Showing posts with label Radak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Radak. Show all posts

Friday, November 11, 2022

Vayeira: Don’t Deviate from the Minhag: XTREME Edition

This week's Torah content has been sponsored anonymously. May Hashem grant a refuah shleimah to Rachel bas Rivka Chana.

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Artwork: Divine Visitation, by Victor Adame Minguez; flavor text on the card reads: 
"The angels appreciated the offer, but declined to eat any birdseed."

Vayeira: Don’t Deviate from the Minhag: XTREME Edition

Parashas Vayeira opens with Avraham Avinu’s visitation by “three men” (Bereishis 18:2). While some take this description at face value (Ralbag and Bechor Shor) and others maintain that this entire episode took place in a prophetic vision (Rambam and Radak), the majority of commentators – including the Sages of the Talmud – understand these “men” to be angels (see the AlHaTorah Parashah Topics for all the views and sources).

Avraham receives his guests graciously and hastens to perform the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim. After preparing a lavish feast, the Torah tells us that “[Avraham] stood over them beneath the tree and they ate” (18:8). This poses a problem for the mainstream view: if, indeed, these were non-physical angels, how could they eat?

R’ Tanchum bar Chanilai (Bava Metzia 86b) addresses this question by deriving a lesson from their conduct: “a person should never deviate from the minhag, for when Moshe ascended on high [to receive the Torah], he didn’t eat food, [and] when the ministering angels descended below, they ate food.” Sensing that R’ Tanchum sidestepped the real issue, the Gemara asks: “But is it really possible to think that they ate bread?!” The Gemara answers: “Rather, say that they appeared as though they ate and drank.”

What are we to make of this midrashic statement? One approach is to attempt to explain the mechanics of how, exactly, these angels “appeared to eat.” For example, Midrash Rabbah (48:14) states that they “removed portions of food one at a time.” The Daas Zekeinim maintain that they incinerated the food, and that the term “vayocheilu” ought to be translated as “they consumed [with fire]” rather than “they ate.” Tanna d’Vei Eliyahu Rabbah (12) simply refuses to accept our Gemara’s conclusion, declaring:

Anyone who says that the ministering angels didn't eat with Avraham has said nothing! Rather, due to the righteousness of that tzadik and as a reward for his toil on their behalf, Ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu opened their mouths and they ate. Thus, it was stated: "he stood over them under the tree and they ate."

But there is an alternative approach one can take here. Instead of assuming that the midrash is describing these events as they actually happened, one can read R’ Tanchum’s midrash homiletically – that he is teaching us a lesson which has nothing to do with the pshat. Indeed, this is the approach taken by Midrash Seichel Tov (18:8):

They appeared as though they ate, removing the food bit by bit. Why go this far? So [we can] learn derech eretz (proper interpersonal conduct), to conduct oneself in the city in accordance with the customs of its citizens. Behold! Moshe ascended on high and didn’t eat or drink, and went for 40 days and 40 nights without eating and drinking, and these [angels] who came to the human realm made themselves appear to eat and drink in order to beautify the character of Avraham, and so as not to withhold reward from its rightful recipients.

Reading the midrash in this manner obviates the need to engage in abstruse angelological acrobatics to work out how the angels appeared to eat. Moreover, this reading sidesteps the problematic claim that the reason why Moshe Rabbeinu abstained from eating and drinking for 40 days was because he didn’t want to deviate from the minhag of the angels (as opposed to a more metaphysically intrinsic reason, related to Mosaic prophecy).

Why would R’Tanchum express this derech eretz lesson in such dramatic terms? Perhaps he did so the sake of the rhetorical impact. Many of us experience tremendous resistance when asked to change our own conduct to conform to the norms of others. R’ Tanchum framed his teaching this way to speak directly to this resistance: “Even if conforming to the minhag goes against your grain – even if it goes against your very nature – you still must not deviate. Moshe was a physical being – and yet, he abstained from eating and drinking to uphold the custom. The angels were non-physical beings – and yet, they ate so as not to upset their host. And even if you literally can’t bring yourself to adapt the minhag, then at least do a convincing job of pretending to conform.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

When Hashem Prefers Telling Lies Over Doing Miracles

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by Naomi Mann in honor of Rabbi Moskowitz zt"l, whose shloshim is this week.

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Artwork: Teyo Verada (artist unknown)
When Hashem Prefers Telling Lies Over Doing Miracles


After taking the monarchy away from Shaul, Hashem charges Shmuel ha’Navi with the mission of anointing a new king, saying: “Fill your horn with oil and go; I will send you to Yishai of Bethlehem, for I have seen a king for Myself among his sons” (I Shmuel 16:1). Shmuel asks: “How can I go? Shaul will hear and will kill me!” Hashem responds: “Take a heifer and say, ‘I have come to bring an offering to Hashem.’ Invite Yishai to the feast and I will tell you what to do, and you will anoint for Me whom I shall tell you.”

In other words, Hashem instructed Shmuel to lie. Shmuel did not come to Bethlehem to bring an offering to Hashem, but for the express purpose of anointing a new king. Why did Hashem advise him to do this? How could He advise a tzadik to lie? Why didn’t He miraculously protect His navi from all harm? Ralbag answers these questions in his “lessons” section:

The 14th lesson pertains to ethics, namely, that it is not considered to be a deficiency [of character] for a navi to lie in order to save his life. You see that Hashem advised Shmuel to say, “I have come to bring an offering to Hashem,” even though he really only came to anoint a king from the sons of Yishai.

The 15th lesson is to teach us that a person should not rely on a miracle, even though he is exceedingly perfected and clings to Hashem [in his righteousness]. You see that Shmuel, despite his high level [of perfection], was afraid that Shaul would kill him, and sought strategies to avoid this, saying: “How can I go? Shaul will hear me and kill me!” He did not rely on a miracle, even though he was going by the command of Hashem, for Hashem’s will is that a person should strive to save himself based on the most probable course of action, since Hashem will not do a miracle unless it is absolutely necessary.

Radak extrapolates the same lessons as the Ralbag, but ties the two points together. He writes: “We find that even when Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu makes a promise to a navi or a tzadik, nevertheless, [these individuals] will be careful when going to a place of danger.” Radak cites the well-known example of how Yaakov Avinu feared Eisav and took precautions, even though he was on a mission from Hashem to return to Aram Naharayim and was promised that Hashem would be with him. Likewise, David fled for his life from before Shaul even after being anointed as king. Gideon, Yehoshua, and others acted strategically in waging wars, even though they were doing so at the behest of Hashem. Radak explains:

The reason [for all this] is that even though Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu does miracles and wonders for those who fear Him, [these miracles] mostly proceed in accordance with the laws of nature. Thus, Yaakov feared Eisav and Shmuel feared Shaul in accordance with the laws of nature, [reasoning that] if he anointed a king during [Shaul’s] lifetime, he would need a strategy for how to go, and this was his question: “How can I go?” Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu answered him: “Take a heifer with you” …

Our Sages learned from this pasuk that it is a mitzvah to distort [the truth] for the sake of peace, for Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu told Shmuel, “Take a heifer with you,” thereby showing him that it is not proper for a person to go to a place of danger and rely on a miracle, as it is stated: “do not test Hashem, your God” (Devarim 6:16).

To put it bluntly: Hashem would rather advise Shmuel to tell a lie than to do an unnecessary miracle for him.

I used to wonder why more frum Jews – especially boys and men – don’t learn Tanach with the classical commentators. The more I learn, the more I begin to suspect I know the answer: they can’t learn Tanach with the classical commentators without undermining their own beliefs about how Hashem does and doesn’t work. How many Jews go about life thinking that Hashem will protect them because they consider themselves to be righteous, or because they’re on a mitzvah mission? How many Jews give lip service to notions of “hishtadlus” but privately believe that Hashem would never allow them to fall into harm? But the ways of the tzadikim and neviim in Tanach are different. They harbor no illusions about guarantees of divine protection. Instead, they rely on their God-given wisdom to strategically implement God’s will.
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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Monday, June 20, 2022

An Example of My Idiosyncratic Brand of Spirituality

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by Naomi Mann in honor of Rabbi Moskowitz zt"l, whose shloshim is this week.

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Artwork: Golden Hind, by Cyril Van Der Haegen





An Example of My Idiosyncratic Brand of Spirituality

This past Friday I made my annual summer pilgrimage back to the Pacific Northwest. After waking up super early on Shabbos morning, I decided to daven at home. I was in the middle of saying my post-shacharis Ashrei when something stirred in my peripheral vision. I turned and – behold! – outside the picture window, not 15 feet away, stood a baby deer, munching on leaves from a tree in the front yard. When I moved closer, the deer froze and looked sharply in my direction, whereupon we made prolonged motionless eye contact for what felt like a full minute. Once the deer perceived that I wasn’t a threat, it continued eating and I resumed my recitation of Ashrei while watching it eat.

It then dawned on me that the contents of the pesukim I was reciting were unfolding before me in real time: “All eyes [look] towards You with hope, and You give them their food in its time. You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing” (Tehilim 145:15-16). My mind went to the Radak’s explanation, which I had taught earlier this year:

"All eyes [look] towards You with hope": Likewise, he said: "all [the animals] hope towards You" (ibid. 104:27), for You created all the earthly creatures and You created their food - some eat grass, some eat seeds, and some eat other animals - and their eyes all depend on You and hope towards You, "and You give them their food in its time" through the chain of causality [in nature]. He said "in its time" in the singular because each and every species has its own time when its food comes about. He said "they hope towards You" [because] even though [these animals] lack knowledge, they instinctively yearn for their fixed portion that is given to them, and we [humans] are the ones who know that their hope is towards You, for You are the One Who prepares and provides.

I’ve recited these pesukim three times a day for as long as I’ve been Jewish, but it wasn’t until that moment that I felt like I was actually praising Hashem. I felt close to Hashem, as described towards the end of Ashrei: “Hashem is close to all who call Him, to all who call Him in truth,” which the Radak explains to mean, “with mouth and heart-mind [1] in harmony.”

This experience was amplified by the fact that it was Shabbos, a day about which the psalmist writes: “For You have gladdened me, Hashem, with Your deed; about Your handiwork I will sing joyously. How great are Your works, Hashem; [how] very deep are Your thoughts!” (Tehilim 92:5-6). Radak explains:

“For You have gladdened me” – On the Shabbos day You have gladdened me in my contemplation of “Your deed” and “Your handiwork,” which is the world and everything in it. On the Shabbos day, when I am able to contemplate, then I will rejoice. This is a reference to the natural sciences. When I contemplate [science] and apprehend through it whatever I apprehend, I will rejoice and sing joyously with my heart-mind. And since each thinker contemplates the work of God [with his own heart-mind], therefore he said, “You have gladdened meI will sing joyously,” in the singular.

There are many models of spirituality [2] within Judaism: the ecstatic religiosity of Hasidism, the mystical practices of Kabbalah, the existentialist yearnings of Rav Soloveitchik, and much, much more. To each their own. As for me, in these recent years I have found great fulfillment in my ongoing (re)discovery and (re)cultivation of an intellectual-emotional spirituality grounded in Sefer Tehillim, as elucidated by the philosophical Rishonim (i.e. Radak, Meiri, Sforno) within the framework of the Rambam’s approach to Torah. An explanation of what this entails is beyond the scope of this article. But if the experience I described above resonates with you, then I encourage you to learn Tehilim towards this end.

[1] The Hebrew word “lev” can mean “heart,” “mind,” or both, depending on the context. I recently heard Tara Brach use the term “heartmind,” and although it’s awkward to use a made up term, it really does capture the sense of the Hebrew.

[2] In my fiery youth, I used to privately refer to the term “spirituality” as “the s-word.” It’s not that I objected to the concept itself. Rather, I objected to its typically vague usage across the entire spectrum of religiosity. That's why I avoid it ... except in this article.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Tuesday, October 5, 2021

Parashas Bereishis: (How) Did Hashem Speak to Kayin

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by an anonymous donor, in memory of her grandmother, Golda Henya bat Devora a"h. 

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Artwork: Mind Grind, by Daarken



Bereishis: (How) Did Hashem Speak to Kayin

According to the pshat (plain meaning of the text), Hashem addresses Kayin three times: “Hashem said to Kayin, ‘Why are you angry etc.’” (Bereishis 4:6-7), “Hashem said to Kayin, ‘Where is Hevel, your brother?’ etc.” (ibid. 4:9-12), and “Hashem said to him, ‘Therefore, anyone who kills Kayin’ etc.” (ibid. 4:15).

The question is: How? According to the Rambam (Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah Chapter 7), Hashem only grants nevuah to those who are on the highest level of perfection. Kayin certainly falls short of the requisite level of ethical perfection, as indicated by the rejection of his korban, his reaction of anger and dejection, his decision to murder his brother, and his denial of culpability. Regarding his intellectual perfection: some commentators learn that Kayin’s act of murder and subsequent denial indicate that he harbored false beliefs about Divine Omniscience. Midrashic commentaries ascribe to him additional heretical beliefs. Kayin is not exactly navi material.

Radak wrote a full commentary on Sefer Bereishis which, unfortunately, isn’t very well-known because it’s not printed in the standard Mikraos Gedolos. Even less well-known is his peirush ha’nistar (esoteric commentary) on Bereishis 2:7 through 5:1, which is available on AlHaTorah.org. It is in this esoteric commentary (4:6-7) that Radak suggests a radical answer to our question:

Hashem said to Kayin: the will of God - namely, the human intellect - responded to [Kayin’s] wrath and anger by saying to him, "Why did you get angry and why did you become crestfallen?"

Isn’t it true that if you improve: his intellect taught him the path of teshuvah.

Seemingly, according to Radak’s comments, Hashem didn't speak to Kayin at all! Rather, it was Kayin’s own intellect – which expresses the will of God – that rebuked him for his anger and enlightened him about teshuvah. This is reminiscent of the Rambam’s second explanation (Hilchos Teshuvah 6:5) of what David ha’Melech meant when he said: “Good and upright is Hashem; therefore, He instructs sinners on the path” (Tehilim 25:8):

[This means that] He implanted within them (i.e. sinners) the capacity to learn and to understand, for this tendency is within every human being, namely, that as long as he is drawn on the paths of chochmah (wisdom) and tzedek (righteousness), he will desire them and pursue them. This is what the Sages meant by, “One who comes to be purified will be assisted” – meaning to say, he will find himself assisted in the matter.

Now, before we get carried away with the implications of our findings, we contextualize the Radak’s comments within the mission statement of his esoteric commentary. On Bereishis 2:7 he writes:

The “adam” mentioned in the pasuk ["Hashem-Elokim formed the adam" (Bereishis 2:7)] refers in the nigleh (non-esoteric reading) to Adam ha'Rishon, but in the nistar (esoteric reading) it refers to the name of the species. Both are true, but the nigleh is for the masses and the nistar is for the individuals who are the excellent among the masses.

In other words, Radak doesn’t deny the literal truth of the pshat, according to which Hashem did speak with Kayin. Unfortunately, this means that Radak esoteric commentary ultimately does not answer our original question.

And yet, Radak’s esoteric reading opens an intriguing can of worms. Does the Torah ever use Divine communication as a narrative device rather than as a factual account of prophetic communication? Rambam is certainly comfortable with giving non-literal explanations of Divine speech, as cited above, and as he writes about in the Moreh ha’Nevuchim 2:48 and in 3:22. While such interpretations are not to be posited gratuitously, it is noteworthy that such an approach exists and can be found in the writings of mainstream commentators.
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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here

Friday, August 6, 2021

Haftaras Re'eh: Torah as Water, Wine, and Milk

Today's Torah content has been sponsored by the generous contributions of my Patrons on Patreon.

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Haftaras Re'eh: Torah as Water, Wine, and Milk

In the haftarah of Re’eh, the navi proclaims: “Ho! Everyone who is thirsty, go to water, even one with no money, go, buy and eat; go and buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Yeshayahu 55:1). Radak (ad loc) explains that water, wine, and milk are all metaphors for Torah and chochmah:

Water is a metaphor for Torah and for chochmah: just as it is impossible for the world [to survive] without water, so too, it is impossible for the world [to survive] without chochmah; and just as one who is thirsty yearns for water, so too, the rational soul yearns for Torah and for chochmah, as it is stated in the prophecy of Amos: "not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the word of Hashem” (Amos 8:11) ...

Torah is compared to wine, for just as wine gladdens the heart – as it is stated: “wine gladdens the heart of man” (Tehilim 104:15) – so too, words of Torah, as it is stated: "the statutes of Hashem are upright, gladdening the heart" (ibid. 19:9).

[Torah is compared] to milk, for just as milk sustains the nursing baby and enables it to grow, so too, words of Torah sustain the soul and enable it to grow, for it continues to grow through learning on the level it is at.

To summarize: Torah is like water because it is necessary for survival; Torah is like wine because it gladdens the heart; and Torah is like milk because it promotes growth and development.

According to this interpretation, it follows that there are three different desires that are satisfied through Torah and chochmah. The desire corresponding to water is stated explicitly by the Radak: “just as one who is thirsty yearns for water, so too, the rational soul yearns for Torah and for chochmah.” Aristotle’s Metaphysics opens with the statement: “All men, by nature, desire to know.” This innate desire expresses itself in a number of ways: curiosity, the seeking out of the underlying lawfulness in nature, the need for things to make sense and the irritation or repugnance when things don’t make sense, the drive to ask and answer “What?” and “Why?” When this thirst for chochmah is frustrated, the rational soul suffers. And if the thirst persists for too long without being quenched, there is a risk that the soul will wither and die.

The desire corresponding to wine is evident: the rational soul yearns for that which brings it enjoyment, and chochmah is inherently enjoyable. Rambam explains that ahavas Hashem (love of God) is attained “by comprehending and contemplating His commandments, His creations, and His actions, thereby attaining the ultimate enjoyment through our intellectual apprehension” (Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Aseh #3).

The desire corresponding to milk is the most nuanced of the three: it is the desire for development, or self-actualization. Marcus Aurelius wrote that “Every living organism is fulfilled when it follows the right path for its own nature.” Just as the body is programmed to engage in behaviors which promote its own growth, so too, the rational soul seeks that which promotes its own development and flourishing.

The navi’s mashal doesn’t only pertain to the substance of Torah and chochmah, but also the cost. “Ho! Everyone who is thirsty, go to the water, even one with no money, go, buy and eat; go and buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Yeshayahu 55:1). Not only do Torah and chochmah satisfy these three desires, but they have been given to us for free. The practical implications of this pasuk are clear. When we say our birchos ha’Torah in the morning, it behooves us to pause and feel genuine gratitude to Hashem for making His Torah and His chochmah freely available and accessible to everyone.
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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

The Sin of Refusing to Look at Oneself

This week's Torah content is sponsored by the Reznik family in dedication to the loving memory of Silvia Tanzer (Sora Hesha bas Chaim Moshe) and Irving Tanzer (Yisroel ben Yechezkel).

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Artwork: Agonizing Remorse, by Robbie Trevino

The Sin of Refusing to Look at Oneself






















The first of the Neviim Acharonim (Later Prophets) to prophesy about the destruction of Bayis Rishon (the First Temple) and Galus Bavel (the Babylonian exile) was Yeshayahu, in the first prophecy he received:

[Hashem] said: Go and say to this people, "You surely listen, but you do not understand; you surely see, but you do not know. The heart of this people has become fat, its ears have become heavy, its eyes have become covered over – lest it see with its eyes and hear with its ears and understand with its heart, and it return (i.e. engage in teshuvah) and be healed.” (Yeshayahu 6:9-10)

Radak explains:

You listen with your ears to the words of the neviim who rebuke you, but you do not understand; you see the wonders of the Creator but you do not know. In other words, you do not apply your mind, and you do not pay attention to Me. You intentionally fatten your heart and make your ears heavy and cover over your eyes so that you do not hear, and do not see, and do not understand, and do not know, for you desire neither teshuvah nor "healing," which is the forgiveness after teshuvah.

Yeshayahu does not focus on the people’s sinfulness per se. Rather, he rebukes them for their refusal to look at themselves with a critical mind, since doing so would prompt them to do teshuvah.

There are two ways to understand the intent of this message. The first is to assume that the navi is primarily concerned with the sinfulness of the people, and he is simply pointing out that their impediment to doing teshuvah and being “healed” is their refusal to look, listen, and know themselves. The second reading is that the navi is primarily concerned with the people’s resistance to the type of self-knowledge which leads to teshuvah, and the oblique reference to their sinfulness is merely the backdrop of this focus.

I believe that the second understanding is correct. The strongest evidence for this reading is that no sin is explicitly identified other than the refusal to look, listen, and know themselves. This sin is expanded upon by Anthony de Mello in Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality:

The first thing I want you to understand, if you really want to wake up, is that you don't want to wake up. The first step to waking up is to be honest enough to admit to yourself that you don't like it … We don't want to look, because if we do, we may change. We don't want to look. If you look, you lose control of the life that you are so precariously holding together. And so in order to wake up, the one thing you need the most is not energy, or strength, or youthfulness, or even great intelligence. The one thing you need most of all is the readiness to learn something new. The chances that you will wake up are in direct proportion to the amount of truth you can take without running away. How much are you ready to take? How much of everything you've held dear are you ready to have shattered, without running away? How ready are you to think of something unfamiliar?

We often resist doing teshuvah because we are attached to a particular behavior and don’t want to stop. But there is another reason why we may resist doing teshuvah: because we are terrified of seeing who we are in the present, or of who we may become in the future if we allow ourselves to let go of the life and the narrative about ourselves that we so desperately and precariously cling to.
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Friday, July 24, 2020

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough

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Disclaimer: this article is not intended to reflect any particular political stance on Israeli policy. 

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough 

Many Jews feel that we are entitled to take possession of the Land of Israel because it was promised to the Avos (i.e. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov) as an inheritance to their offspring (i.e. us). While this is true, it is only half of the truth. The mere fact that the Land of Israel was promised to the Avos is not, in and of itself, a sufficient reason to justify our conquest of it. There is another consideration which is explicitly stated in the contract made by Hashem when He promised Avraham the Land. 

But let us start with our parashah. Much of Parashas Devarim is a recap of Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the Wilderness. Chapter 1 recounts the first part of the journey, from Sinai until the Sin of the Spies. Chapter 2 skips ahead 39 years to the events that were detailed at end of Sefer Bamidbar, as Bnei Yisrael began their conquest of the nations that lived in and around Israel. Moshe Rabbeinu recalls Hashem’s instructions regarding our interactions with these nations, beginning with the children of Eisav who occupied the land of Seir: 

Hashem said to me, saying … “You shall command the people, saying: ‘You are passing through the boundary of your brothers, the children of Eisav, who dwell in Seir; they will fear you, but you should be very careful. You shall not provoke them, for I shall not give you of their land even the right to set foot, for I have given Mount Seir as an inheritance to the children of Eisav.” (Devarim 2:2-5) 

Next, Moshe recounts a similar set of instructions regarding the Moabites and their land: 

Hashem said to me: “You shall not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them, for I shall not give you an inheritance from their land, for the children of Lote have I given Ar as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:9) 

Likewise, regarding the Ammonites and their land: 

Hashem spoke to me, saying: “This day you shall cross the border of Moav, at Ar, and you shall approach opposite the children of Ammon; you shall not distress them and you shall not provoke them, for I shall not give any of the land of the children of Ammon to you as an inheritance, for to the children of Lote have I given it as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:17-19) 

Finally Bnei Yisrael reach a people and a land that they are commanded to conquer: 

“Rise up and cross Amon Brook; see! Into your hand have I delivered Sichon, king of Cheshbone, the Amorite, and his land; begin to possess it, and provoke war with him. This day I shall begin to place dread and fear of you on the peoples under the entire heaven, when they hear of your reputation, and they will tremble and be anxious before you.” (ibid. 2:24-25) 

At first glance one might think that Bnei Yisrael were enjoined to conquer Sichon’s land because, unlike the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the land of the Amorites had not been apportioned to them as an inheritance, and was therefore “free” for the taking. The Ralbag [1] dispels this notion: 

Our inheritance of the Land [of Israel] requires two conditions: one is the merit of the Jews, and the second is the wickedness of those nations, that their iniquity must be “full,” as we explained regarding the statement: “for the iniquity [2] of the Amorite is not full” (Bereishis 15:16).

The Ralbag is referring to the condition explicitly stated by Hashem in the Bris Bein ha’Besarim (The Covenant Between the Parts) when He promised to Avraham that his descendants would return to inherit the Land of Israel four generations after their sojourn in Egypt: 

And He said to Avram: “Know with certainty that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own, and they will serve them, and they will oppress them for four hundred years. But also the nation that they will serve I shall judge, and afterwards they will leave with great wealth. As for you: you shall come to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And the fourth generation shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.”

The Chazkuni [3] understands this last clause to be an answer to a question that Avraham might have asked: “Why will my offspring need to wait for four generations to inherit the Land? Why can’t they inherit the Land immediately?” The answer is “for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.” Rashi [4] explains the meaning of this stipulation: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full [enough] to cast them out of their land until that time, because Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu does not punish a nation until its measure is full, as it is said, “according to her measure He contends with her” (Yeshayahu 27:8).

The Radak [5] elaborates: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then – [this means that] the time for the punishment for the iniquity of the Amorite will not yet have arrived, for Hashem (blessed is He) prolongs His anger for the wicked, and there is a set time for everyone: there are some whom He punishes immediately, and others for whom He delays [punishment] for a long time – all in accordance with His wisdom. [In this pasuk] He tells [Avram]: “for the time of the Amorite’s [6] punishment has not yet been completed.”

Indeed, the Ramban [7] goes so far as to posit that this was one of Avraham’s concerns which prompted the Bris bein ha’Besarim in the first place. After initially being told by Hashem: “I am Hashem Who brought you out of Ur-Kasdim to give you this land to inherit it” (Bereishis 15:7), Avram asks: “My Lord, Hashem-Elokim, whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” (ibid. 15:8). It is impossible to say that Avram’s question stemmed from a lack of trust in Hashem, since we were told two pesukim earlier: “And he trust in Hashem, and He reckoned it to him as righteousness” (ibid. 15:6). What, then, was the basis of Avram’s question? Ramban answers: 

But Avraham wanted to know with a true knowledge that he would inherit it, and that his sin or the sin of his offspring wouldn’t cause [the promise to not be fulfilled], or perhaps the Canaanites would do teshuvah and [that which was written] would be fulfilled in them: “One moment I may speak concerning a nation or a kingdom, to destroy, demolish, or annihilate [it], but if that nation repents of its evil deed of which I had spoken, then I relent of the harm that I had planned to carry out against it” (Yirmiyahu 18:7).

In other words, Avram asked Hashem, “whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” because he was worried about three things: (1) his own sins would cause him to lose the merit by which Hashem’s promise would be fulfilled, (2) the sins of his offspring would cause them to lose the merit by which they would inherit the land, or (3) the Seven Canaanite nations currently occupying the land would do teshuvah, thereby making it impossible for Hashem to give the land to Avraham’s descendants, since it would be unjust to kick a righteous nation out of their land, even in order to give it to someone as deserving as Avraham! Ultimately, Hashem made the Bris Bein ha’Besarim to allay Avraham’s fears [8], but we see from the Ramban’s interpretation of Avraham’s concerns how powerful this principle of Divine justice is! 

The Ralbag invokes this Divine justice to explain why Bnei Yisrael were warned not to wage war with the children of Eisav, Moav, and Amon: 

For this reason you will find that the Torah warned [Bnei Yisrael] not to provoke war with the Children of Eisav, nor with the Children of Ammon and Moav, since He didn’t give them their land as an inheritance, because even though the members of these nations were wicked, their iniquity was not yet “full” [such that they deserved to be driven out of their land and deprived of their inheritance]. However, the iniquity of the Amorite was full, and it is for this reason that they dispossessed Sichon and Og [from their land].

In other words, although the pesukim made it seem that Hashem absolutely forbade Bnei Yisrael to take the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the Ralbag learns that this was only because “their iniquity was not yet full.” The implication is that if their iniquity had been full, they would have suffered the same fate as the Amorites, despite having been given their land as an inheritance. 

All of this may seem like ancient history, but I believe that the principle of Divine justice reflected in these pesukim has a significant bearing on our present situation, if not in how we relate to the current non-Jewish occupants of the Land of Israel, than at least in how we view our God-given right to dispossess them. 

As I mentioned at the outset of this post, it is easy to feel that we, as the descendants of the Avos, have an absolute right to take our Land back from those who dwell there. But as we have seen, even after Hashem promised the Land to Avraham, He was still not willing to drive out Amorites and the other Canaanite nations immediately. Only when “their iniquity was full” would they deserve to be kicked out. Only at that point would we be right to claim what He gave us. To displace these nations before their iniquity is full would be unjust. 

Tishah b’Av is next week. We are deep within the period of time when we, as Jews, reflect on the fact that we were exiled from our Land by our enemies. Even today, when the State of Israel exists, we bemoan the fact that we are still in exile, insofar as our Land is occupied by the nations of the world, and Israel is not under Jewish sovereignty. It is easy for us to look at the current occupants of our home and feel that we’re just entitled to kick them out and reclaim what is ours, without considering our own merit or the injustice of driving out another nation. 

When we think about the complicated situation in Israel today, let us remember the two criteria required to take back our land: we must become righteous enough to deserve it, and those we dispossess from their homes must be wicked enough to deserve their fate. 


End Notes
[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim, Chapter 2: Toeles #13 
[2] In his actual commentary on Bereishis 15:16 the Ralbag translates “avon” as “punishment” rather than “iniquity,” but I’ve translated it as “iniquity” here to keep the terms consistent with the other meforshim I’ll be citing. 
[3] Rabbeinu Chezkia ben Manoach (Chazkuni), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 
[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 
[5] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 
[6] Many of the meforshim, including the Radak, explain that what is said of the Amorite applies to the other six Canaanite Nations as well, and that the Amorite is singled out because they were the most powerful. 
[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 
[8] How, exactly, the Bris Bein ha’Besarim accomplished this is the subject of another article yet to be written.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of Human Intellect

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Artwork: Mind Unbound, by Jason Felix


Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of the Human Intellect 

The Mysterious Case of the Incomprehensible Haftarah 

The haftarah for Shavuos morning is the infamous first chapter of Sefer Yechezkel. Known as Maaseh Merkavah (the Work of the Chariot), this nevuah (prophecy) is considered to be one of the deepest and most cryptic passages in all of Tanach. Its meaning is so abstruse that there are halachos governing how and to whom it is expounded, as the mishnah in Chagigah 2:1 states: “One may not expound … on Maaseh Merkavah in the presence of [even] one [student], unless he is wise and intuitively understands with his own mind.” 

To appreciate just how incomprehensible this haftarah is, here is an excerpt: 

I looked and saw a stormy wind coming from the north, a great cloud and flashing fire, surrounded by a radiance and within it was something that looked like chashmal within the fire. Within it there were four creature-like shapes. This was how they looked: they had the shape of a human. Each had four faces, and each had four wings. Their feet were straight feet, and the bottoms of their feet were like the bottom of a calf’s hoof, sparkling like burnished bronze. [They had] human hands beneath their wings on their four sides, and the four had faces and wings; their wings were intertwined. They did not turn when they moved; each [could] move in the direction of [any of] its faces. Their faces were shaped like a man’s, with a lion’s face on the right of each of the four of them, an ox’s face on the left of the four of them, and the four of them had an eagle’s face. Their faces and wings were separated above; each had two [wings] linked to one another and two covering their bodies. Each moved in the direction of its faces. They went wherever the spirit drove them, and they did not turn as they moved. (Yechezkel 1:4-12)

Every Shavuos morning, upon the conclusion of this haftarah, someone inevitably makes a joke to the effect of, “Did you get all that?” or “Simple!” or “Crystal clear!” 

This raises a question that I have every Shavuos: If virtually nobody can understand this nevuah, and if even those who can understand it are forbidden to explain it, then why do we read it in public as the haftarah of Shavuos? And I don’t mean to ask: “What is the source?” or “What is the halachic rationale behind the selection of this haftarah?” I mean: “What is the point of reading something that is both intellectually and halachically inexplicable?” 

The Other Merkavah 

A couple centuries prior to Yechezkel’s nevuah, Yeshayahu ha’Navi also had a nevuah which is referred to as “the Merkavah.” Here it is in its entirety: 

In the year of King Uzziah’s death, I saw the Lord sitting upon a high and lofty throne, and its legs filled the Temple. Seraphim were standing above, at His service. Each one had six wings: with two it would cover its face, with two it would cover its legs, and with two it would fly. And one would call to another and say, “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh [1] is Hashem, Master of Legions; the whole world is filled with His glory.” The doorposts moved many cubits at the sound of the calling, and the Temple became filled with smoke. (Yeshayahu 6:1-4) 

Yechezkel’s vision of the Merkavah is described in great detail over the course of 28 pesukim whereas Yeshayahu’s description is only four pesukim long. Nevertheless, Chazal maintained that Yeshayahu’s nevuah was the greater of the two, as the Gemara in Chagigah 13b states: 

Rava said: Everything that Yechezkel saw was seen by Yeshayah. To what can Yechezkel be compared? To a villager who saw the king [and for whom such a sighting was rare]. And to what can Yeshayah be compared? To a city-dweller who saw the king [and who was accustomed to seeing the king on a more frequent basis]. 

Rashi [2] explains: “a city-dweller who [frequently] sees the king isn’t bewildered and isn’t amazed, and [therefore] doesn’t care to report [what he saw in great detail].” The Radak [3] goes further, explaining the metaphor’s implications about the relative levels of these two neviim

In other words, Yechezkel reported the details of these phenomena because it was extremely novel to him … but Yeshayah only described them in general terms, since he was more perfected than Yechezkel and this vision wasn’t as novel to him. 

And yet, despite being the more profound of the two prophetic visions, Yeshayahu’s Merkavah is even more familiar to the average Jew than Yechezkel’s. Why? Because an embellished version of it was incorporated into the daily davening in the berachos of Krias Shema

[The angels] all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another, and grant permission to one another to sanctify the One Who formed them, with tranquility, with clear articulation, and with sweetness. All of them as one proclaim His kedushah and say with awe: “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh is Hashem, Master of Legions, the whole world is filled with His glory!” (Yeshayahu 6:3). Then the Ofanim [4] and the Chayos ha’Kodesh with great noise raise themselves towards the Seraphim; facing them, they give praise, saying: “Blessed is the glory of Hashem from his place” (Yechezkel 3:12). 

Our question about the haftarah of Shavuos is even stronger if asked about this part of davening: Why did the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah (The Men of the Great Assembly) select one of the most recondite prophetic visions and make it a centerpiece of our daily davening? What did they expect us to understand? What Jew comprehends the distinction between Ofanim, Chayos ha’Kodesh, and Seraphim? Who understands what it means for angels to “accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another” or “grant permission to one another to sanctify”? Who can explain what it means for angels “to praise” or even “to know”? 

I’m not the only one who is bothered by the inclusion of such incomprehensible statements in our davening. Ibn Ezra [5] excoriates ha’Kalir [6] and other paytanim (liturgical poets) for incorporating enigmatic statements, allegories, and sodos (deep ideas) into the prayer service. Ibn Ezra maintains that the language of tefilah should be straightforward. He writes: 

Why don’t we learn from Shlomo [ha’Melech], who was not surpassed by anyone wiser, and yet, his tefilah that he davened is readily coherent; anyone who knows Hebrew can understand it, and it contains no enigmas or metaphors. The same is true of the tefilah of Daniel, [despite the fact that he] was a “solver of riddles” (5:12). They only davened with clear statements, and they were wise men – all the more so regarding the masses of men who daven and are not wise! [7] … 

[Furthermore,] all of [ha’Kalir’s] liturgical poems are filled with aggados and midrashim [which are allegorical and contain statements that are not meant to be taken at face-value], but the Sages said: “no verse departs from its straightforward meaning.” If so, then it is not proper to daven with anything other than pshat (a straightforward meaning), [and it is not proper to daven] with something that contains a sode, or an allegory … 

Granted, Ibn Ezra’s criticisms were only directed at those paytanim who introduced their own compositions into the liturgy. He certainly wouldn’t object to the tefilos and berachos composed by the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah. Yet, in light of his objections to the paytanim for their use of esoteric material, one wonders why one of the most esoteric prophetic visions was made into the centerpiece of the berachos of Krias Shema for every Jew to say. What are we supposed to get out of this? 

An Answer to Our Second Question … 

I recall an answer to this last question that was given by my Rosh Yeshiva. [8] He said that the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah incorporated this description of the angelic host praising Hashem in order to remind us that the human intellect is not supreme

The Torah maintains that mankind is the greatest species on earth – the only creature with a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect capable of grasping abstract concepts). Yet, man’s mind is qualitatively inferior to that of the angels, as David ha’Melech states: “You have made [frail man] but slightly less than the angels, crowning him with soul and splendor” (Tehilim 8:6). 

Even Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest human being who ever existed, was unable to obtain positive knowledge of Hashem, due to the limitations imposed by his physicality, as it is stated: “[Hashem] said, ‘You will not be able to see My face, for no human can see Me and live’” (Shemos 33:20). In contrast, the Rambam [9] writes about the angels: 

All of these immaterial forms (i.e. angels) are alive and comprehend the Creator, and know Him with a great and exceeding knowledge. And each and every immaterial form [knows the Creator] in accordance with its level, but not in accordance with His [true] greatness. Even the highest level [of angel] is unable to completely grasp the reality of the Creator as it really is, due to its deficient mind. 

But it comprehends and knows more than that which is grasped by the immaterial form beneath it; and likewise for each and every level, until the 10th level. And the 10th level also knows the Creator with a knowledge that human beings - who are comprised of a material body and an immaterial form - are not able to comprehend and know like it. But none [of these beings] knows the Creator as He knows Himself. 

In other words, there is a hierarchy of knowledge: animal intelligence is incapable of grasping abstract concepts; human intelligence can grasp abstract concepts, but cannot obtain positive knowledge of that which is purely immaterial; angelic intelligence can grasp that which is purely immaterial, but not fully; only the Creator truly knows Himself. 

Why is concept relevant to mention in the berachos of Krias Shema? I don’t remember what my Rosh Yeshiva said on this particular point, but I would say as follows. Krias Shema is referred to by Chazal as kabbalas ole malchus shamayim (lit. “acceptance of the yoke of heavenly kingship”), which is an acknowledgment of Hashem’s Oneness. [10] This may be the highest level knowledge we can have of the Creator, but we must not fall into the trap of thinking that it is the highest level of knowledge. By prefacing our kabbalas ole malchus shamayim with an acknowledgment of the kabbalas ole malchus shamayim of the angels, who “all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another,” we remind ourselves that as humans, our knowledge is imperfect, and we can’t even grasp what it means for the angels to have knowledge of Hashem and praise Him. 

… Which Answers Our First Question 

I believe that my Rosh Yeshiva’s answer to our second question also answers our first question. What is the point [11] of reading the Maaseh Merkavah, which almost nobody can understand, as the haftarah on Shavuos? To remind us that as much Torah we think we understand, a complete grasp of Torah is entirely beyond us. 

I wrote about this at length in my article, The Limits of Our Understanding of Torah, in which I cited the second paragraph of the Ralbag’s Introduction to Torah [12]

It is vital not to lose sight of the fact that it is impossible for us to completely apprehend the chochmah (wisdom) and chaninah (beneficence) which is manifest in the Torah’s existence. Rather, we have very little knowledge of this, and we are exceedingly ignorant – just as we have very little knowledge of the wisdom and beneficence which is manifest in the nature of all existing things; we apprehend very little of the chochmah in their design, as is evident to those anyone who has intensively studied the natural sciences, and who recognizes the gap between our theoretical models of the laws of the universe and their reality … It therefore follows from the fact that the Torah is divine – namely, that it is from Hashem, as is known to all people today – [that its nature will also be incompletely understood], even though it is the absolute truth. 

There is only one human being who completely understood Torah: Moshe Rabbeinu. And even his understanding was restricted by the limitations of his physicality, which prevented him from having positive knowledge Hashem. 

Shavuos is Zman Matan Toraseinu, a celebration of the giving of the Torah. [13] If we were to mistakenly think that our intellect is supreme, and that a full comprehension of the Torah is within our grasp – even theoretically, if not practically – then our view of Torah would be fundamentally flawed. Hashem set up boundaries around Har Sinai, “lest [the people] break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude will fall” (Shemos 19:21). At the event of Matan Torah there was a danger that Bnei Yisrael would overestimate their own abilities, push themselves beyond their limitations, and be irreparably harmed. The same is true in our own acceptance of Torah on a daily basis. 

On the celebration of Matan Torah we remind ourselves of our limited ability to grasp Torah by reading a passage of Torah which nobody but the most delusional and haughty individual could possibly think he or she fully understands. This reminder keeps our ego and our self-knowledge in check, which in turns, helps make us worthy to accept the Torah. 

So next time you hear Maaseh Merkavah being read in shul on Shavuos, and you find that you don't understand a single thing, remind yourself that that is precisely the point.



[1] The word “kadosh” is typically translated as “holy,” which is an anathema to me. Seeing as how ×§.ד.ש. means “separate” and in relation to Hashem it means “separate from physicality,” I prefer to translate “kadosh” as “transcendent” – but if I translated “kadosh, kadosh, kadosh” as “transcendent, transcendent, transcendent,” then I’d get weird looks from people in shul.
[2] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Chagiga 13b
[3] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Yeshayahu 6:1
[4] “Ofanim,” “Chayos ha’Kodesh,” and “Seraphim” are types of angels. See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah 2:7 for a comprehensive list and ranking.
[5] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Koheles 5:1
[6] From Wikipedia: “Eleazar ben Kalir, also known as Eleazar HaKalir, Eleazar ben Killir or Eleazar Kalir (c. 570 – c. 640) was a Byzantine Jew and a Hebrew poet whose classical liturgical verses, known as piyut, have continued to be sung through the centuries during significant religious services.”
[7] I expect someone to object to my reading of the Ibn Ezra on the grounds that he’s referring specifically to using metaphors like referring to Hashem as a lion (based on Hoshea 11:10) or fire (based on Devarim 4:24). Yes, one can argue that his critique is limited to a specific kind of metaphor-usage. Nevertheless, one can also argue that this objection stems from the sort of nitpicking which misses the main point. That’s my argument.
[8] Regrettably, I do not recall where, when, or in what context I heard this explanation. I hope I am conveying it accurately, but it is entirely possible that I am not. Take it with a grain of salt.
[9] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah
[10] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Mitzvas Aseh #2. Incidentally, if anyone tries to claim that kabbalas ole malchus shamayim refers to the acceptance of mitzvos, this line from tefilah is a good disproof. The angels most definitely know God’s Oneness, but they do not “accept” His mitzvos.
[11 Again I will remind you that I am NOT answering the question, “What is the halachic rationale for this reading?” I am answering the practical question, “What are we supposed to get out of it?”
[12]Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershon (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis: Introduction to Torah
[13] Among other things. See my article Shavuos is NOT About Matan Torah for other views.