Parashas Yisro: The Mitzvah of Emunah

Originally posted in January 2014. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Sacred Foundry, by Noah Bradley

Parashas Yisro: The Mitzvah of Emunah

The first of the Aseres ha’Dibros (Ten Commandments) says: “I am Hashem, your God, Who took you out from the land of Egypt, from the house of slaves, to be your God” (Shemos 20:2; Devarim 5:6). According to the Rambam [1] this pasuk is the source for the fundamental mitzvah known as "Anochi Hashem Elokecha," or just "Anochi." In this dvar Torah we will take up a very basic question: What does this mitzvah obligate us to do? 

The Rambam’s first formulation of this mitzvah can be found in his Sefer ha’Mitzvos. There he writes: “The first mitzvah is the commandment regarding belief (emunah) in the Divinity, namely, to believe (le’haamin) in the existence of the Cause and Prime Mover, Who causes all other existences.”  [2]. In the Mishneh Torah, however, the Rambam presents us with a different formulation: “The first mitzvah is to know (leyda) that God exists.” [3] On the surface, this would appear to be a contradiction: are we commanded to believe in God’s Existence or to know that He Exists? 

This apparent contradiction is fairly easy to resolve if we just take a closer look at the sources. The Rambam originally wrote the Sefer ha’Mitzvos in Arabic. In his formulation of the mitzvah the Rambam used the Arabic word "itiqad" which was subsequently translated into Hebrew by R' Moshe ibn Tibbon as "emunah." 

While this is an important first step, it is just a first step. What does the Rambam mean by emunah/itiqad? Why did he formulate the mitzvah differently in each of his books? 

Thankfully, the Rambam devotes an entire chapter of the Moreh ha’Nevuchim to defining the term emunah/itiqad. He sums up his definition as follows:

Emunah/itiqad is only possible after comprehension; it consists in the conviction that the notion apprehended by the mind has its existence outside of the mind [in reality] exactly as it is conceived in the mind. [4]

In other words, emunah refers to conviction in one’s knowledge. To “have emunah” means to have such a clear and thorough knowledge of something that it becomes real to the mind. [5] 

According to the Rambam's definition, “belief” is a rather poor and misleading English translation of the emunah which the Torah obligates us to have. Even worse is the common translation of emunah as “faith,” which is really the opposite of emunah. “Faith” refers to conviction without, or in spite of, one’s knowledge, whereas emunah refers to conviction based on one’s knowledge. It would be more accurate to translate emunah as “rational conviction.” 

The resolution to our apparent contradiction is now clear. In the Mishneh Torah, where the Rambam formulates the mitzvah as “to know,” he was referring to the maaseh ha’mitzvah (the act we are commanded to do), that is, to obtain knowledge of Hashem's Existence. But in the Sefer ha’Mitzvos, where he formulates the mitzvah as “to have emunah,” he was referring to the kiyum h'amitzvah (the objective, or fulfillment, of the mitzvah). According to the Rambam, we cannot discharge our obligation after obtaining enough knowledge to determine that Hashem exists. Rather, the mitzvah of Anochi demands that we seek knowledge until we reach the level of emunah - that is, to the point where the truth of Hashem’s Existence registers in our minds as a reality, and not merely as a theoretical construct or a pure abstraction. 

Unfortunately, this view of the mitzvah of emunah is often characterized as “the Maimonidean view” - as though it is a daas yachid (minority opinion). In truth, the Rambam’s interpretation of Anochi as demanding knowledge, as opposed to belief or faith, is held by many of the mainstream Rishonim (medieval commentators). For example, the Ramban writes: 

This first statement [of the Ten Commandments] is a positive commandment. He said Anochi Hashem, which instructs and commands them to know and become convinced that Hashem exists, that He is their God, that His Existence is eternal, that everything came from Him by [His] desire and ability, and that He is their God and they are obligated to serve Him. [6]

Similarly, the Baalei Tosafos write:

What is this statement [of Anochi Hashem]? What commandment and what prohibition does it contain? The answer is as follows: “I am Hashem, your God, and I command you to know with a clear knowledge that I am the Creator, and that I am the One Who commands all of the mitzvos, and I am trustworthy to pay back the good and the bad.” The knowledge of Hashem in which a person is obligated is to know that he is the Creator (may He be blessed and exalted). [7]

Ibn Ezra writes at length about how the mitzvah of Anochi demands that each person seek knowledge of Hashem in accordance with the level of his or her intellect. [8] Ralbag explains that Anochi is important not only because it is the foundation of Torah, but because it is the foundation of chochmah (science). [9] Sforno writes that Hashem expects us to establish our emunah with the utmost intellectual rigor, to the point where we “rationally investigate and know every argument to the contrary, then take to heart the true [arguments] therefrom.” [10] The Rashba identifies this standard of emunah as the hallmark of the Jewish people:

This is the true sign of our nation, the Nation of Hashem: that we do not allow ourselves to be taken in by any belief until after we have arrived at its truth by way of intensive, complete analysis. [11]

But what about those individuals who are not on the level to establish their emunah on the basis of rigorous knowledge and investigation? The Sefer ha'Chinuch addresses this question in his treatment of the mitzvah of Anochi. He writes:

The substance of this emunah is that a person should establish in his soul that this is the truth, and that it is impossible to modify this [truth] in any way. And if [his emunah] is questioned, he should answer every questioner that this is what his mind believes and he will never exchange this belief for anything else, even if others threaten to kill him. All of this strengthens and establishes his mind’s belief by transforming the matter from potential to actual – that is, when he affirms with the words of his mouth what he has resolved in his mind. 

And if he merits to rise in levels of wisdom so that his heart understands and his eyes see by clear-cut proof that this emunah he holds is clearly true and cannot be otherwise, then he will have fulfilled this mitzvah in the ideal way (mitzvah min ha’muvchar). [12]

According to the Sefer ha’Chinuch, the minimal level of emunah required by Torah is to believe that Hashem exists, even if that belief isn't supported by knowledge and proof. However, even the Sefer ha’Chinuch maintains that the ideal fulfillment of the mitzvah is to reach the level where one’s emunah is rooted in knowledge. Rabbeinu Bachya Ibn Paquda (Introduction to Chovos ha’Levavos) concurs:

[Relying on tradition] is acceptable only in the case of uneducated women, children, and men who, because of limited perception and comprehension, cannot reason on their own. But whoever has the intellectual capacity to verify what he receives [from tradition] and yet is prevented from doing so by his own laziness, or because he takes lightly God’s commandments and Torah – he will be punished for this and held accountable for negligence. [13] 

These Rishonic definitions of emunah highlight the uniqueness of Judaism. Unlike other religions, which are based on belief and faith, Judaism demands that our relationship to Hashem be built upon a foundation of knowledge, for - as the Ibn Ezra states - "the intellect is the intermediary between man and his Creator." [14]

[1] The Rambam’s view that Anochi is one of the 613 mitzvos is shared by a number of prominent Rishonim, but is not unanimous. Other Rishonim maintain that Anochi precedes the 613 mitzvos, but is not a mitzvah in its own right.

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Sefer ha'Mitzvos, Mitzvas Aseh #1

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah, Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah: Koseres

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Moreh ha'Nevuchim 1:50

[5] An excellent example of the difference between "mere knowledge" and emunah can be found in the career of Albert Einstein. Timothy Ferris, in Coming of Age in the Milky Way (1988), records an anecdote which illustrates Einstein's emunah in the theory of general relativity (p.204, footnote): 

Einstein once astonished Ernst Straus by saying of Max Planck, the father of quantum physics, "He was one of the finest people I have ever known and one of my best friends; but, you know, he didn't really understand physics." When Straus asked what he meant, Einstein replied, "During the eclipse of 1919, Planck stayed up all night to see if it would confirm the bending of light by the gravitational field of the sun. If he had really understood the way the general relativity explains the equivalence of inertial and gravitational mass, he would have gone to bed the way I did."

[6] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 20:2

[7] Daas Zekeinim mi'Baalei ha'Tosafos, Commentary on Sefer Shemos 20:2

[8] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Shemos 20:2

[9] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 20:2

[10] Rabbeinu Ovadiah Sforno, Commentary on Sefer Devarim 4:39

[11] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Aderet (Rashba), Shailos u'Tshuvos 1:548

[12] Sefer ha'Chinuch, Parashas Yisro: Mitzvah #25

[13] Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda, Chovos ha'Levavos: Hakdamah

[14] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Introduction to Torah

Parashas Beshalach: Singing Fetuses

Originally posted in January 2014.

Artwork: Abstract Pregnant Woman
(Yes, it's difficult to find artwork for this topic which is in line with the standards of tznius.)

Parashas Beshalach: Singing Fetuses

The central event of Parashas Beshalach is Krias Yam Suf (the Splitting of the Sea of Reeds). Although the Chumash itself highlights the miracle of the sea splitting, we have a mesorah (tradition) that Hashem performed additional miracles at this time. The mishnah in Pirkei Avos (5:4) teaches: “Ten miracles were performed for our forefathers in Egypt, and ten at the sea.” The author of the Hagadah shel Pesach brings down a machlokes (disagreement) among the Sages as to the number of additional plagues that struck the Egyptians at the sea, whether it was 50, 200, or 250. The identity of these additional miracles and plagues is not entirely clear, but there was definitely more going on than the pesukim seem to indicate.

The midrashic literature attempts to fill in the gaps. Here is one such midrash from Berachos 50a: 

Rebbi Meir says: From where do we know that even fetuses in their mothers’ wombs said [the] shirah (i.e. the song of praise at Yam Suf)? As it is stated, “In assemblies bless God; [bless] God, O you who stem from the fountain (mekor) of Israel” (Tehilim 68:27). 

“Mekor” is an equivocal term which means “fountain” in the context of the pasuk, but can also mean “womb.” Rebbi Meir expounds on this dual-meaning to teach that the fetuses in the wombs of the Jewish mothers at Yam Suf sang shirah, along with the rest of Bnei Yisrael.

There are obvious problems with taking this midrash literally. Fetuses in their mothers’ wombs wouldn't have been aware of the miracle, nor would they be able to comprehend it, nor would they be able to sing shirah. The question is: What does this midrash mean? What idea are we supposed to gain from this?

The Rashba – one of the the most prolific Rishonim (medieval Rabbinic authorities) of the 13th century – wrote a commentary on the midrashim of the Talmud. Here is how he explains our midrash [1]: 

It is a well-known fact that pregnant women are prone to miscarry when they undergo frightening and traumatic experiences. When the Jews stood at Yam Suf, with the Egyptians were chasing after them to kill them, they were very scared. And when the sea was split for them and they needed to pass through its breaches, nature would dictate that the pregnant women among them would miscarry, were it not for the miracle He performed for them by strengthening their hearts, thereby saving all of the fetuses so that not a single one of them died, even though the nation was more than 600,000 men strong. This is the shirah that the fetuses said. In other words, it would have been appropriate for them to say shirah and to [sing] praise before Him for their salvation. 

This, in my opinion, is a great example of interpreting a midrash in a manner that is rational, conservative, and in line with the pasuk on which the midrash is based. The Rashba doesn’t interpret the whole thing as an allegory. He only makes one move: instead of saying that the fetuses actually said shirah, he explains that it would have been appropriate for them to say shirah. He then infers what type of miracle would warrant such a shirah, and in doing so, brings out an easy-to-overlook aspect of the geulah which warrants our recognition and appreciation. Not only did Hashem miraculously save the adults and children of Bnei Yisrael from death at the hands of the Egyptians, but He also spared the Jewish women from undue distress, thereby saving the about-to-be-born generation by means of an additional miracle. 

[1] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Aderet (Rashba), Chidushei ha’Rashba al ha’Shas: Peirushei ha’Hagados, Berachos 50a

Parashas Bo: The Undogly Miracle

Here is another "newsletter" Dvar Torah, originally published in January 2014. As you'll see, I took a risk in what I wrote. I hope it paid off! 

Artwork: Watchwolf, by Kev Walker

Parashas Bo: The Undogly Miracle

Let us examine an often overlooked aspect of makkas bechoros (the plague of the firstborn), namely, the Miracle of the Quiet Dogs: 

Moshe said: Thus said Hashem, “At around midnight I shall go out in the midst of Mitzrayim. Every firstborn in the land of Mitzrayim shall die, from the firstborn of Paroh who sits on his throne to the firstborn of the maidservant who is behind the millstone, and all the firstborn of beast. There shall be a great outcry in the entire land of Mitzrayim, such as there has never been and such as there shall never be again. But against all of Bnei Yisrael, no dog shall whet its tongue (i.e. bark), against neither man nor beast, so that you shall know that Hashem will have differentiated between Mitzrayim and Yisrael” (Shemos 11:4-7). 

This “silencing of the dogs” was clearly a miracle. When people are dropping dead, the entire society is in a panic, and the slaves are escaping, the dogs tend to bark.

The question is: What was the purpose of this miracle? The pasuk seems to indicates that this miracle was intended to show that Hashem differentiates between Mitzrayim and Yisrael – but wasn't makkas bechoros, itself, a sufficient demonstration of this point? Was it really necessary for Hashem to kill every Egyptian firstborn and put their dogs on mute?

In Parashas Mishpatim we encounter another pasuk involving dogs. The pasuk says: “People of holiness shall you be to Me; you shall not eat flesh of an animal that was torn (treifah) in the field; to the dog shall you throw it” (ibid. 22:30). Halachically, this pasuk is the source of the Torah prohibition against eating treifah. Although the word “treifah” in the vernacular has come to refer to any non-kosher food, the halachic term “treifah” refers to meat from an animal which suffers a life-threatening physical defect, such as a mortal wound or a terminal illness. Even if such an animal receives a kosher shechitah (slaughter), its meat is considered “treifah” and is prohibited by Torah law. This pasuk teaches us that the Torah only prohibits us from eating the meat. We are permitted to derive other types of hanaah (benefit) from it. For this reason, the pasuk says that we are allowed to benefit from treifah by using it as dog food.

The question is: Why does the pasuk explicitly tell us to throw our treifah to the dogs? Halachically, we are permitted to dispose of our treifah in any number of other ways: by feeding it to other animals, selling it for profit, giving it to our non-Jewish neighbors, etc. Why dog food, specifically?

According to the plain pshat, this was the most common way to dispose of treifah. Rashi [1], however, cites a midrash which links the pasuk in Mishpatim to our pasuk in Bo: 

This teaches us that Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu doesn't withhold reward from any creature, as it is stated: “But against all of Bnei Yisrael, no dog shall whet its tongue.” Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu said, “Give [the dog] its reward.”

If we take this midrash at face value, we are confronted with a number of problems. First of all, there is no concept of sachar v’onesh (reward and punishment) in the animal kingdom [2]. Only a creature with a tzelem Elokim is subject to sachar v’onesh. That being said, how are we to understand the notion of Hashem “rewarding” the dogs with treifah? Secondly, the whole concept of sachar v’onesh only makes sense when dealing with beings who possess free will, and dogs don’t have free will! The dogs in Egypt didn't choose not to bark. Hashem miraculously stopped them from barking! Moreover, the dogs that get this “reward” of treifah aren't even the same dogs that obeyed Hashem in Mitzrayim! In fact, we didn't even receive the halachos of treifah until after Yetziat Mitzrayim! Last, but not least, this “reward” isn't very dependable in its structure. There isn't any halachic obligation to feed our treifah to the dogs – only a halachic suggestion.

The answer to all of these questions is ... I have no idea! That’s right: no answers this time. 

I’ll bet you thought that the purpose of this dvar Torah was to give you an idea on the parshah. In truth, the purpose of this dvar Torah was to teach an important lesson in Torah methodology, and that lesson is: you can’t always solve all of the problems the first time you learn through a sugya (topic of study).

We will conclude with some advice from the Rambam [3] on dealing with situations like this:

When you encounter a statement of Chazal which seems to conflict with reason, you will pause, consider it, and realize that this utterance must be a riddle or a parable. You will sleep on it, trying anxiously to grasp its logic and its expression, so that you may find its genuine intellectual intention and lay hold of a genuine concept. 

What else can a person do if the answers are not forthcoming? The Rambam writes [4]: 

If Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu removes the veil from the mind of the one whom He desires, the one who has toiled in his study, such a person will understand [the secrets of Torah] according to the strength of his intellect. Regarding the study of Torah and one’s endeavors therein, a person must direct his heart to Hashem and to pray before Him, and to supplicate that He grant him knowledge and help him and reveal to him the mysteries hidden in the holy writings. Such do we find by David ha'Melech, who did so when he said: “Uncover my eyes and I will behold wonders from Your Torah!" (Tehilim 119:18).

May Hashem grant us the insight to answer these questions and appreciate His infinite wisdom! And if any of you are zocheh (meritorious) to answer these questions, please email me your ideas!

[1] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Shemot 22:30

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Guide for the Perplexed 1:2 and 3:16.

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Sanhedrin, Perek Chelek

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Introduction to the Commentary on the Mishnah

Parashas Vaeira: Do You Believe in Magic?

Originally posted in December 2013.

Artwork: Jace the Mind Sculptor, by Jason Chan

Parashas Vaeira: Do You Believe in Magic?

In Parashas Vaeira the Torah recounts the first of the many miracles performed by Moshe in Egypt:

Moshe came with Aharon to Paroh and they did so, as Hashem had commanded; Aharon cast down his staff before Paroh and before his servants, and it became a snake. Paroh, too, summoned his wise men and sorcerers, and they, too - the necromancers of Egypt - did so with their magic. Each one cast down his staff and they became snakes; and the staff of Aharon swallowed their staffs. The heart of Paroh was strong and he did not heed them, as Hashem had spoken. (Shemos 7:10-13)

The question is: Did Paroh's sorcerers do real magic? The answer to this question is a machlokes Rishonim (a disagreement between medieval authorities). 

Some Rishonim, such as the Rambam, Ibn Ezra, and Radak, maintain that there is no such thing as “real magic.” All instances of magic, sorcery, and occult practices mentioned by the Torah were nothing but illusions and trickery, whether by sleight of hand or by sleight of mind. For the sake of simplicity, we will refer to this position as “the Rambam’s view,” [1] since he was more vocal about his position on this matter than many of the other Rishonim.

Other Rishonim, such as the Ramban, Sefer ha’Chinuch, and Rashi, maintain that magic – at least, some forms of magic – are real, and involve tremendous chochmah (wisdom). Of course, they do not believe that magic involve powers other than Hashem. Rather, they conceive of magic as a method of manipulating natural phenomena in “unnatural” ways. This may be compared to the act of “hacking” a computer program: the program was designed to be used in a certain way, but the potential for the other uses exists within its code, and if one knows programming language, he can change the program to be used in an “unnatural” manner – that is, in a manner contrary to the intent of the program’s original designer. We will refer to this position as “the Ramban’s view,” since he was one of the most vocal opponents of the Rambam’s view.

Last but not least, there are Rishonim who are in doubt. They acknowledge both sides of the issue, but admit that they don’t know which side is correct. One of these Rishonim is the Ralbag [2], who writes:

I maintain that these “wise men [of Egypt]” were the men who were knowledgeable in the chochmas Mitzrayim (Egyptian wisdom). This chochmah enabled its practitioners to produce acts of sorcery to bring about strange and unnatural phenomena. They either (a) perform illusions which cause people to think they are doing what they are not actually doing; or (b) they devise natural mechanisms to produce strange phenomena that appear to be acts of sorcery; or (c) they did these strange actions by means of actual sorcery – that is, assuming these things are possibly by way of actual sorcery. Today, however, we lack knowledge of the nature and character of this [Egyptian] “sorcery,” and so we have not seen fit to discuss it.

Whenever I present this machlokes between the Rambam and the Ramban to my students, I am inevitably asked two questions: “How do we know which view is correct?” and “What do you believe?”

My answer to the first question is: analyze each of the theories in depth, evaluate their relative strengths and weaknesses, and arrive at a conclusion with your own mind. If you are unable to conduct a full investigation or are unable to arrive at a conclusion, the most intellectually honest position to hold is that of the Ralbag, who said, “I don’t know.” Do not be intellectually irresponsible and adopt whichever belief you find most emotionally pleasing or the most stimulating to your imagination and fantasy.

My answer to the second question, “What do you believe?” is a bit more nuanced than the two basic Rishonic positions outlined above. I will say, without hesitation, that I believe the Rambam’s view to be correct. I do not believe that there is or ever was such a thing as “real magic,” and anything that appears to be real magic is the product of trickery, imagination, and/or ignorance. Not only that, but I maintain that if the Ramban were alive today, he would agree with the Rambam. There would be no machlokes.

In order to understand why this is the case, we need to understand why the Ramban believed in magic in the first place. The answer is not simply “Because the Torah talks about people doing magic, and prohibits magic, so magic must be real!” After all, the Rambam and other Rishonim were also aware of the references to magic in the Torah, and they still maintained that magic is fake.

The Ramban’s clearest statement of his reasons for believing in occult practices (such as magic, astrology, omen-reading, etc.) can be found in his commentary on Devarim 18:9. He writes that we ought to believe in these phenomena because “we cannot deny things [that] have been done publicly in the sight of witnesses” which are based on “empirically verified science” – that is to say, they have been confirmed by observation and experience. Scientists [3] at the time of the Ramban believed in these occult phenomena, and the Ramban relied on their conclusions. To deny magic would be to reject science and sense observation [4], which is the basis of everything – including our acceptance of Torah.

The Ramban’s true position is now clear. Just as he relied on the empirical conclusions of the scientists in his times, so too, if he were alive today, he would embrace the empirical conclusions of modern day scientists. To my knowledge, there is absolutely no scientific evidence to support a belief in magic and the occult. Scientists today hold by the view expressed by the Rambam over 800 years ago:

Anyone who believes in these and similar things and, in his heart, holds that they are true and scientific but forbidden by the Torah, is nothing but a fool with a deficient mind, who belongs to the same class with others whose intellects are immature. Intelligent people, however, whose rationality is intact, know by clear proofs that all these practices which the Torah prohibited have no scientific basis but are senseless and empty; and that only those with deficient minds are attracted by these follies and, for their sake, leave the ways of truth.

In the Ramban’s time, the evidence wasn't so clear. To deny magic was to take a stance on what was regarded as a two-sided scientific dispute. Today, however, there are no two sides. In this day and age, to believe in magic is to reject science and to deny sense observation. That, we can be sure, is a stance that the Ramban would never take, and would never advocate. 

[1] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Hilchos Avodah Zarah 11:16; Commentary on the Mishnah, Maseches Avodah Zarah 4:6; Letter to the Rabbis of Montepellier

[2] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 7:11 (Beur ha’Milos)

[3] There wasn’t any “science” in Ramban’s time. They called it “natural philosophy.” I’m speaking in the vernacular.

[4] This isn't the only instance of the Ramban basing his interpretation of Chumash on empirical evidence. In our dvar Torah on Parashas Noach we saw that the Ramban relied on the explanation of rainbows given by the Greek scientists, even when their words undermined the plain pshat of the pesukim. The Ramban wrote: “We are compelled to believe the words of the Greek [scientists] that rainbows are a natural phenomenon resulting from the sun’s rays passing through moist air, etc.”