On Interpreting "Miracle Stories" in the Talmud

Originally published in March 2013. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Counterspell, by Zack Stella - or an abstract rendition of Choni ha'Maagal

On Interpreting "Miracle Stories" in the Talmud

The author of the Haggadah quotes the last Mishnah in the first chapter of Berachos:

R' Elazar ben Azaryah said: I am like a seventy-year-old man, yet I did not merit [to prove that] the Exodus from Egypt must be mentioned at night until Ben Zoma expounded it [from the verse], as it is stated: “So that you will remember the day of your departure from Mitzrayim all the days of your life” (Devarim 16:3). “The days of your life” indicates the days. “All the days of your life” indicates the nights. The Sages say: “The days of your life” indicates this world. “All the days of your life” comes to include the Messianic Era.

R' Elazar ben Azaryah's statement is peculiar. Why does he say, "I am like a seventy-year-old man" and not simply, "I am a seventy-year-old man"?

The Gemara (Berachos 27b-28a) addresses this question. R' Elazar ben Azaryah was being considered as a candidate for the office of nassi, the head of the Sanhedrin (Supreme Court). He was hesitant about accepting the position, so he consulted his wife. She expressed her concern about his youthful appearance. The Gemara states: 

She said to him: “You have no white hair.” He was eighteen years old that day, and a miracle was done for him and eighteen rows of hair [on his beard] turned white. That is why R. Elazar ben Azaryah said: “Behold I am like a seventy-year-old man,” and he did not say, "I am a seventy year old man."

Most people take the Gemara's account at face value: a miracle was done for R' Elazar ben Azaryah, and his beard turned white. There doesn't seem to be anything objectionable about the Gemara's explanation.

The Rambam [1] begs to differ. In his commentary on that Mishnah he writes: 

Regarding the statement of R’ Elazar ben Azaryah, “Behold, I am like a seventy-year-old man” He didn’t say, “I am seventy years old” because he wasn’t seventy years old; he was but a young lad. However, he exerted himself in his learning and reading, day and night, until his bodily powers weakened and aged, and he became like a seventy-year-old man. He brought old age upon himself intentionally, as it is stated in the Talmud. For this reason he said, “In spite of my tremendous effort and my learning with other wise men, I did not merit to discover the allusion in the Written Torah for the obligation to read the paragraph of tzitzis at night until Ben Zoma expounded it.”

Not only does the Rambam explain R' Elazar ben Azaryah's elderly appearance in an entirely naturalistic way, but he cites our Gemara as his source! Even though Chazal go out of their way to ascribe R' Elazar ben Azaryah's transformation to a miracle, the Rambam doesn't see this as a sufficient reason to abandon a naturalistic explanation. 

The question is: How can the Rambam (seemingly) ignore Chazal's words? It would be one thing if the Gemara merely described a wondrous transformation in R' Elazar ben Azaryah's appearance without explicitly using the term "miracle" - but the Gemara does use the term "miracle"! What gives the Rambam the right to ignore the Gemara's plain meaning?

This isn't the first time we've seen a Rishon interpret such an event naturalistically in the face of Chazal's assertion that a miracle was involved. Several years ago I wrote a dvar Torah about Yocheved's age when she gave birth to Moshe. The Gemara (Bava Basra 119b) explicitly states that Yocheved was 130 years old when she gave birth to Moshe, and that this childbirth involved a miracle. Nevertheless, the Ibn Ezra and Ralbag disregard the Gemara's statement and offer a naturalistic interpretation. They, like the Rambam, seem to ignore Chazal's express statement that a miracle was done for Yocheved. 

Ralbag [2] goes even further than this. He writes that Chazal only said that Yocheved's childbirth was a miracle “for the benefit of the masses, to establish in their hearts the power of Hashem’s ability to do miracles.” In other words, Ralbag maintains that even Chazal didn't believe that Yocheved miraculously gave birth at the age of 130. Nevertheless, Chazal taught that a miracle was done for Yocheved in order to underscore the fundamental belief in miracles. 

Some might object to the Ralbag's statement, saying: "How can the Ralbag maintain that Chazal didn't mean exactly what they said? How can he say that Chazal believed one thing, but taught something else in public? Since when do Chazal conceal their opinions from the masses?" ... and that's when the objections start to break down. Anyone who is familiar with the way that the Rishonim approach midrashim knows that Chazal write cryptically. There are thousands of midrashim in which Chazal said things which they didn't intend to be taken literally, or made statements which contain "secret ideas" that were not intended for the masses. 

Indeed, Rabbeinu Avraham ben ha'Rambam, in his essay on the drashos of Chazal [3], mentions "taking midrashic miracle stories literally" as an example of superficial approaches to the drashos of Chazal: 

[Those who study my essay on midrashim] will be saved from thinking that the [events recorded in midrashim involved] miraculous occurrences are like those which were done for the prophets, and that such miracles are done for every wise and pious person, and that there is no difference between the splitting of the sea for Moshe and the Jews who left Egypt or the parting of the Yarden for Elisha and Eliyahu, and the like. These conclusions are only necessary if you take these drashos literally, or based on a superficial reading.

R' Avraham ben ha'Rambam then goes on at length to demonstrate that Chazal used hyperbole in their midrashic teachings:

There are many incidents that actually happened but were exaggerated in the belief that no reasonable person would mistake their meaning. The Rabbis condoned the use of exaggeration, saying, "The Torah used overstatement, the prophets used overstatement, and the Sages used overstatement." 

The Torah used hyperbole, like in the verse, "Great cities fortified to the skies" (Deuteronomy 1:28). The prophets used hyperbole, like in the verse, "The people were playing flutes and rejoicing with great joy; the ground burst from their noise" (1 Melachim 1:40). The Sages exaggerated when they described the heap of ashes on the altar [saying that there were three hundred kor of ashes - an immense quantity - on the altar]; they exaggerated when they spoke of the golden vine [on which the people used to hang their gifts of gold for the Beis ha'Mikdash, saying that it took three hundred kohanim to collect those gifts]; and they exaggerated when they described the curtain that separated the Kodesh ha'Kodashim from the Sanctuary, [saying that it was so heavy that it took three hundred kohanim to immerse it in a mikveh] (Tamid 29a). 

These are just three examples in the Mishnah, but in the Gemara there are countless cases of exaggeration. To cite one example: Rabbah and R' Zeira had the Purim feast together. They became intoxicated, and Rabbah got up and slew R' Zeira. On the next day Rabbah prayed for R' Zeira and revived him (Megillah 7b). What it means is that Rabbah beat R' Zeira and wounded him so badly that R' Zeira was near death. The Gemara uses the phrase "he slew him" because the wound was life-threatening, or it might have been on the throat. And the word achyei [he revived him] means "he recovered." The term achyei is often used for that meaning. Many similar stories are found in the Talmud.

It is clear from these Rishonim that Chazal didn't intend for everything they wrote in their midrashim to be taken literally, and that they chose to formulate their teachings in this way for a variety of reasons. For instance Rambam states that one of the Sages in the Gemara "responded to his student incorrectly, in accordance with the student's inadequate understanding of the matter, as it is stated, 'Answer a fool according to his foolishness' (Mishlei 26:4)" (Introduction to Perek Chelek). 

Perhaps the most astounding example of this is provided by the Rashba. Rashba writes [4] that these drashos were often given in public. "[The Sages] would go on at length with beneficial, but the people would be sleeping. In order to wake them up, [the Sages] would say crazy things to shock them and rouse them from their sleep." He cites the following amusing example from Shir ha'Shirim Rabbah 1:3:

Rebbi was sitting and giving a drashah, and the congregation was dozing off; he wanted to wake them up, [so] he said: “There was one woman in Egypt who gave birth to 600,000 [babies] in a single pregnancy!” There was one student present whose name was Rebbi Yishmael b’Rebbi Yossi. He asked: “Who was she?” [Rebbi] responded: “This was Yocheved, who gave birth to Moshe, who was equal to 600,000 Jews!”

The upshot of all of this something that most of us have known all along: Chazal didn't intend for their all of their midrashic statements to be taken literally, and made many statements which were not meant to be accepted at face value. What we might not have realized is just how far to extend this principle. We might have thought that when it comes to midrashim like the story of R' Elazar ben Azaryah's beard, which appears to be a problem-free factual account of a miraculous event, we should accept it as literal truth. We see from the Rambam (et al.) that this is not necessarily the case. 

We've established that the Rambam "has a right" to dismiss a literal reading of Chazal's assertion that R' Elazar ben Azaryah's aging was the result of a miracle. One question remains: What prompted the Rambam to deviate from the plain pshat and take this naturalistic approach? 

The best answer to this question was given by the Rambam himself, in his Maamar Techiyas ha'Meisim [5]. The Rambam was faced with the task of defending his belief in the literal truth of techiyas ha'meisim (the resurrection of the dead). As a prelude to his explanation the Rambam provides a beautiful account of why he interprets so many other seemingly miraculous accounts in a naturalistic fashion: 

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 multitude of people. For the most cherished and beloved thing to the multitude 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.

There you have it. According to the Rambam, the correct approach is to interpret everything as naturalistically as possible unless we are forced to interpret it as a miracle. 

It is reasonable to conclude that this is what led the Rambam to interpret the Gemara about R' Elazar ben Azaryah as he did. There are "miracle stories" in Gemara which we are forced to take literally, but this isn't one of them. The Rambam saw that R' Elazar ben Azaryah's aged appearance could be explained without making recourse to miracles. Since a naturalistic explanation was available to him, that is the explanation he preferred. 

It is also important to note that the Rambam's explanation is harmonious with the subject at hand. The Gemara was discussing R' Elazar ben Azaryah's qualifications for being appointed as nassi and the Mishnah was emphasizing R' Elazar ben Azaryah's superb chochmah. The Rambam's explanation - namely, that R' Elazar ben Azaryah devoted many years to intensive learning - completes the picture that these two sources aimed to paint. (Perhaps this also explains the strange detail added by the Gemara: that R' Elazar ben Azaryah was 18 years old, and 18 rows of hairs on his beard turned white - as if to say that he had fully devoted his number of years on this earth to perfecting his chochmah).

So next time you encounter a "miracle story" in the Talmud or midrashim, be sure to think twice. The words of Chazal are not always what they appear to be on the surface.

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Berachos 1:9

[2] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 1:7

[3] Rabbeinu Avraham ben ha'Rambam, Essay on Aggadah

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Aderet (Rashba), Commentary on the Aggadic portion of Berachos 54b

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Treatise on the Resurrection of the Dead

Parashas Yisro: The Mitzvah of Emunah

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

Artwork: Sacred Foundry, by Noah Bradley

Parashas Yisro: The Mitzvah of Emunah

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Similarly, the Baalei Tosafos write:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[14] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Introduction to Torah

Parashas Vaeira: Do You Believe in Magic?

Originally posted in December 2013.

Artwork: Jace the Mind Sculptor, by Jason Chan

Parashas Vaeira: Do You Believe in Magic?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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