. The story quoted by Kamenetsky has to do with a rabbinical dispute between a certain Agudist rabbi and a Mizrachi shochet. We are told that R. Moses opposed R. Zvi Hanokh Levin’s support of the rabbi. Yet why would this occasion a herem? Others have assumed that the rabbis may have wanted to place him in herem for accepting the position at the Warsaw Takhkemoni, the Mizrachi school. Yet again, why would this lead to a herem? R. Hayyim’s great student, R. Shlomo Polachek, the Meitchiter, also taught at a Mizrachi school.

Assuming the information in Imrei Shefer is correct, all is understandable. If R. Moses supported R. Isaac Rubenstein, then the herem would make perfect sense. Here was an issue in which the entire rabbinic world had joined together to support R. Hayyim Ozer. The great dayan of Vilna, R. Henokh Eiges, the Marheshet, resigned from the Mizrachi on account of the slight to R. Hayyim Ozer’s honor. R. Aaron Rabinowitz, the son-in-law of R. Reines, the founder of Mizrachi, did likewise.[24] To support Rubenstein would thus be viewed as a terrible betrayal of rabbinic solidarity, which in the rabbinic mind would be deserving of a herem.

Why would R. Moses have supported Rubenstein? Presumably this was tied in with his opposition to Agudat Israel. It is known that he was quite opposed to the Agudah, claiming that in this opposition he was simply following in the path of his father, R. Hayyim .[25] In fact, this opposition explains another interesting point. In Keneset Yisrael 10 (1932), a journal published by the Hazon Ish’s brother and brother-in-law, there appears an article by “Shlomo Kohen.” Kohen was one of the Hazon Ish’s students, but the article was by the Hazon Ish. Why did the Hazon Ish not want to sign his own name to it? The article is directed against another article published by R. Moses Soloveitchik in Ha-Pardes, in which he cited the hiddushim of his son, R. Joseph Baer. As the Steipler explained, the Hazon Ish wanted to disprove what R. Moses wrote (in the name of his son) because R. Moses was associated with the Mizrachi (teaching at Takhkemoni) and he therefore wanted to diminish his stature (לבטלו).[26] In other words, the fact that the Hazon Ish decided to dispute with R. Moses (and he rarely disputed with contemporaries) was not because he so respected the latter, but the exact opposite.[27]

With regard to Mizrachi rabbis, let me quote something else repeated by R. Avraham Shapiro: The Hafetz Hayyim once wrote to a certain Mizrachi rabbi with all sorts of elaborate titles. When R. Velvel Soloveitchik was asked how the Hafetz Hayyim could write with such respect to a Mizrachi rabbi, R. Velvel responded that this is what happens when you don’t listen to any lashon ha-ra! (Imrei Shefer, p. 271). He said this as a criticism of the Hafetz Hayim. In other words, sometimes you need to listen to lashon ha-ra in order to know how to properly evaluate people. (R. Avraham was very upset with this story and doubted its veracity, although the comment is very much in line with how R. Velvel would express himself.)

Regarding Imrei Shefer, I was very happy to see on p. 267 that R. Avraham studied Kitvei R. Weinberg, which I published a number of years ago. Both volumes of this work are now available on hebrewbooks.org.

5. People continue to write to me about my earlier posts on R. Kook.[28] Many are fascinated with R. Kook’s position on sacrifices that I discussed here.
Let me therefore call attention to another recently published text, found in R. Tsuriel’s Peninei ha-Re’iyah, p. 212. (It earlier appeared in Meorot ha-Re’iyah, Haggadah shel Pesah, p. 225.). This is actually the text from which R. Kook’s famous words in Olat ha-Re’iyah, p, 292, are taken. There R. Kook envisions a future of vegetable sacrifices.


Olat ha-Re’iyah was published in 1939, after R. Kook’s death. Now that the original text of R. Kook’s words has been published, we can see how R. Zvi Yehudah did not merely “abridge” his father’s text, as Tsuriel puts it, but clearly censored it to soften its radicalism, which is a pattern seen again and again in R. Zvi Yehudah’s editing.

What appears in R. Kook’s original text is further elaboration about how in Messianic days the animals will be raised in intelligence to the level of man, and he even brings a biblical verse in support of this notion. Isaiah 43:20 reads: “The beasts of the field shall honor Me, the jackals and the ostriches.” The fact that animals are portrayed as honoring God shows that they will move beyond behavior based purely on instinct. Then R. Kook writes as follows, and pay careful attention to what I have underlined, which is undoubtedly the reason why R. Zvi Yehudah thought he had to censor the text.
אם כן יהיה כערך האדם עכשיו. על כן לא יהיה צריך לקרב מהם ולהקריב, ויהיה איסור בזה, ותהיה ההקרבה רק מנחה מהצומח, שהוא לא ישכיל עוד על שיעלהו בפועל. על כן תערב המנחה, ולא שאר קרבן מהחיים.

Here R. Kook isn’t just expressing a preference for vegetable sacrifices, but telling us that it will actually be forbidden to offer animal sacrifices.

Regarding Tsuriel’s Peninei ha-Re’iyah, some of the passages from R. Kook cited from manuscript are quite valuable. See e.g., p. 385, where R. Kook states that when it comes to a war to defend the Jewish people even the tribe of Levi goes out to fight. What this means, of course, is that R. Kook would be opposed to any draft exemption for yeshiva students.

In addition, Tsuriel has selected passages from R. Kook’s writings and arranged them in order of the various parshiyot, so that one can always find a good piece for a devar Torah. For parashat Metzora (p. 231), he quotes R. Kook’s statement in Ezrat Kohen, no. 21, that even if one expresses heretical thoughts, this doesn’t mean that he really is a heretic. Rather, it could be that he is simply trying to show that he is in line with what “the world” is saying, but it doesn’t mean that he really believes it.

This is just one more angle whereby R. Kook tries to defend the modern free-thinkers. His most famous defense is that modern heretics have the status of onsin, in that the environment today almost forces them into their false beliefs so that they cannot be held responsible for their views. He also states that those who express heretical beliefs are not really certain of their heresy, and it is only one who is certain in this who is to be regarded as a heretic.

With the publication of Shemoneh Kevatzim we see that R. Kook goes even further and completely removes the orthoprax individual from the status of heretic. I quoted the relevant passage here.
We see from R. Kook that one who holds a heretical belief, but lives as an observant Jew in his daily life, is regarded as part of the Torah community. As I put it in my earlier post: Two important things stand out. First, while not condoning orthopraxy, R. Kook states that one who is observant, despite the fact that he denies ikkarim, is to be regarded as an erring Jew, not as a heretic. R. Kook’s position is a complete rejection of the idea that people who are shomrei Torah u-mitzvot can be read out of the fold and be regarded as heretics because of their incorrect beliefs. The second important point is that he rejects the Rambam’s entire theological conception of Principles of Faith and aligns himself with the Ra’avad, showing once again that the Rambam’s position has not attained unanimity.[29]

Had R. Zvi Yehudah printed this text, we might have been spared some of the heresy hunting in the religious Zionist world, and discussions of whether one can drink this or that observant Jew’s wine due to the fact that he might have some heretical thoughts. In fact, it is only with the publication, uncensored, of R. Kook’s writings that the “lights” of his soul are revealed in all their grandeur. What other spiritual leader with unconventional views could declare that he is ready to fight the entire world for the truth as he sees it, to proclaim his views without any compromises and without worrying about what the “world” will say? While I greatly respect R. Herzog, R. Weinberg, and R. Soloveitchik, they certainly could never say the following (Pinkasei ha-Re’iyah [2010], vol. 2, p. 201):

“אם אני מוכרח להיות איש ריב לכל העולם מצד הנטיה של האמת העמוקה שבנפשי, שאינה סובלת שום הטיה של שקר, אי אפשר לי להיות איש אחר. וצריך אני להוציא מן הכח אל הפועל רק את יסודות האמת העקריים הצפונים ברוחי, בלא שום התחשבות עם מה שחושב העולם בכל הסכמותיו.” זהו הפתגם של דורש האמת, המתעורר בגבורתו העליונה.

See also ibid., p. 208, where we see his self-image as a prophet of old, and that no one other than he can see clearly what is taking place in the world:

מה יש עכשיו בעולם? וכי מפני שאין שום איש, ושום למדן ביחוד, רוצה להביט מה שיש עתה בעולם, וכי בשביל כך, גם אנכי לא אביט? לא! אני אינני משועבד להרבים. הנני הולך במסילתי, בדרך הישרה, ישר אביט.
R. Kook’s commitment to his path, despite the controversy that ensued, was a trait also seen in R. Shlomo Goren, with all the tragic consequences, both personal and professional. Perhaps the Lubavitcher Rebbe is the only one after R. Kook who was able to successfully chart a path undisturbed by the opposition, and without any need for compromise.

One other passage from R. Kook’s recently published Pinkasei ha-Re’iyah vol. 2, p. 207, is worth noting. While tolerance of opposing viewpoints is often viewed as characteristic of a watered-down commitment to one’s own belief, R. Kook adopts a different perspective:

הסבלנות בדעות, כשהיא באה מלב טהור ומנוקה מכל רשעה, אינה עלולה לקרר את להבת רגש הקודש שבתוכן האמונה הפשוטה, מקור אושר החיים כולם, כ”א להרחיב ולהגדיל את יסוד ההתלהבות המקודשת לשמים.


To be continued.
[1] For a different perspective, see the recently published Pinkesei ha-Re’iyah, vol. 3, p. 69, where R. Kook states that one might have expected non-Jewish philosophers, since they are not involved with practical mitzvot, to be able to attain a higher grasp of theological truths, as they can devote themselves exclusively to this. Yet R. Kook explains that this is not the case.
[2] In R. Soloveitchik’s Halakhic Man we also see his dissatisfaction with practical halakhic decision-making. His alternative to this is theoretical halakhic study, which is very different than what R. Kook saw as his goal. In the hasidic world, the communal rav was relegated to the role of halakhic technician, while the focus of spiritual leadership was the Rebbe, who did not involve himself in practical halakhic rulings.
[3] Together with the crackdown on sexual abuse, there have been other changes as well. In my youth there were teachers who would punish students physically. This was, in fact, the traditional method of disciplining students, and is mentioned in Makkot 2:2, Bava Batra 21a, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Talmud Torah 2:2, Rotzeah u-Shemirat ha-Nefesh 5:6, and Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 551:18, Yoreh Deah 245:10. See also the picture from the 1395 Coburg Pentateuch, of a teacher with his whip, available here.
It is clear from the rabbinic sources that the physical punishments were not designed to inflict real pain, although one wonders whether the picture from the Coburg Pentateuch reflects a harsher reality. See Elliot Horowitz, “The Way We Were: ‘Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,’” Jewish History 1 (Spring 1986), pp. 81-82. In any event, today, what parent will allow the teacher to lay a hand on his child, even if the pain is minor?
Even though, as mentioned, teachers were never supposed to inflict real pain, I think it is fair to say that the physical punishments over the generations sometimes did get out of hand (see next note). I recall vividly one rebbe who would squeeze kids’ arms and even throw them against the wall. Today, in every Modern Orthodox school and even some haredi schools, that type of behavior would be grounds for immediate termination. Regarding how students were physically punished in the great yeshivot, we have reports of Roshei Yeshiva and mashgichim who would slap students in the face. See e.g., Moshe Tzinovitz, Mir (Tel Aviv, 1981), p. 464; Shaul Stampfer, Ha-Yeshivah ha-Litait be-Hithavutah (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 335 n. 76. Even R. Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, who was a very gentle person, would occasionally slap a student in the face. On one occasion this even led to the students going “on strike” (i.e., ceasing all Torah study) in protest against the Netziv’s action. They viewed the slap as an insult to the entire student body since this was the sort of thing one would expect a melamed to do in a heder, not the rosh yeshiva of the great Volozhin. The Netziv was forced to publicly apologize to the entire student body. See M. Eisenstadt, “Revolutzyah ba-Yeshivah,” Ha-Tzefirah, 1 Sivan 5676; Stampfer, Ha-Yeshivah ha-Litait, pp. 128-129, 149.
On at least one occasion, a student certainly deserved being slapped in the face. It happened at Telz in 1905. At this time there were two mashgichim, and as was often the case at the great yeshivot, the students were very opposed to the mashgichim. (A few years earlier the students had gone on strike due to the invasive actions of a previous mashgiach, R. Aryeh Leib Hasman. See Stampfer, Ha-Yeshiva ha-Litait, p. 334.). One of the students waited above and when given the signal poured a bucket of fish sauce upon the mashgiach. R. Eliezer Gordon, the Rosh Yeshiva, slapped the suspected student on the face. Simcha Assaf, who records the story, tells us that this was the only time Gordon ever did such a thing. See Assaf, “Shenot ha-Limudim sheli bi-Yeshivat Telz (5665-5668),” in Immanuel Etkes and Shlomo Tikochinski, eds., Yeshivot Lita (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 235.

I have seen haredi authors who argue that opposition to physical punishment in school is a sign that people have moved away from “Torah values” in favor of modern psychology. See R. Chaim Rapoport’s response to this approach in his wonderful discussion of the issue in Datche 41 and 41 (2008). See also R. Avraham Steinberg, Encyclopedia Hilkhatit Refuit, vol. 6 cols. 767-768.

Another change in our era is that signs of physical affection between a rebbe and student, which at one time were very important especially as the rebbe served as a father figure, are no longer acceptable. A student cannot even sit on his rebbe’s lap, as was done in years past. It is reported that when R. Hayyim Soloveitchik visited his great student, R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz, who at this time was serving as rosh yeshiva of Keneset Beit Yitzhak in Slobodka, R. Baruch Ber sat on R. Hayyim’s lap. Just like he sat on R. Hayyim’s lap when he was a young student, R. Hayyim wanted R. Baruch Ber to sit on his lap when he was a grown man. See Making of a Gadol, p. 87. The fact that we could never imagine something like this happening today shows how different our mindset is. There are loads of stories of rebbes kissing their students. R. Zvi Yehudah Kook was known in particular for this. See e.g., Iturei Yerushalayim, no. 55 (2011), p. 4. Here are three stories from R. Shlomo Riskin’s recently published memoir, Listening to God, which also bring us back to a more innocent time.
I couldn’t wait to share my discovery [of Darwin’s theories and how they could help explain the Torah] with my rebbe, Rav Mandel, that Monday morning. I brought him the book, and showed him the relevant passages—totally ignorant of the “red flag” raised in religious circles by the mere mention of Darwin. Rav Mandel barely took the book in his hand; he slapped my face, and then kissed my forehead. “Your interpretations are magnificent, but it is forbidden to read such heretical literature,” he said gently. I smarted at the slap, felt vindicated by the kiss, and continued to adore my rebbe. . . . “ (p. 51)
Riskin describes being tested by Dr. Samuel Belkin.
He asked me which Talmudic tractate I was studying, spoke to me “in learning,” and gave me a section of Gemara and the Tosafot commentary to read. He then came around the desk where I was sitting, kissed me on the forehead, and said to Tante, “you’re right, He can have a full scholarship to Yeshiva University.”(pp. 67-68)
After Riskin passed the examination to become a city rabbi in Israel, “Rabbi [Shaul] Yisraeli rose—and visibly moved—kissed me on the forehead.” (p. 369)
In general, I have to say that Riskin’s book is quite interesting. I must note, however, that in a number of places where he is critical of people or tells a story that might be embarrassing, Riskin refers to individuals by their initials. If he did so in order to leave the figures anonymous, he was not entirely successful, since in a few cases it is not that hard to figure out whom he had in mind.
[4] Unfortunately, refusal to protect children is not a new thing. See this post where I mentioned even allowing rapists to go free.
What is new is that parents are now beginning to stand up. Here is a passage from a nineteenth-century memoir from which we see that in the past even murder was covered up. (The case described is definitely not manslaughter, which is what is described in Makkot 2:2 and Rambam, Hilkhot Rotzeah u-Shemirat ha-Nefesh 5:6. Incidentally, the latter two sources are only speaking about a society in which teachers were permitted to hit the students, and have no applicability today vis-à-vis most of the Orthodox world.)
One of the angry teachers I mentioned was nicknamed David with the tangled hair, as his head was covered with a mass of knotted hair. He was hot-tempered and frightening, and often came to within an inch of killing a pupil. When particularly enraged, he would lift a child up and ferociously throw him to the ground, so that he landed like a corpse. That actually did happen once. After the funeral the parents of the deceased never dared accuse him of murdering their child. They accepted it as preordained that their son should die while learning Torah, and so did the rest of the community. No one considered the melamed a murderer. Even the sons of M.S. who made it their business to ferret out sinners in the town, in order to cause strife and contention, kept silent on this matter, and David the melamed kept on teaching as if nothing had happened.
Yekhezkel Kotik, Journey to a Nineteenth-Century Shtetl (Detroit, 2002), p. 145. On p. 431, David Assaf, the editor, calls attention to a different memoir which tells of a child dying as a result of his melamed’s beating. On p. 145, Kotik also speaks of another melamed who “would take all his anger out on that particular part of the boy’s anatomy that is generally not mentioned in print.”
(In some segments of the hasidic world the cover-ups unfortunately also continue. Had the New Square madman succeeded and killed the five people in the house he was intent on burning down, does anyone think that the community would have assisted the police in finding the murderer? In a future post I will mention cases of murder and attempted murder carried out for “pious” reasons.)
After my previous post on ultra-Orthodox tolerance of sexual abuse, there were some who doubted that there is any rabbinic support for this. Those who can read Hebrew, please read the following responsum from R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 16, pp. 169-171.
According to Klein, there is never a time when sexual abuse can be reported to the police, even if a child is being continuously raped. That is because there are never two male witnesses who see the abuse. If someone does report the abuse, it is a mitzvah to kill the moser. If anyone has a difficult time understanding why a segment of the hasidic world time and again offers support for the perpetrator and ostracizes the victim, this is all the explanation you need. From their perspective, the victim who goes to the police is worse than the sexual abuser. Based on Klein’s understanding, I don’t think there is a “heter” for a woman who has been raped by a Jew to go to the police, because there is no halakhic evidence of a crime. (He also says that it is forbidden to turn in a murderer. In case anyone needs to be reminded how crazy this viewpoint is, I am writing these words only a few hours after the monster who killed Leiby Kletzky was identified.)

A friend insists that there is no difference between Klein’s position and that of Agudat Israel. This is not true at all. Whereas Klein states that someone can never be turned in to the police, the Agudah position is that a molester can be turned in, but only after a rabbi gives approval. The Agudah position continues to develop, and I have no doubt that in the end the Agudah will end up holding a position identical to that of the RCA. I also think that it is public pressure that will move Agudah in this direction, as public pressure has been responsible for all the adjustments in the Agudah’s position that we have seen until now.
Yet even without public pressure, the current Agudah position is so untenable, that it will have to be updated. For one, it asks people to violate the law. The law is clear that some people are obligated to contact the police when they suspect child abuse. By insisting that a rabbi be consulted before doing so, mandated reporters are being put in the position of being told by a rabbi to refrain from doing something that the law requires. Do the Agudah constituents realize that listening to the rabbi in these circumstances can open them up to both criminal and civil penalties?

As for the rabbis, I can’t imagine who would agree to be on the Agudah’s panel of rabbis that will examine accusations of abuse in order to determine if it is permitted to go to the police. If one of these rabbis rules that the evidence is not compelling and it is therefore forbidden to go to the police, and the rabbi is wrong, he opens himself (and the mandated reporter) to a lawsuit by the parents of the molested child. Whatever the ultimate verdict, the lawyer fees alone will end up bankrupting the rabbi. Is the Agudah prepared to set up a fund to defend rabbis sued by parents of molested children? Certainly not, which is why no rabbi who is thinking straight will ever agree to put himself in such a circumstance. The Agudah’s position also leaves the organization itself vulnerable to a lawsuit by parents of victims.

Finally, unlike so many of the cynics in our community, I don’t think the Agudah position is all about protecting rabbis, guilty or not. I really do believe that the Agudah recognizes that there is a problem. It is convinced that the rabbis it will charge with examining abuse cases will indeed make sure that molesters are turned in. The problem, however, is that we have seen all this before. We have seen over and over again that it is precisely the rabbis who have failed in this matter, often because they are not willing to turn on their own. It was precisely because of this that the community of laypeople rose up and said “No more.” One doesn’t need to be a prophet to see that by relying on individual rabbis to determine if an accusation of sexual abuse is credible, there will continue to be cover-ups. (Am I wrong in assuming that these cover-ups never would have happened if women were in charge? Would mothers ever have permitted child molesters to continue to prey on the young?)
The Agudah position is thus both a public relations and legal disaster in the making. The Church tried such an approach already and it doesn’t work. I don’t understand why such smart people in the Agudah don’t see how their new position is doomed to failure.
[5] See here where I attribute the rabbinic silence to the money Tropper was handing out. I also brought proof that even great rabbis are not immune to being influenced by money. Regarding this point, see the recent biography of R. Zvi Pesach Frank written by Shabbetai Dov Rosenthal, Geon ha-Hora’ah (Jerusalem, 2011),, vol. 1, pp. 410-411. A letter from R. Frank is published in which he criticizes members of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate (of which he was a member). The subjects of his criticism were gedolei Yisrael, and yet he accuses them of being improperly influenced by Israeli government money. He adds:
מי לנו גדול מהכהן הגדול שלא צירפוהו לדון בענין עיבור השנה, שהיה חשש נגיעה שמפני הקור יכריע שלא לעבר השנה
[6] See e.g., here.
[7] I hope to treat this phenomenon in great detail when I am able to complete my article on contemporary halakhic practices in opposition to the Shulhan Arukh.
[8] There are loads of sources that speak of the great weight to be assigned to the practices of the Jewish people, even when these practices appear to violate the textual halakhah. For one example, see R. Solomon Laniado, Beit Dino shel Shlomo (Jerusalem, 1986), Orah Hayyim no. 17 (p. 96): שכל מה שנהגו ישראל שכינה מוסכמת עמהם
Laniado (died 1793) was the chief rabbi of Aleppo.
[9] See my post here.
[10] Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, ed., The Rabbinical Seminary of Budapest 1877-1977 (New York, 1986), p. 77.
[11] I would also like to mention a recent article by Lawee that deals with some issues relevant to earlier installments of this series, such as the possibility of errors in the biblical text. See Lawee, “Isaac Abarbanel: From Medieval to Renaissance Jewish Biblical Scholarship,” in Magne Saebo, ed., Hebrew Bible/Old Testament (Goettingen, 2008), vol. 2, p. 210, who calls attention to Ibn Ezra, Ex. 25:29, who claims that there is a mistake in the Book of Chronicles. He also notes Abarbanel’s commentary to I Kings 10:22, which suggests another error in Chronicles, due to Ezra misunderstanding a verse in the Book of Kings.
[12] Elsewhere, Ashkenazi speaks of Moses having access to historical records, but there he assumes that these records are accurate. See Epstein, Mi-Kadmoniyot ha-Yehudim, p. 136:
כי כל התורה ברוח הקדש כתבה משה וידע שמות אלופי אדום ומשכנותם ומלכיהם ידועה [!] גמורה מפי ספרים ומפי סופרים ונודע לו האמת ונכתב בספר.
[13] See also this earlier post of mine.
[14] See Abarbanel’s introductions to Jeremiah, p. 298, and Ezekiel, p. 434. In the latter source he writes:
הן אמת שיחזקאל הנביא לא היה בקי בלשון הקדש ולא בכתיבתו
For other references, see Eric Lawee, Isaac Abarbanel’s Stance Toward Tradition )Albany, 2001), p. 276 n. 46.
[15] On p. 46a he offers a different perspective which I don’t think can be brought into line with what he says earlier. Here he accepts the existence of some sort of demonic beings, and claims that the superstition is only that humans can interact with and influence them. Neusatz’ book was published posthumously, and it is possible that had the author been alive he would have worked out a more consistent theory.
[16] In the next issue of Milin Havivin, I deal with Orthodox views of the Zohar. In the meantime, I was surprised to find that R. Berel Wein describes the Zohar in an unsympathetic manner. Although some may claim that Wein was only presenting the history, his less than reverential attitude towards the book comes across very clearly, even if he didn’t consciously intend this. See the video here.

For another surprising piece by Wein (called to my attention by Mel Barenholtz), see here.
Wein describes Midrash as “legend.” While this might be a term used by academics (and is in the title of Louis Ginzberg’s great work), the Yeshiva World has always rejected the word as a proper description. Wein’s entire article can be seen as a reflection on the fact that rabbis, in their sermons, quote all sorts of Midrashim as if they are historical, which they are of course not. So what value do these “legends” have, and why should we use them to fill in the “missing parts” of the biblical text? That is the question Wein deals with.
In fact, Wein’s entire article, with its demand for truth in history and the need to abandon fantasy, is the sort that in today’s day and age could generate a herem. Here, for example, is one very provocative sentence: “Many times legend becomes myth. Myth is a sense of human recognition that the story being told is not factual but it nevertheless changes legend from history or biography into literature and philosophy – sometimes sacred holy literature and philosophy.” (emphasis added). And how about this paragraph, which uses the word “mythology,” certainly knowing the knee-jerk reaction it will provoke among people.

The Torah does not deal with myth per se. Yet the Flood and Noah’s ark, the Tower of Babel, the centrality of the land of Israel, factual as they all are in the biblical narrative, nevertheless were all combined to create a basis for the holy mythology of the Jewish people. In addition, the idea that the “events of the works and decisions of our founders, the fathers of Israel, are a sure guidepost for their descendants” helped strengthen a mythology that binds the Jewish generations together and gives us insights into the values of Judaism and historical events, past and present (emphasis added).

In speaking of the Flood, Noah’s Ark and the Tower of Babel, Wein states that they are factual “in the biblical narrative.” Does this mean to imply that they are really not historical events, but it is only in the biblical narrative that they are regarded as factual? Since these events, Wein tells us, are among the great myths of Judaism, and he just finished telling us that myth is not factual, this seems to be what he is saying.
[17] These two scholars would never have said, as did the Hatam Sofer, that Yiddish was invented by the medieval Jewish sages to keep Jews separate from non-Jews. See She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Even ha-Ezer, vol. 2 no. 11. There are many other examples that show that the Hatam Sofer was still very much part of the medieval worldview, which is why I state that he is a complex figure. For instance, he still leaned towards Ptolemaic astronomy, centuries after Copernicus (although he acknowledged that the issue was complicated). See Eliezer Brodt’s post here.
Another example is the Hatam Sofer’s famous comment that he doesn’t understand the value of Jews training to be doctors in medical schools where they dissect non-Jewish bodies. Since Jews keep kosher, how can the information obtained from non-Jewish bodies be applicable to them? See Hiddushei Hatam Sofer, Avodah Zarah 31b. Yet I think it is more important is that in this very passage the Hatam Sofer also laments how there is no Jewish medical school.
[18] See Lishkat Soferim to Even ha-Ezer 17:43 (found in standard editions of the Shulhan Arukh).
[19] Derashot Hatam Sofer, vol. 1, p. 331b. This text is discussed here.
[20] The same was true with R. Moshe Feinstein. See R. Aharon Felder’s recently published Rishumei Aharon, pp. 18-19. This book has lots of interesting stories about R. Moshe. Felder is not afraid to point out how R. Moshe, unlike other Roshei Yeshiva, had a more moderate viewpoint when it came to attending college. See pp. 19-21. See also p. 21 for the following story, which shows R. Moshe as a real down-to-earth person, who was far removed from “frumkeit” and had little patience for the aspiring pietist:
פעם ניגש למו”ר זצ”ל חתן ביום חתונתו וביקש לדעת איזו כוונה צריך לכוין בשעת ביאת מצווה. פנה אליו מו”ר זצ”ל וענה “איני מאמין שתוכל לכוין כלל וכלל”. והוא לא הסתפק והמשיך לשאול שוב את שאלתו, אם אני יכול לכוין מה הכונה הראויה לאותו זמן? ומו”ר זצ”ל לא הגיב, ורק המשיך ללכת לדרכו.

For another such story, see p. 20 where he records how R. Moshe told a certain Rosh Yeshiva that it was inappropriate for him to refuse to be mesader kidushin just because there would be mixed seating at the wedding. See also p. 22 that R. Moshe refused to write a letter to the judge on behalf of one who was to be sentenced for drug dealing. R. Moshe told the criminal’s father that his son damaged people’s lives and therefore “Let him sit in prison.” On p. 28 he quotes R. Moshe’s positive view of R. Kook. On p. 73 he quotes R. Moshe that a male massage therapist can massage a woman if he does not have a continuing professional relationship with her (!), a man can cut a woman’s hair, and a male teacher or principal can be present when girls in the school sing as the assumption is that he is involved with other things and not paying attention.
What many will regard as a surprising pesak appears on p. 36:
מותר להיות Wine Tester ולטעום סתם יינם, באופן שפולט ואינו בולע
I assume this pesak is based on Rama, Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 108:5, who is speaking about יין נסך, implying that it is permitted to taste but not swallow סתם יינם. See also Pithei Teshuvah, Yoreh Deah 98:1, for the view that it is permitted to taste, but not swallow, things forbidden by the Sages.
(Regarding tasting without swallowing, see Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 567:1-3. Based on the Rama in 567:3 it would appear that it is permissible to chew gum on a fast day other than Yom Kippur.)
Although I can’t be certain, I find it hard to believe that R. Moshe would require the wine taster to make a blessing on the non-kosher wine. If so, then R. Moshe would presumably agree with those poskim who have ruled that one does not make a blessing on gum and that you can chew it before morning tefillah. See what I wrote here.
See R. Yitzhak Barda, Yitzhak Yeranen, vol. 2, no. 11, and R. Moshe Levi, Birkat ha-Shem, vol. 2, pp. 41ff., vol. 5, pp. 537ff., for complete discussions of the topic. R. Meir Mazuz also holds that one does not make a blessing on gum. See Or Torah, Tamuz 5771, p. 973. The logic of this viewpoint is explained by the Beit Yosef, Orah Hayyim 210:
ולי נראה דברכה לא בטעימת חיך תליא אלא באכילה תליא כדכתיב ואכלת וברכת ואכילה היינו הנאת מעיים כדברי הרא”ש ז”ל
Speaking of gum, I wonder if R. Moshe would agree with R. Yitzhak Abadi that all the standard gums (Wrigleys, Trident, etc.) are kosher. See Or Yitzhak, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 24:
כפי שבררנו החלק הטעים והמתוק שבו אין בו שום שאלה, ומה שנשאר הגומי אח”כ וממשיכים ללועסו אין בו לא טעם ולא ריח, והרי הוא כעץ בעלמא ושרי ללועסו כל היום כולו אף אם עירבו בו מדברים האסורים.
The kashrut organizations assume that gum needs a hashgachah. Here is what R. Zushe Blech has to say on the subject
The need for reliable Hashgacha for gum stems from many ingredient concerns. Plasticizers can be pure lard or tallow and emulsifiers are also often made from animal fats. Flavors and glycerin can also be completely non-Kosher. Even if all of the ingredients in a Kosher gum were acceptable, the equipment on which the product is made requires a Kashering from non-Kosher productions. Although the gum itself is not swallowed, these fats and flavors migrate from the gum into the mouth.
See here. (What does Blech mean by “reliable Hasghacha”? Does it mean that hashgachot that disagree with his understanding are not “reliable”?)
Let’s leave flavors out, as none of the flavors in the major gums are non-kosher. Let’s also leave out the issue of equipment, since this is not a real halakhic concern (as anyone who has ever lived in a place other than Israel and America, and thus has to buy foods without hashgachah, is well aware.) The issue is glycerin, emulsifiers etc. I don’t understand why this should be a problem. Even assuming that it is forbidden to swallow these things as part of a food, why would it be prohibited to simply chew on these tasteless items? Is there any kashrut problem when my son chews on his pigskin baseball glove while waiting patiently for a ball to be hit to him?
Returning to Felder, I give him credit for not being embarrassed to tell us how he once asked R. Moshe the following idiotic question (p. 20):
פעם הלכתי עם מו”ר זצ”ל לניחום אבלים, ולפני שנכנסנו לרכב ביקש ר”מ אחד מישיבת “רבינו יצחק אלחנן”, אם יכול להצטרף לנסיעה כי בית האבלים היה בקרבת מקום לשכונה של הישיבה הנ”ל. ושאלתי את מו”ר זצ”ל האם מותר לנו לקחת את אותו ר”מ לאותה ישיבה? וענה לי “למה לא, הרי נמצאים שם הרבה גדולי ראשי ישיבה שמלמדים תורה”.
Could it be that Felder didn’t know that R. Moshe’s great student, R. Nissan Alpert, taught at YU, or that his son-in-law, R. Moshe Tendler, likewise did? Did he not know that R. Moshe had close relationships with many of the Roshei Yeshiva at YU, and was colleagues with them in Agudas ha-Rabbonim?
While on the subject of teachers at YU, here is a page of a letter, never before published, by R. Yaakov Kamenetsky. It was sent to his son, R. Nosson, whom I thank for giving me permission to publish it. (The notations on the side of the letter are by R. Nosson.) In the letter, R. Yaakov admits that it would have been better for him to teach at YU, since the YU musmachim have a much more significant role in American Orthodoxy than those he was teaching. However, what prevented him from doing so is how this would appear to his sons. They would wonder, if YU was good enough for him to be part of the faculty, why did he think it so important to send his sons to haredi yeshivot?
[21] Kol Hotzev (Jerusalem, 1999), pp. 178-179.
[22] Among my children’s generation, many kids believe that there is a halakhic requirement to have two sinks. Some of these kids have literally never been to a kosher home which doesn’t have this. If they saw such a home, they would probably assume that there must be a heter for one sink, but only for those who can’t afford to redo their kitchens.
[23] R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik wrote of the difficulties R. Hayyim Ozer had, and strongly identified with the latter. See his hesped for R. Hayyim Ozer in Divrei Hagut ve-Ha’arakhah (Jerusalem, 1982), p. 194:
הגאון ר’ חיים עוזר לחם על זה בחרוף נפש. הוא סבל הרבה בעטיה של שיטה זו, סבל יסורי נפש ורוח. בשעה שהרבה מאחינו נכונים היו למסור את החושן לידי זרים ולהסתפק בציץ. עמד הוא בפרץ ומחה נגד זה.
The truth is that R. Soloveitchik is incorrect when he writes עמד הוא בפרץ ומחה נגד זה R. Hayyim Ozer did not protest the slight to his honor, or lead the opposition to Rubenstein. It was the other sages, including the Hafetz Hayyim and the Hazon Ish, who took the reins in this matter. Regarding the Hazon Ish, see Binyamin Brown, Ha-Hazon Ish (Jerusalem, 2011), p. 53.
[24] See Aharon Sorasky, Rabban shel Yisrael (Bnei Brak, 1971), p. 115; Moshe Tzinovitz, Ishim u-Kehilot (Tel Aviv, 1990) p. 240. Rabinowitz was the father-in-law of R. Avigdor Zyperstein, who taught at YU. In Vilna, the center of European Jewish scholarship, an Agudah rav, Grodzinski, and a Mizrachi rav, Eiges, sat on the same beit din and worked closely together. In Europe, every small town had a rav. Sometimes the rav was an adherent of Agudah, and other times a follower of Mizrachi. But as far as the townspeople were concerned, that didn’t matter. He was the rav and if there were halakhic questions in the town he was the one to decide them. If you were an Agudist and the rav was a Mizrachi man, when you had a halakhic question you would go to your rav. The politics of the Jewish world did not interfere when it came to halakhah. Furthermore, the various Agudat Rabbanim in Europe (and also in the U.S.) welcomed all rabbis, regardless of where one stood in the Agudah-Mizrachi dispute. In the post-World War II world, however, the haredi world has entirely changed all this and rewrote the rules. They were able to convince their followers that unless a rav follows the haredi Daas Torah he is not a reliable rav, and therefore he should not be consulted on halakhic matters. In other words, the halakhic competence of a rav was made dependant on his political outlook. This is a complete break with Jewish tradition, as it existed in Europe. While some might regard this development as simply another example of haredi “shtick”, I think it is more significant as it illustrates once again that haredi Judaism can be just as modern and revolutionary as that which it sees itself as fighting against.
[25] See Zvi Weinman, Mi-Katovitz ad Heh be-Iyar (Jerusalem, 1995), pp. 52ff.
[26] E. Horowitz, Orhot Rabbenu (Bnei Brak, 2005), vol. 5, p. 169
[27] See Brown, Ha-Hazon Ish, pp. 55-56.
[28] One well-known haredi rav wrote to me as follows:
I just read your post . . . regarding the abolishment of animal sacrifices. Barukh sheKivanti l’Da’ato shel Harav Kuk when I once told my students at . . . (and advised them to keep it under wraps) that perhaps a future Sanhedrin will find a drash to do that. But I had a caveat in that our present moral sensitivities were formed during the Exile in which we were enslaved to general, non-Jewish thinking. Therefore, after the Messiah arrives and we are able to think independently, and until we are on own long enough to form our own, Jewish ideas, all we will be able to do is continue from where we left off at the Destruction of Ba’yit Sheni. Only after some time has passed may the Sanhedrin decide that animal sacrifices ought to be abolished. This approach explains why the Rambam sets down Hilkhot Korbanot though he may have been prepared to abolish them had he been sitting on the Sanhedrin. It’s for that interim time — between the arrival of Mashiah and whenever the Sanhedrin makes its Judaism-inspired [changes].
He then added the following critical note:
Within the blog you used a term which ruffled my sensibilities: “Messianic Judaism.” Simply because that term has been usurped and corrupted by Christians who call themselves “Messianic Jews,” you should have written “Messianic-Era Judaism”.
[29] R. Isaac Hutner is quoted saying something very similar to that of R. Kook.. See R. Yitzhak Alster, Olat Yitzhak (Jerusalem, 2003), vol. 1, p. 188 (referred to by Bezalel Naor, The Limit of Intellectual Freedom [Spring Valley, 2011]):
שאין דנים הכופר עפ”י מחשבתו ודבורו לחוד עד שעושה מעשה מומרות. וכך היה לשונו: איך וואלט ניט געפסקנט אויף אימיצר אז אעהר איז אן אפיקורס סיידן איך וואלט געזעהן א ריעותא אין זיין מצוות מעשיות, כאיטש אפילו אפיקורסוס איז נישט תלוי אין מעשים, אבער מעלע וואס א מענטש רעדט – ער גלויבט אליין נישט וואס ער רעדט


New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 4

|
New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 4
Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
Returning to the issue of creation, I found an interesting comment in R. Hayyim Hirschensohn’s commentary on Rashi, Nimukei Rashi. For those who are unaware of this commentary, I recommend that you examine it. You can order a bound copy (even soft-cover) very cheaply at hebrewbooks.org. I think that this is one of Hirschenson’s greatest works.[1]
In his comment to Gen. 1:13 Hirschensohn writes that belief in eternity (which here apparently means eternal matter in the Platonic sense, not an eternal universe in the Aristotelian sense) is not heretical, just foolish. He explains that something foolish by definition cannot be heretical, and gives an example: If you say that 2+2=5 this is false, but it is not heretical. It would be interesting to develop this theme further, and to see to what conclusions it takes you.
Also regarding creation, see his comment to Gen. 2:6 where he explains how evolution fits in with Torah, and where he differs with Darwin.[2] He sees support for his view in Rashi, although he acknowledges that Rashi himself didn’t have evolution in mind. Rather, one can explain Rashi in accord with modern views even though Rashi himself had no knowledge of modern science. Here is an example where a book, in this case Rashi’s commentary, is explained with no concern given to original intent, the notion being that a book has a life of its own and is not bound to the interpretations of its author. I cited material on this theme in Studies in Maimonides, and there is a good deal more I can add from traditional Jewish writings. (In my Hakirah response to Buchman, I promised to explore this issue in a future Hakirah article).
Here is Hirschensohn’s passage:
אל יחשוב הקורא שדעתי שרש”י ז”ל ידע מענין ההתפתחות והי’ לו שיטה מצוינה מיוחד בזה, שאהי’ בזה לצחוק לכל שומע, אמנם דעתי שרוח הקודש הופיע בבית מדרשו ופירושו בהפסוקים מתאימים לפרש על ידיהם שיטות פילוסופיות וטבעיות לפי אמתתם
Quite apart from his main point, I find Hirschensohn’s opening words here fascinating. We get a sense of whom he felt he was writing for when he says that if he were to claim that Rashi knew of the most advanced scientific thought, that it would be regarded as laughable. I think that even today if someone were to attribute prophetic-like scientific knowledge to Rashi, there are some circles where this would not occasion laughter, but great respect, on the assumption that as with Hazal, Rashi’s knowledge in these matters is all-encompassing.
I could have an entire post on the provocative material in Nimukei Rashi, but let me just give a couple of more examples. In his commentary to Gen. 4:16, Hirschensohn says that prophets can make mistakes, just like the rest of the people of their time. He says that they can even make such errors when it comes to principles of faith:
כי לא כל הנביאים ידעו הפילוסופיא האלקות האמתית . . . יכולים לטעות בטעותים אשר בני אדם בדורם טועים
He applies this insight to prophets who lived before the giving of the Torah. However, those prophets who lived after the Revelation at Sinai and were able to study Torah in a proper philosophical fashion were spared these types of errors.
ורק נביאי ישראל אשר למדו תורת ה’ עמדו מן התורה ומן החכמה ודעת על אמתת הפילוסופיא האלקות . . . כי הנבואה לא בא להודיע רק את הדבר אשר הודיעה מפורש ובשאר דברים יכול האדם להשאר בטעותיו הקדומים ורק התורה עם החכמה והדעת המה מודיעים את האמתית [!] ועקרי האמונה והפילוסופיא . . . כי הקב”ה חפץ שהאדם יהי’ דורש למצא את האמת לא ליתן לו את האמת בנבואה בלתי דרישה וחקירה.
In a previous installment of this series I dealt with Maimonides’ view that prophets can make errors, with the proof being how Ezekiel’s prophecy was based on incorrect science. I also noted Ralbag’s claim that one of Abraham’s prophecies contained an error. In other words, Hirschensohn’s basic point has an honored precedent.
However, as far as I know, no one prior to Hirschensohn claimed that prophets could make errors in basic theological points. Yet Hirschensohn’s argument is very strong, for his proof is from Cain. Cain must be regarded as a prophet, as God spoke to him. Yet Cain also erred in a basic theological point, as he didn’t think that God’s knowledge was all-encompassing. This incidentally illustrates why according to Maimonides the entire Cain and Abel story cannot be understood as historical. While Hirschensohn is able to say that “not all prophets knew the true divine philosophy,” for Maimonides this is the basis of prophecy and the only way it comes about. The notion that Cain, or Adam for that matter, could have developed his mind philosophically in order to achieve prophecy is obviously not a serious proposition. Therefore, according to Maimonides, it is clear that God never spoke to Cain. In other words, from Maimonides’ perspective the story never actually happened, and must be understood as a philosophical or moral tale.
This interpretation of Maimonides is nothing new. Lawrence Kaplan has already noted that the standard commentaries on Maimonides’ Guide—Efodi, Shem Tov, Falaquera, Ibn Caspi, and Narboni—leave little doubt that in their mind Maimonides’ position is that the births of Cain, Abel, and Seth are to be understood allegorically.[3] When it comes to the Cain story I think the matter is fairly clear-cut, for if a brute like Cain can be regarded as a prophet this would contradict Maimonides’ entire philosophical understanding of what prophecy is.
R. Hananel Sari makes an interesting point that is relevant to what we are discussing.[4] He calls attention to the fact that matters which Maimonides does not regard as having been real historical events are treated as such, for educational or spiritual purposes, in the Mishneh Torah. Maimonides himself writes about how this was the practice of ancient courts in dealing with the Wayward Woman (Hilkhot Sotah 3:2):
ומגידין לה מעשה יהודה ותמר כלתו, ומעשה ראובן בפילגש אביו על פשטו
Sari offers two examples of this phenomenon in Maimonides’ writing. One is the story of the angels coming to visit Abraham, which Maimonides famously understands to have taken place in a dream. Yet from Hilkhot Evel 14:2 the reader would assume that Maimonides understood this event to have actually occurred. The second example Sari offers relates to Cain and Abel. According to the standard medieval commentators to Guide 2:30, Maimonides understands the Cain and Abel episode allegorically. Yet as Sari points out, in Beit ha-Behirah 2:2 Maimonides treats the Cain and Abel story as historical: והוא המזבח שהקריב עליו קין והבל
In fact, it is not only in the Mishneh Torah that we find the phenomenon Sari discusses, but in the Guide as well. Thus, while in Guide 2:42 Maimonides tells us that the entire story of Balaam and the donkey happened in a vision, in Guide 2:6 he speaks of the movements of the donkey as if this was an actual event.[5]
With regard to the story of Cain and Abel, Shalom Rosenberg has explained how Maimonides understood it allegorically:
Cain and Abel embody two types of life which epitomize the fullest development of human potential in man before he has reached his rational level. Maimonides refers here to the legend which says that before Adam begat his third son, Seth, his children for 130 years were demons.[6] For Maimonides, there is no doubt that the demons mentioned in this legend are none but Cain and Abel. Both Cain and Abel stand, for Maimonides, as symbols of types of life which have not reached their full perfection. This is the meaning of demons. For what, after all, is a demon? A demon is created when reason and thought, which are devised for protecting man’s perfection, are exploited by all sorts of devices which produce evil consequences. Thus, Maimonides sees the existence of demons as the most widespread sort of existence, the existence of human beings who are endowed with reason, but use their reason for evil purposes. Thus, a demonic existence is that of Abel, who—as one of Maimonides’ commentators remarks—stands for the fool, or for foolishness. But Cain, too, stands for man who had arrived at many technological achievements, but the purpose of these achievements is evil. When this evil predominates, it becomes the source of murder and war. These are the devices of human reason when used for evil purposes.[7]
Herbert A. Davidson writes:
Maimonides had hinted that the scriptural story of the creation of adam has in view the bringing forth of the entire human species, in other words, mankind in general; that in the rabbinic account of the formation of Eve out of Adam’s side, the male aspect of the original Adam symbolizes the human intellect, and the female aspect, man’s nonintellectual nature; that the serpent’s temptation of Eve and Eve’s temptation of Adam are an allegory for the deflection of the human intellect by the lower faculties of the human soul; that the names of Adam’s first sons, Cain and Abel, have allegorical significance, and that there is significance in Seth’s being the son of Adam from whom the entire species is descended.[8]
In 2000 R. Nissim of Marseilles’ commentary on the Torah, Ma’aseh Nissim, ed. Kreisel, was published, and it too deals with Cain and Abel. R. Nissim states explicitly (p. 271):
וכן שלשה בני אדם: קין והבל ושת – משל. או אם נמצאו ונולדו לאדם, יש בקריאת שמותם רמז והערה לשלש שלמויות האדם.
I think everyone who reads R. Nissim’s commentary will conclude that his preference is for the first possibility, namely, the non-historicity of Adam’s three children.
* * *
1. In this post I referred to what I termed an anti-intellectual comment from R. Kook’s Shemonah Kevatzim. I noted the radical nature of this comment, as it places the Jewish masses, and their natural morality, on a higher plane than the talmudic scholars.[9] I also noted that it is not surprising that R. Zvi Yehudah, recognizing the subversive nature of the comment, did not publish it.
R. Ari Chwat called my attention to the fact that, unlike R. Zvi Yehudah, the Nazir actually published the same sort of comment in Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 2, pp. 364-365 (=Shemonah Kevatzim 1:140). While here too R. Kook speaks of how the masses need the Torah scholars, again we see that it is actually the Torah scholars who have more to learn from the masses then the reverse. Note how R. Kook privileges the masses, not only when it comes to natural morality, but in a whole host of areas. We see here how R. Kook felt that excessive book learning, with all of its details, had a negative effect on the pure Jewish soul.
הצד הבריא של היושר מצוי הוא באנשים גסים יותר ויותר ממה שהוא מצוי במלומדים ומוסריים, בעלי מחשבה. יותר מובהקים הם המלומדים בדברים הפרטיים של המוסר, בחוקיו ודקדוקיו, אבל עצם הרגשתו זאת היא מצויה באנשים בריאים טבעיים, שהם הם המון, עם הארץ. ולאו דוקא בהרגשת המוסר השרשית עולה הוא ההמון על אנשי הסגולה. גם בהרגשת האמונה, הגדלות האלהית, היופי, החושיות, הכל אשר לחיים בדרך ישרה, בלתי מסוננת על ידי הציורות המלאים שכר אגמי נפש של הדעה והחכמה הוא יותר בריא וטהור בההמון
Again I ask, is this not incredibly subversive? Since the writings of the early hasidic masters, have any of our great sages written anything that so undermines the status of the rabbinic elite? I will have more to say about this, with additional citations in R. Kook’s writings, in future installments to this series.
While not going to the extreme of R. Kook, let me mention a couple of other non-hasidic examples where book learning is “put in its place”, as it were. The late R. Mordechai Elefant told the following story: R. Chaim Ozer Grodzinski once asked R. Elijah Hayyim Meisels, the rav of Lodz, why a man of his stature didn’t publish a book. R. Elijah got up, went into the other room, and came back with ledgers full of lists of widows and orphans whom he had helped. He told R. Chaim Ozer, “This is my sefer. All my life I was like you. I thought the important thing was to write a sefer on the Rambam. But as I got older, I realized this sefer is more important.”[10]
R. Hayyim Haikel Greenberg[11] recorded the same lesson in the name of another sage:
שבעת שהיה צעיר חשב שכל העולם זהו ספרים – ועכשיו לעת זקנותו העלפען א ארימע אלמנה אוף שבת און אאידען, וויכטיקער ווי אלע ספרים.
Greenberg mentions that after publishing this he was criticized by many important rabbis, but R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg supported him:
מי כמוני שאוהב ספרים ומחברים וכל העולם שלי זהו רק ספרים – ואני אומר בפה מלא ובלב שלם יישר כח שהדפיס והעתיק זאת.
In speaking of opposition to book learning, here is a text that is simply unbelievable, and which I have never seen mentioned in the scholarly literature.
It is from Midrash ha-Gadol on Genesis (Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition). I don’t understand how the lesson is derived from the verse, but the lesson itself is clear enough: too much Torah study will lead to heresy. This is the sort of thing that one might expect to see in a medieval Catholic source, in justification of keeping the laity ignorant. Yet here we find the same attitude in a Jewish source. There are examples in rabbinic literature where we see that Torah study can have a negative result,[12] but I don’t know of any other text that is so blatant in its opposition to “excessive” Torah study. In the highly unlikely event that there are any high school students reading this who have been slacking off in Torah study, and have been challenged by their rebbe or parents to explain their inaction, see what happens if you pull out this text to explain matters.
I had seen this text a few years ago, and wanting to include it in the post I ordered the volume from interlibrary loan. The copy sent to me was from the University of Pennsylvania, and was originally found in the personal library of the late Dr. Judah Goldin. On the page we are looking at, Goldin underlined the strange passage (and also noted it on the first page of the book). On the side he added a reference to Targum Ps. Jonathan, Num. 22:5. Here it says that Balaam (who is identified with Laban) acted foolishly “from the greatness of his wisdom.” In other words, it was Balaam’s great wisdom that led to his thinking that he could curse the Israelites. Yet this passage only refers to Balaam’s general wisdom. It says nothing of Torah knowledge leading him astray.
With regard to R. Kook’s comments about the natural morality of the simple Jew, Joel Rich sent me chapter 4 of R. Soloveitchik’s Reflections of the Rav, ed. Besdin. The chapter is entitled “The Profundity of Jewish Folk Wisdom,” and is well worth reading. Yet you don’t find in R. Soloveitchik the notion expressed by R. Kook, that the natural morality of the simple Jew is superior to that of the scholar. For R. Kook, the simple Jew has something that the scholar does not have, and the scholar has that which the simple Jew lacks (halakhic knowledge). In this way, each can learn, and indeed is dependant, on the other. In dialectical fashion, the result of this will be a new type of Jew who combines in himself the best of both the scholar and the simple Jew. This is parallel to R. Kook’s discussion of the role of the non-religious. In the creation of the new Eretz Yisrael Jew the non-religious have that which is lacking among the religious, namely, the attachment to the physical world and the strength which Jews used to have when they lived on the Land, but which was forgotten during the long Exile. So the non-religious will bring that to the table, and the religious Jew will obviously bring Torah and spirituality. The result with be a synthesis of the two and the creation of an Eretz Yisrael Jew who, while being both Torah observant and spiritually enlightened will also be strong physically, able to build roads and fight wars. This is how Jews lived in days of old and how they are supposed to live when they return to the Land of Israel.
While R. Soloveitchik might have been attracted to dialectical-type thinking, there was no way that he would see the masses as having anything to give the halakhic scholar. The most the Rav speaks of in this essay is that the common man, even in his speech, reflects Torah values, but not that he is superior in any way to the learned ones.[13]
In this essay the Rav offers a beautiful interpretation of the aggadah in Niddah 30b that before birth a fetus learns all of the Torah and then forgets it when he is born:
Rabbi Simlai is apparently saying that every Jew comes into the world with a natural responsiveness to Torah teaching. Every Jew begins with a share in Torah was vested him before his birth, and, though he is made to forget it, it is preserved in the deep recesses of his soul, waiting to be awakened by study and a favorable environment. Scholars, of course, convert this latent knowledge into actual living knowledge; but the simple Jew also has a share. Some members of the Massorah[!][14] community are scholars whose knowledge is well formulated and codified, while others, though unlearned, may be endowed with inspired and intuitive Torah wisdom . . . [W]hen a Jew studies Torah, he finds it native to his spiritual personality and he responds to it readily.
R. Shalom Messas[15] also offers an interpretation of this Aggadah. According to him, it means that before birth God planted in the fetus the ability to study all of the Torah. The angel, who causes him to forget, represents the yetzer hara which distracts people from studying Torah[16]:
אלא האמת דאין כאן לא מלאך ולא שו”ד, והכל רמז ומשל בעלמא, והכוונה היא כמו שאמרנו, שבשעה שיצר השי”ת את העובר, נתן בו כחות עצומים באופן שיכול לעתיד ללמוד כל התורה אם ירצה . . . ויש בכחו ללמוד את כולה, וכשיוצא לאור העולם בא מלאך הוא הטבע, שכאשר מתחיל לצמוח מתערב עמו היצה”ר ומראה לו יופי הטבע והבריאה ונמשך אחריהם, ומעכבים עליו מללמוד תורה
This, too, is a beautiful perspective. I think people will therefore be surprised to learn that R. Messas was actually criticized by two separate authors, each of whom thought that his allegorical understanding of the Talmud was incorrect. In their opinions the Talmud should be taken literally, that the child really does know all of the Torah. Both of these authors refer to a “yeshivishe story” (with minor discrepancies between them) about how a certain baby was born knowing all the Torah, and from the moment of his birth began “talking Torah.”
I always wonder when I hear Torah knowledgeable Jews repeat such nonsense as this yeshivishe story. What does this say about the Torah they learnt that they can be so gullible? I think the best we can say is that there is a difference between having book knowledge and being wise, and it is the latter that appears to be in such short supply. R. Messas replied to one of the authors in Shemesh u-Magen, vol. 2 pp. 322ff, and here is his reply to the second one, from Shemesh u-Magen vol. 3, p. 325.
I think R. Messas deserves a lot of credit for responding in such a polite fashion. Yet I have no doubt that if you spoke to him privately about this, his words would be much harsher in reflecting on how Torah students can be so foolish in believing such nonsensical stories.[17]
2. I have often been asked if I have pictures of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. As a matter of fact I do, and here are two that I was given by Moshe Weisz of Zurich, who in the 1960’s was a student in the Montreux yeshiva. In the second picture, Weisz is the one handing Weinberg his coat.
There is actually an amazing picture of Weinberg from his time in the prisoner of war camp. I would have loved to include this in my book, but the person who showed it to me refused to allow me to do so. He didn’t think it was respectful to a great Torah sage for people see him in this state. Yet why is this disrespectful? How was Weinberg supposed to look in such circumstances? Was he supposed to have a black suit and hat? Obviously, Jews did not look their normal selves during the years of the Holocaust. Here, for instance, is a picture of the Belzer Rebbe, R. Aharon Rokeach, with R. Herzog. It appears in Shaul Maizlish, Rabanut be-Sa’arat ha-Yamim, p. 61.
The Belzer Rebbe was one of those rebbes who, for religious reasons, did not like to have pictures taken of himself. Yet because R. Herzog exerted so much effort in order to secure permission for the Rebbe to enter the Land of Israel, he agreed to have his picture taken when R. Herzog requested this. (Or Yisrael 21 [5761]. p. 257). This last source also records the following great story, told by R. Aharon about his father, the previous Rebbe R. Yissachar Dov.
פ”א דיבר מרן מוהר”א מענין זה בשם אביו זצ”ל שאמר שבספר יערות דבש כתוב דברים חריפים אודות עשיית תמונה, אבל היות שכל היהודים אינם מקפידים ע”ז אין ברצוני להיות פרוש מהם, שכלם יהיו בגיהנום ואני יחידי יהיה בגן עדן, טוב לי להיות עם כלל ישראל ביחד
(Yes, I know that someone will point out the irony of R. Yissachar Dov saying that he would rather be in gehinnom with the Jewish people when his son chose precisely the opposite course, and left the gehinnom of Europe. Here is not the place to go into this story. Suffice it to say that I find Monday morning quarterbacking very distasteful. In this case it is even worse, as R. Aharon’s children and grandchildren were all murdered.)
Here is a picture of R. Jacob Avigdor, whom I believe was a Belzer, from those difficult days (together with happier pictures).[18] Does anyone think this reduces him by showing how he looked during the Nazi years?
Incidentally, Moshe Weisz also told me about how in November 1965 Weinberg gave a hesped for four recently deceased rabbis, among them R. Yerucham Warhaftig and R. Eliezer Yehudah Finkel. These latter two were good friends of Weinberg, and Weinberg’s friendship with Finkel went back to their youth. After the eulogy Weinberg asked everyone in the room to stand up. They stood silently for around ten seconds and then he asked them to sit down. I presume this was intended as a show of respect rather than as a moment of silence, since the latter could be done sitting down.
Since I have spoken about pictures in this post, let me also include this picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. It appears courtesy of the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary, and I thank Rabbi Jerry Schwarzbard who first showed it to me a few years ago.
As you can see, it is an Israeli stamp from 1999, and it can now be added to Shnayer Leiman’s collection of stamps of rabbis.[19] Yet for some reason the stamp was never put into circulation. I have been unable to find the reason for this, and there is no mention of the stamp in Maya Balakirsky Katz’s recently published The Visual Culture of Chabad (Cambridge, 2010). There are many Lubavitchers who read the Seforim Blog. Perhaps one of you knows the story of this stamp and why it was never released.
As for Balakirsky Katz’s book, I urge Lubavitchers to read it, without preconceptions, and offer their opinions. It appears, to me at least, to be a quite interesting book. I stress the need for no preconceptions since Balakirsky Katz has now been placed by Lubavitchers in the “enemy camp”, along with other contemporary authors such as R. David Zvi Hillman z”l, David Kamenetsky, David Berger, Bryan Mark Rigg, David Assaf, Menachem Friedman, and Samuel Heilman. Balakirsky Katz angered Chabad with her recent article in the AJS Review 34 (2010; “An Occupational Neurosis: A Psychoanalytic Case History of a Rabbi”), and this article is summarized in the new book (but is only a very small part of the book). She argued that the Rebbe R. Shalom Dov Baer Schneersohn (Rashab) was the rabbi who visited the psychoanalyst Wilhelm Stekel in 1903. In those meetings the rabbi spoke about being sexually molested from his youth until his marriage. He also told about his sexual dreams and how he masturbated,[20] and described how his own brother carried on an improper relationship with his (i.e., the rabbi’s) wife (although it does not appear to have led to actual adultery).
I understand that Lubavitchers will regard Balakirsky Katz’s argument as beneath contempt. They will also regard as scandalous the fact that her essay was published in such a prestigious journal as AJS Review. I would not even ask them to dignify the argument with a response, any more than a non-Lubavitcher should be asked to respond to such claims about a close family member; for a hasid, the feelings for a Rebbe are just like those of a close relative. Yet there is a lot more to the book than the few pages dealing with the rabbi and Stekel, and I wonder how Habad insiders will appraise the rest of what she says.
Appendix
It is common to hear among YU figures the expression “hakhmei ha-mesorah,” referring to authoritative rabbinic spokesmen. Readers can correct me if I am mistaken, but I don’t think that this expression, with the meaning currently applied to it, is part of the traditional rabbinic vocabulary. I also don’t recall ever seeing it in haredi writing. (When the words appear in rabbinic literature they refer to Masoretes.) The first mention of it that I know of appears in R. Soloveitchik’s famous attack on R. Emanuel Rackman regarding nullification of marriage. Needless to say, the expression makes an appearance in R. Schachter’s new book, Divrei ha-Rav. See e.g., p. 233.
This latter reference is part of an article that R. Schachter earlier published in Beit Yitzhak 38 (2006). The reprint in Divrei ha-Rav has two changes from the original. On p. 237 a sentence is added, according to which the Rav stated that in Europe he never heard the expression “Daas Torah.” The second change is that one entire paragraph, on pages 5-6, has been removed. Here is the paragraph.
From this paragraph we see that the Rav’s strong personal opposition to prayer in a synagogue without a mechitzah was not shared by all other rabbis, and that the Rav was willing to show some flexibility in this matter. The case discussed here was not like the other times that the Rav gave permission for a rabbi to take a position at a synagogue without a mechitzah. In those cases the heter was for a rabbinic appointment designed to be for a few years, and during that time the rabbi was supposed to try to convince the synagogue to install a mechitzah. The issue discussed in the Beit Yitzhak article was simply a High Holiday position at a non-mechitzah synagogue in order to make some money.
This paragraph provides important testimony that can balance some of the Rav’s more strident statements in this matter. If anyone can get a straight answer from R. Schachter as to why the paragraph has been removed, please share it with us. I would hate to think that we have here an example of revisionism—in other words, R. Schachter decided to delete the paragraph because he concluded that it is best that people not know this information, or he was responding to others who criticized him for including the paragraph.
With regard to the larger issue of how R. Schachter presents the Rav, Lawrence Kaplan has already noted that there are revisionist aspects of R. Schachter’s presentation of the Rav’s legacy. See his “Revisionism and the Rav,” Judaism, summer 1999, available here.
One aspect of this revisionism that Kaplan does not mention is that while Nefesh ha-Rav has an entire chapter on the State of Israel, there is no mention of the Rav’s view—which was expressed on a number of occasions, as well as publicly before hundreds of people—that there is no halakhic prohibition for Israel to return land to the Arabs.
It certainly says something about the transformation of American Orthodoxy in the last generation that R. Schachter became the one to carry on the Rav’s legacy. Unlike the Rav, R. Schachter is a talmudist and posek, and has no involvement with the broader philosophical and cultural issues of Western Civilization. Yet despite this, he is, by far, the most important and influential rabbi in Modern and Centrist Orthodoxy. When it comes to matters of halakhah, I wonder if there is anyone in the American haredi world who can compare to his wide-ranging knowledge. I have heard him in person and on tape many times, and I continue to be amazed at how he can speak for long periods, without notes, on literally any topic of halakhah. I have never seen anything like it. It is all at his fingertips, and he presents it in a fashion that keeps the audience’s attention. As for the liberal Orthodox, who oppose R. Schachter because of his strong stand against feminist innovations, even they must applaud his leading role in dealing with husbands who refuse to give their wives gittin. This has earned him the opprobrium of the Orthodox lunatic fringe, and one member of this group, Abraham Samuel Judah Gestetner, who styles himself a dayan, has even placed R. Schachter in herem (together with two well-known California rabbis). See here.
Gestetner is also the author of the ridiculous book Megilat Plaster, which attempts to show that R. Jacob Emden’s Megilat Sefer is a forgery perpetrated by the evil maskilim. Here is the title page.
His argument is completely demolished by R. Menachem Mendel Goldstein in Etz Hayyim (Bobov), no. 8(Shevat 5769), pp. 239-266. (Goldstein resides in that bastion of Haskalah known as Kiryas Yoel.). On the very first page of his article, Goldstein complains that the various publishers of Emden’s Megilat Sefer did not consult with gedolei Yisrael in order to determine what should have been censored. In other words, he takes it as a given that the masses need to be protected from what Emden has to say.
הספר מגילת ספר נדפס על ידי אינשי דלא מעלי שאין רוח חכמים נוחה מהם, ולא נתיעצו בגדולי חכמי ורבני דור דור האיך ומה להדפיס ומה להשמיט
To be continued.
[1] There is still a good deal more I plan to say about the whole Garden of Eden story. For now, let me respond to one question. We have seen the medieval philosophical approach that the episode with the snake is to be understood allegorically, and the snake represents the evil inclination. A few people want to know if we can find such an approach in Hazal. I actually think we can. In Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 13 (referred to by Maimonides in Guide 2:30), it mentions that the serpent had a rider, Samael (Satan). Since at least some of the Sages identify Satan with the evil inclination, this opens the possibility that the snake in our story is also to be understood this way. Yet I think that most of the Sages probably understood the passage literally. For one example, see Bereishit Rabbah 19:1, where R. Hoshaya states that the snake stood up like a reed, and that he had feet. Whereas the medieval philosophers were reluctant to take literally a text that spoke of a talking snake (and donkey), this did not seem to bother the talmudic Sages.
[2] A fuller discussion of Hirschensohn’s view of evolution will appear in a future post. In the meantime, see his Seder la-Mikra, vol. 1, pp. 76-77:
אין השיטה הדארוונית מתנגדת כלל להתורה בדבר הבריאה בששה ימים, כי הימים בעצמם כל אחד הוא יום שכלו אורך תקופה שלמה . . . כי עדיין לא הי’ עוד השמש לאור יומם לראשון השני והשלישי ובכל זאת נקראים ימים וגם אחרי בריאת המאורות לא ידענו כמה לקח זמן התפתחותם לאותות למועדים לימים ושנים שלנו, ואריכת ימי בראשית לא נדע לנו שכל יום הוא תקופה שלמה
In another twenty years, I wonder if the younger generation will believe us when we tell them that Hirschensohn’s position was accepted throughout the haredi world, and was standard fare in the kiruv movement and in “science vs. Torah” discussions. There was a time when I, and so many others, would never have believed that “young earth” fundamentalism could ever become a binding principle of faith in the wider haredi world, precisely because it would mean rejecting a position that had been so central to the haredi Torah-science reconciliation.
[3] Link”Rationalism and Rabbinic Culture,” pp. 240ff.
[4] Mesorah le-Yosef 4 (2005), p. 183.
[5] This point was noted by Kaplan, Link”Rationalism,” p. 300 n. 225.
[6] See Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, p. 111.
[7] Good and Evil in Jewish Thought (Tel Aviv, 1989), p. 63.
[8] Moses Maimonides (Oxford, 2005), p. 407.
[9] See also my post here where I noted R. Itzele of Ponevezh’s statement that how the Jewish masses feel is more important than what the rabbis think: וכלל ישראל הוא גבוה ונעלה מגדולי התורה . This is obviously diametrically opposed to the haredi conception of Da’as Torah. In my Torah in Motion lectures I discussed how R. Itzele’s conception parallels the Catholic notion of “sense of the faithful.”
In addition to the passages of R. Kook referred to in my earlier post, there are many other sources that one could quote. One that comes immediately to mind is Haym Soloveitchik’s understanding of medieval Jews committing suicide. He sees this as an example of the “sense of the faithful” which was not in line with established halakhah, but which ex post facto had to be justified. Even the murder of one’s children to prevent them from being forcibly apostatized could not be judged according to halakhic texts, or else people regarded as kedoshim would lose this status, an untenable possibility under the circumstances of medieval Jewish life. See ‘Religious Law and Change: The Medieval Ashkenazic Example,’ AJS Review 12 (1987), pp. 205-221. Soloveitchik writes (p. 209):
The magnitude of this halakhic breach is enormous. Whether one is permitted to suffer voluntary martyrdom is highly questionable; suicide is forbidden beyond question, and the permissibility of murder needs no discussion. Thus, if the law were to be followed, the scholars of these communities would have had to rule that all the martyrs—qedoshim, or “holy ones,” as they were called—were not only not “holy,” but they were “self-killers,” and murderers; that not only should they not be buried with honor, but perhaps they should even be denied burial, or at best be buried in the far end of the cemetery where the most vile criminals are interred. Such a conclusion, needless to say, was an emotional impossibility.
After speaking of the “sense of the faithful,”—or what Jacob Katz and Soloveitchik describe as “ritual instinct,” “religious intuition,” and “religious sense”—this article concludes with a couple of paragraphs that I think readers will find very interesting:
I remember my own shock when, after studying Yoreh Deah, I realized that there is no need for separate milk and meat dishtowels, separate dishracks or cabinets, and that if food is served cold, there is no need for separate dishware altogether. Again, there is all the difference in the world between not having hamets in the house (בל יראה ובל ימצא) and the house being what we call pesahdiq.
The simple truth is that the traditional Jewish kitchen and pre-Passover preparations have little to do with halakhic dictates. They have been immeasurably and unrecognizably amplified by popular religious intuition. We all know this, but our religious sense, our religious experience belies this knowledge, and our instincts reject this fact out of hand. To serve cold cuts on a “dairy” dish is treif—everything in Yoreh Deah to the contrary notwithstanding.
The prevalent has not here expanded the normative, it is the normative, and anything less is inconceivable.
Upon hearing one of my TIM lectures, R. Yonasan Rosman sent me a nice example of how the “sense of the faithful” operates independently of, and sometimes even in opposition to, halakhic particulars. It comes from Making of a Godol, p. 1188:
My father also was fond of quoting an interpretation of the Mozhirer Maggid, R. Shmuel Rabinowitz, of the gemara in Massekheth Brakhoth that
כנור היה תלוי למעלה ממטתו של דוד וכו’ ומנגן מאליו
(a fiddle hung above the bed of King David, etc., and it played on its own) to mean that Jewry senses what policy is vital for its existence and does not probe whether the course of action (or inaction) is halakhically sound or not. One of the several examples he gave was by asking rhetorically, “Who gave the Slabodka Yeshiva bahurim the halakhic permission [היתר] to marry at so late an age?” and in answer, he paraphrased the gemara (which he translated into Yiddish), “און דער פידעלע שפילט פון זיך אליין (and the little fiddle plays on its own.”) He was out to prove that when some position is of crucial importance to Jewry—such as increasing the number of intelligent Jews getting in more years of Torah study before going off into their occupations—halakhic minutiae are set aside.
It is precisely sources like this, and the others I have quoted, that are crucial for anyone wishing to challenge the pan-halakhic understanding of Judaism that has taken root in Centrism.
(Regarding yeshiva students marrying later, see R. Shlomo Sofer, Hut ha-Meshulash [Munkacs, 1894], p. 7b, that in late eighteenth-century Frankfurt, yeshiva students would sometimes wait until age thirty to marry.)
[10] For R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg’s essay on Meisels, see Seridei Esh, vol. 4, pp. 345-352.
[11] See Ahiezer: Kovetz Rabani-Torani, vol. 4 (1969), p. 17.
[12] Sotah 21b states: “R. Eliezer says: Whoever teaches his daughter Torah teaches her obscenity. . . . Read, rather: as though he had taught her obscenity” Rashi explains: שמתוכה היא מבינה ערמומית ועושה דבריה בהצנע
Meiri, Sotah 20a explains (and as with the Ralbag quoted in a prior post, apologies to the women reading): שמתוך הבנתה ביתר מגדרה היא קונה ערמימות מעט, ואין שכלה מספיק להבנה הראויה והיא סבורה שהשיגה ומקשקשת בפעמון להראות את חכמתה לכל
[13] There are, of course, many other differences between R. Soloveitchik and R. Kook. From the excerpt printed in The Rav Thinking Aloud, pp. 155-156, we see that the Rav regarded R. Kook as a saintly figure, but not as an intellectual great. Yet this impression was derived from one short conversation. All the gedolim who knew R. Kook had the exact opposite impression. They correctly saw that R. Kook was a master of the entire Torah, in all of its facets. I think you have to go back to Maharal, or perhaps even Nahmanides, to find such a wide-ranging Torah scholar as R. Kook.
Experts on the Rav’s writings can correct me, but the only place I recall where he mentions R. Kook is in On Repentance, p. 161 (and this was not actually published by the Rav himself, but by Pinchas Peli). See incidentally, ibid., p. 224, where the Rav states, referring to the State of Israel: “Bondage to the State can also become idolatry.” When this appeared in 1975, in the original Hebrew edition Al ha-Teshuvah, R. Zvi Yehudah Kook responded with a very sharp statement (later reprinted in Le-Hilkhot Tzibbur):
The Rav in turn said about R. Zvi Yehudah: “If you follow the philosophy of Tzvi Hirsch [!] Kook a Jew outside of Eretz Yisrael is a non-Jew. And this is exactly against the passuk of כי לי כל הארץ. A Jew outside of Eretz Yisrael can be a perfect Jew. Where you accomplish more is up to the individual. . . . Kook comes out with the Ramban [who says that mitzvah observance in the Diaspora is not at the same level as in the Land of Israel] as if he is the only one to whom the Ramban has entrusted the text.” The Rav Thinking Aloud, pp. 225, 229. See also, ibid., p. 154, where he says that R. Zvi Yehudah “has an aura of kedushah about him.”
[14] See Appendix.
[15] Introduction to his Tevuot Shemesh, Even ha-Ezer, and Shemesh u-Magen, vol. 2, p. 321.
[16] See also Maharsha, Niddah 30b.
[17] With regard to what else fetuses are said to be doing in the womb (aside from learning Torah), there is a very strange passage in Otzar ha-Geonim, Berakhot 28b (p. 71). I hesitate to elaborate on it lest this post be blocked by internet filters:
כשאדם כורע במודים צריך לו לכרוע עד ברכיו לפי שהילד בעודו במעי אמו ראשו מונח בין שתי יריכיו והמילה שלו בתוך פיו ובעבור זה צריך לשוח עד ברכיו.
[18] The picture comes from Esther Farbstein’s Be-Seter Ra’am (Jerusalem, 2002).
[19] See here.
[20] With regard to masturbation, R. Simcha Ross called my attention to the responsum printed here by an unnamed talmid hakham. He argues that masturbation is permissible. When Rabbi Ross first alerted me to this (and also expressed his disagreement with the arguments of the author), I thought this was some sort of Purim Torah. But then I examined the responsum, and other responsa on the site, and I could see pretty quickly that this was a serious man, whose arguments were carefully thought out. There are so many books published today that simply repeat what others have said, without offering anything new, that it is a pleasure to see original thinking, Based on his permission to masturbate, he also concludes that homosexual activity is permissible, as long as there is no mishkav zakhur. See here.
(This anonymous author has also placed on his website his commentary on R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz’s Birkat Shmuel, and also many posts discussing talmudic sugyot.)
I showed this responsum to someone. Yet instead of examining the arguments, all he was interested in was the identity of the author, who, as can be seen from various responsa on the site, is clearly from the haredi world. Maybe some readers know who he is, but I think that someone like this has to be in “deep cover.” We all know how the powers that be would destroy anyone who argued that masturbation is permissible. Since this involves a halakhic matter, I am certain the response would be even more severe than how they dealt with Slifkin and Kamenetsky. This talmid hakham would be branded not merely a heretic and a Reformer, but also a sexually dissolute degenerate. So yes, I understand why the author chooses to remain anonymous. My request to readers is as follows: The argument permitting masturbation is so far removed from anything I have ever seen that I would like those with more halakhic learning than myself to examine his teshuvah and let us know if you think there is anything to his argument.
Also, please look at other material on his site. Is it possible that instead of a “progressive” talmid hakham we are dealing here with a Trojan Horse? That is, someone who aims to undermine traditional Judaism from within, much like Saul Berlin attempted to do.


New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 3

|
New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 3

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.
As I have dealt in this post with Maimonides and the Genesis story, it is as good a time as any to mention what I believe it to be an error that is repeated very often. I saw it most recently in Nathan Aviezer’s article “When Torah and Science Collide” (Tradition, Fall 2009). He writes as follows:

Did God create the universe? Seemingly a simple question, with the answer given in the very first verse of the Torah. Not so, writes Rambam (Guide 2:25), asserting that Torah hashkafa does not require one to believe that God created the universe. But what about the first chapter of Bereshit, which clearly states that God did create the universe? Rambam writes that one may interpret this chapter metaphorically, as an allegory that never happened, because “the paths of interpretation are not closed to us.”

What Maimonides actually says in Guide 2:25 is that it is a religious requirement to believe that God created the universe. He goes so far as to say that if it could somehow be proven that God did not create the universe, this would give the lie to miracles and Torah itself. In Maimonides’ words: “If the philosophers would succeed in demonstrating eternity as Aristotle understands it, the Law as a whole would become void.” In other words, Torah Judaism stands or falls on this issue, for acceptance of Aristotle’s view means the end of miracles, prophecy, and Torah. Fortunately for Rambam, he believes that eternity of the universe cannot be proven, because if it could be proven, that would be the end of Torah Judaism.[1]

What else does Maimonides say in this chapter? He says two things. 1. If Plato’s view, that the world was created from eternal matter,[2] were to be proven, then this would not destroy the Torah, and in fact the Torah could be interpreted in accordance with this.[3] 2. Even Aristotelian eternity of the world could be reinterpreted in accordance with the biblical verses, just as the verses that speak of God’s corporeality are reinterpreted. This is the context in which Maimonides says that “the paths of interpretation are not closed to us.” Maimonides then explains that because of this, we do not reject eternity of the world because of the simple meaning of the biblical verses (which could be reinterpreted). Rather, we reject it because 1. It has not been proven (and indeed Maimonides does not think that it can be proven). 2. Eternity of the world destroys the foundation of the Torah.

In truth, Aviezer’s understanding is not unique to him but is shared by many. They all assume that if Aristotelian eternity was proven, Maimonides would then reinterpret the Torah in accordance with this, for he says that he is indeed able to do so. This viewpoint is held by some of the top Maimonides scholars alive today. From greats of previous years who hold this position, I can add R. Elijah Benamozegh:[4]

ומה מאד הפריז על המדה הרמב”ם שכתב במורה (ח”ב פרק כה) שאלו נתבאר הקדמות במופת הגיוני היינו מחויבים לפרש הכתובים באופן שלא יכחישו המופת
Centuries earlier, Ralbag advanced the same (what I believe to be incorrect) viewpoint.[5] See Milhamot ha-Shem 6:2:1:
גם כן אמר שאם היה מתבאר חיוב קדמות העולם מדרך העיון שכבר יוכרח לפרש מה שבא בתורה שיראה חולק עם זה הדעת באופן שיאות אל העיון.
As I mentioned, all Maimonides says is that if eternity is proven, the words of the Torah could be reinterpreted to accord with eternity. But according to Maimonides, there would be no reason for doing so. This is so for if eternity could somehow be proven, that would be the end of Judaism, as it would be the end of both miracles and divine providence and thus no possibility of a revelation of the Torah. Thankfully, Maimonides believes that eternity cannot be proven.

I don’t understand why so many scholars—whose knowledge of Maimonides is much greater than mine— interpret this chapter to mean that Maimonides would accept Aristotelian eternity when he says specifically that he wouldn’t. (Again, I am speaking of the exoteric meaning of Maimonides’ words, not about any esoteric interpretation of Maimonides.) When I challenged a number of these scholars on this point, they all acknowledged that Maimonides doesn’t actually say that he would accept eternity. However, in defense of what they wrote they stated that if eternity really was proven, what choice then would Maimonides have? He would have to reinterpret the Torah to agree with eternity since we can never imagine him rejecting the Torah. In this, I agree with them. Faced with the reality that eternity has been proven, and despite what he says in Guide 2:25, he would be forced to reinterpret the Torah. Of this, I have no doubt, simply because Maimonides was a very religious man and I can’t imagine him living without the Torah. Yet my point is that he does not say this in the Guide. In fact, he says the exact opposite, that the Torah cannot co-exist with eternity.[6]
Since I have mentioned Aviezer’s article, let me discuss some other things he says. Aviezer writes:

[Stephen J.] Gould was preceded in this approach by Galileo, who is credited with the famous aphorism: “The Bible teaches us how to go to heaven, whereas science teaches us how the heavens go.” (I can’t believe that Galileo really said these words because, while snappy in English, they make no sense in Latin or Italian.)
I don’t know on what basis Aviezer insists that these words don’t make sense in Latin or Italian. If someone said them in Latin or Italian, why shouldn’t they make sense? In fact, the original text is Italian, and is found in Galileo’s “Letter to Grand Duchess Christina.” In it, Galileo writes:

I would say here something that was heard from an ecclesiastic of the most eminent degree [Cardinal Baronius]: ‘That the intention of the Holy Ghost is to teach us how one goes to heaven, not how heaven goes.’”[7]

Here is the original Italian, and one can indeed see that the words are snappy:

“Io qui direi che quello che intesi da persona ecclesiastica, costituita in eminentissimo grado, ciò è l’intenzione delle Spirito Santo essere d’insegnarci come si vadia al cielo, e non come vadia il cielo.”

Even Pope John Paul II adapted this saying, in a passage that looks like it could have been written by R. Hirsch,[8] R. Kook, or R Natan Slifkin:

The Bible itself speaks to us of the origin of the universe and its make-up, not in order to provide us with a scientific treatise, but in order to state the correct relationships of man with God and with the universe. Sacred scripture wishes simply to declare that the world was created by God, and in order to teach this truth it expresses itself in the terms of the cosmology in use at the time of the writer. The Sacred Book likewise wishes to tell men that the world was not created as the seat of the gods, as was taught by other cosmogonies and cosmologies, but was rather created for the service of man and the glory of God. Any other teaching about the origin and make-up of the universe is alien to the intentions of the Bible, which does not wish to teach how heaven was made but how one goes to heaven.[9]

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, whose prolific writing continues to astound, has recently said the same thing: “There is a difference between science and religion. Science is about explanation. Religion is about interpretation. The Bible simply isn’t interested in how the universe came into being.”[10] R. Chaim Navon put the matter as follow[11]:

התורה אינה מתעניינת במידע מדעי, אלא בערכים רוחניים. לא כך כך אכפת לתורה מנוסחאות מדעיות; אכפת לה הרבה יותר מדרכי התנהגותו של האדם, מאורחות חייו ובעיקר מעבודתו של האדם את בוראו. משום כך, לא כל כך חשוב לדעת האם האדם היה שייך פעם לעולם החיות; מה שחשוב באמת הוא האם האדם הצליח להיחלץ משם.

In other words, the Torah has nothing to tell us when it comes to science. Therefore, there can be no such thing as a conflict between Torah and science.[12] With such an approach, all of the reconciliations between science and the Book of Genesis (e.g., a “day” is really an eon, the dinosaurs are from prior worlds, etc.), which for awhile were popular in Orthodoxy, are really missing the point. The old apologetics assumed that the Torah was in accord with science, and was even teaching scientific truths. It was just that we had to read the text differently than it had been read until now. Yet as with R. Kook, from Sacks’ and Navon’s perspective the creation story is a myth, namely, a tale designed to impart cosmic truths.[13] Although this position has been argued most forcefully by Slifkin, and has found a very receptive audience at synagogues (as I can attest, having tag-teamed with Slifkin as scholars-in-residence), are there any high schools that teach the Creation story in this fashion?

Returning to Aviezer, he writes:

But what about the geocentric theory of the solar system? Wasn’t that scientific theory universally believed for nearly 1500 years, until finally shown by Copernicus and Galileo to be wrong and then replaced by the very different heliocentric theory? The answer is “no!” The geocentric theory was not a scientific theory at all; it was pure theology, unsupported by any scientific evidence. The theory was universally accepted for over a millennium on religious grounds alone. The beliefs of the Church demanded that man’s place must be at the center of the universe.

This is completely incorrect. First of all, the Ptolemaic system of geocentrism was as much science as the Copernican system, and had nothing to do with theology.[14] Secondly, geocentrism long predates the second-century Ptolemy. Aristotle himself was a geocentrist, and in Aristotle’s view, the most important part of the world is not the center! “For the medieval mind, under the influence of Aristotle, the earth as the center of the world was not a position of honor. On the contrary, as Prof. Lovejoy put it, it was ‘the place farthest removed from the Empyrean, the bottom of creation, to which its dregs and baser elements sank. The actual center, indeed, was Hell; in the spatial sense, the medieval world was literally diabolocentric.’”[15]

Aviezer “blames” geocentrism on the Church, and yet Maimonides (and every other Jewish and Islamic thinker of his day) was a geocentrist. Maimonides also had a strong anti-anthropocentric view, as he did not regard man as the central purpose of the universe. This view of Maimonides was an important source for Norman Lamm in his famous article “The Religious Implications of Extraterrestrial Life.” [16] Only those who are convinced that they are the center of the universe would be troubled by the discovery of other inhabited worlds, and that is why Maimonides’ outlook came in so handy for Lamm.

Returning to Maimonides and creation, I want to call attention to a very interesting article by R Meir Triebitz. It appears in Reshimu, vol. 1 no. 2 (2008), the journal of the so-called Hashkafa Circle. See here.

As explained in the preface to the first volume, this “Circle” aims to fill a gap in haredi yeshiva education by focusing on the classics of medieval Jewish philosophy which are pretty much ignored in contemporary haredi society. We thus have a situation where great talmudists and halakhists ignore major themes of Jewish philosophy, which were dealt with at length by the medieval sages. When there are theological discussions in haredi literature, they invariably reflect a very conservative position, often at variance with the major rishonim. I already touched on this issue in my conclusion to The Limits of Orthodox Theology, and if Triebitz and his group are successful this situation could be reversed.

However, they won’t be successful for the simple reason that the outlook of the medieval Jewish philosophers is opposed in so many ways to haredi ideology that it will never become part of the haredi curriculum. In fact, I don’t think it is possible to be a serious student of medieval Jewish philosophy and at the same time identify with any of the regnant haredi worldviews. (You might dress the part and send your children to haredi schools, but that is not the same thing as identifying with a worldview.) This is so for many reasons, primary of which is that medieval Jewish philosophy is about the search for truth. The papal model of haredi society, where the quest for truth is subordinated to the dictates of the religious authority figure, is diametrically opposed to what our great medieval philosophers taught.

Furthermore, the haredi notion that contemporary gedolim can sit in judgment of the views of the Rambam and other greats, and determine that their views are no longer “acceptable”, will be rejected out of hand by all followers of the philosophic tradition. It is therefore not surprising that when Artscroll was presented with a plan to publish Maimonides’ Guide in English, the response was a resounding no, with the explanation given that the Guide should not be found in a haredi home.[17]

Until now, three issues of Reshimu have been published, all available on its website, and it is refreshing to see haredi writers grappling with important philosophical problems. While in many cases the writers are unaware of basic academic studies in these areas, and the journals could be edited in a better fashion (eliminating typos and stylistic problems), there is a great deal to learn from some of the essays. This is especially the case for Rabbi Triebitz, who because of his wide-ranging knowledge and keen insight deserves to be better known. I encourage all to read his articles and those who have time can also watch numerous videos of his shiurim here.

In his article referred to above, Triebitz offers a commentary on Guide 2:13, where Maimonides discusses the various views of creation. It is a very challenging essay which, unless I have overlooked an academic article, presents a new perspective, not an easy task in Maimonidean scholarship. In this essay Triebitz takes his place with the esoteric readers of Maimonides. He concludes that Maimonides does not really believe in creation ex nihilo, since for Maimonides this is a mental concept, not a scientific fact. From a scientific perspective, Maimonides adopts Aristotle’s view of the eternity of the world, but this is not something that could be communicated to the non-sophisticated reader. However, those who grasp what Maimonides is saying will realize that “Creation ex nihilo is not a contending theory of creation . . . but rather a product of man’s thought which introduces a dimension other than the objective physical world pictured by Aristotelian physics.” (p. 145)

Needless to say, this approach of Triebitz also turns Maimonides’ fourth principle, which insists on creation ex nihilo (including the creation of time), into a “necessary belief.” Here is another selection from the essay:

Rambam is therefore intimating that in order to posit God’s complete incorporeality it is necessary to extend the physical world ad infinitum. Since physical infinity is impossible, it is time which must be infinite. Monotheism demands eternity. Law and ethics, however, are based upon Divine free will and Divine free will in turn demands creation ex nihilo. Since creation ex nihilo, as Rambam has already pointed out, cannot have taken place at any time, it cannot be a theory of creation. The antinomy between eternity theories, particularly Aristotle’s, and the irreducible creation ex nihilo is in fact no other than the dichotomy between ontology and ethics (p. 161).

Triebitz returns to Maimonides and creation in Reshimu vol. 1 no. 3 (2009) and once again explains that in his opinion Maimonides doesn’t really believe in creation ex nihilo.

As a consequence, while Rambam’s discussion of creation begins by asserting that the opinion of Torat Moshe is that the world was created by God ex nihilo, by the time that discussion concludes eighteen chapters later (II. 30), he makes the subtle point, casually dropped as if merely incidental, that one of the terms referring to creation in the Torah (qinyan, qeil qoneh) itself “tends toward the road of the belief in . . . eternity” (71b/358). To the astute ear honed to his method of paradoxical exposition, the underlying thrust is clear: He begins with the assertion he believes to be obvious and most fundamental—namely, creatio ex nihilo—after which, following long diversions, he introduces the contrary premise—creatio continua aeterna—by which time the less aware, less initiated reader will likely not notice the subtle discrepancy and the controversial nuance therein entailed: that creation ex nihilo is not creation in time, chiddush nifla. (p. 82)[18]

I now want to return to the Creation story, and how some have argued that it should not be taken literally. I dealt with this in my previous posts and received some e-mails by people referring to other sources that say so, including R. Gedaliah Nadel. I am grateful for all the e-mails, but the reason I didn’t mention these sources, including R. Nadel, is because all of these sources are well known. Since I was not trying to write a comprehensive study of approaches to creation, I didn’t see any need to cite them. In general, my posts here are not like my articles or books, in that I am trying to call attention to interesting ideas and texts, rather than producing complete studies of any topic.

Yet since people are obviously interested in this topic, and took the time to send me the sources, let me thank you by citing a source that has never been referred to in all of the discussions of creation and biblical literalism. It is R. Shlomo Zalman Shag’s Imrei Shlomo, published in Frankfurt in 1866. (I have transliterated his last name as “Shag”, since that is how the Harvard catalog has it.) Here is the title page, where you can see that he identifies himself as a student of R. Isaac of Volozhin.

Worthy of note is that among the subscribers one finds, right next to each other on the list, R. Marcus Lehmann, Abraham Geiger, and Ludwig Philipson.

On p. 5 Shag refers to the trees in the Garden of Eden and the snake and says that it is obvious that none of this can be taken literally:

ואם נקח הפרשה הזאת במאזני השכל, ונפלס את הדברים נראה בעליל שהוא רק דברי רמז וחידה, וכפשוטו לא יכנסו כלל בגדר השכל.

On page 10 he explains how the snake represents the evil inclination, an identification pretty standard among the medievals, and he beautifully explains the connection between the two:

והנחש הוא היצר הרע והתאוה . . . היצה”ר נמשל לנחש מה הנחש כשהולך להזיק אינו ברעש ובהלה רק זוחל על הארץ בלחש ומזיק כן הוא היצר הוא בא לאדם בעצה ותחבולה ומראה עצמו כאוהב עד שיפתה, ואח”כ רובץ על צווארי בני אדם כנחש הסובב על הדבר מכל צדדיו.

On p. 21 he even understands the Tower of Babel in non-literal fashion:

ונאמר לראות את העיר ואת המגדל. את העיר זו יושבי העיר כמו העיר ננוה, העיר שושן, הכונה הוא על יושביה, והמגדל הוא המעשים שעשו, נגד רצון השי”ת, כי הם היו מתגאים לעשות להם שם בארץ. והשי”ת שונא גאים ומשפיל אותם, לכן ויפץ ה’ אותם משם על פני כל הארץ.

There have been many understandings of the Tower of Babel, and I don’t want to go into that now, but let me at least mention one of the strangest interpretations out there. R. Menachem Tziyoni (fifteenth century), in his commentary on the episode, claims that the Tower was actually a flying object[19]:

והמגדל הוא הפורח באויר אשר ראו בשמים

At least this is how Tziyoni is usually understood. Yet it is possible that it is not to be taken literally, and I found a post that says precisely this. See here.

Pre-modern man had many stories of those who were able to rise above the ground, either by flying or being transported by God. We find this in Jewish literature as well. See, for example, Bereishit Rabbah 44:8 which focuses on the words in Gen. 15:5 ויוצא אותו החוצה. What does it mean that God brought Abraham outside? The Midrash first quotes R. Joshua in the name of R. Levi:”Did he then lead him forth outside of the world . . . It means, however, that He showed him the streets of heaven.” In response to this R. Judah b. R. Simeon said in the name of R. Johanan: “He lifted him up above the vault of heaven.” Seen in context, as a response to R. Joshua’s explanation, it seems to me that R. Judah b. R. Simeon’s statement must be understood literally. In other words, Abraham was literally transported into the Heavens. See Etz Yosef ad loc: ס”ל דהחוצה כמשמעו שהוא ממש חוץ לעולם

The most famous example of human flight in Jewish literature is that of Jesus. As described in Toledot Yeshu, Jesus was able to use God’s holy name in order to fly, and was brought down by Judas Iscariot who could also fly and defiled Jesus (which caused Jesus to lose his special powers). According to one tradition, he defiled Jesus by urinating on him, but another version has him engaging in homosexual sex while in the air, which in context certainly means rape.

וטנפו במשכב זכור . . . שטנפו במשכב זכור וכיון שטנפו ונפל הזרע על יש”ו הרשע נטמאו שניהם ונפלו לארץ שניהם כאחד

Incidentally, according to Toldot Yeshu this explains why Judas Iscariot is so hated in Christianity:

וכל חכמי הגוים יודעים סוד זה וכופרין אותו ומקללים ומחרימים יהודה אסקריוטו

See Samuel Krauss, Das Leben Jesu nach Juedischen Quellen (Berlin, 1902), pp. 48, 74.

As Morris Goldstein has noted, the second century Acts of Peter describes how Simon Magus flew over Rome, astounding all the onlookers. But Peter, through his prayer to God, was able to force Simon down, a crash landing that caused him to break his leg.[20]

Samael (Satan) can also fly, at least so we are told in the Targum to Job 28:7: סמאל דפרח היך עופא

This should not surprising as according to Isaiah 6:2 the Seraphim fly (with wings), and Hagigah 16a tells us that both angels and demons fly (also with wings).

Midrashic texts speak of two Egyptian magicians who created wings for themselves that enabled them to fly.[21] Rabbinic sources also tell us that Balaam knew how to fly.[22]

With reference to Jesus, it is interesting to note that many Jews actually believed that he performed wonders. However, they attributed it to his knowledge of God’s holy name. Why didn’t they simply assume that all the stories about him were fiction, as modern Jews do? I think the answer is that since all of their neighbors believed the stories, and the miracles Jesus performed are said to have been done before crowds of people, many Jews therefore assumed that these tales must be historically accurate.

In general, it is a common pre-modern assumption that if a group of people, even a group from generations ago, claimed to have witnessed something, that this is a sign that it indeed took place. Today, however, we know how false this argument is. We can cite many examples of mass delusion, not to mention the fact that stories of what people in previous generations witnessed are not actually examples of many people testifying to something, but of one person, the writer, claiming as much.

The stories of Jesus that are found in Toldot Yeshu do not appear in the Talmud, but there are other stories of him found there. However, these stories place Jesus a good 150 years before he actually lived. I say this because the Talmud identifies Jesus as a student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah, who lived circa 120 BCE. In Nahmanides’ disputation, paragraphs 22, 57, he points out that the Christians are wrong on their dates. (R. Judah Halevi, Kuzari 3:65 mentions that Jesus was the student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah and says nothing about the chronological problem. The standard Hebrew edition of the Kuzari is censored [self-censored?], but the reference to Jesus can be seen in the original Arabic published in Kafih’s edition, and also in Hirschfeld’s English translation.)

Others, such as R. Jehiel of Paris in his debate, used the chronological discrepancy to argue not that the Christians are wrong on their dates, but that the Jesus of the Talmud is not Jesus of Nazareth. I used to think that no one actually believed this, but resorted to this argument because it was a good way to deflect the Christian attacks that the Talmud defamed Jesus. However, I recently saw that Tosafot ha-Rosh, Sotah 47a, in a completely non-apologetic comment, assumes that the Talmud refers to two different men named Jesus. See also Meiri, Seder ha-Kabbalah, ed. Havlin (Jerusalem-Cleveland, 1992), pp. 69-70, and especially Havlin’s lengthy note. This was also Rabbenu Tam’s opinion, although it has been censored out of our Talmud. Take a look at Shabbat 104b, Tosafot s.v. Ben Stada in the Bomberg Venice 1520 edition, and compare to the standard Vilna edition.



Why does the Babylonian Talmud identify Jesus as a student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah if Jesus lived more than a century later? I think the answer is obvious, namely, that the Talmud had very little knowledge of who Jesus was, and thus did not know when to date him.[23] In fact, the famous story of R. Joshua ben Perahyah pushing Jesus away (Sanhedrin 107b, found in the Soncino translation) is actually a later development of an earlier story that is found in the Jerusalem Talmud. The Jerusalem Talmud’s version does not mention Jesus.[24]

This raises the question of the Talmud as a source of history, which is too large to go into here. But I do want to call attention to what R. Hershel Schachter states in a recent shiur, which I am sure will be surprising to many. The shiur (“Jewish Heritage Tour of Italy, part 2) can be found here.

Beginning at minute 66 R. Schachter acknowledges that the Talmud can err in matters of history. In support of this viewpoint, he cites R. Zerahyah ha-Levi (the Baal ha-Maor) at the beginning of Rosh ha-Shanah and R. Solomon Luria to Sanhedrin 52b. Here is an excerpt:

Today you have people [who] are considered Orthodox and they say [that] the Gemara made a mistake in history. There are a lot of people like that. . . . This is an ongoing debate. Just seventy years ago, before the Second World War, some of the rabbanim in Europe wrote in their seforim [that] it’s a well known fact that the bayit sheni was much more than 420 years. There is 150 years missing there. . . . We are used to this already. When Rabbenu Azariah min ha-Edomim (De Rossi) came out with his sefer Meor Einayim . . . and he said that maybe the chachmei ha-Gemara were wrong in history . . . many rabbanim were so upset they wanted to make a herem against him. I think they did make a herem; I am not sure. . . . Today, everybody is used to this. We assume that the Gemara is not necessarily expert on history, The Gemara can make mistakes in history. Today it’s not assumed to be apikorsus to say [this]. . . . If Azariah De Rossi would have printed his sefer today, no one would have been so excited about it.

For a hasidic perspective on this matter, which is very much in line with modern approaches to Aggadah, see R. Shlomo of Radomsk, Niflaot ha-Tiferet Shlomo (Petrokov, 1923), nos. 73-74. R. Shlomo stresses that when the Talmud tells a story, it does not matter if the facts are contradicted by other talmudic stories, because what is important is not the story itself, which need not be historically accurate, but rather the lesson to be instilled.

ובזה יש ליישב פליאה גדולה אשר יש לשאול, מה זה שמצאנו בכל הש”ס ומדרשים מסופרים מעשיות ומופתים מתנאים ואמוראים בשינוי נוסחאות מאד, זה יאמר כן היה המעשה, וזה יאמר כן . . . דאין אנו דנין על החומר, רק על הצורה, ולפי הצורה המוכנת בענין הזה, באופן זה מספרים חז”ל את המעשה והסיפור, וממ”נ אם להלל ולשבח ולפאר את התנא, או בהיפוך לגנות הרשע, הלא הצורה מוכנת לכ”א . . . ואם להשיג מטרת ותכלית ענין הנרצה בהסיפור הזה לעורר רושם ורעיון להשומע להבין דברי תורה ולעורר אמונת השגחה וכחן וגבורתן של הצדיקים, ג”כ האיכא, ומאי איכפת לן אם החומר מונע, החומר בטל לגבי הצורה, לכן אין נ”מ בין אופן זה לנוסחא אחרת כי הכל תורת אמת.

Returning to the subject of Jesus and R. Joshua ben Perahyah, I think readers might find another text interesting. It is by the kabbalist R. Moses Valle, who was an older colleague of R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto in Padua. (Although Luzzatto was the leader of their circle, and Valle was thus subservient to him, I don’t know if it correct for the title page to describe Valle as a “student” of Ramhal. I grant that even Italian texts describe Valle as such. See R. Mordechai Samuel Ghirondi, Toledot Gedolei Yisrael [Trieste, 1853], p. 230.)

Without seeing the actual text, I don’t think people will believe me if I tell them what he writes, so here is the relevant page from Sefer ha-Likutim p. 242.

According to Valle, Jesus was meant to be Mashiach ben Joseph, but the needless hatred of the Jewish people prevented him from assuming this role. This is such a strange passage that I am impressed that the editor did not censor it prior to publication. For discussion of it, see here.

Interestingly, R. Abraham Abulafia appears to also have identified Jesus as Messiah ben Joseph. See Moshe Idel, Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah (Albany, 1988), p. 53.

To be continued.



[1] I have explained Rambam according to the exoteric meaning, which is the level that Aviezer is arguing on. Aviezer makes no reference to a possible esoteric teaching.
[2] In the recently published The Rav Thinking Aloud on the Parsha: Sefer Bereishis, p. 8, the Rav misspoke and referred to this conception as the Aristotelian theory.
[3] Thus, I believe that both Rabad in his hassagah to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7 and also Kafih in his commentary ad loc., are mistaken in thinking that Maimonides, in listing different types of heretics, is referring here to one who believes in creation from eternal matter. When Maimonides writes about one who does not believe that God is ראשון וצור לכל he is not referring to time but causation. In fact, this formulation of Maimonides is also in accord with Aristotle’s view (that is, how Aristotle was understood by the medievals) that the world is both eternal and ontologically dependant on God. Nowhere in the Mishneh Torah does Maimonides affirm creation, ex nihilo or otherwise. This was recognized by R. Jacob Emden who sees the Mishneh Torah as more radical in this regard than the Guide. See Mitpahat Sefarim (Lvov, 1870) pp. 64-65 (where he also accuses Ibn Ezra of believing in eternity). See also Emden, Otzar ha-Tov (in Birat Migdal Oz [Zhitomir, 1874], p. 22a, who writes, regarding Maimonides’ use in the Mishneh Torah of a proof that assumes the world’s eternity:

לו ידעו הרבנים התלמודיים בפלוסופיא לא היה [!] שותקים לו בכאן

The Maharal, Netivot Olam,p. 224, writes:

והנה בנה עיקר ראייתו על התנועה הנצחית וזהו הפך האמונה שאין אנו מודים בזאת ההנחה. וא”כ כבר נפל הבנין בכללו

That the Guide is actually a theologically more conservative work than the Mishneh Torah has recently been argued by Charles Manekin, “Possible Sources of Maimonides’ Theological Conservatism in His Later Writings,” in Jay M. Harris, Maimonides After 800 Years (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 207-230. One should not forget that the Maimonidean controversy was precipitated by the Mishneh Torah, in particular Sefer ha-Mada, not the Guide.

[4] See the passage quoted from him in Yitzhak Shouraqui, Masoret be-Idan ha-Moderni (Tel Aviv, 2009), p. 34. On p. 44, Benamozegh writes that Ralbag, R. Hasdai Crescas, and R. Nissim did not believe in creation. What he means is that Ralbag did not believe in creation ex nihilo. Crescas did not really believe in creation at all, seeing the universe as eternal, that is, eternally created by God. This means eternal ontological dependence of all existence on the Creator. However, Crescas does believe that our world, as opposed to the universe as a whole, was created at a certain instant. See Warren Zev Harvey, Physics and Metaphysics in Hasdai Crescas (Amsterdam, 1998), pp. 18-19. As I pointed out in Limits, both Ralbag and Crescas stand in opposition to Maimonides’ Fourth Principle. Yet I am unaware of R. Nissim expressing a radical view regarding creation. Does anyone know what he is referring to?
[5] R. Judah Alfakhar also seems to make this error. See Kovetz Teshuvot ha-Rambam ve-Iggerotav (Leipzig, 1859), vol. 3, p. 1b.
[6] I thank Lawrence Kaplan for discussing this matter with me, although this should not imply that he agrees with what I have written.
[7] See here.
[8] Here is what Hirsch writes in Collected Writings, vol. 7, p. 57 (cited by Slifkin, here):

Jewish scholarship has never regarded the Bible as a textbook for physical or even abstract doctrines. In its view the main emphasis of the Bible is always on the ethical and social structure and development of life on earth; that is, on the observance of laws through which the momentous events of our nation’s history are converted from abstract truths into concrete convictions. That is why Jewish scholarship regards the Bible as speaking consistently in “human language;” the Bible does not describe things in terms of objective truths known only to God, but in terms of human understanding, which is, after all, the basis for human language and expression
[9] See here.
[10] See here.
[11] See here.
[12] On this issue, I find mid-twentieth-century Orthodox reconciliations of Torah and science very interesting in that the authors do not seem to be looking over their shoulders, worried about the reaction of the more literalist segment of Orthodoxy. R. Joseph Hertz’s essays following the book of Genesis in his edition of the Pentateuch are a good example of this. Another is R. Samuel Rosenblatt, Our Heritage (New York, 1940), pp. 174-181, in essays entitled “How the World Came Into Being” and “The Garden of Eden, Fact or Fiction.” You can see the essays here, or below.


While reading Rosenblatt’s essays, ask yourself if they could be published in an Orthodox newspaper or shul bulletin today. Note in particular Rosenblatt’s assumption that the Torah makes use of “theories about the nature of the physical world and the details of its generation that were current at the time the Bible was written.” Also relevant to the general issue are his essays on Noah and the Flood, and the Tower of Babel.
[13] For more on “myth”, see my earlier post.

There I wrote:

While in the popular mind myth often is identical with fairy tale, this is not how scholars understand myths. For them, myths communicate cosmic truths in non-historical story form, and they are not synonymous with legends. My dictionary explains myth as “a usually traditional story of ostensibly historical events that serves to unfold part of the world view of a people or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon.”

S. of On the Main Line called my attention to Shadal’s letter in Iggerot Shadal, p. 661, where he speaks about the religious value of “illusions,” that is, matters that are not factual, but nevertheless have great religious value. In this letter we see Shadal, the great opponent of Maimonides, nevertheless adopting his own version of “necessary truths.”

שאין הריליגיאון חביבה לא-ל בשביל אמתתה, רק בשביל תועלתה בתקון המדות, ועל כן אין צורך שיהיו כל דבריה אמתיים, ושאין לנו עכ”ז להרחיק א-להיותה, ושאין להרחיק מהא-ל הגדת דברים בלתי אמתיים כי להגיד כח מעשה בראשית לבשר ודם א”א, ולא יתכן קיום החברה והצלחת האדם בידיעת האמת, אלא באיללוזיון, כי כן הטבע (אשר הוא בלא ספק רצון הא-ל) מרמה אותנו בענינים הרבה.

[14] Rather than refer to any number of books on the history of astronomy, here is what the Wikipedia entry on “Geocentric Model” has to say:

Adherence to the geocentric model stemmed largely from several important observations. First of all, if the Earth did move, then one ought to be able to observe the shifting of the fixed stars due to stellar parallax. In short, if the earth was moving the shapes of the constellations should change considerably over the course of a year. If they did not appear to move, the stars are either much further away than the Sun and the planets than previously conceived, making their motion undetectable, or in reality they are not moving at all. Because the stars were actually much further away than Greek astronomers postulated (making movement extremely subtle), stellar parallax was not detected until the 19th century. Therefore, the Greeks chose the simpler of the two explanations. The lack of any observable parallax was considered a fatal flaw of any non-geocentric theory. Another observation used in favor of the geocentric model at the time was the apparent consistency of Venus’ luminosity, thus implying that it is usually about the same distance from Earth, which is more consistent with geocentrism than heliocentrism. In reality, that is because the loss of light caused by its phases compensates for the increase in apparent size caused by its varying distance from Earth. Once again, Aristotle’s objections of heliocentrism utilized his ideas concerning the natural tendency of earth-like objects. The natural state of heavy earth-like objects is to tend towards the center of the earth and to not move unless forced by an outside object. It was also believed by some that if the Earth rotated on its axis, the air and objects in it (such as birds or clouds) would be left behind.

[15] Norman Lamm, “The Religious Implications of Extraterrestrial Life,” Tradition 7 (Winter 1965) pp. 27-28.
[16] A more academic version of this article appeared in JQR 55 (Jan. 1965), and some points in it were subjected to strong criticism by Harry Wolfson, ibid., 56 (Jan. 1966). Lamm told me that he felt it was a great honor for a young scholar like himself to be criticized by Wolfson. Similar sentiments have been expressed by students who were criticized in class by the Rav and Saul Lieberman.
[17] See here and here (note how the mention of R. [David] Feinstein has been removed from the first source).
[18] One reader asked me if there are traditional sources that speak of God creating things in the world after the initial creation. As a matter of fact, Isaiah 65:17 reads: “For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.” A midrash quoted in R. Kasher’s Torah Shelemah, vol. 1, p. 123, reads as follows:

באותה שעה [כשעברו את הים] ברא להם הקב”ה ארץ חדשה כמו בבריאת העולם בששת ימי בראשית.

These two sources are cited by R. Judah Leib Zlotnick, “Bereishit” bi-Melitzah ha-Ivrit (Jerusalem, 1938), p. 27.

[19] Interestingly, R. Jonathan Eybschuetz, Tiferet Yehonatan, parashat Noah (p. 11a in the standard edition), claims that the builders of the tower were trying to make it so high that they could then launch a spaceship from it that would reach the moon (or perhaps I should say “the sphere of the moon”). This would then become their new home!

וזה היה כונת דור הפלגה ג”כ שבקשו לקבוע מושבם בכדור ירחי ששם יהיו נצולים ממבול וחשבו לעשות ע”י ספינה הנ”ל אפס כיצד יגביהו אותו הספינה למעלה מאויר העכור ולזה חשבו לבנות מגדל גבוה כל כך עד למעלה האויר ההוא ומשם יוכלו להשתמש בספינה הנ”ל לשוט באויר עד כדור הירחי.

[20] See Goldstein, Jesus in the Jewish Tradition (New York, 1950), p. 302 n. 34.

[21] See Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, vol. 3, p. 28.
[22] See Targum Ps.-Jonathan, Numbers 31:8, Zohar, vol. 3, pp. 194a-194b, Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 6, p. 144.
[23] For more on R. Joshua and Jesus, see Markham Judah Geller, “Joshua B. Perahyah and Jesus of Nazareth: Two Rabbinic Magicians” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Brandeis University, 1974).
[24] See Peter Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud (Princeton, 2007), ch. 3. Some readers might also enjoy Herb Basser’s lecture, “How Reliable are the Talmudic Teachings on Jesus,” available here.

The original version of Sanhedrin, which mentions Jesus, is not found in the Artscroll edition. In other words, the Artscroll Talmud, including the Hebrew version, is still a censored, and thus defective, edition. I find this quite amazing. Is there a valid reason why Artscroll has not returned the Talmud to its pristine text? Speaking of internal censorship, here is another amazing example. Gittin 57a has a reference to Jesus, and this is preserved in the Munich manuscript and other uncensored mss. (and recorded in the Soncino translation). Here is a copy of the Munich manuscript. Look three lines above the large word אתרנגול

It states that Jesus was raised from the dead through incantations: אסקי’ לישו בנגיד’. In the standard text this has been altered to read, instead of Jesus, לפושעי ישראל. Now here is a copy of Meir S. Feldblum’s Dikdukei Soferim on Gittin. See how he wouldn’t even record what the Munich edition stated, and instead advises the reader to examine Hashmatot ha-Shas!


This book was published in 1966 and he was afraid to give us the reading in the Munich ms., yet Rabbinovicz in nineteenth-century Germany has no problem giving us the correct reading in the earlier mentioned story from Sanhedrin (as well as in the other talmudic passages where Jesus is mentioned). Does Feldblum’s action make any sense? I wonder if some future historian will be led to mistakenly conclude that anti-Semitism was more of a problem in 1966 America than nineteenth-century Germany. Fortunately, last year a new edition of Dikdukei Soferim on Gittin was published. Here is the relevant page where we are told what the Munich ms. really says.



New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 2

|
New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 2
Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
I must now deal with R. Joseph Ibn Caspi, who is often described as holding a view similar to what we have seen already, but more radical in that he saw it as a general principle of interpretation. I refer to the notion that the Torah incorporates all sorts of untruths because these were what people believed at the time. It is said that this is how Ibn Caspi understands the rabbinic phrase “The Torah speaks in the language of men.” Here is a lengthy quotation from the late Isadore Twersky taken from his classic article on Ibn Caspi.[1]
Kaspi frequently operates with the following exegetical premise: not every Scriptural statement is true in the absolute sense. A statement may be purposely erroneous, reflecting an erroneous view of the masses. We are not dealing merely with an unsophisticated or unrationalized view, but an intentionally, patently false view espoused by the masses and enshrined in Scripture. The view or statement need not be allegorized, merely recognized from what it is. . . . Many scriptural statements, covered by this plastic rubric, are seen as errors, superstitions, popular conceptions, local mores, folk beliefs, and customs (minhag bene adam), statements which reflect the assumptions or projections or behavioral patterns of the people involved rather than an abstract truth. In its Kaspian adaptation, the rabbinic dictum may then be paraphrased as follows: “The Torah expressed things as they were believed or perceived or practiced by the multitude and not as they were in actuality.” Leshon bene adam is not just a carefully calculated concession to certain shortcomings of the masses, that is, their inability to think abstractly, but a wholesale adoption of mass views and local customs. . . . The Torah did not endorse or validate these views; it merely recorded them and a proper philosophic sensibility will recognize them.
Many people have understood Twersky to be saying that the Torah includes within it all kinds of superstitions and folk beliefs that were shared by the masses. (According to Ibn Caspi, the Torah does contain “necessary beliefs” that are not true, but these are of a different sort, as they relate to the masses’ inability to grasp philosophical truths.) While it is true that according to Ibn Caspi these beliefs are included in the Torah, they are not advocated by the Torah, but are to be understood as mistaken beliefs of the masses. In other words, Ibn Caspi does not say that the Torah itself, that is, when it is God speaking to Moses or in general narrative sections, should be regarded in this fashion.
So, for example, in the story of Rachel, Leah and the mandrakes (Gen. 30: 14-17), Ibn Capsi suggests that Rachel and Leah shared a common superstition that these mandrakes would help one conceive, and the story in the Torah is from these women’s perspective.[2] Yet the Torah itself never states that the mandrakes have magical properties. That is, the Torah does not incorporate a superstition because this is what people believed, but rather records a superstition that was believed in by some. Another example is that the Torah mentions that God told the Israelites (Ex. 12:13) to put blood on their doorposts. Ibn Caspi explains that this was due to the ancient superstition that blood had magical qualities.[3] The Torah thus commanded an action that took into account the masses’ superstition, but it was not the Torah itself advocating the superstition.
I am unaware of any place in his writings where Ibn Caspi states that the Torah itself is expressing a superstitious belief, that is, where it affirms the efficacy of a superstition or a folk belief because it is reflecting the views of the masses.
Readers will recall that in part 1 I quoted examples where the Bible, including the Torah, includes incorrect scientific information because this was what was believed at the time. Someone who wishes to remain anonymous called my attention to Samuel David Luzzatto’s commentary to Gen. 1:6. Shadal offers another example of what he thinks is the Torah using incorrect science because of what was the common ancient belief, and he includes this example under the rubric of “the Torah speaking in the language of men”. The Torah speaks of a rakia, and describes it as standing between the waters, that is, the water on earth and the water in the heavens. Shadal explains, and brings other biblical verses to show that this conception of water being found in the heavens was later rejected.
Because the term rakia was based on the belief in higher waters, “the waters that are above the heavens” (Ps. 148:4) and which the rakia supported, and because this belief became obsolete and forgotten, the term rakia itself became obsolete. . . . Hence the Torah spoke on a human level and according to human belief when it said, “let there be a rakia.” However, its intended message remains true and settled: God set the waters in nature to be lifted up and then to fall to earth.[4]
R. Samuel Moses Rubenstein offers another example of what he thinks is the Torah using language that is not accurate but reflects the mistaken beliefs of the masses.[5] He refers to the fact that the Torah speaks of God in a way that implies that there are also other gods in existence, a phenomenon scholars refer to as “monolatry”. This means belief in many gods but worship of only one.
Monolatry was clearly the belief of much of Israel throughout the biblical period. When Israelites worshipped the Baal or other gods, it is not that they rejected the existence or power of the God of Israel. It is just that they were hedging their bets, and if they were in need of rain it made sense to them to also worship Baal, the storm god. The question is, does the Bible itself assume a monolatrous world? Traditional commentators assert no, while many academic scholars believe that it does. (Yechezkel Kaufmann was a notable exception.)
The academic biblical scholars argue that the Bible takes the existence of other gods for granted, and cite many biblical verses in support of this assumption. For example, Ex. 15:11: “Who is like thee, O Lord, among the gods.” See also Deut 4:19: “And lest though lift up thine eyes unto heaven, and when thou seest the sun and the moon and the stars, even all the host of heaven, thou be drawn away and worship them, and serve them which the Lord thy God hath allotted unto all the peoples under the whole heaven.”
As mentioned, traditional commentators offer alternative interpretations of verses such as these. Yet Rubenstein concluded that the Bible reflects the mistaken monolatrous views of the masses. In Kadmoniyot ha-Halakhah (Kovno, 1926), pp. 44-45, he writes:
מקומות אין מספר בכתה”ק מתארי ה’: “הא-ל הגדול הגבור והנורא”, א-להי האלהים”, “ה’ א-ל רחום וחנון” ודומיהם המראים שה’ א-להי ישראל לא היה גם אצל ישראל לא-לוה יחידי מוחלט לכל העמים והארצות רק לא-להי ישראל והארץ ובעל תארים נכבדים שאין כמוהם לאלהים אחרים.
He is careful to point out—contrary to critical biblical scholars— that this was not the belief of Moses or of the wise men of Israel. Yet he also insists that the peshat of the Torah and other parts of the Bible indeed reflects the mistaken views of the masses (ibid., pp. 44-45, n. 1):
אין מספר להמקומות המתבארים ומובנים על אמתתם בכתה”ק על פי זה. אבל יש לדעת כי אמונה זו היתה רק אמונת ההמון. והגדולים וגם המחוקק בעצמו הוכרחו לדבר לפי רוח ההמון ואמונתם. אבל אין לחשוב בשום אופן כי כן היה גם אמונת ראשי העם והגדולים. ולזה א”א שתמצא חוק בתורה שתחזק אמונה זו.
The notion that the Torah records things that are incorrect actually goes back to Maimonides. In Limits of Orthodox Theology, pp. 68-69, I noted how according to Maimonides the corporeal descriptions of God were intended to be taken literally by the masses. This was the way to educate then about God’s existence. Only after His existence was certain in their minds were they able to move beyond the corporeal conception of the Deity.
There is also Maimonides’ famous conception of “necessary truths” in Guide 3:28. For example, the Torah describes God as expressing anger. Yet God has no emotions, so why does the Torah describe Him this way? Maimonides says that this is a “necessary belief” and as explained by Efodi, Shem Tov and many others, this means that even though the belief is not true, the Torah teaches it so that the masses will be led to obedience of God. Only the elites can be expected to understand that God doesn’t have emotions and thus interpret the verses figuratively. However, and this is the novelty of Maimonides (as explained by many of his interpreters), the Torah intended for the masses to adopt an untruth that the Torah itself taught. In other words, according to this interpretation, not everything in the Torah is “true”, that is, factually true. However, these untruths are contained in the Torah because they accomplish an important goal. Here are Shem Tov’s words:
ועוד צותה התורה להאמין קצת אמונות שאמונתם הכרחית בתקון עניני המדינה כמו שצוה להאמין שהשם חר אפו ויכעס על עוברי רצונו, וזאת האמונה אינה אמתית כי הוא לא יתפעל ולא יחר אפו כמו שאמר אני ה’ לא שניתי, וצריך שיאמין זאת האמונה האיש המוני שהוא יתפעל ואף שהוא שקר הוא הכרחי בקיום המדינה ולכן נקראו אלו אמונות הכרחיות ולא אמתיות, והחכם יבין כי זה נאמר בלשון דברה תורה כלשון בני אדם.
While on the subject of “necessary beliefs,” I want to call attention to an error that was very common for decades. In Guide 3:28 Maimonides gives as one of the necessary beliefs the notion that God responds immediately to the prayer of someone wronged or deceived. (He obviously means one whose prayer is expressed in a proper fashion.) Now I don’t think that any of the masses today really believe this, though you can correct me if I am wrong. I think that even the masses today are sophisticated enough to realize that you can pray all you want, with the best kavvanah, and you still might not be answered. For example, if it is your time to die, then all the prayer in the world will not prevent this.
Maimonides, however, saw this as a “necessary belief”, something that it was important for the masses to accept. In other words, it was vital to their spirituality to think that if they only prayed better, they would be spared whatever bad thing was upon them. As mentioned already, I have never met people who think like this. However, it could be that even today there are those who are convinced that if only he or she would have prayed with more kavvanah then the evil decree would have certainly been averted. Yet anyone with some degree of sophistication knows that this isn’t always the case. Even complete believers in divine providence are aware that sometimes, when God has made a decision (such as to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah), nothing you do can change this.
With this in mind, which appears obvious from so many Jewish sources, I was surprised to find that the Tur, Orah Hayyim 98, has a different perspective. He writes, after describing how one should pray: ואחר שיעשה כל זה מובטח לו שתתקבל תפלתו
R. Joseph Karo must have also found this formulation strange, because in his comment in the Beit Yosef he writes: הם דברי עצמו. In other words, there is no rabbinic source for the Tur’s notion, which Maimonides sees as a primitive belief, namely, that proper prayer will automatically bring about a good result.
Returning to Maimonides in Guide 3:28, I have often seen articles where people write that in Maimonides’ opinion it is a “necessary belief” that God responds to prayer. In fact, within the last year I read a manuscript from a contemporary scholar who made the same comment. My reply to him was that Maimonides nowhere says that God does not respond to prayer. If you want to argue that this is his esoteric teaching, and the only reading that makes sense when speaking of an unchanging God, that is one thing. But to say that Maimonides regards the notion that God responds to prayer as suitable only for the unsophisticated, and to give as a source Guide 3:28, is incorrect. As mentioned already, all Maimonides says in this chapter is that the “necessary belief” is that God responds immediately to prayer. Yet he says nothing about God responding to prayer per se.
It always bothered me that so many people, including scholars, had made such an error. I never knew what to make of it, since anyone who looks in the Guide can see clearly what Maimonides is talking about. Just a few months ago I stumbled across the answer to my problem. If you look at Michael Friedlaender’s translation of the Guide, which is found online and was the standard English translation for some seventy years, this is how he translates the end of Guide 3:28: “[I]n other cases, that truth is only the means of securing the removal of injustice, or the acquisition of good morals; such is the belief . . . that God hears the crying of the oppressed and vexed, to deliver them out of the hands of the oppressor and tyrant.” In other words, according to Friedlaender’s rendering, which is in opposition to all the other translations, Maimonides is denying that God ever responds to prayer. It is based on this translation that so many were led astray.
Returning to R. Kook’s Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor, in chapter 5 he tells us that there comes a point when the events at the beginning of Genesis move from a general story of humanity’s development to the actual historical tale of one man, whom he refers to as .האדם ההיסטורי This is the one of whom the Torah lists his descendants in precise detail. R. Kook is not prepared to read the genealogies given in Genesis in a non-literal fashion.
The genealogy beginning with Cain in Gen. 4, as well as the detailed genealogy of Seth’s descendants in Gen. 5, are obviously a difficulty for those who want to read more than the first few chapters in a non-literal fashion. In fact, it was the children that Eve is said to have bore (and for two of these children there follows genealogical lists) that convinced Gersonides that both Eve and Adam of Gen. 2-3 were real people.[6] His comment is directed against Maimonides, whom he identifies by name,[7] for he understands Maimonides to regard Eve as an allegory. Gersonides cannot accept this approach, for what then are we to do with the genealogy beginning with Eve that the Torah provides? While Gersonides asserts that the story with the snake must be understood allegorically,[8] he is equally certain that Adam and Eve are historical.[9]
The same question about genealogy that Ralbag asks with regard to Maimonides can also be asked of Ibn Caspi, who explains Maimonides as saying that the Torah does not speak of a historical Adam.[10] According to this reading, the “Adam” described in the opening chapters of Genesis is really speaking of Moses who is the first “man,” that is, the first human to reach the heights of intellectual perfection.[11] As Lawrence Kaplan has further pointed out,[12] Ibn Caspi states that according to Maimonides the account of creation continues through Gen. 6:8. This means that the detailed genealogy of Gen. ch. 5 is also not to be regarded as historical, and the first real genealogy we get is in ch. 10, with the descendants of Noah..[13]
Returning to ch. 5 of Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor, there is one other point that is noteworthy. R. Kook describes how life would have continued in Paradise, had it not been for human sin. There would have been the potential for all sorts of things, including space travel and settlement in outer space!
כי ברב ההשתלמות ההדרגית יתגלו עוד בנקל דרכים להתיישב בכוכבים רבים ועולמות אין מספר.
* * * *
1. Someone sent me the following page from R. Aharon Feldman’s new book, The Eye of the Storm.

My correspondent asked me if there is any truth to this story. I have to say that it is a complete fiction. R. Weinberg did not know Ben Gurion from his youth, and he never met him after he became Prime Minister. I am also certain that the Ben-Gurion never met the Chafetz Chaim.
2. With all that has been in the news recently, I am sure that I am not the only one looking at the writings from the Spinka dynasty. I recently found a passage that I don’t understand. I understand the words, but I don’t understand how the Rebbe could have said it, and if anyone can explain the passage I will be grateful. It appears in Hekel Yitzhak, parashat Toldot, p. 30b:
ושמעתי מאאמו”ר זצוק”ל שמקובל מרבותינו שמעולם לא נתגייר גר מישמעאל כי הוא כולו ערלה ר”ל . . . אבל מעשו נתגייר כמה גרים כדאי’ בדחז”ל, ולעת”ל כולם יתגיירו משום דשרשם בקדושה כדאי’ בהארי ז”ל.
My concern is not with the notion that Esau and his progeny are superior to that of Ishmael. Rather, how could he possibly state that there have never been Arab converts?
To be continued
[1] “Joseph Ibn Kaspi: Portrait of a Medieval Jewish Intellectual,” in Twersky, ed., Studies in Medieval Jewish History and Literature (Cambridge, 1979), pp. 239-241.
[2] Matzref Kesef, p. 74. The same approach is adopted by Radak in his commentary to Gen. 30:14. This is only one possible answer given by Ibn Caspi, and he also suggests that perhaps mandrakes do indeed have special properties that help a woman to conceive.
[3] See Matzref Kesef, p. 137. Based on this Ibn Caspi explains why Tziporah circumcised her son (Ex. 4:25):
ותקח צפורה וכ’. אין עלינו עכ”פ לתת טעם הכרחי מה זאת הרפואה לחולי משה, כי לא כתבה התורה שציוה לה משה שתעשה כן, ואיך שהוא, מבואר כי בימים ההם היה דעת פשוט בהמון העם, כי הדם יש לו סגולה לכל חרדה והתגעשות, ולכן צוה השם שישימו דם על המשקוף ועל המזוזות בבתי ישראל, בחרדתם והתגעשם על צעקת כל מצרים . . . לכן ותקח צורה צור ותכרות את ערלת בנה.

The example of the mandrakes and Tziporah circumcising her son are cited by Isaiah Dimant, “Exegesis, Philosophy and Language in the Writing of Joseph Ibn Caspi” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, UCLA, 1979), pp. 55-56
[4] Translation in Daniel A. Klein, The Book of Genesis: A Commentary by Shadal (Northvale, 1998).
[5] Rubenstein began as a traditional rabbi, as can be seen from his Avnei Shoham (Warsaw, 1902), which includes correspondence between him and R. Joseph Zechariah Stern. However, he later adopted an approach that today we would term “academic”. There is a great deal that can be written about Rubenstein, but as of yet only one article has appeared: Hanan Gafni, “R. Shmuel Moshe Rubenstein, ha-Hoker ha-Rabani mi-Shavli (1870-1943),” Moreshet Yisrael 5 (2008), pp. 139-158. To give an example, not mentioned by Gafni, of how Rubenstein’s later thought broke with tradition, see his Ha-Rambam ve-ha-Aggadah (Kovno, 1937), p. 103, where he claims that the story of the miracle of Hanukkah is almost certainly a late aggadic creation, and like many other miracle stories in aggadic literature was not originally intended to be understood as historical reality:
ספק הוא אם הנס של “פך השמן” הוא אפילו הגדה עממית קדומה, קרוב שהוא יצירה אגדית חדשה מבעל הברייתא עצמו או מאחד מבעלי האגדה, ונסים אגדיים כאלו רבים הם בברייתות וגמרא ומדרשים ע”ד ההפלגה כדרכה של האגדה. ולבסוף הובן נס זה למעשה שהיה. עיין שבת כ”ג א’. [טעם ברייתא זו הובא גם במגילת תענית (פ”ט) אבל כמו שנראה היא הוספה מאוחרת, ועיין (שם) ובפסיקתא רבתי (פיסקא דחנוכה) עוד טעם להדלקת נרות חנוכה].
During the most recent Hanukkah I was using R. Joseph Hertz’ siddur, the Authorized Daily Prayer Book. Based upon how he describes the holiday and the lighting of the menorah, omitting any mention of the miracle of the lights (pp. 946-947), I assume that he also didn’t accept it literally. Note how he states that the lights were kindled during the eight-day Dedication festival, and this is the reason for the eight days of Hanukkah, rather than offering the traditional reason that the eight days of Hanukkah commemorate the eight days that the menorah miraculously burnt.
Three years to the day on which the Temple was profaned by the blaspheming foe, Kislev the 25th 165, Judah Maccabeus and his brethren triumphantly entered the Holy City. They purified the Temple, and their kindling of the lights during the eight-day festival of Dedication—Chanukah—is a telling reminder, year by year, of the rekindling of the Lamp of True Religion in their time.
There is no mention of this passage in Benjamin J. Elton’s recent wonderful discussion of Hertz’s theology and religious policy. See Britain’s Chief Rabbis and the Religious Character of Anglo-Jewry, 1880-1970 (Manchester, 2009), chs. 7-8. (He also doesn’t mention Hertz’s comment that those Jewish commentators who understand aggadah literally are “fools.” See Hertz’s Foreward to the Soncino Talmud, printed at the beginning of tractate Berakhot.)
[6] Commentary to Gen. 3 (end of chapter).
[7] Lawrence Kaplan, ”Rationalism and Rabbinic Culture in Sixteenth Century Eastern Europe: Rabbi Mordecai Jaffe’s Levush Pinat Yikrat” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1975), p. 246 n. 139, comments that when Ralbag later in this passage criticizes those who understand Cain, Abel and Seth allegorically, he has Maimonides in mind, but avoids mentioning him out of respect.
[8] Regarding Eve and the serpent, R. Chaim Hirschensohn speaks of רעיוני ההתפתחות במליצי המיטלאגי
In other words, he sees the Torah as using mythological language in the Creation story. See Penei Hamah, p. 6, which is part 2 of Hirschensohn’s Musagei Shav ve-Emet (Jerusalem, 1932). Dov Schwartz has recently discussed this passage. See his “Maimonides in Religious-Zionist Philosophy,” in James T. Robinson, ed., The Cultures of Maimonideanism (Leiden, 2009), p. 399:
Hirschensohn assumes as self-evident that the Bible had been influenced by mythological language. The author of the Creation story “couches the ideas of development in mythological metaphors.” How did Hirschensohn explain these mythological stories? He separated paganism from the “original” mythology. In his view, the mythological stories had been, from the start, a description of a class struggle for which the narrators resorted to symbolic language, just as the Bible refers to the sons of God and the daughters of men (Gen. 6:2). Only later, then, did their deference and their fear of their ancestors lead Greeks to literal interpretations of their mythology: “But before philosophy became dominant there, the later Greeks had mistakenly revered their ancestors and thought of them as gods” [Penei Hamah, p. 36]. The Bible, then, uses a mythological style but its messages are social and ideological.
[9] When one sees how Ralbag describes Eve, I think many readers would wish that he had interpreted her allegorically. Here is his comment earlier in Gen. 3 (p. 110 in the Birkat Moshe edition):
והנה קרא האדם שם אשתו “חוה”, כאשר השיג בחולשת שכלה, רוצה לומר שלא עלתה מדרגתה על שאר הבעלי חיים עילוי רב, ואם היא בעלת שכל, כי רוב השתמשותה אמנם הוכן לה בדברים הגופיים, לחולשת שכלה ולהיותה לעבודת האדם, ולזה הוא רחוק שיגיע לה שלמות השכל.
Ralbag’s view of Eve was also transferred to women in general. One of my teachers once referred to him as the first advocate of the kollel philosophy, for as Ralbag explains in a number of places, the role of women is to enable men to reach their intellectual perfection. That is, their essence is entirely utilitarian. All the relevant references can be found in Menachem Kellner’s essay comparing Ralbag’s and Maimonides’ view of women, which has now appeared in English in his just published Torah in the Observatory. (This book was published by Academic Studies Press, which in the last few years has published a number of important volumes by top scholars including José Faur, David Berger, David Shatz, and Zvi Mark.)
Take a look at this passage referring to women and tzitzit, from towards the end of Ralbag’s commentary on Shelah (p. 188a in the old edition):
למדנו שאין הנשי’ חייבות בציצית וראוי היה להיות כן כי הענין אשר העיר עליו זאת המצוה הוא רב העומק ולא יתכן שיגיע אליו שכל הנשים לקלות דעתן
I wonder, if a haredi spokesman quoted this Ralbag as part of his attack on Orthodox feminism, would he take any flak in his own community? Would the haredi women protest? I have another question and I am curious to hear readers’ responses. (I have my own view, but also want to hear from others.). Do leaders of the haredi world believe in separate but equal when it comes to men and women? This is what is often claimed, but I wonder, do they really hold a Ralbag-like position?
The same question I asked at the beginning of the previous paragaph with regard to Ralbag can also be asked about Radak. Here is what he writes in his commentary to Gen. 3:1:
ואמר אל האשה ולא אמר לאדם, האשה קרובה להתפתות יותר מן האיש, כי דעתה קלה
If this explanation appeared in say the English Yated, independently offered by a contemporary rabbi with no mention of Radak, would haredi women be offended?
And would women be offended if the following passage, from R. Zvi Travis’ Pirkei Hanhagat Bayit, ch. 2 (which I am told used to be a popular sefer), appeared in an English newspaper (called to my attention by Dr. Yitzhak Hershkowitz; emphasis added):
אף אחר בריאת האשה אין כאן שותפות. אלא, וטול כלל זה בידך, תכלית הבריאה היא האיש, והקדוש ברוך הוא נתן לאיש מתנה שתעזור לו, והיא האשה.
Another good example is found in R. Avraham Blumenkrantz’ Gefen Poriah, p. 352, where he quotes approvingly another rabbi who states as follows (emphasis added):
Her tears are ever ready to flow at the most miniscule suggestion of being dealt with as a maidservant. She will concede you the service of והוא ימשל בך. She will consent to call you בעלי, but don’t accent the דגש in the בית too heavily. She must constantly be reassured that there is honor and dignity in her subservience. Honor her more than you honor yourself. She must be compensated for her subjugation, and be made to feel that she has a genuine share in the dignity of the throne.
Do haredi women really feel that they are subservient or subjugated? Do haredi men feel this way about their wives? Haven’t the masses in haredi society (American haredi society at least) also accepted the notion of separate but equal when it comes to men and women?
[10] Commentary to Guide 1:2:
רמז המורה על קצת נסתר במעשה בראשית כי האדם הנזכר שם לא היה אחד רמוז לבד אבל על הכלל
[11] Commentary to Guide 1:14.
[12] “Rationalism,” p. 251 n. 150.
[13] In his commentary to Guide 2:30, Ibn Caspi also discusses the creation story, and records what was apparently a popular saying in his day. For those of you who sometimes get frustrated with some of your co-religionists, it is worth bearing in mind: אלמלא המשתגעים יהיה העולם חרב. Regarding the saying, see also R. Judah Leib Zlotnick, Midrash ha-Melitzah ha-Ivrit (Jerusalem, 1938), p. 57. The saying is also found in Maimonides’ introduction to Nezikin.

ftn