Shavuos 5779 / Bamidbar: Mishkan and Sinai

As you will soon see, this post did NOT come together in the end as I had hoped. I debated whether to share it publicly at all and decided that I might as well post it, in hopes that it might one day lead to the next step in the inquiry. I hope you find some value in it.  

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Artwork: Mountain (M10), by Nils Hamm

Shavuos 5779 / Bamidbar: Mishkan and Sinai

Ramban's Theory

In his introduction to Sefer Bamidbar the Ramban presents a theory about the relationship between the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and Har Sinai (Mt. Sinai). Here is the first paragraph of the Ramban's introduction, with my own paragraph breaks for clarity:

After explaining the system of korbanos (sacrifices) in the third book (i.e. Sefer Vayikra), He now begins, in this book, to arrange the mitzvos that were commanded in the matter of the Tent of Meeting. He has already warned for all generations against defiling the Mikdash (Sanctuary) and its sanctified objects, and now: 

He set boundaries around the Mishkan while it is in the Wilderness just as He set boundaries around Har Sinai when the kavod Hashem (Glory of Hashem) was there. 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "and any stranger who approaches shall die" (Bamidbar 3:38) just as He said there [regarding Sinai]: "[a hand shall not touch it] for he shall surely be stoned" (Shemos 19:13). 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "but they shall not come and look as the holy is inserted, lest they die" (Bamidbar 4:20) just as He warned there [regarding Sinai]: "lest they break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude of them will fall" (Shemos 19:21). 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "You shall safeguard the charge of the holy and the charge of the altar" (Bamidbar 19:21) just as He said [regarding Sinai]: "even the Kohanim who approach Hashem should be prepared ... but the Kohanim and the people - they shall not break through [to ascend]" (Shemos 19:22-24). 

Behold, He commanded further how the safeguarding of the Mishkan and its vessels shall be and how they shall encamp around [the Mishkan] and [how] "the people shall stand from afar" (cf. Shemos 20:18) and how "the Kohanim who approach Hashem" (cf. Shemos 19:22) shall conduct themselves when [the Mishkan] is at rest and being transported, and what they shall do for its safeguarding. All of this is a distinction and an honor for the Mishkan, as [Chazal] said: "a king's palace that has guards is incomparable to a palace without guards" (Sifrei Zuta, Korach 18:4).

The Ramban also introduces Sefer Vayikra with a summary of this theory:

This book is the law for the Kohanim and the Leviim. In it He clarifies the matters regarding all the sacrifices and the safeguarding of the Mishkan, for as the other book (i.e. Sefer Shemos) was concerning the [Egyptian] exile and the redemption from it and He completed it with the matter of the Tent of Meeting and the kavod Hashem that filled the Mishkan, [now] He commanded regarding the korbanos and the safeguarding of the Mishkan, so that the sacrifices should be an atonement for them so that their sins should not cause the departure of the shechinah. And He commanded regarding "the Kohanim who approach Hashem," that "they should be sanctified" (cf. Shemos 19:22) for He warned [them] against the defiling of the Mikdash and its sacrificial foods. And also that they should "not break through to ascend to Hashem" (cf. Shemos 19:24) as He said: "Speak to Aharon, your brother - [he shall not come at all times into the Sanctuary, within the Curtain, in front of the Cover that is upon the Ark, so that he should not die]" (Vayikra 16:2), which is comparable to the warning given [at Sinai]: "lest they break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude of them will fall" (Shemos 19:21). And He set boundaries around the Mishkan like the boundaries set for Har Sinai at the time that the kavod of the God of Israel was there.

The Ramban's theory is clear: the setup of the Mishkan (and the surrounding Camp) is designed to reflect and recall the setup of Har Sinai. Both the Mishkan and Sinai have boundaries. Breaching the boundaries results in death. In both scenarios the people are warned not to look at holy phenomena. The need for safeguarding applied to both the Mishkan and Sinai. The spacing in the Camp of the Kohanim and the Israelites parallels their spacing during the event at Sinai.

But there's more to the Ramban's theory than that. The crux of his theory was stated much earlier, in his introduction to Parashas Terumah (Shemos 25:1), where he explains the purpose of the Mishkan. He writes:

When Hashem spoke with Israel "face to face" (Devarim 5:4) [telling them] the Decalogue and commanding them through Moshe in some mitzvos as universal categories for the [rest of] the Torah's mitzvos - just as our Sages of blessed memory enacted as a practice with converts who seek to become Jewish - and Israel accepted upon themselves to do whatever He would command them through Moshe Rabbeinu, peace be upon him, He [consequently] made a covenant with them regarding all this. Now they had become a people unto Him and He had become their God, as He stipulated with them at first: "and now, if you hearken well to Me and you will observe My covenant, you shall be to Me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for Mine is the entire world" (Shemos 19:5) and He said: "You shall be to Me a kingdom of kohanim and a holy nation" (ibid. 19:6). Thus, they were holy and worthy for there to be a Mikdash in their midst, [a place for Hashem] to rest His shechinah (indwelling) among them. Therefore, He first commanded regarding the matter of the Mishkan, so that He would have an abode among them sanctified to His Name, and there He would speak with Moshe and command Bnei Yisrael.

Behold! The main objective of the Mishkan is as a place for the resting of the shechinah, which was [atop] the Ark, as He said: "it is there that I will meet with you, and I shall speak with you from atop the cover [... on the Ark]" (ibid. 25:22) ... 

The esoteric significance of the Mishkan is that the kavod that rested upon Har Sinai [when the Torah was given] should rest upon [the Mishkan] in a concealed manner. And just as it was stated there [regarding Sinai:] "the kavod Hashem rested upon Har Sinai" (ibid. 24:16) and it is written: "Behold! Hashem, our God, has shown us His kavod and His greatness" (Devarim 5:21), and He mentioned twice regarding the Mishkan: "the kavod of Hashem filled the Mishkan" (ibid. and in 25:35), parallel to "His kavod" and "His greatness" [mentioned at Sinai]. And the kavod that was seen at Sinai remained constantly with Israel in the Mishkan, and whenever Moshe entered [the Mishkan] he would receive the same [type of] communication that was spoken to him at Sinai. 

And just as it was said regarding the Giving of the Torah: "from heaven He caused you to hear His voice in order to teach you, and on earth He showed you His great fire" (Devarim 4:36), so too regarding the Mishkan it is written: "he heard the voice speaking to him from atop the cover [that was upon the Ark of the Testimony] from between the two Keruvim (Cherubim), and He spoke to him" (Bamidbar 7:89). The words "and He spoke to him" are repeated [at the end of that pasuk] in order to convey what [the Sages] said by way of tradition that the voice would come from heaven to above the Ark-cover and speak to Moshe from there. For every communication with Moshe originated in heaven during the day and was heard from between the Keruvim in a manner similar to [the Giving of the Torah, of which it is written:] "and you heard His words from the midst of the fire" (Devarim 4:36). This is why [the Keruvim] were both made of gold. Likewise, Scripture stated: "[at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, before Hashem,] where I shall meet with you to speak to you there ... and it will be sanctified with My glory" (Shemos 29:42-43) for that was to be the meeting place for communication, and it would be "sanctified with My glory."

There are many subtle points being made here, but the main idea is clear: the purpose of the Mishkan is to house the Ark, which is a resting place for the kavod - or shechinah - that descended upon Sinai; this kavod is also the place from where Hashem would speak to Moshe in the Wilderness, as it spoke to Bnei Yisrael at Sinai.

That, in a nutshell, is the Ramban's theory. Now we need to understand it.

[My Failure in] Understanding the Meaning of the Ramban's Theory

The Ramban's theory is adequately supported by the pshat (straightforward reading) of the pesukim he cited. The question is: What does he mean? What is his understanding of the kavod Hashem that descended on Sinai and filled the Mishkan? What is the relationship between the singular Divine communication at Sinai and the day-to-day communication with Moshe at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting during the 40 years in the Wilderness? What is the purpose of this parallel setup of Sinai and the Mishkan in the Camp?

When I set out to an answer to this question, I figured that the best way to find answers would be to look up the Ramban's commentary on the pesukim he cited. Much to my dismay, the vast majority of these pesukim contain scant commentary from the Ramban. The few pesukim on which he elaborated only added to my confusion. For example, on the pasuk: "The cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and kavod Hashem filled the Mishkan" (Shemos 40:34) the Ramban explains:

"the kavod Hashem filled the Mishkan" - because the inside of it was filled with the kavod, because the kavod dwelled inside the cloud which was inside the Mishkan, as it was stated in regards to Har Sinai: "[Moshe approached] the thick cloud, where God was" (Shemos 20:18).

Similarly, when I looked up the Ramban's comments on the first pasuk of Sefer Vayikra in hopes that he'd clarify how Hashem spoke to Moshe from the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, this is what I found:

The pasuk here says: "He called to Moshe and Hashem spoke to him" but doesn't say this in other places, because [here] "Moshe was not able to enter the Tent of Meeting" (cf. Shemos 40:35) to approach the place "where God was" (cf. Shemos 20:18) except by means of a summons that [Hashem] called out to him, for it had already been said to Moshe: "[It is there that I will meet with you,] and I shall speak with you from atop the Cover, from between the two Keruvim [that are on the Ark]" (ibid. 25:22) "where I will meet with you" (ibid. 30:6). And since he knew that God is "enthroned upon the Keruvim" (cf. I Divrei ha'Yamim 13:6), he was fearful of entering the Tent of Meeting at all, until He would call to him, just as [He had done] at Har Sinai, where it says: "He called to Moshe on the seventh day form the midst of the cloud" (ibid. 24:16). 

The Ramban's cryptic comments like these only added to my confusion, while simultaneously reinforcing the prominence of his theory. The more I looked for explanations, the more questions and problems I encountered. 

These difficulties are due in large part to obscure and esoteric nature of subject matter here. The kavod Hashem at Sinai and over the Ark, the nature of the revelation at Sinai and Moshe's prophecy, the purpose of the Mishkan and its vessels - each of these topics is a metaphysical rabbit hole unto itself, and the Ramban's theory deals with ALL of them in conjunction! 

The Success of Failing to Understand

Just as I was ready to give up on this topic, it suddenly dawned on me: "I don't understand these topics ... but that's kind of the point here, isn't it?" All of these topics have one thing in common: they all reside at the outermost boundaries of human understanding, and force us to confront the limitations of our own mind.

This point is the most obvious with regards to the kavod Hashem at Sinai. The whole point of setting boundaries around Har Sinai was to prevent people from drawing near, "lest they break through to Hashem to see" (Shemos 19:21) - that is, to intellectually apprehend Hashem's kavod. The Rambam devotes an entire chapter of the Moreh ha'Nevuchim (1:5) to lauding the virtue of restraint in man's attempt to apprehend the Divine, as exemplified by the proper conduct of Moshe Rabbeinu at the Burning Bush, and condemning the improper conduct of the Atzilei Bnei Yisrael (Nobles of the Children of Israel) at Sinai: 

When the chief of the philosophers began to investigate very obscure matters and to attempt a proof concerning them, he excused himself by making a statement of the meaning of which was as follows. A student of his books should not, because of the subject of these researches, ascribe to him effrontery, temerity, and an excess of haste to speak of matters of which he had no knowledge; but rather he should ascribe to him the desire and the endeavor to acquire and achieve true beliefs to the extent to which this is in the power of man. In the same way we say that man should not hasten too much to accede to this great and sublime matter at the first try, without having made his soul undergo training in the sciences and the different kinds of knowledge, having truly improved his character, and having extinguished the desires and cravings engendered in him by his imagination. When, however, he has achieved and acquired knowledge of true and certain premises and has achieved knowledge of the rules of logic and interference and of the various ways of preserving himself from errors of the mind, he then should engage in the investigation of this subject. When doing this he should not make categorical affirmations in favor of the first opinion that occurs to him and should not, from the outset, strain and impel his thoughts toward the apprehension of the Creator; he rather should feel awe and refrain and hold back until he gradually elevates himself.  

It is in this sense that it is said: "And Moshe hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God" (Shemos 3:6) - this being an additional meaning of the pasuk over and above its external meaning that indicates that he hid his face because of his being afraid to look upon the light manifesting himself - and not that Hashem, Who is greatly exalted above every deficiency, can be apprehended by the eyes. [Moshe], peace be upon him, was commended for this; and God, may He be exalted, let overflow upon him so much of His bounty and goodness that it became necessary to say of him: "And the image of Hashem shall he look upon" (Bamidbar 12:8). Chazal (Berachos 7a) have stated that this is a reward for his having at first "hidden his face" so as "not to look upon God."  

The Atzilei Bnei Yisrael, on the other hand, were overly hasty, strained their thoughts, and achieved apprehension, but only an imperfect one. Hence it is said of them: "And they saw the God of Israel, and there was under His feet [the likeness of sapphire brickwork, and it was like the essence of the heaven in purity]" (Shemos 24:10) and not merely: "And they saw the God of Israel." For these words are solely intended to present a criticism of their act of seeing, not to describe the manner of their seeing. Thus they were solely blamed for the form that their apprehension took inasmuch as corporeality entered into it to some extent - this being necessitated by their overhasty rushing forward before they had reached perfection. They deserved to perish, but [Moshe], peace be upon him, interceded for them, and they were granted a reprieve until the time they were burnt at Taveirah, whereas Nadav and Avihu were burnt at the Tent of Meeting, as is stated in a correct tradition.  

This having happened to these men, it behooves us, all the more, as being inferior to them, and it behooves those who are inferior to us, to aim at and engage in perfecting our knowledge of preparatory matters and in achieving those premises that purify apprehension of its impurity, which is error. [Only] then may one approach the divine and holy station. It is accordingly said: "And also the Kohanim who approach Hashem should be prepared, lest Hashem burst forth against them" (Shemos 19:22). Accordingly, Shlomo has bidden the man who wishes to reach this rank to be most cautious, warning by way of allegory: "guard your foot when you go to the house of God" (Koheles 4:17).  

I shall now go back in order to complete what we began to explain, and I shall say: Because of the hindrances that were a stumbling block to the Nobles of the Children of Israel  in their apprehension, their actions were also troubled; because of the corruption of their apprehension, they inclined toward matters of the body. Hence it says: "And they gazed at God, and they ate and they drank" (Shemos 24:11) ...

The need for intellectual restraint applies not only to the kavod Hashem at Sinai, but to the revelation itself, which was a one-time occurrence - "a great voice, never to be repeated" (Devarim 5:19) - and which utterly overwhelmed those who heard it, causing them to exclaim:

"Behold! Hashem, our God, has shown us His glory and His greatness, and we have heard His voice from the midst of the fire; this day we saw that Hashem will speak to a person and he can live. But now, why should we die when this great fire consumes us? If we continue to hear the voice of Hashem, our God, any longer, we will die! For is there any human that has heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire, as we have, and lived?" (ibid. 5:21-23).

Regarding the unfathomable character of that revelation, the Rambam (Moreh ha'Nevuchim 2:33) writes:

It is impossible to expound on the Gathering at Mount Sinai to a greater extent than Chazal spoke about it, for it is one of the sisrei Torah (mysteries of Torah). The true reality of that apprehension and its modality are quite hidden from us, for nothing like it happened before and [nothing like it] will happen after.  

And if, as the Ramban suggests, this voice at Sinai is the same as (or related to) the voice that spoke with Moshe at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting from between the two Keruvim on top of the Ark, then that voice is also shrouded in the same type of mystery. 

The same goes for the nature of Moshe's nevuah. Not only does the Rambam repeatedly emphasize the difference between Moshe's nevuah and that of the other neviim, but he even goes so far as to write (ibid. 2:35):

I will let you know that everything I say on [the topic of] nevuah in these chapters of this treatise refers only to the form of nevuah of all the neviim who were before Moshe and who will come after him. As for the nevuah of Moshe Rabbeinu, I shall not touch upon it in these chapters with even a single word, either in an explicit fashion or in a flash. For to my mind, the term "navi" used with reference to Moshe and to the others is equivocal. The same applies, in my opinion, to his miracles and to the miracles of others, for his miracles do not belong to the class of the miracles of the other neviim. 

And even the Mishkan itself, which is in the realm of mitzvos - and, therefore, theoretically within our understanding - is treated by the Rishonim as an esoteric topic that should be approached with extreme reticence and intellectual humility. The Sefer ha'Chinuch, who provides reasons for all of the mitzvos, prefaces his explanation of Mishkan (Mitzvah #95) with the following reverent disclaimer:

What lies at the root of this mitzvah you will see [below] after these words of mine. Indeed, I have a great fear of drawing close to the Mishkan Hashem [to provide an explanation for it], for I know that "everyone who comes near, who comes near" (Bamidbar 17:28) if he has not adequately sanctified himself, will not see the house and live (cf. Shemos 33:20 regarding knowledge of Hashem's essence: "for man cannot see Me and live"). "And also the Kohanim who approach Hashem" for service "should sanctify themselves" as they come into the holiness within; and my brethren "the Leviim purified themselves ... and Aharon raised them up in an offering" (Bamidbar 8:21) before they would raise their voices in the Temple of Hashem. Yet, I said: "Let me also speak my thought and present my apology before my elders, and I will "wash my hands in innocence" (Tehilim 73:13) before I go up to the House of Hashem.

Thus it is clear that the difficulty I faced in my investigation of this topic was to be expected. All of the topics that comprise the Ramban's theory about the Mishkan and Sinai are exceedingly recondite, and it is highly unlikely for someone of my low caliber to expect to attain a fundamental comprehension of such lofty concepts. 

Upon realizing that the roadblock I encountered was an inherent part of the investigation I embarked upon - "a feature, not a bug," as they say - my central question shifted. Rather than attempting to understand the elements of the Ramban's theory, I instead began to wonder: What is the purpose of setting up the Mishkan and the Camp to reflect the most incomprehensible phenomena known to man? 

Consider the elements of the Pesach Seder, which are set up to remind us of events and concepts related to the Yetzias Mitzrayim (Exodus from Egypt). Matzah reminds us of the redemption; Maror reminds us of the bitterness; drinking four cups reminds us that we are freemen. These readily accessible elements of the Seder connect us to readily accessible ideas which benefit us by their contemplation. Compare that to the Mishkan and Camp, which is set up to remind us of concepts that are all but incomprehensible to even the most erudite individuals in the nation! What, exactly, does this accomplish? 

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Unfortunately, it appears that I'm going to run out of time before I can finish working out an answer and finishing this post. Shavuos is almost upon us, and  I want to think about this some more because I don't yet feel that I have an adequate answer. I will share one thought that occurred to me. 

Dwelling with the Unknowable

Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda (Chovos ha'Levavos 1:10) writes:

The ultimate result of your knowledge of God should be the confession and conviction that of His glorious Essence you are completely ignorant. If you form in your mind or imagination a picture or representation of the Creator, strive to investigate His Being; and then you will be convinced of His existence, and all likenesses of Him will be rejected by you, so that you will find Him through reasoning alone.

We worship a Being Who is completely incomprehensible to us. This Being manifested His incomprehensible kavod to us at Sinai, spoke to us in a meaningful manner through a type of communication whose nature is completely incomprehensible to us, gave us His Torah through His prophet through a form of nevuah which is completely incomprehensible to us, then commanded us to build for Him a Mishkan, so that His incomprehensible kavod can dwell among us, speaking in its incomprehensible manner to the navi whose nevuah is absolutely incomprehensible. 

It is easy and natural for us to focus on aspects of Torah that we do know or can know, but we mustn't lose sight of that which we can't know. To be a Jew is to follow a religion entirely centered around knowledge which centers around an unknowable core. The setup of the Camp was designed as a constant reminder of these unknowable foundations: Hashem, His kavod, His navi, His voice, His indwelling in the Mishkan. 

We no longer live in the Camp in the Wilderness, but we do still dwell alongside these great unknowns. This Shavuos let us reflect on the significance of such a life - one devoted to maximizing each of our potentials as a knowledge-seeking being, with full awareness of the limits of our knowledge. 

God's Preferred Pronoun

Disclaimer: I know it's bad form to apologize for what I write, but I feel I have to in this case. When I set out to write this post, it was going to be a simple question with a simple answer. However, once I started writing, I kind of got carried away with spelling out all of the premises and ramifications. The post ballooned into more fundamentals than I anticipated, and would have continued to do so had I not exercised restraint and brought the post to a close when I did. Suffice it to say, this is not my cleanest writing. I hope that the ideas are still enlightening and useful.

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God's Preferred Pronoun

The Pronoun Question 

Consider the following questions:

"Why don't we refer to God as 'she'?" 

"If God isn't male or female, why don't we use the pronoun 'It' instead of 'Him'?"  

"Shouldn't we avoid all gendered terms in relation to Hashem, since Hashem has no gender?"

These are all different formulations of the same question - a question that I am asked from time to time, usually by my 9th or 10th grade female students. [1] These students know that God has no gender.  They're not asking childish questions like, "What if God really IS female?" or "What if God has BOTH genders?" Their question is terminology - not metaphysics. They are bothered by the masculine terminology we use to describe our non-physical, non-anthropomorphic, unknowable Creator. 

My intention in this post is share the philosophical answer that I give my students when asked questions about why we use masculine terminology in reference to Hashem. But first I must dispel another answer.

The Linguistic Answer 

I say that I plan on giving a "philosophical answer" to distinguish this from the linguistic answer, which I have heard some people give to such questions. I will now summarize the linguistic answer and explain why I believe it to be inadequate.

The basis of the linguistic answer is the fact that, like it or not, Hebrew is a language with grammatical gender. Every noun in Hebrew is either masculine or feminine. For example: "sefer" (book) is masculine; "kenesset" (synagogue) is feminine; "shulchan" (table) is masculine; "simchah" (joy) is feminine. Many nouns can take on both forms. For example: "par" means bull (masculine), whereas "parah" means heifer (feminine); "ish" means man, whereas "ishah" means woman; "melech" means king, whereas "malkah" means queen.

This is the reality of the Hebrew language. As far as I know, these differences in grammatical gender for single-gender nouns do not stem from philosophical, psychological, biological, social, or sexual considerations. They are what they are, and nothing short of a reinvention of the entire Hebrew language will change that.

Similarly, all verbs and adjectives must conform to the gender of the noun they modify. For example: "sefer gadol" means "big book," whereas "kenesset gedolah" means "big synagogue." Again, "gender identity" has nothing to do with any of this. These are just the rules of the language.

How does Hebrew deal with situations which call for gender-neutral language? By using the gender-neutral mode in Hebrew, which is masculine. When referring to groups of objects or persons which include members of both genders, the masculine form is used as the gender-neutral default. For example, "ben" means "son" and "banim" means "sons"; "bas" means "daughter" and "banos" means "daughters." If you wanted to refer to a group which included sons and daughters, Hebrew doesn't offer a gender-neutral form of the pluralized noun (i.e. an equivalent to the English word "children" or "progeny"). Instead, you would say "banim," using the masculine pluralization as the gender-neutral form.

The same is true when the gender is unknown or otherwise inapplicable. If I were task someone, "Do you have a child?" I would say, "Yesh lecha yeled?" using the masculine form of the word "child" ("yeled" as opposed to "yaldah") even though my question was asked without any specific gender in mind.

There isn't even a word for "it" in Hebrew. If you're going to say "it," you'll have to either say "he" or "she." Similarly, there's no way to say "they" or "them." The only options are "they (masculine)" or "they (feminine)."

On this basis, the linguistic answer to the question, "Why do we use masculine terminology in reference to Hashem?" is: "We use masculine terminology because this is the only gender-neutral way we can refer to Hashem in the Hebrew language."

According to this answer, when we speak about Hashem, we should have in mind that we are speaking in a non-gendered way, despite the fact that we are using masculine verbs, adjectives, and pronouns. Just as we refer to a group of boys and girls with the masculine "banim" with full awareness that we intended this in a gender-neutral way, so too, when we make statements about Hashem such as "ve'hu Rachum" ("He is Merciful") and "Melech ha'olam" ("King of the universe"), we should really have in mind, "the genderless God is merciful" and "Monarch of the universe."

The Inadequacy of the Linguistic Answer

I believe that the linguistic answer is inadequate for several reasons. First and foremost, it's disingenuous. True, we don't think "masculine" when describing a group of five boys and five girls as "banim," but we do relate to the pronoun "He" and terms such as "melech," "shofet," "gibor," etc. as masculine in reference to Hashem. This is by design, as I will attempt to explain when I give the philosophical answer.

Secondly, there are dozens - if not hundreds - of anthropomorphic descriptions of Hashem in Tanach and in the words of Chazal which portray Him specifically as masculine - not as a non-gendered being. For example: "Hashem is a man of war" (Shemos 15:3), "Is He not your father?" (Devarim 32:6), "But like a woman who has been unfaithful to her male companion, you have been unfaithful to Me, O house of Israel - the word of Hashem" (Yirmiyahu 3:20). The entire Shir ha'Shirim is an allegorical love song, depicting Hashem as the man and the "beloved" seeking Him as the woman. To claim that all of these examples of vivid imagery and description are intended to be understood as "gender neutral" is, to my mind, dishonest and absurd. Chazal clearly followed this pattern with their numerous masculine allegorical depictions of Hashem.

Lastly, even if we were to explain the Hebrew use of masculine terminology in relation to Hashem, we still remain with the question of how we should speak of Him in English, and in other languages which do offer a gender-neutral alternative. To my knowledge there are no baalei Mesorah who have advocated for the use of gender-neutral terminology when speaking about Hashem in languages which allow for this. In other words, I do not know of any reputable Torah scholar who would suggest that we should refer to Hashem with the pronoun "It" in English. Everyone agrees that we should refer to Hashem as "He" - not "It," and not "She." I do not think that this is arbitrary.

By exploring the weaknesses of the linguistic answer, we have strengthened our original question. Not only must we answer why the Torah uses masculine terminology to describe Hashem, but we must also explain why He is depicted specifically using masculine imagery, and why we don't use non-gendered terminology when speaking about Hashem in languages that allow for it, such as English.

Predicating Attributes of God

Since gender is an attribute, the philosophical answer to our question requires an understanding of how we ascribe any attribute to God. Because this topic is exceedingly broad and deep, I will focus our discussion on a short excerpt from the Chovos ha'Levavos, by Rabbeinu Bachya Ibn Paquda. [2] He begins by making an important distinction between different types of Divine attributes:

The meanings of the Divine attributes are very many, just as the creatures – and the kindnesses upon them – are many. They can be divided into two classes: [attributes] of essence and [attributes] of action.  

The reason we call [the first class] “[attributes] of essence” is that they are abiding attributes of God, May He be exalted; [they were His] before [the existence of] all created things, and [they are His] afterwards. They are befitting of the Essence of His glory. These attributes are three: that He Exists, that He is One, and that He is Eternal and unpreceded.

The reason we describe Him with these attributes is to convey some conception of Him and of the true nature of His existence; to call attention to His glory; and to help men understand that they have a Creator Whom they are obligated to serve.

We find it necessary to describe Him as existing, since all evidence points to His existence: the signs of His handiwork in the universe testify to this, as it says: “Lift up your eyes on high and see! Who created these? He Who brings out their host by number, He calls them all by name; by His great might and strong power, not one is missing” (Yeshayahu 40:26). We must therefore attribute to Him existence, as it is clear to our minds that no action or work will issue from that which does not exist. Since His works and creations are evident, His Existence is evident to our minds.

We describe Him as Eternal, for all arguments led to the conclusion that this world had a beginning before which there was no other beginning, a first cause before which there was no other cause; it became clear that there cannot be an infinite series of causes [extending back]. It follows necessarily that the Creator, May He be exalted, is the Beginning before which there is no beginning. That is what is meant by [His] eternity, as it is said: “From eternity to eternity, You are God” (Tehilim 90:2); “Before Me no god was formed, nor will there be after Me” (Yeshayahu 43:10). 

Why we describe Him as One has already been explained in exhaustive fashion through solid arguments. It was proven by incontrovertible evidence that the notion of absolute Oneness is bound to the Essence of His Glory. The meaning of this oneness is the inapplicability of plurality to the Essence of His glory and the exclusion of change, metamorphosis, accident, creation and destruction, combination and separation, resemblance, association, transformation, and all other types of multiplicity from the true Essence of His glory.

It is vital that you understand that the meaning of these attributes [which we ascribe to God] is not to predicate of the Creator’s Essence change and diversity; rather, the meaning is to deem their opposites [i.e., the opposites of the three attributes of essence] inapplicable to Him, May He be exalted. What we have in mind by their attribution is that the Creator of the world, may He be exalted, is neither plural, nor nonexistent, nor created.

To summarize: when we ascribe these three "attributes of essence" to God - namely, Existence, Oneness, and Eternality - we are not attributing positive qualities to Him, since He has no qualities, and we cannot have any knowledge of His Essence. Rather, we are negating the opposite attributes (i.e. non-existence, plurality, and createdness).

All of this is in contrast to what Rabbeinu Bachya defines "attributes of action" as "those that are ascribed to the Creator as a result of His actions." Examples include: merciful, kind, righteous, jealous, awesome, gracious, slow to anger, mighty, etc. These attributes are intended to convey positive knowledge - not of God's Essence, but of His actions, His creations, and everything else that is involved in His governance of His world. In other words, when we say, "Hashem is merciful," we mean, "Hashem acts in a manner which, if a human acted that way, we would describe as 'merciful.'" When we say, "Hashem is jealous," we mean, "Hashem acts in a manner which, if a human acted this way, we would describe as 'jealous.'" And so on.

Rabbeinu Bachya emphasizes his point about negative "attributes of essence" one more time at the end of this section:

What you must understand in regard to the Creator is that nothing is like Him. When you ascribe attributes to the Creator, you should understand only that their opposites are inapplicable to Him. As Aristotle said, the negative attributes of God are truer than the positive ones; for all positive attributes ascribed to the Essence of His Glory cannot escape the characteristics of substantial or accidental properties, and the Creator of substance and accident is not subject to their properties. The negative attributes ascribed to God, however, are undoubtedly true and befitting of Him; for He is above all quality and description, resemblance or comparison. What you must therefore understand from the three attributes of which we have spoken is the inapplicability of their opposites to the Creator, may He be exalted. 

In other words, when we say "Hashem Exists," we really mean "Hashem doesn't NOT exist, but the nature of His Existence is unknowable to us." When we say "Hashem is One," we really mean "Hashem does not partake of plurality or multiplicity, but the nature of His Oneness is unknowable to us." When we say, "Hashem is Eternal," we really mean, "Hashem is not created, but the nature of His Eternality is unknowable to us."

One might ask: "If the nature of Hashem's Existence is unknowable to us, then what difference does it make if we describe Him as 'existent' or 'non-existent'? Strictly speaking, both are inaccurate, since the term 'exist' in relation to Hashem is completely different from what we mean when we say that anything else 'exists'!" The same goes for the statement that Hashem is "One" or "Eternal": since we cannot have any positive knowledge of what we mean by these terms, then why use them at all? What makes them superior to their opposites, or to using neither term?

The answer, to put it bluntly, is that we use these specific "attributes of essence" as the lesser of two evils, in that they are more conducive to developing a more accurate way of thinking about Hashem than their opposites. One can say that of any pair of "attributes of essence," we choose the lesser of two evils. We choose the term which conveys the least inaccurate conception of Him - or, if you prefer, the term which conveys a conception of Him which lends itself more to an accurate grasp of the truth than the alternative.

For example, although we cannot have any positive knowledge of the nature of Hashem's Existence, we nevertheless say that He "exists" because the term "existence" lends itself to a more accurate understanding of Hashem than "non-existence." If we did not ascribe "existence" to Hashem, then people would think of Him as non-existent, which would be extremely detrimental. The same is true of Oneness: although we do not have any positive knowledge of what we mean when we say Hashem "is One," that statement is more developmentally beneficial to our understanding than speaking of Him in terms of plurality or multiplicity. Similarly, saying that He "is Eternal" is more developmentally beneficial than if we didn't use this term, since the only alternative is to think of Him as "finite" or "created" or "existing in time" - all of which would do more harm than good to our understanding of Hashem.

The Rambam [3] applies this to other attributes as well. For example, he writes that Hashem "has neither death nor life like the life of a physical creature, neither foolishness nor wisdom like the wisdom of a wise man." Note how he negates one set of qualities in an absolute manner (i.e. death and foolishness), but he negates the other set of qualities in a qualified manner ("nor life like the life of a physical creature ... nor wisdom like the wisdom of a wise man"). This follows the same pattern as the attributes of essence mentioned by Rabbeinu Bachya (i.e. He has no plurality nor does He have Oneness like the oneness of any unities in the world, etc.).

The Philosophical Answer to the Pronoun Question

Now that we recognize Rabbeinu Bachya's distinction between attributes of essence and attributes of action, the question is: What about gender? When we describe Hashem as "He," or use masculine verbs or adjectives when speaking about Him, do we treat this gender-predication like an attribute of essence or an attribute of action?

I am of the opinion that we should treat gender as we would an attribute of essence - not to imply that it is on par with Existence, Oneness, and Eternality, but in the sense that we should view the attribution of gender to Hashem not as an affirmation of positive quality, but as a negation of its opposite. And what quality, exactly, are we negating when we describe Hashem in masculine terms and with masculine imagery? Objecthood. Allow me to explain.

In English we distinguish between an object and a person by our use of the pronoun "it" vs. the pronouns "he" or "she." In Hebrew, even though we don't have the option to express this distinction in language, we still mentally classify everything as either an object or a person. The human mind is simply wired that way. My dad is a person. The chair he's sitting on is an object. I am a person. My shoes are objects. The landlord is a person, and the apartment I'm renting is an object. The ship is an object when I am speaking literally, but is a person when I speak figuratively about "taking my ship out on her maiden voyage."

The Torah goes out of its way to anthropomorphize Hashem in order to ensure that we do not relate to Him as an object. If we avoided all anthropomorphic terminology, we would default into thinking of Hashem as an object - as a force, as a characteristic of the universe, or an abstraction like "existence" or "reality" or "truth" - all of which would be far more detrimental to our conception of Him than relating to Him as a person. [4]

Once we are referring to Hashem in anthropomorphic terminology, we have no choice but to characterize Him as either masculine or feminine (as explained above in the section about the linguistic answer). So why do we characterize God as masculine if He actually has no gender? Because of the two options, it is the most developmentally beneficial way of arriving at a less inaccurate conception of Him.

Masculinity is associated with qualities that are more accurate in relation to Hashem than their alternatives. For example, it is more accurate to think of Hashem as strong rather than weak, and masculinity is more associated with physical strength than femininity; it is more accurate to think of Hashem as active than passive, and masculinity is associated with the active role than the passive role; it is developmentally beneficial to think of Hashem as provider, protector, ruler, judge, etc. - roles which are more associated with masculinity than femininity.

This is not to suggest that these roles are intrinsically more masculine than feminine. It is certainly possible for women to be stronger, more active, and have greater leadership roles than men. It just happens to be that in most societies for most of human history, these qualities are more associated with men than with women.

By characterizing Hashem as masculine in our language and imagery, all of these associations automatically become attached to Him. Although they cannot be applied to Him in truth, since He is One and His Essence is unknowable, they are nevertheless more accurate than their opposites, which is why we ascribe masculine attributes to Him instead of feminine.

Summary

Allow me to summarize the answer in a single sentence:

Hashem has no gender, but we refer to Him in anthropomorphic terms in order to avoid characterizing Him as an object - and once we ascribe human qualities, we use masculine terminology and imagery because the qualities associated with masculinity are more developmentally beneficial to our conception of Him. 

Of course, one need not be aware of this explanation in order for this characterization to have its effect. Indeed, it is somewhat of a pity that we are forced to explicate the Torah's reasoning in this regard, since this might have the effect of diminishing the intended goal of these descriptions, rather than letting the effects of these terms occur naturally to our minds.

[1] While these questions have no doubt been raised and addressed by past generations of Torah educators, they have taken on a new degree of intensity and urgency in the milieu of 2018 America. Our culture is abuzz with LGBTQ+ issues, and gender identity is one of the "hot topics" which continuously generates both passion and controversy. 

I happen to live in a rather conservative bubble, but judging by what I see on the Internet, it has become an accepted - if not obligatory - practice on college campuses, when making a new acquaintance, to ask, "What is your preferred pronoun?" We now live in a world where someone who looks like a "he" insists on being called "she," where some individuals prefer the pronouns "they," "them," and "their" so as to avoid gender altogether, and where some have even gone so far as to try standardizing new pronouns, such as "ze," "zem," and "zir." 

I am not bringing up these social issues in order to voice an opinion about them. Regardless of what opinions you hold about politics, psychology, or medicine, the reality is that when Modern Orthodox teenagers ask questions about God and pronouns, this is where these questions are coming from, and if you are going to attempt to answer their questions, then it behooves you to know what premises they are operating with. 
[2] Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda, Chovos ha'Levavos 1:10
[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah  1:11
[4] If you're wondering why - that answer will have to wait until another time. I was originally going to address it in this post, but I realized that it deserves its own treatment.

The Four Levels of Belief in God

The Four Levels of Belief in God's Oneness

One of the earliest books on Jewish thought is Chovos ha'Levavos (Duties of the Heart), by Rabbeinu Bachya ben Paquda. The first of the ten sections (or "gates") of the book is entitled Shaar ha'Yichud (The Gate of Oneness). In this section the author delves into Judaism's unique concept of monotheism and offers detailed proofs from Scripture and logic to support each of his points.

Towards the beginning of this section (chapter 2) Rabbeinu Bachya presents his categorization of the four levels of belief in God's Oneness. For the sake of easy reference, I will assign titles to each level. These titles are my own, but the rest of the text is a translation of the author's words (or, more accurately, my translation based on several Hebrew translations of the author's original Arabic).

The first level represents the absolute minimum:

Level #1: Speech: The first [level of acknowledging God’s Oneness] is the declaration of God’s Oneness in speech alone. This level is attained by the child or the simple person who has no understanding of the [true] meaning of emunah, nor is its truth established in his mind. 

This barely even qualifies as "belief." The person on this level might use the term "Hashem" and say the Shema, but hasn't given any real thought to the meaning of the words he is saying. Rabbeinu Bachya doesn't even bother to explain why this is the lowest level, or what the problems with are; they are too obvious to be mentioned.

I don't know how many Jews are on this level. I would like to think that the number is small, but I'm afraid it's much larger. And if we expand our count to include all of the non-Jews who profess a belief in God, then the number skyrockets into the billions, since this is the extent of most people's belief. 

The next group definitely represents the majority of Orthodox Jews I have encountered:

Level #2: Tradition: The second level is the acknowledgment of God’s Oneness with the mind and in speech based on what one has received from tradition, because he believes the person from whom he has received it. [However,] one does not grasp [at this level] the true meaning of the subject on the strength of one’s own intellect and understanding. 

Some might view reliance on the Mesorah (authoritative tradition) as the highest level of belief. Rabbeinu Bachya begs to differ. Not only does he view it as a relatively low level, but he also maintains that there is an inherent risk in relying on tradition alone, as he goes on to explain:

He is like a blind man who is led by one who can see. It may happen that one receives [the tradition] from someone who, likewise, knows it only from tradition. That would resemble a string of blind men, each of whom has his hand on the shoulder of the one in front of him, until the file reaches a person endowed with sight, who is at their head and guides them. Should this guide of theirs fail them and neglect to watch over them carefully, or if one of them should stumble or suffer an accident, then all of them would be affected: they would all stray from the path and either fall into a pit or a ditch, or blunder into an obstacle that would prevent them from continuing. 

The same is true of one who acknowledges God’s Oneness by relying on tradition. One cannot be sure that he will not embrace shituf (i.e. belief in a god who is not truly One, but who partakes of multiplicity), for when he hears the statements and arguments of the dualists, his views might change and he might fall into error without his being aware of it. For this reason our masters have stated: “Be diligent in the study of Torah, and know what answer to give a heretic” (Avos 2:14). 

This brings us to the third level:

Level #3: Proof: The third level is the acknowledgment of God’s Oneness with the mind and in speech after one is able to support it [the doctrine] with arguments for the truth of His existence, by way of reasoned analysis. [However,] one does not have knowledge of the meaning of “the absolute One” and “the relative one.” 

This level is very subtle and falls within a precise range. It describes someone who has arrived, through rational investigation and analysis, at a conviction that God exists, but hasn't reached a correct understanding of Who God is. For example, Albert Einstein became convinced of God's Existence through his study of the universe:

Everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the universe, a spirit vastly superior to that of man and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble ... this knowledge, this feeling ... that is the core of the true religious sentiment.

Isaac Newton likewise said:

This most beautiful system of the sun, planets, and comets, could only proceed from the counsel and dominion of an intelligent and powerful Being.

But although both men arrived at their belief in God through rational inquiry, they did not follow through with their investigation to the point where they grasped the fundamental truth of Yichud Hashem (God's Oneness) or its associated truths (i.e. God's non-physicality, His Eternality, that He is a Necessary Existence, etc.).

Rabbeinu Bachya provides an analogy to describe the limitations of this level:

A person [at this level] resembles a man, endowed with sight, who, on a journey to a distant land, reaches a point in the road where it branches off into many different directions. Although he knows the general direction and location of his city of destination, he does not know which road will take him there; despite great effort on his part, he fails to reach his destination, for he does not know the way. This is like what Scripture says: “A fool wearies himself with his efforts, for he does not know how to get to the city” (Koheles 10:15). 

Level #3 isn't unique to people like Einstein and Newton. I have seen a number of Jewish educators successfully demonstrate that Hashem exists, then stop short of explaining what we mean by "Hashem." Of course, this can definitely be the developmentally appropriate place to stop in a lesson. But one must recognize that this level of belief is incomplete. 

This brings us to the ultimate level:

Level #4: True Conviction: The fourth level is the acknowledgment of God’s Oneness with the mind and in speech after one knows how to support [the doctrine] with arguments and arrive at knowledge of His true Oneness by way of rational analysis and correct, intelligent arguments. This is the highest and most accomplished level of them all, and it is this high station which the prophet urged us to attain when he said: “Understand it today and reflect on it in your mind: Hashem is the God in the heavens above and on the earth below, there is no other” (Devarim 4:39). 

This is the level of true emunah, which is the highest level of knowledge and belief we can attain. By devoting ourselves to the study of the yesodei ha'Torah from Rabbeinu Bachya, the Rambam, the Rashba, and the other masters of the Mesorah, then we may one day reach this level, with God's help. 

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

I have tried to cut down on the number of "personal" posts I write here, compared to the old blog. Nevertheless, I have found that "learning" and "my relationship with learning" are so inextricably bound together in my mind that I can't help but write posts on the latter. This is one of those posts.

Artwork: Reckless Scholar, by Steve Prescott

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

“Not everything that is thought should be said, not everything that is said should be written, and not everything that is written should be published.” 

I have seen this quotation attributed to Rav Chaim Soloveitchik, Rav Yisrael Salanter, Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, and possibly others. But the last time I heard this was a couple of years ago, when someone gave me some unsolicited advice which basically amounted to: "you shouldn't be blogging." 

This fellow went on to explain that Briskers (read: "such as ourselves") were known for being extremely reluctant to commit any of their Torah to writing, and when they did, they only published it after much deliberation and countless revisions. Based on this, he then went on to chastise me for my prolific blogging and suggested that I only publish something after extensive and complete analysis, and thorough review (preferably by my peers), until I reach the point where I am absolutely certain about what I am writing. He certainly would not approve of my summer plan of publishing one blog post every weekday. 

It is at times like these that I question whether or not I should be blogging altogether. After all, I can't exactly say that this guy was wrong about any of his points. Am I too quick to write and publish? Should I really be "thinking out loud" in writing, or should I keep my ideas to myself until they are fully developed and refined? Am I really qualified to be writing on Torah topics? Maybe I should stop ...

But whenever I have moments of self-doubt regarding my decision to write, I recall the words of Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda. In his introduction to Chovos ha'Levavos (Duties of the Heart) Rabbeinu Bachya recounts the train of thought which led him to write this book. After stating all the reasons why he should write the book, he tells us why he almost didn't write the book:

But when I thought of proceeding to carry out my decision to write this book, I saw that a man like myself is not fit to compose a work like this. I estimated that my ability was insufficient to properly divide its parts, for subject was too daunting in my eyes, my knowledge too inadequate, and my intellect too weak to grasp the concepts. Furthermore, I am not an expert in the subtleties of the Arabic language which it would need to be in, due to this being the easiest language for most of my contemporaries to grasp. I feared that I would be toiling excessively at a task and that I would thus be exceeding the proper bounds [of my own limitations]. I therefore, told my soul to retract the thought and to draw back from what it had resolved on. 

Rabbeinu Bachya deemed himself to be inadequate on multiple levels. He felt he was intellectually unqualified, that the subject matter was too vast and daunting, and that he lacked the proper skills as a writer. He worried that his efforts would be misplaced, and that he would be toiling in vain.

These doubts resonate with me as well. Although I do not share Rabbeinu Bachya's hesitation about writing in the native language of my country of residence, I definitely feel under-qualified as an authority on Torah. When I compare myself to my peers - and certainly my rabbeim - I cower in recognition of the paucity of my Torah knowledge and intellectual abilities. Who am I to represent Torah in a public venue? Is what I know worthy of sharing with the world? Am I doing more harm than good by expressing my thoughts and ideas in writing? 

And then I recall Rabbeinu Bachya's response to his own self-doubting:

When I then decided to relieve myself of the burden of this toilsome burden and give up my plan of composing this work, I again suspected my soul of having chosen tranquility, to dwell in the abode of laziness, in peace and quiet. I feared that perhaps this decision to abandon the project stemmed from the desire for pleasure, and that this is what had inclined me to the way of peace and tranquility, to decide to abandon this in order to sit in the company of laziness. 

I knew that many [works of] intelligence were lost due to fear, and many losses were caused by concern. I remembered the saying: "part of caution is not to be overly cautious." I told myself, if every person who ever composed a good work or who ever taught the upright and proper path had waited until all his wishes were fulfilled, no person would have ever uttered a word after the prophets, whom God had chosen as His agents and strengthened with His divine help. If every person who had wished to attain all good qualities but was unable to attain them, had abandoned whatever he could attain of them, then all human beings would be devoid of all good and lacking all excellencies. They would have been perpetually pursuing after false hopes, the paths of righteousness would have been desolate, and the abodes of kindness would have been abandoned.  

I understood that while men's souls lust greatly to attain evil ends, they are sluggish to toil in the pursuit of what is noble. They are lazy in seeking the good, and always walk in the paths of laughter and rejoicing. If a vision of lust appears to them and beckons to them, they invent falsehoods so that they may turn to it. They bolster up its arguments to make its deception seem upright, to strengthen its lies, to make firm its looseness. But when the light of truth invitingly shines before them, they make up idle pretexts to refrain from turning to it. They argue against it, declare its courses misleading and contradict its assertions, so as to make it appear inconsistent and thus have an excuse to part from it. Every man's enemy is between his own ribs, unless he has an aid from his God, a rebuker always ready for [rebuking] his soul, a powerful governor, that will harness his soul with the saddle of service, and will muzzle it with the bridle of righteousness, strike it with the stick of discipline; and when he resolves to do good, he should not delay, and if his heart entices him to a different path, he should scold it and overpower it.  

Therefore, I found myself obligated to force my soul to bear the task of composing this book, and resolved to expound its topics with whatever language or analogy would make the matters readily understandable. Among all the duties of the heart, I will only mention those which suggest themselves to me, and will not trouble to expound all of them, so that the book will not be too long. I will, however, cite among the things necessary for the clarification of each of its roots in the section allocated to it. And from God, the true Unity, may I receive aid. On Him, I place my trust and to Him I ask to teach me the right path which He desires, and which is pleasing and acceptable to Him, in word and deed, in inner and outer conduct. 

Rabbeinu Bachya realized that even if his reasons for not writing were valid, it is likely that he was just rationalizing his laziness and his pleasure-seeking. Despite his inadequacies, the work that he set out to do was extremely important, and it would be a tragedy if his abundance of caution prevented him from bringing this work to light. He recognized that if everyone with any deficiencies refrained from committing their Torah knowledge to writing, then we would be left only with the books of the prophets and nothing more. And with that, Rabbeinu Bachya threw caution to the wind (as an act of caution), trusted in God, and set himself to the task of writing the book he knew he had to write - in spite of his shortcomings.

The same is true regarding me and my blog. I am not the best writer, and I am nowhere near the most qualified Torah scholar or thinker. Nevertheless, I believe that I do have some meager Torah knowledge to offer the world, and if I refrain from writing on account of my feelings of inadequacy, this benefit will be lost. Enough people have expressed their appreciation for what I write to convince me that the good I am doing outweighs any of the harm, and as long as that remains true, I will continue to write.

If you are a reader of this blog, and have any thoughts to share on this topic, I would appreciate your input! Thank you for letting me vent my thoughts on this matter. 

Addendum

While we're here, there is one more point I'd like to make. For a while I struggled with what type of language to use in my blog, and what kind of audience to write for. Should I allow myself to use jargon and write for an advanced audience? Should I cater to those who know very little, and provide background information in detail? 

Ultimately, I settled on approach similar to the one Rabbeinu Bachya chose:

I propose to take the most direct (easiest) method of arousing, teaching, and instructing, using language clear, direct, and familiar, so that my words will be more easily understood. I will refrain from deep language, unusual terms, and the arguments in the way of "defeat" (nitzuach), which the logicians call in Arabic "Algidal", and likewise for remote inquiries which cannot be resolved in this work, for I only brought such arguments as are satisfactory and convincing according to the methods proper to the science of theology.

Likewise, I have decided to write in the plainest, clearest, and most direct manner possible for a lay audience, but on a range of topics that spans many different audiences. Some of my posts are on basic points and are geared towards beginners. Others are for the more enfranchised members of the Torah community. And some posts I write primarily for myself, because the ideas are of interest to me and I wish to clarify them by expressing them in writing. 

I hope that my decision to write in this manner has enabled me to reach the broadest audience possible, but to make my readers feel that I my blog posts are addressed to someone like them. 

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