How I Teach Maaseh Bereishis - Part 2 of 2

This post is a continuation of How I Teach Maaseh Bereishis - Part 1 of 2. It is recommended that you read that post before reading this one.

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How I Teach Maaseh Bereishis - Part 2 of 2

Reminder: The term “Maaseh Bereishis” in this post refers specifically to the text of Bereishis Perek 1 (Genesis Chapter 1). It does not refer to the pesukim after the first perek, nor does it refer to the event of the creation – just the pesukim. 

Kass's Approach to Maaseh Bereishis 

We left off with the following question: if the pesukim of Bereishis Perek 1 were never intended to be taken literally, and the true meaning was only intended for the elite chachamim, then what purpose do these pesukim serve for the masses? What is the average Jew supposed to get out of a literal reading of Maaseh Bereishis? Why didn't the Torah simply state the fact that Hashem created the universe in Six Days in a single pasuk and leave the detailed account to Torah she'baal Peh, as the Ramban suggested?

The best answer to this question I’ve encountered can be found in Leon Kass’s commentary on Sefer Bereishis, entitled, The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis (2003). Kass is a secular philosopher [1] whose commentary utilizes what he refers to as “a wisdom-seeking approach” to the text of the Bible (see this post for an elaboration). Though I cannot endorse his entire book, both because I haven’t read it all and I didn’t agree with everything I did read, his approach to Maaseh Bereishis certainly opened my eyes, and inspired the direction I take in teaching this unit. 

Here is Kass’s commentary on the first pasuk of Bereishis. I’ve underlined the passages which led me to develop the approach I use when teaching this to my students: 

Unfortunately for those who demand clear pictures, the text’s account of the very beginning is shrouded in mystery:

In beginning, God [’elohim] created the heavens and the earth. 

The first sentence of Genesis majestically summarizes the entire story and states its main theme and thesis: creation, by God, and creation by God. Yet there is much in this verse that is hard to understand: in beginning of what? (Of time? Of everything? Of God’s creative activities?) What is “creating”? And who or what is this creating being, God? To some of these difficulties – especially creation – we shall return. But even now, with our incomplete understanding, we grasp a major point: the assertion of creation by God emphatically denies important competing alternatives. Right from its beginning, Genesis, by speaking about the origins of heaven and earth, denies the eternity and, a fortiori, the divinity of the visible universe: neither the heavens – the lofty celestial vault with its sun, moon, stars – nor the earth, the fertile, teeming source of life, are gods. They are, rather, creatures, creations of God. Perhaps more important, Genesis denies the alternative of generative beginnings: the sky did not beget upon the earth; our world is not the result of sexual (or warring) activities of gods and goddesses. In denying that the world comes to be through giving birth – that is, in rejecting cosmogony and, all the more so, theogony – Genesis begins by rejecting the necessity of polytheism. The coming into being of our world does not imply or demand more than one god.  

The Bible does not polemicize against these alternatives. As Umberto Cassuto remarks, “the controversial note is heard indirectly, as it were, through the deliberate, quiet utterances of Scripture, which sets the opposing views at naught by silence or by subtle hint.” Still, one cannot exaggerate the importance the Bible attaches to rejecting these alternatives. Numerous people of the ancient Near East – and elsewhere – regarded the heavenly bodies as divine. In the course of Genesis, we shall meet – as alternative and rejected ways of life – the Babylonians, who looked up to the heavens, and the Egyptians, who worshipped the sun and other nature gods. Because every people (and also every person) is defined ultimately by what it (or he or she) admires and reveres, the Bible wastes no time in denying the standing of other peoples’ candidates for the divine. The reason for this urgent rejection is a matter to which we will return. 

Skipping a few paragraphs, here’s another part of Kass’s commentary which highlights his approach: 

The account, though comprehensive, has an earth-centered focus. Though it speaks about what we call, in nonbiblical language, the universe or the cosmos, it addresses us, as terrestrial beings and as seeing beings, looking around and, especially, up. It begins with what we recognize and trust: the visible world we see above and about us. It shows us the articulated world of our native experience, as it manifests itself to sight.

All the beings mentioned are known to us in ordinary experience: There are no mythical beasts and no gods and goddesses. The main regions of our world are present – land, sea, and air – with their appropriate inhabitants, divided into recognizable kinds or species. And the overarching, star-studded, watery blue vault of heaven that beckons our gaze is present almost from the start, preceded only by light, in the absence of which nothing at all could be distinguished or gazed upon. By addressing human beings exactly as they experience the world, especially through sight, Genesis begins with what is both familiar and first for us, and for all mankind at all times.

But in the course of appealing first to our familiar point of view, the story in fact calls that viewpoint into question. Although addressed to our experience, the account of Genesis 1 does not simply accord with our experience; indeed, some of the peculiarities of the account induce perplexities about the way we ordinarily encounter the world. 

To review, our question is: What purpose is served by the literal pshat of Maaseh Bereishis, as read and understood by the masses? Based on the approach set forth by Kass, we may answer our question as follows: Maaseh Bereishis is intended to be a philosophical primer for healthy development as a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect). Specifically, its purpose is twofold: (1) to establish the foundations of a worldview which helps the masses develop a philosophically mature way of relating to the world around them, and (2) to steer these readers away from competing worldviews which would otherwise arrest their philosophical maturation. 

This may seem like a radical move on the Torah’s part, but in truth, it is merely a specialized instance of dibra Torah ki’lshon bnei adam (“the Torah speaks in the language of man”). Rather than stating the “raw truth” explicitly, in a manner that would be incomprehensible and/or detrimental to the majority of readers, the Torah presents the truth in a manner which is accessible to the average readers on their level, in terms they can easily relate to. This “watered down” version of the truth is designed as a developmental primer. In other words, the literal interpretation is not intended to remain as the reader’s permanent understanding, like a classical myth; it is meant to temporarily frame the reader’s conception and lay the groundwork for the next step in his or her understanding. As the reader continues to develop intellectually and psychologically, he or she will delve deeper into the true meaning underlying the external sense of the pesukim and come to terms with the truth at his or her own pace. The Torah uses this approach when speaking about Hashem; the Neviim and Kesuvim use this approach with many subjects; Chazal use this approach in midrashim. It shouldn’t surprise us that the Torah uses this approach when discussing the profound subject of Maaseh Bereishis.

Before expanding on this approach, I'd like to anticipate and address an objection. Our instinctive reaction as "modern readers" is to compare and contrast the Torah’s account with our modern scientific understanding of cosmogony. If we do this, we will surely be disappointed. The Torah's geocentric narrative of the Six Days of Creation pales in comparison to the current theoretical model of the Big Bang and the unfolding of the entire universe. Some might even consider the Torah's account to appear childish in comparison. 

But we must remember that the Torah was not addressing itself to "scientifically enlightened" readers in the 21st century. Rather, as Kass pointed out, the Torah's narrative was competing with pre-scientific and non-scientific creation mythology - and rightly so, for it is these myths which have dominated mankind's conception of the heavens and earth for millennia. If the Torah had been written specifically for the 21st century, for an audience that already has a basic grasp of scientific thinking, or for readers immersed in a world where secular atheism is the competing worldview with Torah monotheism, I'm sure that the pesukim of Maaseh Bereishis would look quite different. 

It is this realization that the Torah was aimed at combating myths which prompted me to use an out-of-the-box method in presenting this to my students. 

Comparing Maaseh Bereishis to Creation Myths of Other Religions 

Rather than spoon-feeding this reading of Maaseh Bereishis to my students or having them read the relevant excerpts from Kass’s book, I try to have them derive it on their own. I found a site called www.BigMyth.com. The home page shows a map of the world with 25 dots identifying regions on six of the seven continents. If you hover your mouse over a dot, the name of the nation, culture, or religion will pop up (e.g. Egyptian, Chinese, Maori, Inuit, Inca, etc.). Once you make your selection, you’ll be taken to an early 2000’s era “flash animation” which depicts that group’s creation story, complete with cheesy sound effects and narration. 

I show my students the first couple of minutes of around 5-7 of these animations, then encourage them to watch more at home prior to doing their assignment. Their assignment is to identify the major differences between the Torah’s account of creation and the creation myths of these groups. I tell them to focus on how each account of creation might impact the way that these people view the human race, God (or gods), and the universe as a whole. 

On the day after the assignment is due, we go through the students’ findings and discuss them. I conclude the unit by presenting what I see as the key differences between the Torah’s account of creation and the common features of these creation myths. Here are a few examples. 

anthropomorphic creator(s) vs. non-anthropomorphic Creator: Other religions depict their god(s) in highly anthropomorphic ways. The Torah does not. The only verbs it uses are verbs which do not evoke strong anthropomorphic imagery (e.g. creating, speaking, seeing, separating, calling, making, placing etc.) as opposed to the gross anthropomorphisms found throughout the rest of the Torah (e.g. body parts, such as eyes, ears, hand, arm, or emotions such as anger, sadness, regret, mercy, love). It is as though the Torah wants our introduction to Hashem to be as devoid of physicality as possible, so as not to not lead us to associate the physical universe as proceeding from a physical creator – especially one that resembles ourselves. All of this prepares our minds to seek out the non-physical causes of nature, which will ultimately lead us to the non-physical First Cause.

multiple creators vs. One Creator: Many other creation stories involve multiple creators and/or divinities. According to the Torah, Hashem was the sole cause of the universe. A person who believes that the universe is the product of multiple gods will have no impetus to seek a unity of design underlying the diverse particulars of the universe. Why should he, if different parts of the universe belong to different gods? But according to the Torah, there is only One Architect of the universe with one law that governs His entire domain.

“scientific” account of creation vs. “magical” account of creation: Other religions’ creation stories are mythological and fantastical. Many of them involve a multiplicity of divine beings (e.g. spirits, angels, demons, demi-gods), supernatural objects with mystical properties, and magical generative processes. In contrast, Maaseh Bereishis is scientific in its character. It describes an orderly creation process involving things we see in the world around us: no otherworldly beings or supernatural things – just earthly phenomena that we observe around us every day. Even the actions of the Creator are not described in miraculous terms. It is easy to see how this orientation towards the world lends itself to a value system which promotes scientific inquiry, rather than imaginative mythos and primitive superstiion.

yeish me’yesh (creation out of something) vs. yeish me’ayin (creation out of nothing): Many other creation stories begin with something that already exists, and everything emanates or is created from that. According to the Torah – as understood by the majority of the meforshim – Hashem created the universe out of nothing. Therefore, He is truly the First Cause, and nothing can be compared to Him in His eternality. In other words, there is nothing in the Torah’s account that occupies the “throne” of eternality other than Hashem.

universe as divinity vs. universe as creation: Other religions maintain that the universe itself is divine, or has divine qualities. The Torah makes it clear that the entire universe is a creation. This rules out the possibility of worshipping the universe or parts of the universe (e.g. sun, moon, stars, planets) as gods, or having godly qualities. It can be argued that this is the essential difference between a primitive outlook and a scientific one. So long as a society perceives nature as a panoply of divinities, each with its own independent will that must be appeased, the gates of scientific inquiry will be barred and concealed.

creation process as melachah (intelligent design) vs. creation as non-melachah: Other religions’ creation stories involve accidents, mistakes, and automatic generative processes. According to the Torah, the entire work of creation is characterized as “melachah” – a deliberate creative process in which matter is transformed in accordance with intelligent design – and the sequence of days follows a logical, hierarchical order. Moreover, it is clear that our Creator knows what He is doing: at each step of the way, he declares what He intends to do, He does it, and He perceives that it is good. At the end of the Six Days of Creation, He deems the entire creation as “very good” – that is, produced in complete accord with His plan. It is easy to see how this analogy of melachah would radically alter a person’s view of the universe. Are we living in a universe which is an expression of wisdom, with an underlying lawfulness and order that can be discerned by the truth-seeking human intellect, or was the universe a fluke, a blunder, or the result of blind forces acting without any objective or blueprint.

no motives are given for creation vs. creation is a result of human motives: In the creation stories of other religions, motives are given for the actions of the gods. Usually these motives are petty: because the god is lonely, because the god is angry, because the god wants to be worshipped, etc. In stark contrast, the Torah says nothing about why Hashem created the universe. This underscores the Torah’s view that we cannot know the purpose of the universe, because we cannot know Hashem’s Mind, which is identical with His unknowable Essence. 

These aren’t the only differences between Maaseh Bereishis and the creation myths of other religions, but I hope they illustrate how a literal reading of the pesukim paves the way for the development of the scientific and philosophical worldview that is the ultimate objective of the Torah regimen. At the very least, I hope these fundamental distinctions highlight how being raised with the creation myths of other religions makes it extremely difficult for scientific truth-seeking thinkers to arise from their ranks. 

Conclusion 

So that concludes my overview of Unit 1: Maaseh Bereishis. I tweak it from year to year, and emphasize different things based on my students and their questions, but the core presentation has remained the same. If the only thing my students walk away with is an awareness that the pesukim of Maaseh Bereishis were never intended to be taken literally, and that that the literal meaning of the pesukim was designed to promote a scientific, philosophically mature worldview, then I have done my job. But I am always looking for ways to improve, so if you have any questions, objections, or suggestions about what I have presented here, then please do share!

[1] According to his Wikipedia page, he is “an American physician, scientist, educator, and public intellectual, best known as proponent of liberal education via the ‘Great Books,’ as an opponent of human cloning, life extension and euthanasia, as a critic of certain areas of technological progress and embryo research, and for his controversial tenure as chairman of the President's Council on Bioethics from 2001 to 2005. Although Kass is often referred to as a bioethicist, he eschews the term and refers to himself as ‘an old-fashioned humanist. A humanist is concerned broadly with all aspects of human life, not just the ethical.’” 

Musings on "The Academic Approach"

I'm classifying this as a "musings" post because I do not feel that my own thoughts on this subject are developed enough to be presentation-worthy. However, since the centerpiece of this post consists of excerpts from another writer whose insights have clarified my own thoughts on the subject, I decided that it would be worthwhile sharing. 

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Artwork: Tolarian Academy, by Stephen Daniele

Musings on "The Academic Approach"

My Frame of Reference

When it comes to my own hashkafah (outlook on Judaism/life), I turn to the Geonim, Rishonim, and early Achronim - which I will henceforth refer to by the collective term "Kadmonim." [1] Practically speaking, this means:

• I learn Torah she'bi'Chsav (the Written Torah) and Torah she'baal Peh (the Oral Torah) using their commentaries
• I study their works on Jewish philosophy in developing my worldview
• I operate on the assumption that the writings of the Kadmonim contain everything necessary for understanding Judaism, and although later authorities have a lot to offer, they are - at most - building upon the foundations laid by the Kadmonim
• I evaluate recent (i.e. post-15th century) innovations in light of the works of these earlier authorities, assuming that if these "new developments" clash with the fundamentals of the Kadmonim, they ipso facto fall outside of the pale of authentic Judaism

To be clear: I do not have anything against the later Achronim and modern-day Jewish thinkers. Readers of this blog know how big of a fan I am of the Malbim (19th century), Rav Hirsch (19th century), Rav Soloveitchik (20th century), and other recent chachamim. Nevertheless, I give precedence to the views of the Kadmonim in my understanding of Judaism.

"Academics" Good and Bad

Until now I have been speaking about what we might call "traditional commentators." But over the past century or two there has arisen a new coterie of commentators: the so-called "academics." I won't even attempt to define the term "academic" here because I tend to use it in a loose sense, rather than as a technical designation.

Broadly speaking, I am referring to those who employ modern methods and techniques of research and analysis in their study of the traditional texts. Some rely on historical and archaeological findings as the basis for their theories. Some utilize contemporary methods of literary criticism. Others analyze traditional texts through the lenses of present-day theories of sociology, psychology, and culture. Others I classify as "academics" not because of the methods they use, but because they approach the texts without any consultation of the baalei Mesorah whatsoever - limiting their scholastic cross-referencing to works that were published within the past 100-150 years and neglecting the thousands of years of Jewish scholarship prior to the modern era.

Over the course of my learning I have found there to be "Good Academics" whose writings have enlightened me and enhanced my understanding of Torah, and I have found there to be "Bad Academics" whose scholarship I would characterize as drivel, wild speculation, and outright kefirah (heresy). Examples of "Good Academics" whose works I have used in my own teaching and learning include Menachem Kellner, David Berger, Rabbi David Fohrman, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, and a handful of others. Examples of "Bad Academics" abound, but I'd rather not mention names for fear of needlessly alienating readers.

In recent years I have routinely asked myself: What is the difference between the Good Academics and Bad Academics? Is there some common denominator which unifies the former and differentiates them from the latter, or is this distinction to be made on a case-by-case basis? Is there a litmus test to determine which is which, or must I rely on my intuition?

In thinking about this question I arrived at the following basic distinction. Good Academics are interested in ideas, and use modern academic methods as tools in their pursuit of truth and knowledge of objective reality. In contrast, the Bad Academics are not interested in understanding ideas for their truth-value; they are interested in other things, such as cultural trends, historical patterns, ideological influences, and so on - not in order to understand objective reality, but merely to gain knowledge about particulars relative to other particulars.

I am aware that this definition is far from complete. It is lacking in both clarity and diagnostic utility. How can one tell whether the author of a particular work is "interested in objective truth"? Are there any signs by which one can distinguished the "idea-based" approach from its counterfeit counterpart? Is this criterion even objective, or is it inherently biased by one's personal standard for what constitutes "an idea"?

Kass's "Wisdom-seeking Approach"

Several years ago I came across a nice, clear, definitive statement on "the Good Academic Approach" written (ironically) by none other than a Good Academic! One of my academically-inclined friends recommended The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis, by Leon Kass. Here's some background information about the author from his Wikipedia page:

Leon Richard Kass (born February 12, 1939) is an American physician, scientist, educator, and public intellectual, best known as a proponent of liberal education via the "Great Books," as an opponent of human cloning, life extension and euthanasia, as a critic of certain areas of technological progress and embryo research, and for his controversial tenure as chairman of President's Council on Bioethics from 2001 to 2005. Although Kass is often referred to as a bioethicist, he eschews the term and refers to himself as "an old-fashioned humanist. A humanist is concerned broadly with all aspects of human life, not just the ethical."

At first I was skeptical about reading a commentary on Sefer Bereishis by a "secular humanist," but I trusted my friend's recommendation and decided to give it a try. I was pleasantly surprised! Kass did an extraordinary and fruitful job of analyzing Bereishis from a fresh perspective. In fact, his approach to the first chapter of Bereishis made such an impression on me that I adopted it as a basis for my unit on Maaseh Bereishis (the Creation Story) in my Chumash class.

In his introduction Kass writes about the method he will be using. He characterizes his approach as "philosophic." I will now share some excerpts from this section with my own emphases indicated by underlining:

What, you may well ask, do I mean by “philosophic” and “philosophic reading”? By “philosophic” I mean wisdom-seeking and wisdom-loving, after the literal meaning of the ancient Greek term philosophia, the love and pursuit of wisdom. Philosophy in this original sense refers not to some specialized academic subject matter (the field of philosophy) or to some finished doctrine (my philosophy of life) or to some method of reasoning and questioning practiced by card-carrying professional philosophers (the discipline of philosophy). Rather it denotes the activity of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and any of their descendants who single-mindedly and wholeheartedly – yet thoughtfully and self-critically – seek to discover the truth about the world and our place within it and to find thereby guidance for how we are to live. This book results from my efforts to read the book of Genesis in this spirit, the same spirit in which I read Plato’s Republic or Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics – indeed, any great book – seeking wisdom regarding human life lived well in relation to the whole.

This is exactly what I meant by my statement that "Good Academics are interested in ideas." "Wisdom-seeking" is an even better term than "interested in ideas," since it encompasses more of what we value in our talmud Torah (Torah study). Moreover, Kass's goal ("to discover the truth about the world and our place within it and to find thereby guidance for how we are to live") is entirely consonant with my own goal in learning and teaching, which (according to my understanding) is in line with the purpose of talmud Torah according to Judaism.

Kass then contrasts his method with that of contemporary academics - the "Bad Academics" of whom I spoke - and provides the best description of their approach:

It is, I am well aware, unusual to read the Bible in this manner and with these aspirations, especially today. Contemporary academic prejudices tend to deny that the Bible can still serve as a vital source of human understanding and moral instruction. Since the nineteenth century most biblical scholars, interested less in the meaning and more in the sources of the text, have seen the Hebrew Bible not as a unified literary whole but as an aggregate of separate documents derived from diverse sources. They read it not as a possible source of wisdom regarding enduring human questions but as a documentary evidence of the sensibilities and prejudices of an ancient people. In their view, the truths to be learned from the book are not universal and enduring truths about God and man, but merely parochial and historical truths about the beliefs of the ancient children of Israel whose book it once was. This view of the source critics is perfectly compatible with the most recent approach of many literary critics who read the Bible as literature but who do not regard literature as an aid to wisdom. They tend to be interested, for example, in finding cross-cultural comparisons between the biblical myths of the ancient Hebrews and the myths of Gilgamesh and other literary works of the ancient world, but they rarely ponder which, if any, might be closer to the truth of things. Most recently, self-proclaimed politicized scholars, distressed over the continuing authority of the book in some quarters of American society, have not been content just to historicize and relativize the text. Instead, reading it under the influence of, say, Marxist or feminist or environmentalist ideologies, they attack its apparent teachings as racist, sexist, and anthropocentric. In their view the Bible, if taken seriously, turns out to be a source not of wisdom but of dangerous error and folly. 

This is a far better asessment of "the Bad Academic Approach" than I am currently capable of writing, and expresses most or all of the problems I have with that method.

Further on in his introduction Kass states the goals of his commentary on Bereishis. He also has a nice response to those religious (primarily Christian) readers who might object to his imposition of a "wisdom-seeking methodology" on the revealed word of God:

This book on Genesis, addressed to serious and thoughtful readers of whatever kind or degree of religious knowledge and practice, has three major purposes: First, to demonstrate by example a wisdom-seeking approach to the Bible that attempts to understand the text in its own terms yet tries to show how such an understanding may address us in our current situation of moral and spiritual neediness. Second, to recover in their full power the stories of Genesis as tales to live with, as stories illuminating some of the most important and enduring questions of human existence. Third, to make at least plausible the power of the Biblical approach and response to these questions, with its emphasis on righteousness, holiness, and reverence for the divine … An equally severe difficulty comes from the other side, from those who regard the Bible as the revealed word of God. For them it is definitely a book, but not a book that can be read and interrogated like any other. It seems rather to demand a certain prior commitment to the truth of the account, even in order to understand it. Faith, it is sometimes said, is the prerequisite to understanding. But the Hebrew Bible in fact suggests the contrary. In Deuteronomy, Moses asserts that observing the statutes and ordinances that God has commanded is Israel's "wisdom and understanding in the eyes of the people, that when they hear all these statutes shall say, 'Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people'" (4:6). The wisdom of the Torah is said by the Torah to be accessible to everyone, at least in part.

Lastly, Kass sets forth the four specific methodological assumptions he will be making in reading:

As a result of many readings and rereadings, I now make the following "methodological" assumptions in my efforts at interpretation: First, there is a coherent order and plan to the whole, and the order of the stories is of more than chronological significance. Second, every word counts. Third, juxtapositions are important; what precedes or what follows a given sentence or story may be crucial for discovering its meaning. (It matters, for example, that the Noahide code and covenant appear as the immediate sequel to Noah's animal sacrifice tendered at the end of the Flood. It matters, too, that there are two juxtaposed and very different stories of the creation of man or of the multiplication of nations and languages.) Fourth and finally, the teachings of the text are not utterly opaque to human reason, even if God and other matters remain veiled in mystery. Though, as we shall see, the text takes a dim view of the sufficiency of human reason, it presents this critical view to human reason in a most intelligible and powerful way. One can approach the text in a spirit of inquiry, even if one comes as a result to learn the limitations of such philosophic activity.

These four methodological assumptions are completely consistent with the unstated premises of our baalei Mesorah and traditional commentators. I can't think of a single fault that any of Kadmonim would find in any of these assumptions.

I have found no better example of a secular "professional academic" approaching Torah with a genuine wisdom-seeking attitude, an intellectually honest mind, and a solid methodology which attempts to understand the text on its own terms in order to understand and live in line with reality. His articulation of the difference between the Good Academic Approach and the Bad Academic Approach is the best I've seen, and I would be happy to learn from any Academics who follow in Kass's path.

[1] These Kadmonim include, but are not limited to: Rambam, R' Avraham ben ha'Rambam, Rav Hai Gaon, Saadia Gaon, Ramban, Ibn Ezra, Ralbag, Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda, Rif, Sforno, Rashba, Rashi, Baalei Tosafos, Ritva, Radak, Rashbam, R' Yosef Albo, R' Yehudah ha'Levi, Meiri, Avudarham, Raavad, Ran, Rabbeinu Yonah, Sefer Ha'Chinuch, Abravanel, Chazkuni, Rabbeinu Bachye ben Asher, Rosh, Tur, and more.