Beshalach: Was Miriam a Prophetess?

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Artwork: DALL-E responding to the prompt, “impressionist painting of Miriam leading the Israelite women in song and dance at the sea”

Beshalach: Was Miriam a Prophetess?

It would seem the answer to this question is: Of course she was! The Torah explicitly states in Parashas Beshalach:

Miriam ha’neviah (the prophetess), Aharon's sister, took the tambourine in her hand and all the women went out after her with tambourines and dances. Miriam sang responsively to them: “Sing to Hashem for He has triumphed gloriously; a horse and his rider He has hurled into the sea.” (Shemos 15:20-21)

The problem is that even though she is called “Miriam ha’neviah,” we don’t have a clear record of any prophecy she received. By my count, there are four approaches taken by the commentators to address this difficulty.

The first is the midrashic approach taken by Chazal (Megilah 14a and Sotah 13a) cited by Rashi:

Miriam [was a prophetess], as it is written: “Miriam ha’neviah, sister of Aharon” – and not “the sister of Moshe.” Rav Nachman said in the name of Rav: she prophesied when she was the sister of Aharon (i.e. before Moshe was born), saying: “In the future, my mother will give birth to a son who will deliver the Jewish people to salvation.”

R' Avraham ben ha’Rambam takes a similar approach, offering support from different sources:

The esoteric reason [for why the pasuk associates Miriam with Aharon rather than Moshe] is because her level of prophecy was close to that of Aharon but less than that of Moshe. This is indicated by her statement in the pasuk on behalf of both of them: “[They said, ‘Did Hashem only speak with Moshe?] Did He not also speak with us?’” (Parashas Behaalosecha, Bamidbar 12:2). This indicates that she was close to [Aharon’s level] in prophecy. And the statement of Chazal, “she also died with a [Divine] kiss” (Moed Katan 28a, Bava Basra 17a), indicates that her level was as great as Aharon’s, or close to it. Understand this, for it is subtle and wondrous.

A third approach is suggested by the Kli Yakar which is more conservative in its reliance on the context of Beshalach:

She became a prophetess now (i.e. at the time of the splitting of the sea), for at that event even the women were able to see the presence of the shechinah … as Chazal said: “[Even] a maidservant at the sea saw what Yeshaya and Yechezkel didn’t see” (Mechilta Beshalach 3). This is why it stated: “all the women went after her,” since the prophecy began with her, and all the women followed in her footsteps at that event in which all of them merited prophecy.

The fourth approach diverges from the other three. Rashbam holds that the term neviah in Beshalach does not mean “prophetess” but rather “an expert in words of praise or rebuke.” Chizkuni similarly explains that Miriam is called a neviah here not because she received prophecy but because of her “expertise in words of song.” Shadal also maintains that the word neviah here seems to denote “one who is expert in the art of song and music” and supports his claim by citing examples of this usage throughout Tanach. What compels these commentators to deviate from the standard usage of the term neviah? Presumably, the fact that it doesn’t make sense in this context to characterize Miriam as a prophetess, since she is engaged in the act of singing God’s praises – not prophesying!

Yet, even these three commentators would admit that Miriam was a true prophetess. In addition to Miriam’s testimony in Behaalosecha (“Did He not also spoke with us?”), we have an Oral Tradition that Miriam was a prophetess, as Chazal teach: “There were seven prophetesses. Who were they? Sarah, Miriam, Devorah, Chanah, Avigayil, Chuldah, and Esther” (Megilah 14a). Indeed, I have not found a single commentator who challenges this claim. Thus, the answer to our question is a resounding and unanimous: yes, Miriam was a prophetess.

Why, then, did I bother raising this question? In order to illustrate an important methodological point: just because the Torah says something which aligns with our premises and prejudices doesn’t mean we shouldn’t question it. This seemingly obvious question led to four different approaches, each of which yielded new insights.

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Bo: The Jewish Lunar Calendar as Anti-Egyptian Polemic

Rambam (Moreh 3:29) maintained that knowledge of the beliefs and practices of the ancient idolatrous nations is vital for understanding the reasons for the Torah's commandments. Here is an example.

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Artwork: DALL-E’s response to the prompt, “photorealistic painting of a broken and shattered Egyptian sun god”

Bo: The Jewish Lunar Calendar as Anti-Egyptian Polemic

My learning of Sefer Shemos this year has been enhanced by two relatively new publications. The first is Founding God’s Nation: Reading Exodus (2021), by Leon R. Kass. Following in the footsteps of The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis (2003), Kass weaves a masterful analysis of the text using the “wisdom-seeking approach” of the Great Books tradition. (For a summary of his methodology, see my 2017 article, Musings on the “The Academic Approach”). The second publication is The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel (2020), translated by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks and edited by David Arnovitz under the auspices of Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb. The running commentary consists of short articles on Egyptology, archaeology, philology, geography, and more, accompanied by vibrant photos, illustrations, and diagrams. This is a perfect resource for those who are interested in supplementing their Torah study with modern scholarship within the framework of Orthodoxy.

In Shemos 12:1 the Children of Israel are commanded to observe a lunar calendar. Kass explains the significance as follows:

Time in Israel will have a new basis and a new meaning. With sun worship defeated and left behind in Egypt, Israel gets a calendar that will no longer be based on the sun’s revolutions in the heavens or the correlated seasons of the year and the earthly sproutings and harvests they provide. This seemingly unprecedented innovation completes the Bible’s quiet but insistent polemic against living in thrall to the sun, the moon, and the stars – and the earth. The very beginning of Genesis had demoted the sun to a mere marker for the preexisting day and for seasons. It instituted instead a regular weekly seventh day, the Sabbath, independent of lunar change and commemorating instead the Creation and its Creator. Similarly here, the annual calendar is redefined in commemoration of a historical rather than a natural event. The target is no longer Babylonian “moon time,” but Egyptian “sun-and-earth” time. (p.168)

In contrast, Dr. Neria Klein’s article in the Koren Tanakh underscores our calendar’s non-revolutionary character:

The order of the months begins with Nisan, which is referred to throughout the Tanakh as “the first month” (Lev. 23:5). The biblical calendar is similar to the standard Akkadian calendar, in use in Assyria and Babylon – where the first month was called Nisannu (parallel to the Hebrew month Nisan) and the second month was called Aiaru (parallel to the Hebrew month Iyar). Likewise, the Hebrew month of Marḥeshvan is parallel to the Akkadian month Arah Samna, which means the eighth month – and again implies that Nisan is the first of the months. (p.62)

On the surface, Klein’s evidence would appear to undermine Kass’s theory. Kass characterizes the Jewish calendar as a “seemingly unprecedented innovation” – a radical departure from the other calendrical systems which prevailed at the time. He understands the Torah’s rejection of the solar year to be part of its silent campaign against Egyptian culture and avodah zarah (idolatry). Klein, on the other hand, endeavors to show the contrary – that the Jewish calendar is not radical, but typical. It would seem that Klein has the upper hand here, considering Kass’s methodological aversion to relying on “outside sources,” such as anthropological data. Kass explains the reasoning behind this “controversial view” of his in his preface: “like any great book, Exodus carries its persuasive power in itself. Access to the truths it might contain does not require prior faith, prior traditional or religious commitments, or reliance on outside authorities.” (p.9) What are we to make of this discrepancy? Does Kass’s theory still hold up in light of Klein’s evidence?

In my opinion, the answer is: yes, Kass’s theory can still be valid, and can coexist with Klein’s Assyriological evidence. Even though the lunar calendar existed in other ancient cultures, it was new to the Jews in Egypt. If one is willing to accept the notion that Hashem took institutions which existed in contemporaneous cultures and incorporated them into Torah, imbuing them with new meanings in line with its own agendas – such as korbanos (sacrifices), as explained by the Rambam (Guide 3:32), or milah (circumcision), which the Koren Tanakh contributors demonstrate was practiced in ancient Egypt – then Hashem certainly could have repurposed the Akkadian calendar as a weapon in the arsenal of Judaism’s war against Egyptian idolatry and culture.

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Vayechi: The Wolf as an Allegory for the Shechinah

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Artwork: DALL-E’s response to the prompt “impressionist painting of a wolf’s face made up of flames” (variation 2b)

Vayechi: The Wolf as an Allegory for the Shechinah

The most important shiur I gave in 2021 was called Of Wolves, Men, and Methodology: an Attempt to Capture and Articulate an Epistemological Upheaval (available in video and audio). The catalyst for my “epistemological upheaval” was the book Of Wolves and Men (1979) by nature writer Barry Lopez. The goal of the shiur was to identify the many forms of unwarranted intellectual reductionism that dominate our thinking about wolves, Torah, and everything else. We must be on guard against reductionist fallacies and constantly remind ourselves of how little we know, and how little we can know.

Ever since I gave that shiur, my ears perk up when I encounter any mention of wolves. It should come as no surprise, then, that of all the blessings given by Yaakov Avinu to Bnei Yisrael, it is the final one that caught my eye: “Binyamin is a predatory wolf; in the morning he eats plunder, and in the evening he divides spoils” (Bereishis 49:27). Targum Onkelos renders this blessing as follows: “Binyamin: the shechina (divine presence) will dwell in his land, and in his inheritance the Mikdash (Temple) will be built; in the morning and afternoon the Kohanim will offer korbanos (sacrifices), and in the evening they will divide their leftover share from other kodshim (sacred things).”

The plain meaning of the Targum is straightforward: the Beis ha’Mikdash was located in the territory of Binyamin. Every morning and afternoon the Kohanim would bring a korban tamid (continual sacrifice), each consisting of a single lamb, and in the evening they would distribute their portions of other kodshim among themselves. My question is: What does any of this have to do with wolves? Onkelos provides no insight as to why the imagery of a wolf is employed.

One answer is given by R’ Pinchas in the midrash: “just as a wolf seizes [its prey,] so did the mizbeach (altar) seize the korbanos” (Bereishis Rabbah 99:3). The Etz Yosef explains that this “seizing” refers to the miraculous fire that would consume the sacrifices on the mizbeach. Unlike Onkelos, R’ Pinchas learns the entire pasuk to be about the korban tamid: “in the morning [the wolf] eats plunder” corresponds to the lamb-offering brought in the morning and “in the evening [the wolf] divides spoils” corresponds the lamb offered in the afternoon.

On the last page of Maseches Sukkah (56b) the mizbeach is compared to a wolf again, but in a derisive manner:

There was an incident involving Miriam bas Bilgah, who apostatized and went and married a soldier of the Greek kings. When the Greeks entered the Sanctuary, [she entered with them and] kicked the mizbeach with her sandal, saying: “Lukos, Lukos! (Wolf, wolf!) For how long will you consume the property of the Jewish people, yet you do not stand with them in dire circumstances?”

The difference between R’ Pinchas and Miriam bas Bilgah illustrates one of Lopez’s concluding thoughts:

We create wolves … in the wolf we have not so much an animal that we have always known as one that we have consistently imagined. To the human imagination the wolf has proved at various times the appropriate symbol for greed or savagery, the exactly proper guise for the Devil, or fitting as a patron of warrior clans. (p.203-204)

The same is true of the mizbeach. To R’ Pinchas, the mizbeach is the locus of the rendezvous between the shechinah and Israel: the two lambs we offer each day are seized in a wolflike fashion by a miraculous fire which testifies to the indwelling of God’s hashgachah (providence) among His people. But to Miriam bas Bilgah, the mizbeach is a predatory institution which drains Israel’s resources, yielding nothing in return. It is a relic of a bad deal with a God Who abandoned His people.

And what is true of the mizbeach is true of the shechinah itself. God’s hashgachah is an objective reality, but our perception of it is a reflection our own premises. We, as a nation, have fallen prey to such biases in the past: “the Children of Israel imputed things that were not true to Hashem, their God” (II Melachim 17:9). Like the wolf, the shechinah is what it is, but it is also what we make of it in our minds and imaginations. We must proceed with the utmost intellectual humility, cognizant of our human limitations. Only with such humility can we be worthy to stand before the shechinah, as it stated about the most humble of us all: “Moshe hid his face, for he was afraid to gaze at God” (Shemos 3:6).

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Haftarah of Mattos / Masei: Divine Love as the Foundation of Rebuke

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Haftarah of Mattos / Masei: Divine Love as the Foundation of Rebuke

Sefer Yirmiyahu is filled with messages of rebuke, catastrophe, and tragedy. Yet, the very first prophecy Yirmiyahu is sent to deliver has a markedly different character from the rest of the book:

Go and call out in the ears of Yerushalayim, saying: “Thus said Hashem: I recalled for you the kindness of your youth, the love of your wedding [ceremony], your following after Me in the Wilderness, into an unsown land. Israel is holy to Hashem, the first of His crop; all who consume it will be held guilty; harm shall befall them - the word of Hashem” (Yirmiyahu 2:2-3).

Rav Hirsch (Commentary on Haftaroth) notes this thematic discrepancy:

The first Word which the young prophet has to bring to his people in the name of God, as the beginning of his mission, is no stern rebuke, no prophecy of the impending disaster, but a message of love, of encouragement, a Word that looks beyond all the precipices, pierces through all the dark clouds of the gloomy fate, to the bright outlook on the ultimate sun-bathed goal of the undying People at the zenith of their destiny intimately united with their God. No more intimate or more glorious Word has ever flowed from the lips of any prophet. A Word which embraces the most distant past with the most distant future, and thereby demonstrates the wonderful continuity of the Thought of God which comes to be developed in Jewish history.

Why does Yirmiyahu preface his prophecies of rebuke with this message of love? I would like to suggest an answer based on the words of the Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:28) and a quotation cited by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D. in The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma (2015).

The Rambam maintains that the doctrines taught by the Torah fall into two categories. The first is “beliefs through which the ultimate perfection may be attained,” including “the belief in Hashem’s Existence (exalted is He), His Oneness, His Omniscience, His Omnipotence, His Will, and His Eternality.” The second category is comprised of “beliefs which are necessary for the sake of societal welfare, such as our belief that He (may He be exalted) is violently angry with those who disobey Him and that it is therefore necessary to fear Him and to dread Him and to take care not to disobey.” The belief in Hashem’s enduring love for the Jewish people belongs to this second category, since Hashem has no actual emotions and “love” is only ascribed to Him by way of metaphor.  

Van der Kolk begins the section of his book “on the minds of children” with the words of Diana Fosha, PhD, known for her work on the psychotherapy of adults suffering the effects of childhood attachment trauma and abuse: “The roots of resilience ... are to be found in the sense of being understood by and existing in the mind and heart of a loving, attuned, and self-possessed other.”

Perhaps Yirmiyahu opened his rebuke with a message of Divine love for this reason. He knew that in order for the Jews to endure their impending destruction and exile with the type of resilience that leads to teshuvah, they needed to feel seen and loved by Hashem. It is known that a baal teshuvah is “cherished and beloved” by Hashem (Hilchos Teshuvah 7:6), but that knowledge is not enough for the sinner. The sinner must also know that “the one whom Hashem loves, He rebukes” (Mishlei 3:12) – that the rebuke, itself, is from love, and reflects a confidence in the intrinsic worth of the sinner, despite their sins.

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Ki Savo: The Accursed Transgressors

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Artwork: Curse of Exhaustion, by Slawomir Maniak

Ki Savo: The Accursed Transgressors 

- by Rabbi Matt Schneeweiss 

In Parashas Ki Savo Moshe commands the entire Jewish people, upon entering the Land of Israel, to gather on Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival. He instructs the Leviim to proclaim a series of curses, to which the entire people responds, “Amen.” These curses are directed at twelve categories of transgressors: [1]

1. one who makes an idol and emplaces it in secret 
2. one who degrades his father and mother 
3. one who moves the boundary of his fellow 
4. one who causes a blind person to go astray on the road (i.e. someone who intentionally misleads his fellow by giving him harmful advice) 
5. one who perverts the judgment of a convert, an orphan, or a widow 
6. one who lies with his father’s wife 
7. one who lies with an animal 
8. one who lies with his sister 
9. one who lies with his mother-in-law 
10. one who strikes his fellow in secret 
11. one who takes a bribe to kill a person of innocent blood 
12. one who will not uphold the words of the Torah, to do them 

There are two major questions here: (1) What do all of these transgressions have in common? (2) What makes these transgressions more deserving of Hashem’s curse than others? 

Most Rishonim [2] (medieval commentators) give more or less the answer to our first question: these twelve transgressions are all commonly done in secret. Rashbam [3] adds that the only two transgressions listed which are not always done in secret are making an idol and striking one’s fellow. This is why the Torah needs to specify “in secret” in both of these cases. 

This answer to our first question holds the key to answering our second question. What makes a “secret transgression” more deserving of a curse than an open transgression? The answer can be found in a Mishnah: “Anyone who does not have mercy on the glory of his Creator – it would be better for him not to have come into the world.” [4] The Gemara explains: “To whom does this refer? – to one who commits an aveirah (transgression) in secret.” [5] Rambam [6] clarifies the meaning of the cryptic phrase “anyone who does not have mercy on the glory of his Creator”: 

Consider the wondrous expression, which was said with the help of God, “anyone who does not have mercy on the glory of his Creator” – this refers to someone who has no mercy on his intellect, for the intellect is the “glory of Hashem.” The intent of the Sages is that such a person does not recognize the value of this intellect which was given to him, for behold, he forfeits it into the hands of his emotions and becomes like an animal. This is what our Sages meant when they said, “What does it mean by, ‘one who does not have mercy on the glory of his Creator’? – this refers to one who transgresses in secret,” and as they say in another place, “Adulterers do not commit adultery until they are invaded by a spirit of stupidity,” [7] and the matter is true, for at the moment of the emotion – whichever emotion it will be – the intellect is incomplete. 

Based on these statements of Chazal, in light of the Rambam’s explanation, we can answer our second question as follows: the reason why secret transgressors are especially “curse-worthy” is because their aveiros involve a greater corruption of the intellect than the aveiros of public transgressors. When a person transgresses in secret, this reinforces the false notion that Hashem doesn’t know what we are doing, or has no dominion over our actions. Yeshayahu ha’navi condemns this mentality, saying: “Woe to those who try to hide in depths to conceal counsel from Hashem, and their deeds are done in darkness; they say, ‘Who sees us and who knows of us?’” (Yeshayahu 29:15). 

Rashbam [8] takes an entirely different approach, based on a pasuk (verse) in Parashas Nitzavim: “The hidden [sins] are for Hashem, our God, but the revealed [sins] are for us and our children forever, to carry out all the words of this Torah” (Devarim 29:28). Rashbam explains that it was only necessary for Hashem to curse these “secret transgressors” because they are beyond the reach of the human courts. In other words, the laws of the Torah are enforced by punishments. These punishments are meted out through a “division of labor,” so to speak: Beis Din (the court) is in charge of penalizing the public transgressors for their “revealed sins” via the punishments entrusted to them by the Torah (i.e. stoning, burning, beheading, strangulation, and lashes), whereas the penalizing of the secret transgressors for their “hidden sins” is in the hands of Hashem. 

According to the Rashbam’s approach, it’s not that these secret transgressions are more deserving of Hashem’s curses than public transgressions. Rather, it was necessary for Hashem to curse these secret transgressors for practical reasons – since there would be no other way to enforce these violations. In other words, if Beis Din could punish these secret transgressions, there would have been no need for these curses altogether. 

Whether one prefers the explanation based on Chazal in the Gemara or the explanation of the Rashbam, the bottom line message is clear: Hashem is the Chacham ha’Razim (Knower of Secrets), [9] and “God will judge every deed – even everything hidden – whether good or evil” (Koheles 12:14). 

End Notes

[1] Sefer Devarim 27:14-26 

[2] see Ibn Ezra, Rashbam, Baalei Tosafos, Chazkuni, Rosh, and others 

[3] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Meir (Rashbam), Commentary on Sefer Devarim 27:15 

[4] Mishnah, Chagigah 2:1 

[5] Talmud Bavli, Maseches Chagigah 16a; Kiddushin 40a 

[6] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah, Chagigah 2:1 

[7] Tanchuma: Nasso 5 

[8] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Meir (Rashbam), Commentary on Sefer Devarim 27:15 and 2:28 

[9] Phrase borrowed from the berachah which is recited upon seeing 600,000 Jews gathered in one place. 

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. 

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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

Vaeschanan: Avodah Zarah – Three Fundamental Premises

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Artwork: Klothys, God of Destiny (Alternate), by Jason A. Engle

Vaeschanan: Avodah Zarah – Three Premises

After recapping the event of the Revelation at Sinai, Moshe Rabbeinu warns Bnei Yisrael about the dangers of avodah zarah (idolatry): 

But you shall greatly beware for your souls, for you did not see any likeness on the day Hashem spoke to you at Horeb, from the midst of the fire, lest you act corruptly and make yourselves a carved image, a likeness of any shape; a form of a male or a female; a form of any animal on the earth; a form of any winged bird that flies in the heaven; a form of anything that creeps on the ground, a form of any fish that is in the water under the earth; and lest you raise your eyes to heaven and you see the sun, and the moon, and the stars – the entire legion of heaven – and you be drawn away and bow to them and worship them, which Hashem, your God, has apportioned to all the peoples under the entire heaven! … Beware for yourselves lest you forget the covenant of Hashem, your God, that He has sealed with you, and you make yourselves a carved image, a likeness of anything, as Hashem, your God, has commanded you. For Hashem, your God – He is a consuming fire – a jealous God. (Devarim 4:15-19, 23-24) 

It is difficult for the modern reader to relate to these severe warnings. We have a hard time understanding why our ancestors were tempted to make graven images, bow down to idols, and venerate the heavenly bodies. For this reason, the Torah’s campaign against avodah zarah can appear excessive, outdated, and irrelevant. It seems as though mankind has moved on, and the Torah’s hard-line anti-avodah zarah stance carries little to no meaning for most Jews today. 

The view of avodah zarah as irrelevant is incorrect. In this post I will present an overview of three fundamental premises about avodah zarah which, when considered together, demonstrate the central place that avodah zarah occupies in the Torah regimen. 

Fundamental Premise #1: Opposition to Avodah Zarah as the Essence of Torah 

There are 613 mitzvos. According to the Rambam, 51 of these mitzvos are thematically related to avodah zarah, the laws of which he codifies in Hilchos Avodah Zarah. Of these 51, only around 20 of them are practically relevant to most Jews today – and that’s a generous estimate. 

One might infer from the above that avodah zarah is merely an aspect or a component of Torah. This is inaccurate. In truth, the essential mission of the entire Torah is to uproot avodah zarah. There are many sources which express this concept. Here are a few: 

• Chazal [1] teach “anyone who believes [2] in avodah zarah is like one who denies the entire Torah, and anyone who denies avodah zarah is like one who believes in the entire Torah.” [3]
• Similarly, Chazal [4] say that “one who denies avodah zarah is called a Jew (Yehudi).” 
• The Rambam [5] states: “the purpose of the entire Torah and the center around which everything revolves is the removal and annihilation of every trace of avodah zarah.” 
• The Sefer ha’Chinuch [6] refers to the belief in Hashem’s existence as “the foundation of the religion,” but identifies avodah zarah as “the root of the entire Torah upon which all else depends.” 
• The Ramban [7] also calls avodah zarah “the root of all mitzvos.” 
• Halachically, a Jew who worships avodah zarah has the halachic status of non-Jew with regards to all matters. Likewise, a Jew who is an apostate to avodah zarah is considered to be an apostate to the entire Torah. [8]

It is clear from these statements that avodah zarah is not simply a part of Torah. Rather, opposition to avodah zarah is the essence of Torah. Thus, to say that avodah zarah is no longer relevant to our lives would be to say that the Torah, itself, has lost its relevance. 

Moreover, we see from here that in order to understand the centrality of avodah zarah, we must expand our definition of avodah zarah to encompass more than the limited set of halachically proscribed behaviors. This leads us to the second fundamental premise. 

Fundamental Premise #2: Philosophical vs. Halachic Avodah Zarah 

When Chazal and the Rishonim say that the Torah’s essential mission is to uproot avodah zarah, their comments not limited to the specific set of actions and beliefs halachically proscribed by the 51 mitzvos mentioned above, such as bowing down to idols, making offerings to other gods, believing in and worshipping other deities, etc. 

This brings us to the distinction between halachic avodah zarah and philosophical avodah zarah. Halachic avodah zarah refers to those acts which are legally prohibited within the technical parameters of the halachic system. In contrast, philosophical avodah zarah refers to any act which derives from the thoughts, feelings, and general worldview of avodah zarah. 

The easiest way to grasp this distinction is to consider cases which would not constitute halachic avodah zarah, but would still be considered philosophical avodah zarah. For instance, a person who passes all of his children through the ritual Molech-fire is not liable for violating the Torah’s prohibition of worshipping Molech. Why not? Because halachic avodah zarah is only prohibited if it was done b’derech avodasah (in the customary manner). For this reason a person is only halachically culpable for worshipping Molech if he passes some of his children through the ritual fire, since that is how Molech was customarily worshipped; passing all of one’s children through the fire was not a sanctioned practice in the cult of Molech, and would therefore not be prohibited according to Torah law. But is such a person culpable for philosophical avodah zarah? Absolutely! To believe in – and certainly to worship – any god other than Hashem constitutes philosophical avodah zarah, even if the worshipper’s actions would not qualify as halachic avodah zarah due to a technicality. 

Another example is Christianity. Some Rishonim, such as the Rambam [9], unequivocally maintain that Christianity is halachically avodah zarah on account of the doctrine of the Trinity. The god Christians worship is a triune deity, and is therefore not a legitimate form of monotheism – unlike Islam. Others, such as the Baalei Tosafos [10], classify the doctrine of the Trinity as shituf (“co-sovereignty”), which they maintain is not halachically prohibited for non-Jews. For this reason, the Baalei Tosafos hold that we do not treat Christians as idolaters. Nevertheless, despite this halachic disagreement, both the Rambam and the Baalei Tosafos would agree that the Christian worship of the Trinity constitutes philosophical avodah zarah, since they are worshipping a god other than Hashem. 

How is the distinction between halachic and philosophical avodah zarah relevant to our discussion? Because whereas halachic avodah zarah is confined to the 51 mitzvos in Hilchos Avodah Zarah and their technical laws, philosophical avodah zarah plays a role in a far broader range of mitzvos. For example: 

• Thematically and halachically, Shabbos is the antithesis of avodah zarah, as I wrote about in my article Shabbos, Avodah Zarah, and Skilah. 
• Yetzias Miztrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) was orchestrated as a polemic against the avodah zarah of Egypt, as I wrote about in my article Chametz – Why So Serious? Thus, every holiday which commemorates an aspect of Yetzias Mitzrayim and every mitzvah which reminds us of Yetzias Mitzrayim is, by extension, related to avodah zarah. 
• According to the Rambam [11], the entire avodah (divine service) in the Mikdash (Temple) was designed to uproot avodah zarah. 
• There are numerous chukim (mitzvos whose reasons are not obvious) which the commentators explain to be aimed at uprooting specific avodah zarah beliefs and practices. These include mitzvos pertaining to kashrus, arayos (prohibited sexual relations), kilayim (prohibited mixtures), and more. 

The more one delves into the taamei ha’mitzvos (the reasons or objectives of the commandments), the more one comes to realize the truth of the Ramban’s assertion that “avodah zarah is the root of all mitzvos” – but only if we understand this to be referring to philosophical avodah zarah, rather than halachic avodah zarah. 

And this is especially true in light of our third fundamental premise. 

Fundamental Premise #3: The Derech Avodah Zarah 

Avodah zarah has no basis in reality – that is, in the objective external world. Rather, it stems from the subjective internal world of the psyche. There are certain internal trends (instincts, feelings, beliefs, habits, urges, insecurities, neuroses) which give rise to both philosophical and halachic avodah zarah. These internal psychological trends may be characterized as the derech avodah zarah (literally, “the way of idolatry” or “idolatrous psychological tendencies”). 

For example, to attribute supernatural powers to a physical object is derech avodah zarah, even if one recognizes that such a belief is irrational and doesn’t act on it. To be frightened of the number 13 is derech avodah zarah, even if a person doesn’t change his or her decisions in order to avoid this “unlucky” number and knows that numbers can’t cause any harm. According to the Rambam, who maintains that all forms of magic, sorcery, and occult practices are false and ineffective, it would be the derech avodah zarah to believe that they are real, even if one doesn’t actually engage in such practices. 

One of my rabbeim described such superstitious thoughts and feelings as “the soil in which avodah zarah grows.” My Rosh ha’Yeshiva defined the derech avodah zarah as the tendency to “treat the products of the psyche as a reality.” In addition to eliminating halachic and philosophical avodah zarah, the Torah also endeavors to curb, uproot, and sublimate the derech avodah zarah. According to both the Rambam [12] and the Ramban [13], we are enjoined by Hashem to strive for this ideal in the statement: “tamim tihiyeh im Hashem Elokechah (you shall be whole with Hashem, your God)” (Devarim 18:13). This is a tall order – one which was asked of no less than Avraham Avinu: “He said to him, ‘I am E-l Sha-dai. Walk before Me and be whole” (Bereishis 17:1). The path to this state of temimus lifei Hashem (wholeness before Hashem) truly encompasses the entire Torah, with all of its mitzvos and teachings. 

It is for this reason that caution is needed with regards to the derech avodah zarah. Halachic avodah zarah is prohibited across the board. Philosophical avodah zarah is opposed in other ways. But the derech avodah zarah is so deeply rooted that it is not always addressed. Indeed, sometimes Chazal even sanctioned practices which are rooted in the derech avodah zarah. 

An example of this is given by the Meiri [14] in his explanation of Chazal’s treatment of zugos (literally “pairs”). In the olden days, people harbored superstitious feelings about doing things in “pairs.” This posed an obstacle to the mitzvah of the Four Cups on Pesach, since we drink the wine in pairs. The Gemara in Pesachim gives various reasons as to why drinking a pair of pairs of cups on Pesach will not result in harm (e.g. Pesach is described as “a night of guarding” in that it is guarded from harmful spirits; the fact that these cups have blessings recited over them negates the harm). The problem with these answers is that Chazal seem to be endorsing the derech avodah zarah! The Meiri answers this problem by explaining why they did this: 

In many places we have explained that in those days the people were drawn after folk superstitions, such as incantations and omens and folk practices. Anything which did not contain a habit of avodah zarah and darchei ha’Emori (“ways of the Amorites” – idolatrous customs which are prohibited by Torah), [the Sages] did not bother to uproot. Even more so regarding those matters which were accustomed to them. 

In other words, if a particular practice constituted actual avodah zarah, Chazal would have stopped it. But if people harbored superstitious feelings about something which was not actually avodah zarah, not only did Chazal refrain from uprooting them, but they even “catered” to them by providing explanations which indirectly validated the erroneous premises of these derech avodah zarah feelings. 

Nevertheless, one who seeks to attain the level of tamim tihiyeh will strive to understand the origins of avodah zarah within the human psyche, to develop a sensitivity to the derech avodah zarah in themselves, and to strive to counteract those derech avodah trends. 

Conclusion 

In light of these three premises we can see that the warnings about avodah zarah given by Moshe Rabbeinu before his death are relevant today just as they were 3,300 years ago. Avodah zarah is not an antiquated component of Torah, but its very foundation. Halachic avodah zarah may be limited in its scope, especially in a post-pagan era, but philosophical avodah zarah is alive and well. Overt acts of avodah zarah may be avoidable, but the derech avodah zarah is insidious, and continuous to plague us despite our sophistication. 

End Notes

[1] Sifre Devarim 11:28

[2] lit. “admits to” or “acknowledges [the validity of]” or “upholds.” 

[3] This statement is codified by the Rambam in Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 2:4 

[4] Talmud Bavli Maseches Megilah 13a 

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:37 

[6] Sefer ha’Chinuch Mitzvah #26 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Devarim 4:3 

[8] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 2:5 

[9] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Avodah Zarah 1:3; Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 9:4; Sefer Kedushah, Hilchos Maachalos Assuros 11:7 

[10] see Tosafos Sanhedrin 63b and Bechoros 2b; full disclosure – I have not learned Tosafos’s view firsthand. 

[11] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32 

[12] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 11:16 

[13] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Devarim 18:13 and Bereishis 17:1 

[14] Rabbeinu Menachem ben Shlomo Meiri, Beis ha’Bechirah Pesachim 109b

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough

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

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough 

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

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

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

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

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

Likewise, regarding the Ammonites and their land: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Radak [5] elaborates: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End Notes

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim, Chapter 2: Toeles #13 

[2] In his actual commentary on Bereishis 15:16 the Ralbag translates “avon” as “punishment” rather than “iniquity,” but I’ve translated it as “iniquity” here to keep the terms consistent with the other meforshim I’ll be citing. 

[3] Rabbeinu Chezkia ben Manoach (Chazkuni), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[5] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[6] Many of the meforshim, including the Radak, explain that what is said of the Amorite applies to the other six Canaanite Nations as well, and that the Amorite is singled out because they were the most powerful. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 

[8] How, exactly, the Bris Bein ha’Besarim accomplished this is the subject of another article yet to be written.