Shoftim: Atonement for the Dead (Part 1 of 2)

This is half of a blog post. I wasn't able to finish writing the full blog post in time, and I figured it would be better to publish half of it than allow it to languish in my drafts folder for who knows how long. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this half-article.

Artwork: Rest in Peace, by Jarel Threat

Shoftim: Atonement for the Dead (Part 1 of 2)

Parashas Shoftim concludes with the mystifying mitzvah of Eglah Arufah (the Decapitated Heifer). When the corpse of a slain person is found outside of a nearby city, the elders and judges of that city perform a ritual involving an uncharacteristically gruesome slaughter of a heifer. The ceremony concludes with a declaration and petition made by the Kohanim: 

“Our hands did not shed this blood, and our eyes did not see. Atone for Your people Israel whom You redeemed, Hashem, and do not put innocent blood in the midst of Your people Israel, and let the blood be atoned for them.” (Devarim 21:6-8) 

The question is: Why does the pasuk (verse) say “atone for Your people Israel whom You redeemed” rather than “atone for Your people Israel” full stop? The Sifre [1] answers: 

“atone for Your people” – these are the living; “whom You redeemed” – these are the dead, which teaches that the dead need kaparah (atonement); consequently we learn that one who sheds blood sins [retroactively] until the Exodus from Egypt. 

Although the Sifre explains the apparent redundancy in the pasuk, it raises a number of additional problems: 

1. Why is this act of murder reckoned as a sin for the Yotzei Mitzrayim (the generation that left Egypt), such that they would require kaparah? The person who committed the murder certainly sinned. The elders and judges of the nearby city sinned, insofar as they didn’t do their part as leaders to foster a society in which such murders don’t happen. But how is this considered to be a sin for the generation that left Egypt hundreds or thousands of years ago? They didn’t do anything! Why do they need kaparah? 

2. How is it fair to hold anyone responsible for a sin they didn’t commit? According to the Rambam [2], the eleventh of the Thirteen Fundamental Principles of Torah is that Hashem rewards each person for the mitzvos they have done and punishes each person for the transgressions they have committed. Hashem does not reward people for doing mitzvos that they didn’t do, nor does He punish people for transgressions they didn’t commit. The Yotzei Mitzraim lived their own lives, and had their own mitzvos and sins. Ostensibly, it would be unjust to hold them accountable for the sins of their offspring. As Avraham Avinu asked: “Heaven forfend doing something like this! … Will the judge of all the earth not enact justice?” (Bereishis 18:25). 

3. How is it halachically possible for the dead to receive kaparah? The Gemara (Zevachim 9b) openly states “there is no kaparah for the dead” and the Rambam [3] rules in accordance with this view. Rashi [4] explains that “there is no kaparah for the dead because their death atoned for them.” In other words, there is no kaparah for the dead because the dead don’t need kaparah. The Baalei Tosafos [5] point out the halachic ramifications: if it were possible for the dead to receive kaparah, their surviving relatives would be responsible for bringing a korban (sacrifice) to atone on their behalf. Likewise, if a person designated a korban as a sin-offering and then died, then there would be even more of a reason for his relatives to offer it in order to bring about post-mortem kaparah. These sources indicate that kaparah for the dead is a halachic impossibility. [6]

4. How is it metaphysically possible for the dead to receive kaparah? Once a person dies, and their soul separates from their body, it is impossible for the soul to undergo further change, for good or for bad. This is why Chazal urge us to do mitzvos and teshuvah in Olam ha’Zeh (This World), since there’s no way to elevate the soul after death, as the Rambam [7] states: “for if one does not acquire wisdom and good deeds here, then he will have nothing by which he merits.” On the basis of this principle, the Ran questions the entire notion of punishments in Olam ha’Ba. At the beginning of his tenth derashah the Ran [8] sets forth the premise that all of Hashem’s punishments in Olam ha’Zeh are for our benefit, “either to improve the sinner himself so that he does teshuvah from his evil path” or “to improve others, so they will not be evil like him.” He then raises the question about Olam ha’Ba: “it is impossible for the punishments of Olam ha’Ba to be like this, since the soul cannot be improved there; rather, it will forever remain in the state it was in when it left the body.” If that is the case, then how would it be possible for someone to receive kaparah after death? Moreover, how would it be possible for the sin of the slain victim to necessitate kaparah for the soul of a dead person? 

I have an approach but I haven't fully worked it out yet. Let me know if you think of anything!

End Notes

[1] Sifre Devarim: Piska 210; as usual I’ve chosen to translate the version cited by the Torah Temimah 

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah: Sanhedrin, Introduction to to Perek Chelek 

[3] see Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Avodah, Hilchos Psulei ha’Mukdashim 15:9 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Talmud Bavli: Me’ilah 10b 

[5] Tosafos, Temurah 15b 

[6] Over the course of my research I did encounter some arguments which attempted to reconcile the implications of the Sifre with these halachos, but I found them to be contrived and didn’t think they warrant being addressed here. If you do find a compelling argument, I would love to hear it. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 9:1

[8] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven (Ran), Drashos ha'Ran: Drashah #10

Parashas Bechukosai: What About the Afterlife?

This week’s dvar Torah is a digest of the answers given by the Rishonim [1] to a classic question, along with an original answer based on my understanding of Sefer Koheles. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Honor's Reward, by Izzy

Parashas Bechukosai: What About the Afterlife? 

The Question 

Parashas Bechukosai opens with a list of the blessings that Hashem promises to bestow “If you will follow My decrees and observe My commandments and perform them” (Vayikra 26:3). Among these blessings are: rain in its proper time, abundant produce, peace in the land, military success, flourishing of our population, and Divine favor. A similar list of blessings is stated in Parashas Ki Savo (Devarim 28:1-14). 

But there is a shocking omission from both lists of blessings: Olam ha’Ba (the “World to Come” or “afterlife”), the ultimate reward for a life of Torah and mitzvos. 

This is a famous problem. Why do the promises in the Written Torah focus exclusively on physical reward without ever explicitly mentioning the spiritual reward for the soul in the afterlife? In contrast, the Oral Torah and midrashic literature are replete with references to Olam ha’Ba, the most prominent of which is the Mishnah’s statement: “All of Israel has a portion in Olam ha’Ba” (Sanhedrim 10:1). 

This discrepancy between the Written and Oral Torahs has led modern academics to conclude that the entire notion of an afterlife was a Rabbinic invention, introduced long after the Biblical period. Those who wish to believe such conspiracy theories will not be convinced by any arguments, and I will not even attempt to address them here. Suffice it to say, our Mesorah (tradition) is clear on this point: belief in Olam ha’Ba has always been a unanimously accepted part of Judaism, despite the fact that it is not explicitly referenced in the 24 books of Tanach. 

But the question remains: Why does the Written Torah omit Olam ha’Ba from its lists of rewards? Why does it focus exclusively on the physical blessings? 

Seven Answers from the Rishonim 

The Abravanel [2] raises our question in his Chumash commentary and refers the reader to a book he wrote on the topic of Olam ha’Ba called Tzedek Olamim, in which he answers this question in full. Sadly, this book has been lost to history. Fortunately, the Abravanel provides a brief summary of six answers given to our question by his predecessors, followed by his own seventh answer. Here are my summaries of the Abravanel’s summaries: 

(1) Rambam [3]: The blessings and curses promised in the Torah are not the true reward and punishment for the mitzvos. The true reward is Olam ha’Ba, which is purely spiritual in nature. The reason why the Written Torah didn’t mention this reward is so that a person will follow Torah lishmah (for its own sake) – or, as the Abravanel puts it, “for the sake of perfection” – rather than for the sake of reward or out of fear of punishment. The role of the blessings and curses is to facilitate our pursuit of human perfection for its own sake: to the extent that we follow Hashem, He will provide us with physical goods and remove physical impediments from our lives so that we can continue in our pursuit of perfection without worrying about our material well-being; and to the extent that we neglect His will, He will withhold His blessings and we will be subject to these curses which will impede our pursuit of perfection. 

(2) Ibn Ezra [4]: The reward in Olam ha’Ba is a deep concept which is difficult for the average person to grasp. Since the Written Torah was given to the entire Jewish nation – not just the elite scholars – it was necessary to only mention the physical rewards and punishments, which can be understood by everyone. The sode (“secret” or esoteric concept) of Olam ha’Ba was relegated to the realm of the Oral Torah, thereby allowing every teacher to assess their student’s readiness for this concept on an individual basis, in accordance with that student’s level of development. 

(3) Ramban [5] / Sefer ha’Chinuch [6]: Belief in the eternality of the soul and its reward in Olam ha’Ba is a matter that can be rationally demonstrated by way of philosophical argument, and therefore did not need to be mentioned explicitly in the Torah. In contrast, the blessings and curses are miraculous [7] phenomena which operate according to the principles of hashgachah (Divine providence) known only through nevuah (prophecy), which is why it was necessary for the Torah to spell them out in detail. 

(4) Ran [8] / Kuzari [9]: The majority of the people, in ancient and modern times, denied the reality of hashgachah pratis (individual Divine providence). This denial was rampant among the Jews as well. Were the Torah to only promise spiritual reward and punishment after death, then these misguided Jews would take this as a confirmation of their deistic worldview. Therefore, it was necessary for the Torah to reinforce the truth of hasghacha pratis by going into great detail about the physical blessings and curses that will transpire as a result of our adherence to Torah. As for the reality of the spiritual reward and punishment for the soul in Olam ha’Ba: this can be inferred from the physical blessings and curses in Olam ha’Zeh (the physical world). Once we see that God provides us with physical rewards, which relate to the lower part of our nature (i.e. the body), we will realize that certainly He must provide us with spiritual reward, to compensate the higher part of our nature (i.e. the soul). 

(5) Saadia Gaon [10]: The ovdei avodah zarah (idolaters) engaged in various behaviors which they believed would bring them material success and protection from physical harm. When Hashem prohibited these idolatrous practices, He didn’t want His people to think that they would lose out on these material benefits. Therefore, He promised us as part of His covenant that by keeping the Torah, we would enjoy rewards in the physical world greater than anything that the ovdei avodah zarah hoped for from their false gods, since Hashem is the true God of heaven and earth, Who has the ability to bestow such blessings as He sees fit. There was no need to mention spiritual rewards, since the promises of physical rewards were only included in the covenant to refute the false promise of physical blessings by the ovdei avodah zarah. (Apparently, the ovdei avodah zarah of that era did not yearn for spiritual rewards, which is why there was no need to mention them in the covenant.) 

(6) Kuzari [11] / Ran [12]: The afterlife of the soul is explicitly mentioned in the blessings promised by the Torah in such statements as: “I [Hashem] will walk among you” (Vayikra 26:12), “I will place My dwelling among you” (ibid. 26:11), “I will be God unto you” (ibid. 26:12). [The Abravanel then goes on to explain how, if the nature of this spiritual reward is properly understood, then even the promises of physical blessings will serve as a proof that the souls of the righteous will survive after death. However, I’m not 100% sure that I follow every step of his explanation, and I would rather omit it from my summary than risk misrepresenting this line of reasoning.] 

(7) Abravanel [13]: It would not be proper to mention Olam ha’Ba in the context of Bechukosai and Ki Savo, since these blessings are for the nation as a whole rather than for individuals, whereas the spiritual rewards of the afterlife are for individuals and not for the nation as a whole. If the Torah had mentioned Olam ha’Ba in its lists of blessings, this might lead to misconceptions about the nature of the reward in the afterlife. For example, one might mistakenly conclude that one’s portion in Olam ha’Ba is determined or affected by the righteousness and wickedness of the majority of nation, as is the case with the physical blessings and curses. 

An Eighth Answer 

Shlomo ha'Melech says: “Give a portion to seven but also to eight” (Koheles 11:2). While the seven of the aforementioned answers all have their merits, I would like to offer an eighth answer – one which lines up with that of the Rambam, but with a twist. 

The Rambam [14] devotes the final chapter of Hilchos Teshuvah to a discussion of the motives for serving Hashem. He opens his discussion by defining two levels of Divine service: 

A person should not say, “I will do the mitzvos of the Torah and involve myself in its wisdom in order to receive all of the blessings that are written in it,” or “in order that I will merit life in Olam ha’Ba” and “I will separate myself from the transgressions about which the Torah warns us, in order to escape from the curses written in the Torah” or “so that I will not be cut off from Olam ha’Ba.”  

It is not proper to serve Hashem in this manner, for one who serves Hashem in this manner is called “oveid mi’yirah” (“one who serves out of fear”). This is neither a virtue of the prophets nor of the wise. The only ones who should serve Hashem in this manner are the ignoramuses, the women, and the children, whom we train to serve out of fear until their minds develop and they serve out of love.  

An “oveid me’ahavah” (“one who serves out of love”) involves himself in Torah and mitzvos and walks on the paths of wisdom not because of anything in the world, neither out of fear of the bad nor out of a desire to inherit the good. Rather, he does what is true because it is true, and the good will come of its own accord … 

It is easy to understand why doing mitzvos in order to receive the blessings promised by the Torah is considered to be an inferior motive, but why should this apply to one whose service is motivated by the prospect of reward in Olam ha’Ba? Didn’t the Rambam write earlier [15] that Olam ha’Ba is the greatest good? 

The [ultimate] goodness which is hidden away for tzadikim is Olam ha’Ba. This is the life which has no death with it, and the good which has no bad. This is what is written in the Torah, “so that it will be good for you, and you will prolong your days” (Devarim 22:7). From the Oral Torah we learn: “so that it will be good for you” [refers] to the world which is entirely good, and “you will prolong your days” [refers] to the world which is entirely long – and this is Olam ha’Ba. 

If Olam ha’Ba is the ultimate good, why shouldn’t it motivate our observance of mitzvos? 

The answer lies in the fact that it is impossible for us to comprehend the true nature of the reward in Olam ha’Ba. The Rambam [16] introduces this difficulty in his introduction to Perek Chelek. He writes: 

Know that just as a blind man cannot experience colors, nor can a deaf man experience sounds, nor can a eunuch [experience] sexual desire, so too, physical bodies cannot experience spiritual enjoyments. And just as a fish does not recognize the element of fire because it (i.e. the fish) is immersed in its opposite, so too, one cannot know the enjoyments of the spiritual world while one is in this physical world, for we have no enjoyment other than bodily enjoyments alone – [such as] the experiences of our senses in eating, drinking, and sex – and everything outside of these [physical enjoyments] is not experienced by us, nor can we recognize it, nor can we apprehend it in our initial analysis, but only after much investigation. This is because we are in a physical world and cannot apprehend anything other than its enjoyments, but enjoyments of the soul are constant and unceasing, and there is no relationship at all whatsoever between these and those. 

Similarly, the Rambam [17] writes in the Mishneh Torah: 

Regarding the great good which the soul will enjoy in Olam ha’Ba: there is no way in Olam ha’Zeh to comprehend it or know it, because we only know in Olam ha’Zeh the good of the body, and that is what we desire; but that good [in Olam ha’Ba] is exceedingly great, and there is no comparison among the goods of Olam ha’Zeh except by way of analogy. 

Indeed, a few paragraphs earlier the Rambam condemns those who harbor foolish notions about the nature of the reward in Olam ha’Ba, writing: 

Maybe this good will seem trivial in your eyes, and you’ll imagine that the only reward for mitzvos and for being a person who is perfected in the ways of truth is to eat and drink good foods, have relations with beautiful figures, wear garments made of silk and woven fabrics, dwell in houses of marble, and use gold and silver utensils and other things like this – as is imagined by the foolish and idiotic Arabs who are steeped in lechery.

But the wise and those who possess knowledge know that all of these things are fantasy and nothingness, and there is no hope in them. They are only considered to be a great good for us in Olam ha’Zeh because we have bodies, and all of these things are bodily needs, and the soul only desires them and favors them because they are bodily needs, in order that its desires will be fulfilled and its health maintained. And when there is no body, all of these things will be found to be pointless. 

Having established all of these premises, I would like to propose my own answer to our original question: Why do the promises in the Written Torah focus exclusively on physical reward without ever explicitly mentioning the spiritual reward for the soul in the afterlife? Because since it is absolutely impossible to conceive of the spiritual enjoyments of Olam ha’Ba, then if we were to be motivated by the promise of such a reward, we would – by definition – be chasing a fantasy. In other words, whatever notion of Olam ha’Ba is driving our motivation must, of necessity, be false, since it is impossible for a physical being to conceive of non-physical enjoyments. 

It is for this reason that the Torah promises physical blessings to those who obey Hashem. The individual whose avodah (Divine service) is motivated by these physical blessings and the individual whose avodah is motivated by Olam ha’Ba are both engaged in avodah she’lo lishmah (not for its own sake), but the former individual is on a higher level because at least he’s being motivated by a reality, whereas the latter is being motivated by a fantasy. 

Make no mistake: Olam ha’Ba itself is a reality, but the version of Olam ha’Ba as a motivator is a fantasy. The vision of Olam ha’Ba in our minds and imaginations, to which our psyche attaches value, and which acts as the proverbial carrot (paired with the proverbial stick) – that notion of Olam ha’Ba has no basis in reality whatsoever. In contrast, “rains in their proper time,” “eating bread in satiety,” “peace in the land” and all of the other physical blessings exist as motivators in our imaginations which do correspond to their physical reality. 

This sheds light on the Divine wisdom in relegating Olam ha’Ba to the Oral Torah. In Hashem’s “Plan A” (so to speak), students would not be introduced to the concept of Olam ha’Ba until they were developmentally ready, as the Rambam [18] describes: 

Therefore, when we teach the children, women, and general populace of laymen, we should only teach them to serve out of fear and in order to receive reward, until their minds mature and they gain additional wisdom; we should reveal this secret to them bit by bit, and accustom them to this concept with pleasantness, until they apprehend it and know it and serve out of love. 

Parents and teachers would motivate their children and students to serve Hashem for the she’lo lishmah motive of obtaining the blessings mentioned in the Written Torah. As they reached the requisite level of psychological and intellectual maturity, they would be introduced to the concept of Olam ha’Ba, which would click into its proper intellectual place as a truth about reality, rather than as a motivator for avodah. In this manner, they would bypass the stage of being motivated by a fantasy notion of Olam ha’Ba altogether. 

Ultimately, we cannot know why Hashem chose not to mention Olam ha’Ba explicitly in His lists of rewards, but these eight theories allow us to appreciate the fact that this was done with reason, and with wisdom. 

[1] This is a general remark, but I might as well mention it here. The line between Rishonim and Achronim is a matter of debate. Some distinguish between the two periods based on dates (e.g. the Rishonim are those who wrote in the 11th century to the 15th century, and the Achronim are post-15th century) or by specifying a cutoff point (e.g. all commentators who came before the composition of the Shulchan Aruch were Rishonim, and all who came after are Achronim). Personally, I don’t like either of these approaches. I prefer to define the two groups by their time period AND their relationship to their predecessors and/or their style. For example, I classify the Abravanel (1437 – 1508) as a Rishon because he argues with his predecessors as a contemporary, rather than a disciple. I classify the Sforno (1475 – 1550) as a Rishon because of his commentary’s style and commentary. 

[2] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 26:3 

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Perek Chelek (Sanhedrin 10:1); Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah Chapter 9 

[4] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Devarim 32:39; it should be noted that the Ibn Ezra’s answer to this question parallels his answer to R’ Yehuda ha’Levi’s question on the first of the Aseres ha’Dibros: Why does Hashem introduce Himself to the Jewish people by saying “Who took you out from the land of Egypt” instead of “Who created the heavens and the earth”? See the Ibn Ezra’s long commentary on Shemos 20:2. 

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 18:29 

[6] Sefer ha’Chinuch: Introduction. The Abravanel doesn’t actually quote the Sefer ha’Chinuch with reference to this view, but since it was the first place I encountered it in my own learning, and since the Sefer ha’Chinuch expands upon this view even more than the Ramban, I decided to attribute this view to him in my list. Moreover, the Abravanel attributes this view to “Rabbeinu Bachya ha’Zaken, as mentioned by the Ibn Ezra” but according to the Warsaw manuscript and H. Norman Strickman, the name mentioned by the Ibn Ezra is actually “Rabbeinu Hai.” This possible misattribution is yet another reason why I opted to label this under the Sefer ha’Chinuch’s name. 

[7] According to the Ramban, as the Abravanel himself points out. 

[8] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha’Ran #1 

[9] Rabbeinu Yehuda ha’Levi (Kuzari) 1:104-117 

[10] Rabbeinu Saadia Gaon, Emunos v’Deos 9:2 

[11] Rabbeinu Yehuda ha’Levi 1:115 

[12] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha’Ran, end of #3 

[13] The Abravanel credits the Ramban for this approach, based on the latter’s Commentary on Sefer Devarim 29:20; he also cites the Sefer ha’Ikkarim 4:40, chastising him for citing this answer in his own name rather than in the name of the Ramban. 

[14] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 10:1-2 

[15] ibid. 8:1 

[16] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Perek Chelek (Sanhedrin 10:1) 

[17] ibid. Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah Chapter 8:6 

[18] Ibid. 10:5

Parashas Behaalosecha: Moshe's View of Miracles

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Flamewake Phoenix, by Min Yum
This is NOT the type of bird-meat that Hashem would provide. 

Parashas Behaalosecha: Moshe's View of Miracles

Introduction

The episode in the wilderness known as Kivros ha'Taavah (the Graves of Desire) begins with Bnei Yisrael's craving for meat, instigated by the Erev Rav (Mixed Multitude):

The multitude that was among them cultivated a craving, and the Children of Israel also wept once more, and said: "Who will feed us meat? We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt free of charge: the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. But now, our life is parched, there is nothing; we have nothing to anticipate but the mahn!" (Bamidbar 11:4-6)

Moshe Rabbeinu responds to their outcry in an uncharacteristically agitated manner:

Moshe said to Hashem: "Why have You done evil to Your servant? Why have I not found favor in Your eyes, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive this entire people or did I give birth to it, that You say to me, 'Carry them in your bosom, as a nurse carries a suckling, to the Land that You swore to its forefathers'? Where shall I get meat to give to this entire people when they weep to me, saying, 'Give us meat that we may eat'? I alone cannot carry this entire nation, for it is too heavy for me! And if this is how You deal with me, then kill me now - if I have found favor in Your eyes - and let me not see my badness!" (ibid. 11:11-15)

Clearly there is a LOT to understand here. A full analysis of Moshe's reaction is beyond the scope of this blog post. I refer you to Rav Soloveitchik's shiur (available here in audio and here as a transcript). In this post I intend to focus only on Moshe's dialogue with Hashem regarding Bnei  Yisrael's demand for meat.

The Question

After instructing Moshe to gather 70 elders to help him bear the burden of leadership, Hashem tells Moshe how He intends to address Bnei Yisrael's demand for meat:

[Hashem said to Moshe:] "To the people you shall say: 'Prepare yourselves for tomorrow and you shall eat meat, for you have wept in the ears of Hashem, saying: Who will feed us meat? for it was better for us in Egypt! So Hashem will give you meat and you will eat. Not for one day shall you eat, nor for two days, nor for five days, nor for ten days, nor for twenty days. Until an entire month of days, until it comes out of your nose, and becomes nauseating to you, because you have rejected Hashem Who is in your midst, and you have wept before Him, saying: 'Why did we leave Egypt?'" (ibid. 11:18-20)

Hashem responds by telling Moshe to inform Bnei Yisrael that He will provide them with more meat than they can handle, as a way of rebuking them for their underlying desire to return to Egypt. One might expect Moshe to accept this without any problems. Instead, he bemoans the logistics of Hashem's plan:

Moshe said: "Six hundred thousand foot-soldiers are the people in whose midst I am, yet You say I shall give them meat, and they shall eat for a month of days?! Can sheep and cattle be slaughtered for them and suffice for them? Or if all the fish of the sea will be gathered for them, would it suffice for them?" (ibid. 11:21-22)

On the surface it seems as though Moshe doubts Hashem's ability to miraculously provide meat! This reading of Moshe's words is supported by Hashem response to Moshe's question:

Hashem said to Moshe: "Is the hand of Hashem limited? Now you will see whether My word comes to pass or not!" (ibid. 11:23)

Hashem then provides meat by causing the wind to blow quail from the sea: "A wind went forth from Hashem and blew quail from the sea and spread them over the camp, a day's journey this way and a day's journey that way, all around the camp, two cubits above the face of the earth" (ibid. 11:31-32).

This exchange between Moshe and Hashem is problematic. The pesukim make it sound as though Moshe doubted Hashem's ability to provide meat for Bnei Yisrael. Our question is: What was Moshe thinking? After all, this is Moshe Rabbeinu we're talking about - the greatest navi who ever existed, through whom Hashem performed the miraculous Ten Plagues, the splitting of the sea, the mahn in the Wilderness, and a number of other miracles and wonders. How could he express incredulity about Hashem's ability to perform this simple miracle of providing meat for the nation?

The Ran's Answer

The Ran [1] provides an eye-opening answer to this question in the eighth drashah of his Drashos ha'Ran. As is my custom, I will first present a translation of the relevant excerpt - with my own paragraph breaks for clarity - and then I will summarize and comment on each point. The Ran writes:

Hashem's desire and will is to maintain the natural order (minhago shel olam) as much as possible; nature (teva) is precious in His eyes, and He will only change it if there is an absolute necessity. 

It is because of this that Moshe said: "Can sheep and cattle be slaughtered for them and suffice for them? etc." for Moshe thought that Hashem would not generate a miracle and a wonder in order to fill their bellies with something that is not necessary. He was astonished and wondered how, by natural means, he would be able to provide enough meat for those people.

And since the natural order is precious in Hashem's eyes and He desires it, as we have written, then sometimes, when it becomes necessary for Him to do a miracle and a wonder, He will intermingle it with a natural phenomenon which will serve as a basis for that miracle - even though that natural phenomenon is not sufficient to bring about that miracle, but is merely a support for it.

An example of this what Elisha said to that woman from among the wives of the prophets' disciples: "[Elisha said:] 'Tell me: what do you have in the house?' and she said: 'Your maidservant has nothing in the house except for a jar of oil'" (Melachim II 4:2) and he responded to her: "Go, borrow vessels for yourself from the outside, from all your neighbors - empty vessels; do not be sparing" (ibid. 4:3). [Elisha then went on to miraculously fill all of the empty vessels with oil from that single original jar.]

There is no doubt that it would have been impossible within the laws of nature to produce that much oil from that jar - as impossible as if there were no oil there at all. Nevertheless, the navi's request was in line with Hashem's will that this miracle should have a natural basis to lean on. 

The Ran makes four points, which we will now summarize and briefly analyze.

Point #1: Nature is Precious in Hashem's Eyes

Truthfully, this point deserves its own blog post, since it has so many implications, and there is so much evidence to support it. Instead of writing my own thoughts about this, I will quote an excerpt from the introduction to a well-known essay written by my Rosh ha'Yeshiva:

Judaism, as seen through the eyes of the scholars of the Talmud, has its own unique religious orientation. While basing itself on a cataclysmic event – revelation, it does not look to miracles as the source of its intimate relationship with God. God's revelation at Sinai was a one-time occurrence never to be repeated. This is expressed in Deuteronomy 5:19, “a great voice which was not heard again.” In the mind of the Talmudic scholar God continuously reveals himself not through miracles but through the wisdom of his laws. These laws manifest themselves in Torah –the written and the oral law – and in nature. 

The Psalmist expresses this view most clearly. He speaks freely of the wonders of nature and the awe-inspiring universe as in Psalm 8:4, "When I look at the heavens, the work of Your fingers; the moon and stars which you have established". Psalm 104, dedicated to the wonders of nature, climaxes with the exclamation, "How many are Your works, O Lord! You have made them all with wisdom." Regarding the sheer intellectual joy one derives from studying Torah, he states, "The Torah of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul, the testimony of the Lord is trustworthy, making wise the simple person. The precepts of the Lord are upright, rejoicing the heart, the commandment of the Lord is lucid, enlightening the eye. The statutes of the Torah are true; they are all in total harmony. They are more to be desired than gold, even fine gold, and they are sweeter than honey and the honeycomb." 

When speaking of man's search for God the Psalmist states: "The Lord, from heaven, looked down upon the children of man, to see if there were any man of understanding searching for God" (Psalms 14:2). Man discovers God only through understanding. Accordingly, the righteous are depicted as being constantly involved in this process of searching for and discovering God. "But only in the Torah of the Lord is his desire, and in His Torah he mediates day and night" (Psalms 1:2). Maimonides sharply criticizes those who consider themselves religious and search for God through the miraculous. "Say to a person who believes himself to be of the wise men of Israel that the Almighty sends His angel to enter the womb of a woman and to form there the fetus, he will be satisfied with the account; he will believe it and even find in it a description of the greatness of God's might and wisdom; although he believes that the angel consists of burning fire and is as big as a third part of the Universe, yet he considers it possible as a divine miracle. But tell him that God gave the seed a formative power which produces and shapes the limbs and he will turn away because he cannot comprehend the true greatness and power of bringing into existence forces active in a thing that cannot be perceived by the senses." 

While Judaism is based on a supernatural event, it is not oriented toward the supernatural. The essence of Judaism is not realized through religious fervor over the miraculous but through an appreciation of God's wisdom as revealed both in Torah and the natural world. A miracle, being a breach of God's law, does not contribute to this appreciation. This distinction is crucial since it gives Judaism its metaphysical uniqueness.

I believe that the view expressed by my Rosh ha'Yeshiva is what the Ran means when he says that nature is "precious in Hashem's eyes." He cannot mean that nature is "precious" to Hashem simply because He created it. This wouldn't warrant the word "precious," which implies that it is more valuable to Hashem (so to speak) than other things in His world. Rather, nature is "precious in Hashem's eyes" in that it provides the basis of man's relationship to Hashem - namely, the wisdom and beauty of the Divinely authored laws of nature. Nature is precious as a means of drawing closer to Hashem.

That, according to the Ran, is why Hashem is "reluctant" (so to speak) to do miracles, except when absolutely necessary. A miracle is a pgam (blemish) which mars the beauty of Hashem's wondrous laws of nature. 

Point #2: Conservation of Miracles

The Ran's second point is an explicit formulation of what I've heard some people refer to as "The Law of Conservation of Miracles." Hashem doesn't perform miracles gratuitously. Rather, He will only perform a miracle when it is "absolutely necessary." 

The Rambam [2] mentions an application of the Law of Conservation of Miracles in his discussion about nevuah (prophecy), emphasizing the point that all of Moshe's miracles were done out of practical necessity - not to establish his prophecy:

Israel did not believe in Moshe Rabbeinu because of the [miraculous] signs he performed, for one whose belief is based on miracles will have doubt in his heart, since it is possible that he did [these miracles] using illusions and trickery. Rather, all of the miracles he performed in the wilderness, he did out of necessity – not to bring a proof for his prophecy. He needed the Egyptians to be drowned – he split the sea and drowned them in it; we needed sustenance – he brought down the mahn; we were thirsty – he split the stone for them; the congregation of Korach denied him – he caused the earth to swallow them; and the same for all the other [miraculous] signs.

As a Chumash teacher I am often asked, "Why didn't Hashem solve such-and-such problem by miraculously doing such-and-such?" Although this question must be taken up on a case-by-case basis, the general answer can be boiled down to The Law of Conservation of Miracles: if a natural solution is possible, Hashem will not make recourse to miracles - and even when He does resort to miracles, He will minimize His intervention in the laws of nature as much as possible.

This is the basis of the Ran's answer to our question about Moshe's response to Hashem's proposed solution for the meat crisis ...

Point #3: Moshe's Response to the Meat Crisis

According to the Ran, Moshe's response ("Can sheep and cattle be slaughtered for them and suffice for them? etc.") did not stem from any disbelief in Hashem's ability to do miracles. Rather, Moshe was operating under the assumption that God wouldn't do a miracle in this particular case. He reasoned that Hashem wouldn't do a miracle since it wasn't absolutely necessary for Bnei Yisrael to eat meat. Therefore, he assumed that the solution to Bnei Yisrael's dissatisfaction would have to be found within the laws of nature, and that seemed to be an impossible task to him. 

(Indeed, the Chizkuni [3] learns that Moshe thought that the 70 elders were appointed to help him with all of the meat-slaughtering. Part of his question, "Can sheep and cattle be slaughtered for them and suffice for them?" was:  "How can 71 men slaughter enough meat for 600,000 men?")

According to the Ran, Hashem's response to Moshe ("Is the hand of Hashem limited?") was not intended to rebuke Moshe for thinking that the hand of Hashem is limited; rather, His response was intended to correct Moshe's mistaken assumption that the meat would be provided by his hand rather than Hashem's hand. The rhetorical formulation of Hashem's rebuke was intended to highlight Moshe's mistake about whose hand would provide the meat.

(Unfortunately, I do not know of any commentary by the Ran on the second part of Hashem's response: "Now you will see whether My word comes to pass or not!" which seems to imply that Moshe did have some doubt as to whether the word of Hashem would come to pass. Let me know if you find or think of anything on this remaining question!)

Point #4: Miracles Via Nature

The Ran's fourth and final point is related to his first point. Because nature is precious in Hashem's eyes, then even when it becomes necessary for Him to do a miracle, He will do it by using a natural phenomenon as a "support" in order to convey his "reluctance" (so to speak) to completely do away with nature. 

The examples of this principle are too numerous to recount here. I'll just mention a few:

• Hashem could have just miraculously protect Noach, his family, and the animals. Instead, He made Noach build an ark and gather a male and female of each species. Undoubtedly, this ALSO required miraculous intervention - but the miracle was done using nature as a "support."
• The flood, itself, is an example of this. Hashem could have instantaneously "zapped" all of the evildoers. Instead, He utilized a natural disaster of miraculous proportions.
• Hashem could have designed the Ten Plagues to be completely supernatural. Instead, He utilized natural phenomena and caused them to behave in unnatural ways.
• Hashem could have split the sea by causing the waters to levitate or miraculously move aside on their own. Instead, "Hashem moved the sea with a strong east wind all the night" (Shemos 14:21).

This principle answers many questions about why Hashem performed specific miracles in the manner that He did. As the Creator of the universe yesh me'ayin (ex nihilo), of course Hashem could do miracles in any way He desires - and yet, He opts to incorporate nature as much as possible into these miraculous interventions in order to convey to us how precious nature is in His eyes.

Concluding Thoughts

I think there is an important lesson we can learn by comparing the popular view of miracles to Moshe's view miracles, as explained by the Ran. The Rambam [4] articulates the popular view in his Maamar Techiyas ha'Meisim: 

I will explain to you that which brought me to this approach, and that is that our aim and the aim of every intelligent person among the select few is opposite to the aim of the masses of people. For the most cherished and beloved thing to the masses of Torah-observant people, because of their ignorance, is to consider the Torah and human intellect to be two opposite poles. Everything which is incomprehensible to the intellect they consider to be a miracle. They flee from explaining something as a natural phenomenon whether it pertains to something recorded in the past, or in regard to something which is discernible at the present time, or whether it relates to something which is written will happen in the future. We, on the other hand, strive to reconcile the Torah with human intellect and regard everything in its natural light wherever possible, unless it is self-evident therefrom that it is of miraculous connotation and cannot be interpreted at all; then we are forced to say it is a miracle.

The "masses of Torah-observant people" look for miracles everywhere. They are eager to posit a miracle whenever possible. In their eyes, the more "miraculous" the miracle is, the better. Many even believe that nature diminishes Hashem's greatness and detracts from our ability to relate to Him.

From Moshe Rabbeinu we see that the Torah encourages the opposite of this orientation towards miracles. Moshe didn't expect Hashem to do a miracle for him, even though it would have solved a lot of problems, since he knew that Hashem only does miracles when they are absolutely necessary. Moshe knew that even when Hashem does perform a miracle, He uses natural phenomena as a "support" in order to convey how "precious" nature is in His eyes. The reason for this is because nature exhibits the wisdom of the Creator, and is our greatest vehicle for relating to Him. As tempting as it might be to seek out the miraculous as a basis for our relationship to God, His preference is for us to seek Him by appreciating the wondrous wisdom of His natural law: "How great are Your works, Hashem! With wisdom You made them all; the earth is full of Your creations" (Tehilim 104:24).

Indeed, this is why the Torah presents us not only the historical account of the miracles that Hashem did, but also includes the information we need in order to learn how Hashem wants us to relate to His miracles. The challenge is to set aside our own preconceived notions, wishes, and fantasies about Divine intervention, and instead, to learn about the ways of Hashem from the words and teachings of Hashem in His Torah.

[1] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha'Ran #8
[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah 8:1
[3] Rabbeinu Chezkiah ben Manoach, Commentary to Sefer Bamidbar 11:21-23
[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Treatise on the Resurrection of the Dead; see my post entitled On Interpreting "Miracle Stories" in the Talmud for a further exploration of this view

Parashas Eikev: What is Yiras Hashem (Fear of God)?

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Oveverwhelming Splendor, by Richard Wright.
The question: Does the fear depicted in this artwork have anything to do with yiras Hashem?

Parashas Eikev: What is Yiras Hashem (Fear of God)?

Only Yirah

This week's parashah contains of the many "fundamentals of Judaism" pesukim in Sefer Devarim. Moshe Rabbeinu declares: 

"Now, O Israel, what does Hashem, your God, ask of you? Only to fear Hashem, your God, to go in all His ways, and to love Him, and to serve Hashem, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul, to observe the commandments of Hashem and His decrees, which I command you today, for your benefit." (Devarim 10:12-13)

Chazal (Talmud Bavli Berachos 33b) are astonished by Moshe's use of the word "only" asking: "Is fear of heaven a small matter?!" They answer: "Yes - for Moshe it was a small matter. This may be compared to [the following case:] if a man is asked for a big item and he has it, then it seems like a small item to him, but if he is asked for a small item and he doesn't have it, then it seems like a big item to him." 

According to Chazal, Moshe's statement was difficult. According to the meforshim (commentators), Chazal's answer is difficult. And every time I've taken up this topic with my chavrusas, it's proven to be difficult.

This week, however, I stumbled upon a 10-page analysis by the Abvravanel [1] of the topic of yiras Hashem in his commentary on our parashah. The Abravanel paraphrases the view of his predecessors (i.e. the Ran and the Rambam), states his objections to it, then offers his own view. His presentation is so valuable that I decided to write a "Set Table" style dvar Torah, with a walk-through of his analysis.

Ordinarily my practice on this blog is to translate and incorporate as many firsthand sources as possible into my treatment of the material. In this case, for the sake of brevity, I will summarize rather than translate - with only a few direct quotations/translations. 

The View of the Ran (and the Rambam - according to the Abravanel [2])

The Ran [3] begins by explaining that there are two types of yirah, in general (i.e. not specifically in relation to Hashem). 

The first type of yirah he defines as "a withdrawal of the soul and a mobilizing of its faculties when it senses something intimidating." In English we refer to this emotion as "fear." We experience this "yirah of fear" when faced with anything that we perceive to be a threat of any kind. The Ran explains that this type of yirah stems from the "animalistic soul" (nefesh ha'chiyunis) and can therefore be found in many animals as well (e.g. the fear felt by a lamb upon seeing a wolf). Examples of this "yirah of fear" in Tanach include: "Rescue me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Eisav, for I fear him lest he come and strike me down, mother and children" (Bereishis 32:12) and "for I was afraid to say, 'This is my wife,' lest they kill me" (ibid. 26:7).

In contrast, the second type of yirah is a product of the intellect (seichel) and stems from the recognition of something or someone that is exceedingly great. In English we refer to this emotion as "awe." Examples of this "yirah of awe" include: "Why were you not afraid (i.e. sufficiently awed) to speak against My servant, Moshe?" (Bamidbar 12:8) and "And [Yaakov] feared (i.e. was in awe) and said, 'How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and this is the gate of the heavens!" (Bereishis 28:17) and "Let your fear (i.e. awe) of your teacher be like your fear of heaven" (Avos 4:12).

The Ran explains that both types of yirah can be found in relation to Hashem. Those people who are deficient (anashim chaseirim) are afraid of the punishments that are sent forth from Hashem. Those who are perfected (shleimim) have no such fear. Instead, they have an "intellectual awe of His exaltedness" (yirah sichlis l'romemuso), based on their comprehension of His creations and the lowly place of man in the totality of existence. 

The Rambam [4] provides a beautiful description of this "yirah of awe" in the Mishneh Torah. Since the Rambam maintains that the experience of ahavas Hashem (love of God) and yiras Hashem (fear of God) go hand in hand, and since we will revisit the topic of ahavas Hashem later in this blog post, I will quote his definitions of both yirah and ahavah here:

What is the way of loving and fearing God? When a person contemplates His great and wondrous works and creations and sees from them His infinite and incomparable wisdom, he immediately loves, praises, and extols and is filled with a great desire to know the Great Name, as David said, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Psalms 42:3). 

And when he reflects on these same principles in relation to himself, he immediately recoils back with fear and dread, and knows that he is a small, insignificant, unenlightened creature standing with a frail and puny mind in the presence of Perfect Knowledge, as David said, “[When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and stars that you have set in place, I exclaim,] ‘What is frail man that You should notice him, [and the son of mortal man that You should take note of him?’]” (Psalms 8:4-5).

Later on, the Rambam [5] writes another description of ahavah and yirah, from a slightly different angle:

When a person contemplates all of these things (i.e. all of the phenomena in the universe) and recognizes all of the creations – from angels, to celestial bodies, to man, etc. – and sees the wisdom of HaKadosh Baruch Hu in all of the forms and creations – his love for God will increase, his soul will thirst, and his flesh will yearn to love God; and he will be in fear and trepidation from his own lowliness, insignificance, and frailty when he compares himself to even one of these large, holy bodies – and certainly to one of the pure forms which are utterly separated from matter – and he will find himself to be like a vessel filled with shame and embarrassment, empty and lacking.

This is what the Ran means when he characterizes this yirah as "intellectual" awe: it will only be experienced by a person in proportion to his knowledge and understanding of God's wisdom as manifest in the universe. The Ran adds that this type of yirah will also have an effect on a person's actions: just as one would be ashamed to do something improper in front of a great person, although he doesn't fear any harm, so too, one who recognizes Hashem's greatness will feel ashamed to act contrary to His will. 

Having established these two types of yirah, the Ran returns to our pasuk and asks: Which type of yirah was Moshe Rabbeinu talking about when he said, "what does Hashem, your God, ask of you? Only to fear Hashem, your God etc."? Was Moshe referring to both types of yirah, or was he referring solely to the "yirah of awe"? 

On the surface, both answers present difficulties. If we assume that the yirah mentioned by Moshe includes the "yirah of fear," then there are two problems. The first is that this type of fear doesn't distinguish between between good and bad, true or false, just or unjust. The individual who operates based on this fear is simply responding to a threat, and doing whatever is necessary to avoid the perceived harm. For example, after witnessing Chur get killed by Bnei Yisrael (Shemos Rabbah 41:10), Aharon decided to build the Eigel ha'Zahav (Golden Calf); in other words, his fear led him him to do an aveirah (transgression), for which he was punished with death. [6] It is inconceivable that Hashem would demand a type of avodah which stems exclusively from the animalistic part of man, and doesn't even differentiate between good and bad.

The second problem stems from the aforementioned statement of Chazal, that this type of yirah was "a small thing for Moshe but a large thing for us." Is "yirah of fear" really such a "large thing" for us? Of course not! Even young children and animals have a basic fear of punishment. It would be absurd for Chazal to describe this type of primal fear as "a large thing" for us. 

On the other hand, if we assume that Moshe was only talking about the "yirah of awe," then we run into an even bigger problem: this type of yirah can only be found in the greatest chachamim (wise men) and neviim (prophets), who have reached such a superlative level of scientific knowledge. How could Moshe expect this level to be attained by the entire nation? Even Moshe, at the outset of his prophetic career, was praised for this type of yirah, as it is stated: "and Moshe concealed his face, for he was afraid to gaze at God" (Shemos 3:6). This shows that this was a "big thing" even for Moshe, at this point in his development. To expect all of Klal Yisrael to reach this level is unrealistic.

The Ran proposes a creative answer. He explains that Moshe was, indeed, referring exclusively to "yirah of awe." Why, then, did he describe this yirah as though it were easy and universally attainable? Because he was trying to make a point about the nature of this yirah. Since this yirah stems from the intellect, and since man's intellect naturally yearns for knowledge [6], then this type of yirah is actually an easy thing for the intellect - like walking up the stairs on an upwards escalator. This is what Moshe Rabbeinu was speaking about when he described yirah as "easy." In other words, we shouldn't think about love of learning as something foreign to our nature, which we must fight and work to instill within ourselves. Rather, as human beings, we naturally enjoy learning and seek knowledge.

However, we all have a major impediment which makes things difficult: our physicality, which includes our body, our psyche, and all of our drives, tendencies, and personality traits. The surest way to prevent our physicality from overcoming us and impeding our quest for yirah is to subdue it with threats of punishment - that is, by strategically employing the "yirah of fear" to control our inner animal. For this reason Moshe Rabbeinu follows up his discourse about the intellectual yirah with by reminding Klal Yisrael of the punishments that Hashem wrought in Egypt and in the Wilderness (see Devarim 11). 

Thus, the Ran holds that Moshe Rabbeinu's exhortation was designed to convey the full picture of how to develop yiras Hashem. On the one hand, yirah [of awe] is easy, since the mind of man naturally yearns for knowledge. On the other hand, yirah [of fear] is necessary to keep the animalistic part of man at bay, so that the rational soul can be properly nurtured to the point where it reigns supreme.

The Abravanel's Critiques of the Ran

I liked the Ran's approach quite a bit ... but the Abravanel doesn't. Not only does he disagree with the Ran's explanation of our pasuk and Chazal's commentary, but he even objects to the Ran's two types of yirah and maintains that they cannot be considered "yiras Hashem" in any sense, whatsoever!

The Abravanel begins with a critique of the Ran's explanation of our pasuk, saying that "the rav (i.e. the Ran) wanted to combine two types of yirah as both being necessary - on account of the intellect and physicality - to acquire success." He then explains that the two types of yirah as defined by the Ran are so fundamentally different that they cannot be subsumed under a single category, nor can they coexist within a single person. The "perfected person" will have no need for the "yirah of fear" and the "deficient person" will have no access to the "yirah of awe." 

[My chavrusa and I still feel that we aren't grasping the Abravanel's argument here. Didn't the Ran acknowledge the inherent differences between these two types of yirah? Didn't he explain that because man has an intellectual and an animalistic nature, both types of yirah are necessary? We figured that perhaps the Abravanel is objecting to the fact that Moshe speaks as though he is referring to one type of fear. If these two types of fear only differ quantitatively, and exist on a spectrum, it would be possible to say that he was referring to both types of yirah, and addressing both types of people. But since these types of yirah are qualitatively different, then they cannot be subsumed under Moshe's statement "only to fear Hashem." We're still working on this point.]

Next, the Abravanel dismantles the Ran theory that these two general types of yirah correspond to two levels of yiras Hashem. He explains that the "yirah of fear" cannot possibly have anything to do with Hashem, "since all avodah (service) towards Hashem in all matters must be directed by knowledge and understanding, which are activities of the intellect - whether the theoretical intellect or the practical intellect - but not from the animalistic soul." He explains that the animalistic soul is only affected by physical stimuli, but not by comprehension and intellection. For this reason, fear of Hashem's punishments should not be classified under "animalistic fear," since the former involves knowledge the intellect to some degree. 

Moreover, animalistic fear can't be considered "avodah" because it is really just a form of oneis (duress) and compulsion. As proof the Abravanel cites the midrash (Shabbos 88a) that Hashem held Har Sinai over Bnei Yisrael, saying: "If you accept the Torah - great! If not, this will be your grave," to which Chazal raise a difficulty: "From here we see a strong objection against [our obligation to keep] Torah!" Chazal respond to this difficulty by saying that the Jews accepted the Torah out of love during the days of Mordechai and Esther. Regardless of how we understand Chazal's answer, we see from their question that acceptance of the Torah under a threat which arouses animalistic fear (e.g. being crushed to death by a mountain) does not constitute a valid acceptance of Torah and mitzvos. How, then, could an animalistic fear be a valid form of avodas Hashem - one which Hashem actually desires? The Abravanel even goes so far as to say that doing mitzvos out of an animalistic fear doesn't even qualify as the type of avodah she'lo lishmah (divine service which is not for its own sake) which leads to lishmah (divine service for its own sake).

Next, the Abravanel argues that "yirah of awe" also cannot be what the Torah means by "yiras Hashem." First of all, this type yirah should really be called "chochmah" (wisdom) or "yediah" (knowledge), since - according to the Ran - the injunction to "fear Hashem" practically means "gain knowledge of Hashem's wondrous creations and a recognition of your own place in the universe." And if you'll say that it should be called "yirah" because of the emotional affect which emerges from this level of knowledge, it would be more fitting to call this "pliah" ("wonderment"), since the experience creates wonder but doesn't lead to "fear" in any sense. To the contrary, the more knowledge one has of Hashem's exaltedness and man's lowliness, the less yirah he has because he feels even more distant from Hashem. But the more he knows, the more pliah he experiences.

Furthermore, the term "yirah" in Tanach always implies action - not study or knowledge. In fact, the pasuk says: "Fear of Hashem is the beginning of wisdom, good intelligence to all their practitioners" (Tehilim 111:10), which implies that yiras Hashem is a precursor to wisdom - not the result of wisdom. Throughout all of Tanach "yirah" never refers to "advanced knowledge of the universe." 

Lastly, the experienced described by the Ran as "yirah of awe" would more aptly be described as "ahavah" (love) - but it is impossible to simultaneously love and fear someone, since love is a force of attraction and fear is a force of repulsion. And if the Ran is so comfortable saying that there are two categories of yiras Hashem (i.e. intellectual awe and animalistic fear of punishment) then why doesn't he also posit that there are two categories of ahavas Hashem (i.e. intellectual ahavah and animalistic desire for reward)? 

The Abravanel concludes is breakdown by saying that the Ran's view "is not dictated by intellectually straight thinking, nor is it warranted by the pesukim, nor can it be found in the words of Chazal." 

The Abravanel's View

The Abravanel now introduces a completely different paradigm for ahavas Hashem and yiras Hashem. He starts with the foundation of his entire view of avodas Hashem, ahavas Hashem, and yiras Hashem. Since this part is relatively concise, I will translate it instead of summarizing it:

Our avodas Hashem is proper and obligatory on account of the kindnesses which we have received from Him - the bringing into existence of creation and its preservation, as well as His love for our forefathers, His bringing us out from Egypt, His giving of the Torah, His [enabling us to] inherit the Land, and all of the other acts of goodness He did for us that are outside of the patterns of nature, as miracles, in accordance with His absolute will. 

Because of this beneficence which Hashem has done for us, we are obligated to love Him - and from this love, [we are obligated] to serve Him with all of our heart, and all of our soul. This is due to the fact that avodah and ahavah are two in name but one in existence, like the oneness of "potentiality" and "actuality." Ahavah towards Him is a potentiality that is found within the soul that is bound up in it, and avodah is the actualization of that ahavah. 

In addition to the ahavah which is proper towards Him in order to serve Him, man also must guard himself to the utmost degree from sinning before Him or provoking Him, for it would not be proper to have ingratitude to someone who bestowed such kindness and benefits. 

Thus, we have in relation to God an obligation of love, to do His avodah, as well as an obligation to guard ourselves and to be afraid of provoking Him. And there is nothing here that involves His exaltedness, or the wonders and and harmony of of His creations, such that one would need a high degree of understanding and wisdom beyond [a basic recognition] of His kindness in the creation and preservation of the universe, which every person knows. 

And in addition to the fact that this perspective [based on the creation and preservation of the universe] obligates us to love Him and fear Him, there is additional good reward for those who love Him and keep His mitzvos, for Ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu will benefit them and give them reward for their love and their avodah. Likewise, their [additional] yirah and caution against sinning will save them from the harms and misfortunes of the world. 

To summarize: our obligation to serve, love, and fear Hashem all stem from our "indebtedness" (so to speak) to Him for all of the good He has done for us, both in creating and maintaining the universe and in the abundant goodness He has shown to our forefathers and our nation. This hakaras ha'tov (gratitude) is equally applicable and accessible to all people, regardless of their level of intelligence and comprehension of His works. No amount of knowledge will change the extent of our indebtedness. The chacham and the simpleton owe equal amounts of gratitude to Hashem for the benefits they have received. This is the Abravanel's view.

Before explaining Moshe's statement, the Abravanel directs our attention to the context in which our pasuk appears. In the pesukim leading up to our pasuk, Moshe reminds Bnei Yisrael of their many rebellions in the Wilderness - the worst of which was the Cheit ha'Eigel (Sin of the Golden Calf). The Abravanel explains what Hashem could have done, and what He actually did:

According to the strict letter of the law, even if Hashem forgave them and atoned for the incident of the Eigel, He could have increased upon them the yoke of Torah and mitzvos. This is what kings do with those who rebel against their service, namely, that even though they are forgiven for their sin and they return to their work, the king imposes upon them more laws than they previously had. But Hashem did not do this. He didn't increase the weight of their yoke, nor did he add even a single mitzvah. Instead, He only warned them that they should be exceedingly vigilant in guarding those mitzvos which He had already given them.

On the basis of his conceptualization of avodah, ahavah, and yirah, and in light of the context established by Moshe's speech, the Abravanel explains our pasuk:

Therefore [Moshe] said: "What does Hashem, your God, ask of you? Only to fear Him" for this request is not hard, but easy - and all the more so after [Bnei Yisrael] wickedly sinned with the Eigel. 

Chazal explained that because "man's inclination is evil" and always inclines towards sin, they asked: "Is yirah a small thing?" Their answer was that in relation to Moshe, who guarded himself from sin, this vigilance was easy. And even in relation to Israel, based on the goods they had received from Him, [yirah] would be proper and right. 

According to the Abravanel, the following analogy may be made. A student is given a generous scholarship to attend a prestigious university - a scholarship which was not earned by merit, but was given out of generosity. But instead of working hard to excel in his courses, he slacks off, disrespects his professors, trashes his dorm, and violates the terms of his student contract. The dean calls him in and says, "Look. We have given you this tremendous opportunity, for your benefit. We will give you another chance to boost your grades, we will forgive you for your chutzpah, we will overlook the damage you have caused to university property, and we will forgive your breach of contract. The ONLY thing we are asking is that you guard yourself from future infractions. Is that an unreasonable request?"

It would seem that the Abravanel is learning Chazal's interpretation of Moshe's statement in the same vein. Moshe was saying: "Yiras Hashem ought to be easy, considering all of the good that Hashem has done for you, and the tolerance He has shown you despite your many rebellions. Not only has He forgiven you for these transgressions, but He has even refrained from increasing your yoke. The only thing He is asking you to do is to exercise vigilance and not violate the mitzvos with which you have been charged." 

Concluding Thoughts

Unfortunately, my chavrusa and I were only able to work on this for two days before I had to write and post this dvar Torah. There are still many questions that we need to resolve, including:

• Which of the Abravanel's critiques of the Ran have merit and which do not? 
• What are the Ran and the Abravanel really arguing about? What is at the root of their disagreement? 
• Which explanation of the pasuk is smoother and more convincing? 
• What is this the Abravanel's concept of being obligated to serve Hashem out of this hakaras ha'tov? How does this differ from other views of the nature of our avodah (e.g. the Ralbag's conceptualization of Torah as part of the unfolding of the hashgachah in the universe)? 
• According to the Abravanel, how do the Ran's two types of yirah fit into Judaism? Was he really serious about animalistic fear playing absolutely no role in our avodah?

Lastly, there is another answer that I'd like to develop based on my understanding of yiras Hashem in Mishlei. That, along with these other questions, will have to wait until a later time.

[1] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Devarim 10:12

[2] I say "the Rambam - according to the Abravanel" because that is the view of the Rambam I intend to write about in this blog post. In other words, this will not be an examination of what the Rambam holds on his own terms. Instead, this should be understood as the Abravanel's understanding of the Rambam's view. 

[2] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha'Ran #10. Full disclosure: although I have learned this drashah inside several times, I am relying on the Abravanel's presentation of the Ran's view.

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah 2:2

[4] ibid. 4:12

[5] This is according to the Abravanel's interpretation, which I wrote about in Parashas Chukas: Moshe Rabbeinu's Sin.

[6] "[Hashem] instilled within [people] the capacity to learn and to understand - for this tendency is present in every man, that the more he is drawn after the ways of chochmah (wisdom) and tzedek (righteousness), the more he desires them and pursues them" (Rambam, Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 6:4)

Parashas Eikev: On Attributing Our Success to Hashem

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post. This week's dvar Torah is a blog post I wrote in January 2012. 

Artwork: Fistful of Force, by Ralph Horsley

Parashas Eikvev: On Attributing Our Success to Hashem

"Who is responsible for my success?" To the Torah-observant Jew, the answer to this question is obvious: "Hashem is responsible for your success." This is certainly correct. The Torah addresses this exact question in the famous "kochi v'otzem yadi" passage:

Lest you eat and be satisfied, and you build good houses and settle, and your cattle and sheep and goats increase, and you increase silver and gold for yourselves, and everything that you have will increase – and your heart will become haughty and you will forget Hashem, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt from the house of slavery … And you will say in your heart, ‘My ability and the might of my own hand made me all this wealth!’ Then you shall remember Hashem, your God: that it is He Who gives you the ability to make wealth. (Devarim 8:12-18)

However, if we are honest with ourselves, some of us will be bothered by a nagging question in the back of our minds: "I understand that everything is from Hashem ... but are you really telling me that my own talents and abilities had nothing to do with my success, and that Hashem is the sole cause of my success?"

Thankfully, the Ran addresses this exact issue at the beginning of his tenth drashah:

[Moshe Rabbeinu] warned Yisrael about two things: (1) that they should not ascribe their success to their own ability and to the might of their hand, and (2) that they should not ascribe their conquest of the land to their own merit. He began by saying: “Lest you eat and be satisfied, and you build good houses and settle, and your cattle and sheep and goats increase … And you will say in your heart, ‘My ability and the might of my own hand made me all this wealth!’ Then you shall remember Hashem, your God: that it is He Who gives you the ability to make wealth.” 

The meaning of this is as follows: The truth is that people have different talents in different areas. For example, certain people are predisposed to receive wisdom, whereas others are predisposed to devise strategies to gather and amass [wealth]. On account of this, the wealthy man can truthfully say, from a certain angle, “My ability and the might of my hand made me this wealth.” Nevertheless, insofar as that ability was implanted within you, be sure to remember Who gives you the ability to make wealth.

Moshe did not say, “Then you shall remember that Hashem is the One Who gives you wealth,” for if he had said that, he would be minimizing [the fact] that the ability implanted within the person is an intermediate cause in the accumulation of that wealth – but this is not the case. Therefore he said: “Although your ability is what made you this wealth, you should remember Who gives you that ability (blessed is He).”

The Ran highlights what many of us miss: the Torah does not command us to remember that Hashem is the One Who gives us our wealth, but rather, the Torah commands us to remember that Hashem is the One Who gives us the ability to make wealth. 

This subtle distinction is extremely important, for without it, the Torah's statement would be false. Chazal teach us: "ha'kol bi'ydei shamayim chutz mi'yiras shamayim" which means "Everything is in the hands of heaven except for the fear of heaven" (Berachos 33b). Everything in the universe, from the smallest particle to the largest galaxy, is governed by the Divine laws of the Creator. There is only one exception: the free will decisions of human beings. Our choices, whether for good or bad, are caused by us - not by Hashem.

It is for this reason that the Ran writes: "the wealthy man can truthfully say, from a certain angle, 'My ability and the might of my hand made me this wealth.'" When J.D. Rockefeller founded Standard Oil, and when Warren Buffet invested in Berkshire Hathaway, and when Steve Jobs created the iPod, it was their decisions which were the intermediate causes of their success. To deny this fact would be to deny the Torah's fundamental principle of free will.

Nonetheless, the mistake of "kochi v'otzem yadi" is to feel as though one can take all or most of the credit for one's successes. Such a feeling would be false, foolish, and exceedingly egotistical. Consider the following categories of factors and ask yourself whether it's rational to take credit for your success:

• Abilities: Even though you made the choices that resulted in your wealth or success, Who gave you the ability to make such choices? Who gave you all of the talents and skills you needed in order to accomplish whatever it is that you accomplished? Can you really take credit for these abilities?
• Dispositions: And if you'll still try to take credit for developing these talents and skills through hard work, Who gave you the dispositions and character traits that enabled you to put in all of that hard work? How much of your personality - whether developed by nature or nurture - can you actually take credit for?
• Opportunities: Who is responsible for the opportunities you had to make those critical decisions? Likewise, Who gave you the opportunities to develop your talents and skills? Could you have made these decisions or developed your potential on your own, without these opportunities?
• Obstacles: Think of all the obstacles that could have delayed, impeded, or prevented your success. Think of all the things that could have gone wrong and led to your failure. Think of how many factors had to be in place for your plans to play out as they did. Can you really take credit for preventing these innumerable obstacles?
• Materials: Think of the materials necessary for you to achieve your success. Who created those materials with the properties they have? Who made them available for you to use? Did you create matter?
• Natural Laws: Think about the laws of nature that made your success possible. Who created those laws and keeps them running? Did you design the laws of the universe? 

I'm sure there are more categories than this, but the point is clear: it would be the utmost degree of egotism for a person to feel, "my ability and the might of my own hand made me this wealth." To relish that feeling is to forget Hashem and to set oneself up as the melech olam. This is the mentality that the Torah is coming to warn against. 

(Parenthetically, a friend of mine pointed out to me that Onkelos translates "כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל" as "ארי הוא יהיב לך עיצא למקני נכסין" which means "He is the One Who gives you counsel to acquire possessions." I am inclined to think that Onkelos is alluding to the idea expressed by the Ran - all by a subtle change in his translation of a single word.)

The Ran mentioned that Moshe warned Bnei Yisrael about two things: (1) that they should not ascribe their success to their own ability and to the might of their hand, and (2) that they should not ascribe their conquest of the land to their own merit. The second part of his warning pertains to the following pesukim:

Hear, O Israel, today you cross the Jordan, to come and drive out nations that are greater and mightier than you, cities that are great and fortified up to the heavens, a great and lofty people, children of giants, that you knew and of whom you have heard, “Who can stand up against the children of the giant?” But you know today that Hashem, your God – He crosses the border before you, a consuming fire; He will destroy them and He will subjugate them before you; you will drive them out and cause them to perish quickly, as Hashem spoke to you. Do not say in your heart, when Hashem pushes them away from before you, saying, “Because of my righteousness did Hashem bring me to possess the Land and because of the wickedness of these nations did Hashem drive them away from before you.” Not because of your righteousness and the uprightness of your heart are you coming to possess their Land, but because of the wickedness of these nations does Hashem, your God, drive them away from before you, and in order to establish the word that Hashem swore to your forefathers, to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Yaakov. And you should know that not because of your righteousness does Hashem, your God, give you this good Land to possess it, for you are a stiff-necked people. (Devarim 9:1-6)

The Ran notes a discrepancy in the pesukim: at first Moshe criticizes those who attribute their success to their own ability and might, but now he criticizes those who attribute their success to their righteousness and uprightness of heart. What is the relationship between these two erroneous patterns of thinking? 

The Ran explains: 

Here he did not say, “My ability and the power of my hand etc.” but he said, “Do not say in your heart, when Hashem pushes them away from before you, saying, 'Because of my righteousness did Hashem bring me to possess the Land etc.'” This is as if he is saying: “Listen to me further, O Israel, regarding that matter about which you are doubtful. For you are crossing the Jordan to come to drive out from the Land nations that are bigger and stronger than you. I am not worried that you will claim that you overpowered them with your power, for  [in truth] they are bigger and stronger than you, and you lack the ability [to defeat them]. Rather, since it is Hashem (blessed is He) Who is driving them out, and not your own power, I am worried that you will say in your heart that it is your righteousness and uprightness of heart that caused this. 

The reason for this as follows: due to his ego and haughtiness (which distorts his own practical thinking), man will ascribe his successes to himself in any way possible. In matters that are contingent on his wisdom and good planning he will think that his own wisdom is what prevailed for him. In matters that he perceives as exceeding his abilities and planning, he will ascribe [his successes] to his own merit. 

Therefore, Moshe said: “Regarding the conquest of these mighty nations which surpass you in strategic planning and power – I am afraid, lest you ascribe this matter to your righteousness. Do not do this, for you are a stiff-necked people, and you are not worthy of this on the basis of your merit, for you have sinned and rebelled excessively against the Word of Hashem (blessed is He),” as he recounts to them in great detail in the pesukim (ibid. 9:7-24), and in general by saying, “You have been rebels against Hashem from the day that I knew you!” (ibid. 9:24).

This is a much sneakier ploy of the yeter ha'ra: attributing our success to our "merit." The tricky thing about "merit" is that it can feel like we are giving credit to Hashem, since we do believe that Hashem rewards us on the basis of our merit. But as the Ran points out, this might just another expression of egotism. Even worse, one can easily slip into the mentality that Hashem owed you this success, which is another (albeit more subtle) form of "forgetting Hashem."

This egotistical sense of merit-based entitlement can manifest itself in many forms. In the case of Bnei Yisrael, their feeling of merit was attached to their sense of "righteousness and uprightness of heart." All types of merit ultimately boil down to the same basic feeling: "I deserve success because I am special." This is the second mentality the Torah comes to warn against.

To summarize: whenever we achieve success, we must guard against the egotistical tendency to take credit for that success. There are two erroneous mentalities we can fall into: (1) "kochi v'otzem yadi," - forgetting that Hashem is the cause of every aspect of our success (with the sole exception of the actual choices we make), and (2) "baavur tzidkasi" - believing that Hashem helped us succeed because we have special merit, and are entitled to our success.