Another installment in the series of studies in the Rambam's Mishneh Torah is now available on Resheet Daat, my recently resurrected blog.
New posts on Vesom Sechel and Ask The Rabbi should be appearing over the next couple of days - stay tuned.
By the way, the posts on Maimonides have been written for publication in a weekly newsletter disseminated by the Maimonides Heritage Center, an organization with which I have recently become affiliated.
This explains the startling regularity of their appearance, at least compared to the more sporadic posting trends that are generally seen on my other blogs.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Finally!!!
Drum roll please...after a year of waiting, my blog dedicated to the thought of Maimonides - Resheet Daat - has its first post!
Thank you to all those who encouraged me to finally get going with that blog.
Thank you to all those who encouraged me to finally get going with that blog.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Laws of the Three Weeks and Tisha B'av
For those of you who haven't visited my other blog lately, please note that a brief compendium of the laws of the Three Weeks and Tisha B'av - entitled Nehamat Yaaqov - has recently been posted there.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
The Nature of Teshuva
This is an essay on Teshuva (repentance) that I composed four years ago. Although it is on the lengthy side for a blog post, it is very timely. Since it is an old piece, I would especially appreciate your constructive feedback. There is a good chance it could use some revision.
“Take words with you, and return to Hashem...” (Hosea 14:3)
As we enter the period of the Three Weeks each year, the theme of self-improvement becomes one of the focal points of our thought. We are strongly encouraged to involve ourselves in the process of teshuva, or repentance, at this time. The Jewish notion of repentance, however, is by no means simple or self-evident. What exactly is teshuva, and how does one go about doing it?
The Torah provides precise guidelines for the fulfillment of all of its commandments; thus, if we intend to observe the commandments correctly, it is incumbent upon us to consult these guidelines as a matter of course. The commandment to repent of our sins is no exception to this rule - it encompasses a host of halakhot and principles that are indispensable to its proper performance. Therefore, before we can repent in a halakhically meaningful way, we must take up the study of the Torah’s unique approach to teshuva.
The Rambam’s Introduction - The Mitzvah of Teshuva
Without question, if we wish to develop a better understanding of the subject of repentance, we must turn to the Mishneh Torah of the Rambam. The Rambam was the first of our Sages to provide us with a systematic and comprehensive treatment of the topic of teshuva, and his accomplishment in this area remains unequaled to this day. Careful attention to the Rambam’s formulation of the Laws of Repentance is sure to reward us with valuable insight into their deeper significance. As an introduction to these laws, the Rambam writes:
“This section contains one positive commandment, namely, that the sinner should repent before Hashem and confess.”
This brief statement raises a powerful question: what sense does it make for the Torah to institute a commandment to repent? If a person who has transgressed one of the laws of the Torah subsequently decides to repent, he will simply go back to keeping the original commandment he violated. He does not need to be commanded to heed a commandment that already exists! If, on the other hand, he has not yet resolved to abandon his sin, there is no reason to think that an additional commandment will help him. He can choose to neglect the commandment to repent just like he opted to neglect the mitzvah he has already violated!
It is also noteworthy that the Rambam uses an apparently superfluous phrase to describe repentance, calling it repentance before Hashem. Of course, the Rambam is not alone in using this kind of terminology. The Tanach often refers to repentance as returning to Hashem. Nevertheless, this concept is very difficult to comprehend. When a person repents, it appears that he is attempting to return to the observance of a particular commandment, not to Hashem! The association of teshuvah with standing before Hashem does not seem like an accurate depiction of what occurs in real repentance where one’s conduct, rather than one’s God, is the center of focus. Simply put, how is the notion of being in the presence of God relevant to the process of repentance?
Repentance and Confession
As our investigation of the Rambam’s teachings progresses, further difficulties begin to emerge. The first chapter of the Laws of Repentance commences with these words:
The first feature of this passage that requires some explanation is the repetitive clause “when he repents and turns away from his sin.” Isn’t repentance and turning away from sin the same thing? The Rambam appears to be repeating himself unnecessarily here.
The concept of viduy, or confession, is also difficult to understand. Ostensibly, in requiring us to repent, the Torah’s primary objective is that we stop behaving in ways that violate its laws. One can certainly make a firm decision to change one’s behavior for the better without verbalizing it; in the end, it is what a person does that should matter, not what a person says.
Yet, it is clear that the Torah sees confession as indispensable to teshuva. The Rambam reflects this by counting teshuva and viduy as a single, unitary commandment as well as by mentioning repentance and confession together throughout his treatment of the subject. Hence, we must ask, what benefit do we gain by translating our repentance into words? How does this make our teshuva more complete?
Additionally problematic is the Rambam’s recommendation that the sinner elaborate on his confession as much as possible. What room is there for elaboration in a viduy? Seemingly, once the sin has been identified, remorse has been expressed, and a resolution to change has been adopted, there is nothing left to say. Whether one’s confession is long or short, what we are most interested in is whether the sinner discontinues his inappropriate behavior. There should be no room for differences in degree - either a person has abandoned his error, or he has not.
Defining Teshuva
In order to resolve these difficulties, we must examine the concepts of sin and teshuva more carefully. Specifically, we must consider the fact that a person who violates one of the commandments is doing a lot more than acting inappropriately. His sin is not a random occurrence that can be viewed separately from his personal beliefs and convictions. On the contrary, through his action he is demonstrating something about his entire value system: he is making a statement about what he envisions - or does not envision - as his purpose in life.
An example will better illustrate this point. The Torah demands that we restrict ourselves to the consumption of kosher food. Eating kosher is instrumental to our development as human beings because it keeps us aware of our spiritual objective in life even as we are involved in taking care of our physical needs. Observance of kashrut demonstrates our belief that eating cannot be significant in its own right unless it is a means to our ultimate goal - the service of our Creator.
Hence, an individual who succumbs to temptation and consumes non-kosher food has not simply committed a technical violation of Torah law. He has indicated through his action that he is not fully dedicated to the philosophical principles of Judaism. He has not adopted an unequivocal set of life priorities - he remains torn between the lure of instinctual gratification for its own sake and his desire to develop his mind and soul. In a moment of weakness, his baser drives grabbed hold of him and overpowered his intellect, leading him to neglect an important commandment. The violation itself, however, was only a symptom of a more basic conflict within his personality.
When we become aware that we have committed a sin, then, this should serve as a stimulus to deeper reflection on the purpose of our existence. We should not write it off as a fluke but should perceive it as a sign that we have moved too far in the wrong direction philosophically, that we have not sufficiently clarified our ultimate priorities in life. We should realize that our action indicates that we are ambivalent about some aspects of the Torah’s values and directives, and that, as a result, we still struggle with them in practice. This in turn should motivate us to immerse ourselves in Torah study in order to gain a clearer sense of the purpose of our existence and to increase our awareness of how important its teachings and mitzvot are for our development. We will emerge from this quest with a more definitive set of principles and priorities to guide our lives - and, as a natural result, we will feel compelled to abandon our misguided ways. This, in fact, is the reason why the Rambam uses the double language “when a person repents and turns from his sin” when he introduces the mitzvah of doing teshuva. It is the internal, transformational process of self-reflection, value clarification and study that constitutes true teshuva - the behavior change is, as it were, a by-product of this monumental effort.
Teshuva - A Unique Commandment
Now we are in a better position to understand why repentance must be counted as an independent commandment. It is not equivalent to simply resuming the observance of the mitzvah that has been neglected. Even if the Torah had not included a mitzvah to repent, a person who ate non-kosher food would be expected to return to a kosher diet as soon as possible in order to avoid further violations of the formal laws of kashrut. This change in behavior alone would be expected as a function of the original commandments to keep kosher, with or without an additional commandment to repent.
This change in behavior, however, would not constitute real teshuva. The commandment to do teshuva requires a complex set of operations that transcend the realm of behavior and focus on the values and beliefs of the sinner. When we commit a transgression, we are obligated to delve into our personal convictions and correct the philosophical error(s) that led to the sin. We are commanded to refine our understanding of our purpose in life and the choices we must make if we are to achieve that purpose.
Although the person who decides to resume his observance of kashrut will do his best to avoid future kashrut infractions, he will still be required - as a function of his past violations - to engage in the more introspective process of teshuvah at some point in time. By introducing a separate mitzvah of teshuvah, the Torah teaches us that we have not fully repented for our transgressions until we have taken the time to explore the depth of their significance. Superficial changes in our habits are not enough to satisfy the Torah’s requirement of teshuva.
The Role of Confession
The new insights we have developed can also help us to explain why confession is such a central feature of repentance. Human speech is a reflection of the ability of human beings to think conceptually. Indeed, from the way an individual communicates an idea it is easy to measure the coherence and precision of his understanding. When a person cannot put what he is thinking into words, we tend to assume that his musings are not yet developed enough to be expressed in speech. Said simply, the use of language is intimately related to the use of the mind.
If teshuva were synonymous with bettering our actions, confession would have no intrinsic relationship to it. Repentance would be a matter of the body while confession would be a matter of the soul. One would theoretically be possible without the other. However, now that we see that teshuva is, in reality, a process of thought and analysis, it follows that - if we have truly completed the process - we should be able to summarize our conclusions in a final declarative statement.
At the culminating point of our introspection, we are challenged to demonstrate the clarity of our newfound convictions by expressing them verbally. If we cannot rise to the challenge, our repentance is by no means complete - our thought is not yet clear enough to be articulated. We must continue to seek a better understanding of our personal issues until we have a firm grasp on them, until we can use language to describe them.
By the same token, when we have made real progress in our soul-searching, our confession would be expected to mirror the profundity and complexity of our self-analysis. This is why the Rambam states that a confession has the potential for a great deal of expansion and elaboration. The more thoroughly we have delved into the significance of our transgressions and the examination of our life priorities, the richer and more descriptive our confessions will be.
At this stage it becomes clear why doing teshuva is always described as returning to, or before, Hashem. It is true that the immediate stimulus to repentance is usually a specific violation of Torah law that occurs at a particular time in a particular place. However, the process of repentance moves beyond the superficial features of a transgression to an analysis of its underlying causes and a reflection on the ultimate purpose of our lives. Teshuva culminates not merely in the rejection of incorrect values but in the sinner’s rededication to the highest human priority - the quest for knowledge of Hashem.
As a result of his soul-searching, the penitent’s awareness of his true position in the Universe has deepened tremendously; thus, he now stands in the presence of Hashem, humbly refocused on the meaning of his own existence.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
"Cause" for Confusion
The First Cause Argument for God's existence has a lengthy and distinguished history. Like many of the classic metaphysical proofs, it is widely believed to have been "debunked" by David Hume and similar skeptics. However, the fact remains that many contemporary philosophers still take the First Cause Argument very seriously.
As most of the readers of this blog probably already know, I was involved in extensive blog-debates over the past couple of weeks, several of which revolved around the validity of the FC Proof. I defended the argument and maintained that most of the challenges raised against it were based upon misunderstandings of its premises. In order to clarify my position, I will present the traditional form of the proof and then offer some additional commentary. The proof runs as follows:
All material entities are dependent upon external causes that account for their existence. However, an infinite chain of dependent entities is impossible. Therefore, there must be an entity outside of the chain of material entities upon which the material chain as a whole is dependent. This entity would of necessity lie outside of the framework of space and time.
Two objections are typically lodged against this formulation:
1. It is not true that material entities all have causes. Although we see that the changes that occur to matter and energy are caused, that tells us nothing about the origin of matter itself. Maybe it was always here.
2. If we are going to posit that "something" is ultimately uncaused, why not simply say that the first material entity was uncaused? Why assume the existence of something outside of the material realm altogether?
Since I believe that I have already addressed the second objection satisfactorily in the past, I will set it aside for now and focus on the first. I may return to discuss the second issue in a future post.
The first objection is based upon a misconception that unfortunately plagues most discussions of these issues. The hidden assumption underlying #1 is that the definition of a "cause" is an agent that brings a certain object or entity into existence at a particular time. Therefore, if matter is eternal and therefore never "came" into existence, then this means that there is no need to assign it a cause.
This interpretation, however, is not what the philosophers intended when they proposed the First Cause proof. In fact, many of the thinkers who subscribed to the proof actually believed that the Universe was eternal! They simply employed the term "cause" differently than we do.
We tend to think of causes in a mechanistic, temporal sense. The bat causes the ball to fly through the air. Ingestion of the medicine causes the body to heal. This model of causality is derived from Descartes and is a product of relatively modern thought. It is not compatible with the framework in which the classical thinkers operated.
Causality, as understood in the classical context, means that upon which a thing's existence or nature depends. We are all the results of myriad "causes" that explain the fact that we exist and account for the way in which we exist. These factors may be genetic, environmental, or even cosmic in substance.
When we trace the chain of causality back far enough, we eventually hit a dead end. We come upon the most elementary entity, the basic building block that served as the cause for everything else in the Universe, yet the question remains - why does it exist and have the properties it has? By definition, in order to "explain" the first material entity's nature, we must make recourse to something beyond it.
This is why I would suggest that rather than utilizing the word "cause", we consider using the word "reason" instead. "Reason" doesn't have the same mechanistic overtones as "cause."
The proof would then run like this: Every material entity has a reason for its existence that is external to itself. That reason, in turn, has a reason for its existence. Yet an infinite chain of explanation is impossible. Therefore, we must conclude that there is a first entity whose reason for existence is inherent.
An example may clarify my point. The arrangement of molecules in a particular stone is attributable to numerous causal factors external to the stone. Those causal factors - local environmental conditions, for instance - wound up that way due to more fundamental, geological determinants that pertain to the makeup of the Earth's core. These geological determinants themselves are the product of broader astronomical determinants, etc.
But there is a limit to how far back we can trace the chain of "reasons" that account for the molecules in our stone. Ultimately, there must be a reason why the first determinant - the point from which everything else in the Universe initially emerged - existed precisely the way it did to begin with. The determinant of matter/energy itself can only be found outside of the framework of the material world.
It is important to note that, even if all of the causal factors or "reasons" existed simultaneously and from all eternity, the interdependence and hierarchical structure of the various entities would still be apparent. There would still be determining factors and determined factors. There would still be a need to account for the very first determined factor, by finding a determining factor external to space and time.
I feel that, by refining our use of language in this manner, our discussions of the First Cause Argument can proceed more thoughtfully and constructively.
Admittedly, this post is being completed off the top of my head rather late in the evening, so further installments will be necessary before any treatment of this subject can even approach comprehensiveness.
However, since I will be unable to post again until Wednesday at the earliest, I thought I should contribute something to the debate that can serve as food for thought in the interim.
As most of the readers of this blog probably already know, I was involved in extensive blog-debates over the past couple of weeks, several of which revolved around the validity of the FC Proof. I defended the argument and maintained that most of the challenges raised against it were based upon misunderstandings of its premises. In order to clarify my position, I will present the traditional form of the proof and then offer some additional commentary. The proof runs as follows:
All material entities are dependent upon external causes that account for their existence. However, an infinite chain of dependent entities is impossible. Therefore, there must be an entity outside of the chain of material entities upon which the material chain as a whole is dependent. This entity would of necessity lie outside of the framework of space and time.
Two objections are typically lodged against this formulation:
1. It is not true that material entities all have causes. Although we see that the changes that occur to matter and energy are caused, that tells us nothing about the origin of matter itself. Maybe it was always here.
2. If we are going to posit that "something" is ultimately uncaused, why not simply say that the first material entity was uncaused? Why assume the existence of something outside of the material realm altogether?
Since I believe that I have already addressed the second objection satisfactorily in the past, I will set it aside for now and focus on the first. I may return to discuss the second issue in a future post.
The first objection is based upon a misconception that unfortunately plagues most discussions of these issues. The hidden assumption underlying #1 is that the definition of a "cause" is an agent that brings a certain object or entity into existence at a particular time. Therefore, if matter is eternal and therefore never "came" into existence, then this means that there is no need to assign it a cause.
This interpretation, however, is not what the philosophers intended when they proposed the First Cause proof. In fact, many of the thinkers who subscribed to the proof actually believed that the Universe was eternal! They simply employed the term "cause" differently than we do.
We tend to think of causes in a mechanistic, temporal sense. The bat causes the ball to fly through the air. Ingestion of the medicine causes the body to heal. This model of causality is derived from Descartes and is a product of relatively modern thought. It is not compatible with the framework in which the classical thinkers operated.
Causality, as understood in the classical context, means that upon which a thing's existence or nature depends. We are all the results of myriad "causes" that explain the fact that we exist and account for the way in which we exist. These factors may be genetic, environmental, or even cosmic in substance.
When we trace the chain of causality back far enough, we eventually hit a dead end. We come upon the most elementary entity, the basic building block that served as the cause for everything else in the Universe, yet the question remains - why does it exist and have the properties it has? By definition, in order to "explain" the first material entity's nature, we must make recourse to something beyond it.
This is why I would suggest that rather than utilizing the word "cause", we consider using the word "reason" instead. "Reason" doesn't have the same mechanistic overtones as "cause."
The proof would then run like this: Every material entity has a reason for its existence that is external to itself. That reason, in turn, has a reason for its existence. Yet an infinite chain of explanation is impossible. Therefore, we must conclude that there is a first entity whose reason for existence is inherent.
An example may clarify my point. The arrangement of molecules in a particular stone is attributable to numerous causal factors external to the stone. Those causal factors - local environmental conditions, for instance - wound up that way due to more fundamental, geological determinants that pertain to the makeup of the Earth's core. These geological determinants themselves are the product of broader astronomical determinants, etc.
But there is a limit to how far back we can trace the chain of "reasons" that account for the molecules in our stone. Ultimately, there must be a reason why the first determinant - the point from which everything else in the Universe initially emerged - existed precisely the way it did to begin with. The determinant of matter/energy itself can only be found outside of the framework of the material world.
It is important to note that, even if all of the causal factors or "reasons" existed simultaneously and from all eternity, the interdependence and hierarchical structure of the various entities would still be apparent. There would still be determining factors and determined factors. There would still be a need to account for the very first determined factor, by finding a determining factor external to space and time.
I feel that, by refining our use of language in this manner, our discussions of the First Cause Argument can proceed more thoughtfully and constructively.
Admittedly, this post is being completed off the top of my head rather late in the evening, so further installments will be necessary before any treatment of this subject can even approach comprehensiveness.
However, since I will be unable to post again until Wednesday at the earliest, I thought I should contribute something to the debate that can serve as food for thought in the interim.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Minor Delay
Sorry for the delay in posting my latest piece on the First Cause Argument...My schedule was unexpectedly complicated over the past two days, and this prevented me from finishing it.
I hope to post the final draft on Saturday night.
My belief is that the approach taken in the new piece has the potential to bring further clarity to the whole discussion.
Perhaps some of the misunderstandings will be laid to rest once and for all, and more fruitful analyses of the merits and limitations of the proof can begin.
Shabbat Shalom!
I hope to post the final draft on Saturday night.
My belief is that the approach taken in the new piece has the potential to bring further clarity to the whole discussion.
Perhaps some of the misunderstandings will be laid to rest once and for all, and more fruitful analyses of the merits and limitations of the proof can begin.
Shabbat Shalom!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Revisiting the Red Heifer
This week's Parasha opens with the law of the Red Heifer and the process of ritual purification from contact with the dead. It is the perfect opportunity to revisit a worthwhile post from earlier this year.
Stay tuned...I hope to complete a post defending the First Cause Proof for God's existence later today.
Stay tuned...I hope to complete a post defending the First Cause Proof for God's existence later today.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Sin of Moshe
Another outstanding literary analysis of Parashat Hashavua, courtesy of Rabbi Elchanan Samet.
As he explains in the concluding section of the piece, his interpretation of the text corroborates the Rambam's understanding of Moshe's error at Merivah.
You can read an abridged version of his essay translated into English here.
As he explains in the concluding section of the piece, his interpretation of the text corroborates the Rambam's understanding of Moshe's error at Merivah.
You can read an abridged version of his essay translated into English here.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Erring By Design
The Argument from Design is one of the classic and most time-honored rational proofs for the existence of God. Yet its primary line of reasoning not only appealed to the ancient thinkers - indeed, it continues to enjoy popularity among a good number of contemporary scientists and philosophers to this day.
The essential thrust of the Argument from Design is this: The Universe exhibits a remarkable complexity, lawfulness, and order throughout. In the biological realm, the appearance of intentional design manifest in the harmonious functioning of living organisms is unmistakable. It seems profoundly unreasonable to attribute these phenomena to mere happenstance. Thus, we must infer that an intelligent Being is in fact responsible for them.
Enlightenment Period skeptics, beginning with David Hume, have challenged the Argument from Design on many counts, and their objections have been reviewed and rebutted by more recent thinkers. However, bad habits die hard, so moderns frequently declare that the Argument has been debunked, and tend to recycle even the most dubious of Hume's critiques as if they were beyond reproach. Perhaps the most talked-about contemporary atheist who has levelled Humean attacks against the Argument from Design is Richard Dawkins, whom our own favorite blogger-skeptic has borrowed from in his discussion of the topic.
The truth of the matter is that the objections to the Argument from Design are not very impressive philosophically. Many of them are flawed so seriously that they are naught more than chains of fallacy in disguise. In this post, we will confine ourselves to those counterarguments deemed by our friend to be worthy of an appearance on his blog. His anti-Argument-from-Design is formulated there as follows:
If you say you need an N+1 creator to design an N, then God is even more amazing than the universe, so you have simply pushed the question back one level, and now you have the problem of who designed God. And if you want to say that God doesn’t need to be designed for some incomprehensible reason, then you can say the same about the universe, for some incomprehensible reason.
Now, if you are philosophically inclined, reading this may already have given you a serious headache. But let's examine the argument he is presenting and attempt to define why it is flawed.
Basically, the counterargument proceeds like this: The Universe is incredibly complex, amazing, etc. This leads us to think a Creator must be behind it. But this Creator, in order to have produced such an amazing Universe, must Himself be even greater than that Universe. So, if we are going to ask how the Universe could be so intricate in the absence of a Creator, then we must ask the same about God - how could a Being so amazing possibly exist without a Creator?
The error in reasoning here is simple. When we observe the Universe's breathtaking harmony, we are faced with two options - either this order is a mere accidental grouping of blind material forces into lawful patterns, or it is an intentional design expressing itself through matter. The former seems terribly unlikely and forced, so we choose the latter.
But it is crucial to understand why the first option is counterintuitive - it is because we don't expect inert, brute matter to become organized into patterns of its own accord. There is nothing in pure physicality that suggests that it should have to or would tend to conform to any kind of intelligible principle whatsoever. So we naturally conclude that this must be the result of an external cause who designed the Universe on purpose.
God, on the other hand, is not something we believe to have emerged "by accident" from the chaotic motions of physical particles. He is a metaphysical Being devoid of any material properties - the source of order as opposed to an ordered entity. Wondering who designed God is like wondering who "designed" a concept - the term is simply inappropriate, since ideas are not constructed from raw materials; they are discovered or perceived. Attempting to apply the notion of design to God is ultimately an exercise in futility.
Considering an example of design drawn from our earthly experience will clarify this point. An architect formulates a coherent layout for the construction of a new home. That model is, so to speak, "imposed upon" the wood, brick, plaster, etc., by workmen who implement the instructions of the architect, and the result is a house that physically embodies the conceptual plan. Neither the materials alone, nor the architectural scheme alone, would ever bring anything particularly impressive into existence by themselves. It is only when the vision in the mind of the artisan finds expression in a physical medium that we see "design" manifesting itself.
So the question of the design of the Universe, which is comprised of matter, is legitimate, while the question "who designed God" is not.
Our good friend continues:
Now some people will argue that God is simple, and hence He fulfills the N-1 option above. But what kind of ‘simple’ is this? Not any kind of ‘simple’ that we can comprehend. Basically it’s just playing a word game, calling something simple when by any normal human standard we would call it complex.
This part of the argument betrays hazy thinking in the domains of theology and science. The premise underlying it is that whatever is responsible for the Universe must be as complicated, if not moreso, than the Universe itself.
Upon reflection, however, it should be obvious that this is not the case. Scientific theories aim to explain the complex phenomena observed in the world through the use of simple, general constructs that have the ability to account for an enormous number of particulars. Time and time again, science has revealed that what manifests itself to our senses as staggering complexity presents itself to our minds as the expression of a small set of fundamental principles. In fact, scientists' ultimate dream is to formulate a single Theory of Everything that will elegantly account for all observed phenomena in the material world.
If the skeptic's reasoning were correct, then this objective would be deemed absurd or even impossible from the get-go, since any theory of such grandeur would of necessity be more cumbersome and intricate than the subject matter it explains.
To summarize, then, we see that the concept of positing God as the ultimate source of the harmony in the Universe is actually quite logical - it is the natural culmination of the process of understanding our world. At first we take in a wealth of sensory information and feel overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of our environment. Then we slowly but surely move from the material details to the realm of the theoretical and conceptual, and begin to see myriad phenomena as expressions of an underlying set of rational principles or laws of nature. As we transition from experience to principle and from data point to concept, we similarly transition from complexity to simplicity and from chaos to order. This process of simplification and unification eventually leads us to the recognition of the Source of the majestic system of physical law itself - the Creator of the Universe.
The essential thrust of the Argument from Design is this: The Universe exhibits a remarkable complexity, lawfulness, and order throughout. In the biological realm, the appearance of intentional design manifest in the harmonious functioning of living organisms is unmistakable. It seems profoundly unreasonable to attribute these phenomena to mere happenstance. Thus, we must infer that an intelligent Being is in fact responsible for them.
Enlightenment Period skeptics, beginning with David Hume, have challenged the Argument from Design on many counts, and their objections have been reviewed and rebutted by more recent thinkers. However, bad habits die hard, so moderns frequently declare that the Argument has been debunked, and tend to recycle even the most dubious of Hume's critiques as if they were beyond reproach. Perhaps the most talked-about contemporary atheist who has levelled Humean attacks against the Argument from Design is Richard Dawkins, whom our own favorite blogger-skeptic has borrowed from in his discussion of the topic.
The truth of the matter is that the objections to the Argument from Design are not very impressive philosophically. Many of them are flawed so seriously that they are naught more than chains of fallacy in disguise. In this post, we will confine ourselves to those counterarguments deemed by our friend to be worthy of an appearance on his blog. His anti-Argument-from-Design is formulated there as follows:
If you say you need an N+1 creator to design an N, then God is even more amazing than the universe, so you have simply pushed the question back one level, and now you have the problem of who designed God. And if you want to say that God doesn’t need to be designed for some incomprehensible reason, then you can say the same about the universe, for some incomprehensible reason.
Now, if you are philosophically inclined, reading this may already have given you a serious headache. But let's examine the argument he is presenting and attempt to define why it is flawed.
Basically, the counterargument proceeds like this: The Universe is incredibly complex, amazing, etc. This leads us to think a Creator must be behind it. But this Creator, in order to have produced such an amazing Universe, must Himself be even greater than that Universe. So, if we are going to ask how the Universe could be so intricate in the absence of a Creator, then we must ask the same about God - how could a Being so amazing possibly exist without a Creator?
The error in reasoning here is simple. When we observe the Universe's breathtaking harmony, we are faced with two options - either this order is a mere accidental grouping of blind material forces into lawful patterns, or it is an intentional design expressing itself through matter. The former seems terribly unlikely and forced, so we choose the latter.
But it is crucial to understand why the first option is counterintuitive - it is because we don't expect inert, brute matter to become organized into patterns of its own accord. There is nothing in pure physicality that suggests that it should have to or would tend to conform to any kind of intelligible principle whatsoever. So we naturally conclude that this must be the result of an external cause who designed the Universe on purpose.
God, on the other hand, is not something we believe to have emerged "by accident" from the chaotic motions of physical particles. He is a metaphysical Being devoid of any material properties - the source of order as opposed to an ordered entity. Wondering who designed God is like wondering who "designed" a concept - the term is simply inappropriate, since ideas are not constructed from raw materials; they are discovered or perceived. Attempting to apply the notion of design to God is ultimately an exercise in futility.
Considering an example of design drawn from our earthly experience will clarify this point. An architect formulates a coherent layout for the construction of a new home. That model is, so to speak, "imposed upon" the wood, brick, plaster, etc., by workmen who implement the instructions of the architect, and the result is a house that physically embodies the conceptual plan. Neither the materials alone, nor the architectural scheme alone, would ever bring anything particularly impressive into existence by themselves. It is only when the vision in the mind of the artisan finds expression in a physical medium that we see "design" manifesting itself.
So the question of the design of the Universe, which is comprised of matter, is legitimate, while the question "who designed God" is not.
Our good friend continues:
Now some people will argue that God is simple, and hence He fulfills the N-1 option above. But what kind of ‘simple’ is this? Not any kind of ‘simple’ that we can comprehend. Basically it’s just playing a word game, calling something simple when by any normal human standard we would call it complex.
This part of the argument betrays hazy thinking in the domains of theology and science. The premise underlying it is that whatever is responsible for the Universe must be as complicated, if not moreso, than the Universe itself.
Upon reflection, however, it should be obvious that this is not the case. Scientific theories aim to explain the complex phenomena observed in the world through the use of simple, general constructs that have the ability to account for an enormous number of particulars. Time and time again, science has revealed that what manifests itself to our senses as staggering complexity presents itself to our minds as the expression of a small set of fundamental principles. In fact, scientists' ultimate dream is to formulate a single Theory of Everything that will elegantly account for all observed phenomena in the material world.
If the skeptic's reasoning were correct, then this objective would be deemed absurd or even impossible from the get-go, since any theory of such grandeur would of necessity be more cumbersome and intricate than the subject matter it explains.
To summarize, then, we see that the concept of positing God as the ultimate source of the harmony in the Universe is actually quite logical - it is the natural culmination of the process of understanding our world. At first we take in a wealth of sensory information and feel overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of our environment. Then we slowly but surely move from the material details to the realm of the theoretical and conceptual, and begin to see myriad phenomena as expressions of an underlying set of rational principles or laws of nature. As we transition from experience to principle and from data point to concept, we similarly transition from complexity to simplicity and from chaos to order. This process of simplification and unification eventually leads us to the recognition of the Source of the majestic system of physical law itself - the Creator of the Universe.
Friday, June 15, 2007
The Perils of Skepticism
Recently, in a discussion of his conflicts regarding religious beliefs, a well known skeptic in the blogosphere wrote the following:
Some things I am on the fence about. Some things I am off the fence. Sometimes I am on the fence and then get off. Sometimes I get off and then get back on. Sometimes I am off the fence, but then have a chnage of heart and jump over to the other side of the fence. Sometimes I am on the fence, and fall off unintentionally. Sometimes I am on the fence but think I'm off it, but really I'm on it. Sometimes I think I'm on the fence, but really I'm off it.
This reminded me of a famous statement in the second chapter of Maimonides' Laws of Idolatry:
Certainly the Rambam does not intend to discourage thinking. What he is emphasizing is that an individual who wishes to investigate the most basic questions of religious meaning must be a person of profound humility who possesses the requisite background knowledge and the necessary training to succeed in his quest. Even someone with all of these qualities will fail unless he exercises extreme caution throughout the process, and carefully distinguishes between issues he is prepared to tackle and those for which he is not yet ready.
One who doesn't have the prerequisite qualifications for this course of study is bound to fail. He will move back and forth between different ideas based on their intuitive appeal - "maybe it is true, maybe not" - and will be unable to arrive at secure conclusions. As Maimonides explains in several places in the Guide for the Perplexed, the reason for this flip-flopping is a reliance - conscious or unconcious - on untrained intuition.
A person with an extensive background of study in a field of knowledge will develop an intuition grounded in reality. His gut feeling about an idea will carry weight because it is rooted in authentic intellectual cognition. This is why great physicists, mathematicians and Talmudists often legitimately and successfully employ their intellectual intuition in the course of theorizing about problems in their respective subject areas.
In one famous incident, Rabbi Soloveitchik z"l, known as the Rav, was asked for evidence to support a legal ruling he had offered. He responded that his conclusion was intuitive; nonetheless, he observed, "my intuition is halacha." Having been immersed for countless years in the wisdom and methodology of the Talmud and Codes, the Rav harbored no doubt that, when a specific formulation of a Torah concept appealled to him, this appeal had a rational basis and was not merely subjective.
A novice, on the other hand, has only his imagination and his emotions from which to draw intuitive guidance. Naturally, these agencies are among the most fickle and unreliable in the human psyche. They can provide the appearance of certainty one moment, only to replace it with doubt and skepticism in the next. Unfortunately, our innate desire to arrive at the truth and to investigate the mysteries of existence often causes us to overestimate our competence and delve into subjects that are beyond our ken. With nothing but shaky intuition leading us, we have a very slim chance of success.
This is where the benefit of mesorah, authentic intellectual tradition, comes in. All human civilizations transmit a cultural mesora of some sort to their citizens. This tradition shapes the values, practices and beliefs of the members of that civilization from earliest youth. Similarly, the mesorah of Judaism provides us with a system of metaphysical principles and mitsvot that serve as a basic framework for a lifetime of intellectual and spiritual growth. In its absence, the vast majority of people would either spend their lifetimes in philosophical perplexity, or be overwhelmed by the pressures of instinct and devote themselves to hedonism or materialism.
Of course, skeptics will question the tradition and wonder why they should accept it to begin with. I have already discussed this point on Vesom Sechel in the past, and hope to revisit it again soon.
Here it is in a nutshell: Judaism offers a systematic, rational approach to meaningful living. Its principles and structure are unique, profound and coherent. And the authenticity of its mesorah is rooted in the historical experience of an entire nation rather than resting upon personal testimonials alone. I think this makes it by far the most reasonable choice available to a thinking individual who is interested in conducting his or her life prudently, consistently and reflectively.
Some things I am on the fence about. Some things I am off the fence. Sometimes I am on the fence and then get off. Sometimes I get off and then get back on. Sometimes I am off the fence, but then have a chnage of heart and jump over to the other side of the fence. Sometimes I am on the fence, and fall off unintentionally. Sometimes I am on the fence but think I'm off it, but really I'm on it. Sometimes I think I'm on the fence, but really I'm off it.
This reminded me of a famous statement in the second chapter of Maimonides' Laws of Idolatry:
We are commanded not to consider any thought that might lead us to uproot one of the fundamental principles of the Torah. We should not turn our minds to it, reflect and be drawn after the imaginings of our hearts. Because a person's mind is limited, and not all minds are capable of grasping the truth accurately. And if just any individual were to be drawn after the musings of his heart, he would end up destroying the world on account of his limited intellect.
How so? Sometimes he will occupy himself with idolatry, and other times he will reflect upon the oneness of the Creator - maybe it is true, or maybe not; [or he will muse about] what is above, below, before or after the Universe. Sometimes he will consider prophecy - maybe it is authentic, maybe not. Sometimes he will think about the Torah - maybe it is divine, maybe not. Yet he does not know the principles by which to judge these matters such that he should grasp the truth properly, thus he eventually becomes a heretic.
About this, the Torah states, "do not stray after your hearts and after your eyes." That is to say, everyone should not follow the inclinations of his limited intellect and imagine that his thinking process has led him to the truth.
Certainly the Rambam does not intend to discourage thinking. What he is emphasizing is that an individual who wishes to investigate the most basic questions of religious meaning must be a person of profound humility who possesses the requisite background knowledge and the necessary training to succeed in his quest. Even someone with all of these qualities will fail unless he exercises extreme caution throughout the process, and carefully distinguishes between issues he is prepared to tackle and those for which he is not yet ready.
One who doesn't have the prerequisite qualifications for this course of study is bound to fail. He will move back and forth between different ideas based on their intuitive appeal - "maybe it is true, maybe not" - and will be unable to arrive at secure conclusions. As Maimonides explains in several places in the Guide for the Perplexed, the reason for this flip-flopping is a reliance - conscious or unconcious - on untrained intuition.
A person with an extensive background of study in a field of knowledge will develop an intuition grounded in reality. His gut feeling about an idea will carry weight because it is rooted in authentic intellectual cognition. This is why great physicists, mathematicians and Talmudists often legitimately and successfully employ their intellectual intuition in the course of theorizing about problems in their respective subject areas.
In one famous incident, Rabbi Soloveitchik z"l, known as the Rav, was asked for evidence to support a legal ruling he had offered. He responded that his conclusion was intuitive; nonetheless, he observed, "my intuition is halacha." Having been immersed for countless years in the wisdom and methodology of the Talmud and Codes, the Rav harbored no doubt that, when a specific formulation of a Torah concept appealled to him, this appeal had a rational basis and was not merely subjective.
A novice, on the other hand, has only his imagination and his emotions from which to draw intuitive guidance. Naturally, these agencies are among the most fickle and unreliable in the human psyche. They can provide the appearance of certainty one moment, only to replace it with doubt and skepticism in the next. Unfortunately, our innate desire to arrive at the truth and to investigate the mysteries of existence often causes us to overestimate our competence and delve into subjects that are beyond our ken. With nothing but shaky intuition leading us, we have a very slim chance of success.
This is where the benefit of mesorah, authentic intellectual tradition, comes in. All human civilizations transmit a cultural mesora of some sort to their citizens. This tradition shapes the values, practices and beliefs of the members of that civilization from earliest youth. Similarly, the mesorah of Judaism provides us with a system of metaphysical principles and mitsvot that serve as a basic framework for a lifetime of intellectual and spiritual growth. In its absence, the vast majority of people would either spend their lifetimes in philosophical perplexity, or be overwhelmed by the pressures of instinct and devote themselves to hedonism or materialism.
Of course, skeptics will question the tradition and wonder why they should accept it to begin with. I have already discussed this point on Vesom Sechel in the past, and hope to revisit it again soon.
Here it is in a nutshell: Judaism offers a systematic, rational approach to meaningful living. Its principles and structure are unique, profound and coherent. And the authenticity of its mesorah is rooted in the historical experience of an entire nation rather than resting upon personal testimonials alone. I think this makes it by far the most reasonable choice available to a thinking individual who is interested in conducting his or her life prudently, consistently and reflectively.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Relying on Miracles
Sorry for the delay in posting...My schedule hasn't permitted me to write much lately, but I am beginning to get back on track!
In this week's Parasha we read about the famous incident of the spies. Moshe sent twelve representatives of the Tribes of Israel on a fact-finding mission to the Land of Canaan. As we all know, the would-be spies utilized their trip as an opportunity to orchestrate a quasi-rebellion against Moshe and, as a result, the Jews were condemned to wander in the desert for forty years.
The commentaries debate whether Moshe sent spies because it was appropriate to do so, or whether this choice was actually a concession to the weakness of the Jewish people who needed reassurance before their entry into the land.
The Ramban argues that it stands to reason that Moshe would have sent spies regardless of the feelings and attitudes of the people. Although the Jews were charged with the responsibility of conquering the Land of Israel, Hashem expected them to conduct this campaign prudently and not to rely on miracles. As a part of normal military strategizing, Moshe would certainly have sent agents to gather data that would help him formulate a swift and efficient approach to capturing the Land. Moshe would have proceeded like any other political leader in this respect and would not have blindly and simplistically placed his trust in Divine intervention.
The Ramban's interpretation, however, raises an interesting difficulty. In Parashat Lech-Lecha, the Torah tells us that, immediately after Abraham arrived in Canaan, there was a famine in the land and he was compelled to relocate to Egypt. Although most commentaries regard this choice as appropriate and wise, the Ramban is an exception. He criticizes Avraham for lacking the faith necessary to remain in Israel despite the scarcity of food. Since Hashem had instructed him to settle in Canaan, Avraham should have trusted that he would be well taken care of even during a period of hardship.
In another post, I discussed the more traditional view of this narrative about Avraham and the lessons we can derive from it. It is certainly possible (and, in my opinion, more intuitive) to read the story of Abraham's trip to Egypt differently, and not to construe it as a failure on his part. Nonetheless, this is how the Ramban interprets Avraham's choice in this matter - as an error of major proportions.
The question, then, is clear. In the case of Avraham, the Ramban suggests that unwillingness to rely upon Divine intervention is a defect. By contrast, when it comes to the story of the spies, the Ramban states that, as a matter of course, a person should not rely upon miracles, and that it would have been incumbent upon Moshe to dispatch spies on an investigative mission before leading the Jews into Israel. Why does the Ramban distinguish between these two circumstances? Is reliance upon Divine aid praiseworthy or inappropriate?
I believe that the Ramban would answer as follows: Avraham was (ostensibly) commanded by Hashem to dwell in the Land of Canaan. Remaining there was, in and of itself, fulfillment of a Divine decree, and Avraham should have been willing to take risks in order to do so. There was no excuse for him to leave and thereby contravene Hashem's instructions. Avraham had reason to assume that God would provide for him in Israel no matter what, since he was involved in the performance of a mitzvah that could not be completed otherwise. Put simply, being in Israel was the mitsvah.
On the other hand, the commandment given to the Israelites in the desert was to conquer and settle in the Land of Canaan. But making decisions about how they would accomplish this objective was their responsibility entirely. Because it was only a means to an end, the process of conquest and settlement had to be carried out with careful forethought, extensive planning and thorough deliberation. There was no guarantee of miraculous assistance unless the Jewish people did their part to make the mission a success. Divine intervention would be experienced on an as-needed basis only!
In this week's Parasha we read about the famous incident of the spies. Moshe sent twelve representatives of the Tribes of Israel on a fact-finding mission to the Land of Canaan. As we all know, the would-be spies utilized their trip as an opportunity to orchestrate a quasi-rebellion against Moshe and, as a result, the Jews were condemned to wander in the desert for forty years.
The commentaries debate whether Moshe sent spies because it was appropriate to do so, or whether this choice was actually a concession to the weakness of the Jewish people who needed reassurance before their entry into the land.
The Ramban argues that it stands to reason that Moshe would have sent spies regardless of the feelings and attitudes of the people. Although the Jews were charged with the responsibility of conquering the Land of Israel, Hashem expected them to conduct this campaign prudently and not to rely on miracles. As a part of normal military strategizing, Moshe would certainly have sent agents to gather data that would help him formulate a swift and efficient approach to capturing the Land. Moshe would have proceeded like any other political leader in this respect and would not have blindly and simplistically placed his trust in Divine intervention.
The Ramban's interpretation, however, raises an interesting difficulty. In Parashat Lech-Lecha, the Torah tells us that, immediately after Abraham arrived in Canaan, there was a famine in the land and he was compelled to relocate to Egypt. Although most commentaries regard this choice as appropriate and wise, the Ramban is an exception. He criticizes Avraham for lacking the faith necessary to remain in Israel despite the scarcity of food. Since Hashem had instructed him to settle in Canaan, Avraham should have trusted that he would be well taken care of even during a period of hardship.
In another post, I discussed the more traditional view of this narrative about Avraham and the lessons we can derive from it. It is certainly possible (and, in my opinion, more intuitive) to read the story of Abraham's trip to Egypt differently, and not to construe it as a failure on his part. Nonetheless, this is how the Ramban interprets Avraham's choice in this matter - as an error of major proportions.
The question, then, is clear. In the case of Avraham, the Ramban suggests that unwillingness to rely upon Divine intervention is a defect. By contrast, when it comes to the story of the spies, the Ramban states that, as a matter of course, a person should not rely upon miracles, and that it would have been incumbent upon Moshe to dispatch spies on an investigative mission before leading the Jews into Israel. Why does the Ramban distinguish between these two circumstances? Is reliance upon Divine aid praiseworthy or inappropriate?
I believe that the Ramban would answer as follows: Avraham was (ostensibly) commanded by Hashem to dwell in the Land of Canaan. Remaining there was, in and of itself, fulfillment of a Divine decree, and Avraham should have been willing to take risks in order to do so. There was no excuse for him to leave and thereby contravene Hashem's instructions. Avraham had reason to assume that God would provide for him in Israel no matter what, since he was involved in the performance of a mitzvah that could not be completed otherwise. Put simply, being in Israel was the mitsvah.
On the other hand, the commandment given to the Israelites in the desert was to conquer and settle in the Land of Canaan. But making decisions about how they would accomplish this objective was their responsibility entirely. Because it was only a means to an end, the process of conquest and settlement had to be carried out with careful forethought, extensive planning and thorough deliberation. There was no guarantee of miraculous assistance unless the Jewish people did their part to make the mission a success. Divine intervention would be experienced on an as-needed basis only!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
JIB Finals Conclude Today
Remember, today is the last day to vote in the JIBs!
Please take a few moments to vote for this blog for "Best Torah Blog 2007."
Every single vote counts!!!
Please take a few moments to vote for this blog for "Best Torah Blog 2007."
Every single vote counts!!!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Zeved Habat - Baby Naming Prayer
Please read the latest post on my Ask Rabbi Maroof Blog, in which I briefly explain why I am dissatisfied with the traditional text used for newborn girls' baby naming ceremonies.
You can also download the PDF version of an original baby naming prayer I composed over two years ago when my daughter, Zehara Yehudit, was born.
(Also note the thoughtful constructive criticism there from my friend David G.)
You can also download the PDF version of an original baby naming prayer I composed over two years ago when my daughter, Zehara Yehudit, was born.
(Also note the thoughtful constructive criticism there from my friend David G.)
Racism Against Sephardic Jews
That is the topic Rabbi Maryles considers in one of his most recent posts.
Hazaq U'varuch to him for taking a strong and principled stand on what is unfortunately a very sensitive issue.
(The comments are worthwhile perusing as well.)
Hazaq U'varuch to him for taking a strong and principled stand on what is unfortunately a very sensitive issue.
(The comments are worthwhile perusing as well.)
Shavuot and Shemini Atseret - Two of A Kind (II)
Please remember to vote for this blog in the JIB Finals for Best Torah Blog!!!
In the previous post, we identified five noteworthy characteristics that Shavuot and Shemini Atseret have in common. What is the reason for their strong resemblance?
The Ramban, in his commentary to Leviticus 23:36, offers a cryptic explanation for the holiday of Shemini Atseret:
According to the way of truth: For in six days did Hashem create the Heavens and the Earth; the seventh day is Shabbat and has no partner, and the Congregation of Israel is its partner, as it is written "and the Earth"; and behold, she is eighth. "It is an Atseret", for there everything is stopped (Heb. netsar hakol). And He commanded regarding the Festival of Matsot seven days with holiness before and after them, for they are totally holy with Hashem in their midst, and count from it forty nine days, seven weeks like the days of the world, and sanctify the eighth day like the eighth day of Sukkot - the counted days in between are like the Intermediate Days of the festival between the first and eight days of Sukkot - and that is the day of the giving of the Torah on which He showed them His great fire and they heard His voice from the fire. Therefore, the Rabbis always call Shavuot "Atseret", because it is like the eighth day of Sukkot which the Torah calls "Atseret"...
This statement of the Ramban is quite mysterious, but I believe we can still derive a tremendous insight from it. The key distinction he introduces is between the number seven - which, as he points out, is a reference to the seven days of creation in Genesis - and the number eight, which he understands as a symbolic reference to the Congregation of Israel.
Although he is deliberately obscure, it seems that the Ramban is therefore suggesting that the holidays that fall on "eighth" days - i.e., Shavuot and Shemini Atseret, which follow the seven-day holidays - are associated with the metaphysical identity of the Jewish people, whereas the seven-day holidays themselves are linked to the material world.
This simple observation has the potential to account for several of the unique properties of Shemini Atseret and Shavuot that we mentioned in the last post. But let us begin by considering the implications of this theory for the seven-day holidays that precede them.
Both Pesah and Sukkot relate primarily to our physical lives. On Pesah, we consume a new form of bread, and on Sukkot we eat and sleep in a new 'home' environment. Both holidays address our bodily existence and elevate our awareness of Hashem through the introduction of special mitsvot that "interfere" with our normal, physiologically-based routines. It is not unreasonable to say, then, that both Passover and Sukkot are holidays rooted in the "seven days of creation"; that is, they address us insofar as we are biological creatures, parts of the broader framework of the natural world.
By contrast, Shavuot and Shemini Atseret are related to the "Congregation of Israel" - our metaphysical, spiritual identity as human beings that distinguishes us from the rest of the created order and allows us to rise above it. The ultimate manifestation of this uniquely human capacity is the experience of revelation whereby we become cognizant of God's infinite wisdom. The product of that Divine encounter is the Torah, which is the focal point of both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret. Put simply, these holidays are related to the spiritual rather than the physical dimension of our existence.
This is the concept of the Jewish people being the "partner" of Shabbat. The universe displays Divine Wisdom with breathtaking elegance. However, absent a group of people who are dedicated to observing and reflecting upon that wisdom, it would never become fully actualized; it would remain, as it were, undiscovered. The Jewish people literally 'complete' the Universe by contemplating the beauty of its design every Shabbat.
Thus, we see that the Torah institutes two seven-day holidays, each of which is followed by a one-day "Atseret". The seven day holidays heighten our awareness of God by implementing changes in the physical aspects of our lifestyle - what or where we eat, etc. For these adjustments to really have an impact, they must be extended over an entire week's time. Sitting in a Sukkah or abstaining from leavened products for only one day would not make a significant difference in a person's life. Internalizing the message of these holidays is a gradual process; it takes a while for our minds to absorb the implications of what our bodies are doing.
However, the ultimate goal of all of these concrete behaviors is to prepare us for the apprehension of Hashem's truth with our highest faculties - our minds. When we reach this final stage, embodied in Shavuot and Shemini Atseret, we celebrate the actual achievement of a new intellectual plateau - either the experience of revelation at Sinai or the completion of our annual course of Torah study - rather than focusing on the gradual process of reaching that plateau. Consequently, these holidays are observed for a single day only, just like Shabbat. It goes without saying that no physical rituals are associated with these days because their theme is, by definition, metaphysical in nature.
In summary, then, Pesah and Sukkot serve to lay the material groundwork for the more transcendent celebrations of Shavuot and Shemini Atseret. And, of course, both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret center on our holy Torah, which represents the intellectual interface between human beings and their Creator.
Two major questions still remain. First of all, being that Shavuot and Shemini Atseret both revolve around Torah knowledge, celebrating both of the seems redundant. Why do we need two holidays dedicated to the same theme?
Second, if they are indeed so similar, why is Shavuot separated from Pesah by a stretch of 49 days? We know that, unlike Shavuot, Shemini Atseret is directly appended to the seven days of Sukkot - it is literally the eighth day of the holiday. What is the reason for the disparity between the structure of Passover-Shavuot and the structure of Sukkot-Shemini Atseret?
Stay tuned - in a post to follow shortly, I will suggest an answer to both of these questions that I think sheds light on the nature of the Jewish Holiday cycle as a whole.
In the previous post, we identified five noteworthy characteristics that Shavuot and Shemini Atseret have in common. What is the reason for their strong resemblance?
The Ramban, in his commentary to Leviticus 23:36, offers a cryptic explanation for the holiday of Shemini Atseret:
According to the way of truth: For in six days did Hashem create the Heavens and the Earth; the seventh day is Shabbat and has no partner, and the Congregation of Israel is its partner, as it is written "and the Earth"; and behold, she is eighth. "It is an Atseret", for there everything is stopped (Heb. netsar hakol). And He commanded regarding the Festival of Matsot seven days with holiness before and after them, for they are totally holy with Hashem in their midst, and count from it forty nine days, seven weeks like the days of the world, and sanctify the eighth day like the eighth day of Sukkot - the counted days in between are like the Intermediate Days of the festival between the first and eight days of Sukkot - and that is the day of the giving of the Torah on which He showed them His great fire and they heard His voice from the fire. Therefore, the Rabbis always call Shavuot "Atseret", because it is like the eighth day of Sukkot which the Torah calls "Atseret"...
This statement of the Ramban is quite mysterious, but I believe we can still derive a tremendous insight from it. The key distinction he introduces is between the number seven - which, as he points out, is a reference to the seven days of creation in Genesis - and the number eight, which he understands as a symbolic reference to the Congregation of Israel.
Although he is deliberately obscure, it seems that the Ramban is therefore suggesting that the holidays that fall on "eighth" days - i.e., Shavuot and Shemini Atseret, which follow the seven-day holidays - are associated with the metaphysical identity of the Jewish people, whereas the seven-day holidays themselves are linked to the material world.
This simple observation has the potential to account for several of the unique properties of Shemini Atseret and Shavuot that we mentioned in the last post. But let us begin by considering the implications of this theory for the seven-day holidays that precede them.
Both Pesah and Sukkot relate primarily to our physical lives. On Pesah, we consume a new form of bread, and on Sukkot we eat and sleep in a new 'home' environment. Both holidays address our bodily existence and elevate our awareness of Hashem through the introduction of special mitsvot that "interfere" with our normal, physiologically-based routines. It is not unreasonable to say, then, that both Passover and Sukkot are holidays rooted in the "seven days of creation"; that is, they address us insofar as we are biological creatures, parts of the broader framework of the natural world.
By contrast, Shavuot and Shemini Atseret are related to the "Congregation of Israel" - our metaphysical, spiritual identity as human beings that distinguishes us from the rest of the created order and allows us to rise above it. The ultimate manifestation of this uniquely human capacity is the experience of revelation whereby we become cognizant of God's infinite wisdom. The product of that Divine encounter is the Torah, which is the focal point of both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret. Put simply, these holidays are related to the spiritual rather than the physical dimension of our existence.
This is the concept of the Jewish people being the "partner" of Shabbat. The universe displays Divine Wisdom with breathtaking elegance. However, absent a group of people who are dedicated to observing and reflecting upon that wisdom, it would never become fully actualized; it would remain, as it were, undiscovered. The Jewish people literally 'complete' the Universe by contemplating the beauty of its design every Shabbat.
Thus, we see that the Torah institutes two seven-day holidays, each of which is followed by a one-day "Atseret". The seven day holidays heighten our awareness of God by implementing changes in the physical aspects of our lifestyle - what or where we eat, etc. For these adjustments to really have an impact, they must be extended over an entire week's time. Sitting in a Sukkah or abstaining from leavened products for only one day would not make a significant difference in a person's life. Internalizing the message of these holidays is a gradual process; it takes a while for our minds to absorb the implications of what our bodies are doing.
However, the ultimate goal of all of these concrete behaviors is to prepare us for the apprehension of Hashem's truth with our highest faculties - our minds. When we reach this final stage, embodied in Shavuot and Shemini Atseret, we celebrate the actual achievement of a new intellectual plateau - either the experience of revelation at Sinai or the completion of our annual course of Torah study - rather than focusing on the gradual process of reaching that plateau. Consequently, these holidays are observed for a single day only, just like Shabbat. It goes without saying that no physical rituals are associated with these days because their theme is, by definition, metaphysical in nature.
In summary, then, Pesah and Sukkot serve to lay the material groundwork for the more transcendent celebrations of Shavuot and Shemini Atseret. And, of course, both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret center on our holy Torah, which represents the intellectual interface between human beings and their Creator.
Two major questions still remain. First of all, being that Shavuot and Shemini Atseret both revolve around Torah knowledge, celebrating both of the seems redundant. Why do we need two holidays dedicated to the same theme?
Second, if they are indeed so similar, why is Shavuot separated from Pesah by a stretch of 49 days? We know that, unlike Shavuot, Shemini Atseret is directly appended to the seven days of Sukkot - it is literally the eighth day of the holiday. What is the reason for the disparity between the structure of Passover-Shavuot and the structure of Sukkot-Shemini Atseret?
Stay tuned - in a post to follow shortly, I will suggest an answer to both of these questions that I think sheds light on the nature of the Jewish Holiday cycle as a whole.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Shavuot and Shemini Atseret - Two of a Kind?
Remember to vote for this blog in the JIB Finals for Best Torah Blog!!!
What do Shavuot and Shemini Atseret have in common? A brief consideration of these holidays reveals that they bear an unmistakable resemblance to one another on a variety of levels:
1) Both are observed for a single day only (two days in the Diaspora).
2) Both are "appended", as it were, to seven day holidays - Shavuot is the culmination of the Omer count begun on Pesah, and Shemini Atseret represents the culmination of Sukkot.
3) Both are referred to as "Atseret" - Shemini Atseret is designated as such by the Torah itself (hence its name), whereas, in Rabbinic parlance, "Atseret" is the term used for Shavuot.
4) Both holidays lack any concrete ritual expression or seasonal commandment (outside of the special offerings brought in the Temple, that is). Unlike Passover, which is associated with the consumption of matsa, and Sukkot, which revolves around dwelling in the Sukkah and waving the Four Species, Shavuot and Shemini Atseret do not obligate us in any positive mitsvot at all.
5) Both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret are thematically linked to the study of Torah. Shavuot commemorates the Revelation at Sinai, while Shemini Atseret is "Simhat Torah" - the day that we celebrate our completion of yet another annual cycle of Torah readings.
What is the reason for these remarkable similarities?
Stay tuned for a fascinating answer based upon a cryptic commentary from Nachmanides.
Meanwhile, of course, educated guesses are welcome in the comments to this post.
What do Shavuot and Shemini Atseret have in common? A brief consideration of these holidays reveals that they bear an unmistakable resemblance to one another on a variety of levels:
1) Both are observed for a single day only (two days in the Diaspora).
2) Both are "appended", as it were, to seven day holidays - Shavuot is the culmination of the Omer count begun on Pesah, and Shemini Atseret represents the culmination of Sukkot.
3) Both are referred to as "Atseret" - Shemini Atseret is designated as such by the Torah itself (hence its name), whereas, in Rabbinic parlance, "Atseret" is the term used for Shavuot.
4) Both holidays lack any concrete ritual expression or seasonal commandment (outside of the special offerings brought in the Temple, that is). Unlike Passover, which is associated with the consumption of matsa, and Sukkot, which revolves around dwelling in the Sukkah and waving the Four Species, Shavuot and Shemini Atseret do not obligate us in any positive mitsvot at all.
5) Both Shavuot and Shemini Atseret are thematically linked to the study of Torah. Shavuot commemorates the Revelation at Sinai, while Shemini Atseret is "Simhat Torah" - the day that we celebrate our completion of yet another annual cycle of Torah readings.
What is the reason for these remarkable similarities?
Stay tuned for a fascinating answer based upon a cryptic commentary from Nachmanides.
Meanwhile, of course, educated guesses are welcome in the comments to this post.
Samples of Sephardic Cantillation
Two very exciting events are coming up for me this Sunday. The first is that Magen David Sephardic Congregation will be celebrating a hachnasat Sefer Torah - the welcoming of a new Torah Scroll to our community. The Sefer Torah in question is particularly special because it has been dedicated, not by a single individual or small group of philanthropists, but by the membership of our synagogue as a whole. Nearly every family in our congregation contributed funds toward the purchase of the Scroll.
The second exciting event scheduled for this Sunday is the wedding of one of my dear friends and congregants here in Rockville. Mazal Tov!
Because of all the positive energy in the air today, I have been in a singing mood. I channelled that into the preparation of recordings of various upcoming Torah and Haftara selections.
The Haftara of Bemidbar with Syrian/Yerushalmi Cantillation
The Haftara of Bemidbar with Moroccan Cantillation
Parashat Nitsavim (First Aliya) with Yerushalmi Cantillation
You will probably notice some minor grammatical and perhaps even musical errors in my reading. Please excuse me; I haven't had my first cup of coffee yet this morning.
If you are very perceptive (i.e., a nudnik), you will notice systematic differences in Hebrew pronunciation between the Haftarot and the Torah reading. The reason for this is that the Parasha was prepared for an actual Bar Mitsvah student; as a result, I tried to read in a more conventional Sephardic Hebrew than I am normally accustomed to using.
The second exciting event scheduled for this Sunday is the wedding of one of my dear friends and congregants here in Rockville. Mazal Tov!
Because of all the positive energy in the air today, I have been in a singing mood. I channelled that into the preparation of recordings of various upcoming Torah and Haftara selections.
The Haftara of Bemidbar with Syrian/Yerushalmi Cantillation
The Haftara of Bemidbar with Moroccan Cantillation
Parashat Nitsavim (First Aliya) with Yerushalmi Cantillation
You will probably notice some minor grammatical and perhaps even musical errors in my reading. Please excuse me; I haven't had my first cup of coffee yet this morning.
If you are very perceptive (i.e., a nudnik), you will notice systematic differences in Hebrew pronunciation between the Haftarot and the Torah reading. The reason for this is that the Parasha was prepared for an actual Bar Mitsvah student; as a result, I tried to read in a more conventional Sephardic Hebrew than I am normally accustomed to using.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The JIBs Rigged?
Two hours ago, Vesom Sechel was in the lead for Best Torah Blog in the Jewish-Israeli Blog Award (JIB) Finals, with over 170 votes.
Moments ago, the number of votes to its credit was drastically reduced, leaving only 83. Vesom Sechel suddenly fell into a distant and rather precarious Second Place position.
I suspect that the process of vote-authentication being employed by the JIBs staff is far from objective, and that this caused Vesom Sechel to lose many of the votes it had rightfully earned.
Please make sure to cast your ballot if you haven't already!
Moments ago, the number of votes to its credit was drastically reduced, leaving only 83. Vesom Sechel suddenly fell into a distant and rather precarious Second Place position.
I suspect that the process of vote-authentication being employed by the JIBs staff is far from objective, and that this caused Vesom Sechel to lose many of the votes it had rightfully earned.
Please make sure to cast your ballot if you haven't already!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Who is Mighty?
Remember to vote for this blog in the JIB Finals for Best Torah Blog!!!
In Pirqei Avot last week, we read the famous Rabbinic dictum "Who is mighty? He who conquers his evil inclination." Most people take this statement in a metaphoric sense. Really, they assume, the quality of "gevurah" (mightiness) means just that - the possession of brute, physical strength. But, they claim, the Rabbis transformed the concept into something spiritual in order to put a more positive spin on it, and to make it seem more worthy of admiration.
I disagree with this approach. I think that the Rabbis are providing us with a tremendous insight into gevurah that is intended quite literally.
The average person goes to great lengths to appear powerful and "in control" of his life. When we reflect upon the epitome of "coolness" in our culture, we envision an individual who is unswayed by environmental influences - he calls the shots, so to speak, and others carry out his bidding, while he remains consistently detached, calm and collected.
Yet beneath that veneer of mastery he exhibits in the outside world lies a turbulent inner life, dominated by passions and emotions that are very much in the "driver's seat" of that individual's decision making processes. He is not as powerful or well-put-together as he would like us to believe. His desire for instinctual and psychological pleasures of all kinds rages within him and influences his conduct on an almost constant basis. Whereas the external elements of his life appear orderly and well managed, his soul is a bundle of petty emotions that are his true "masters" in life. Only a person who has command over his internal world is really in control.
We encounter examples of this dichotomy in the media all the time. Recently, right here in the Washington, DC area, several high profile businessmen and politicians were disgraced when their names were found on the customer list of an upscale escort service. These purportedly mighty individuals are in reality putty in the hands of their instinctual drives. Once their indiscretions become public knowledge, it is difficult for them to regain the respect of the masses - respect that, it seems, was predicated on an illusion from the outset. These characters were admired because people believed they embodied genuine gevurah; the dispelling of this misconception is a source of great humiliation for all involved.
This insight into the concept of gevurah can also help us to explain a fascinating occurrence at the beginning of the Book of Joshua. When Joshua sends spies to Jericho to assess the morale of the locals, they stop in at the home of Rahav, the proprietress of an inn which also functioned as a 'house of ill repute'. The Midrash tells us that Rahav was not just any member of the world's oldest profession - she was the equivalent of the premiere "upscale" escort in Biblical times, who enjoyed relationships with all the rich and famous of Canaan.
The question is often raised - why did these righteous men see fit to lodge in a place of immorality and prostitution? Couldn't they have stopped in a more wholesome location?
In light of our analysis, the answer seems clear. The powerful leaders of Canaan had no problem maintaining a public image of coolness and detachment before their constituents. The common people may have been blissfully unaware of the private insecurities and deficiencies of their kings and princes. But Rahav saw these influential figures for who they really were - weak men, addicted to and enslaved by base pleasures and fantasies, who nonetheless sought to present themselves as larger-than-life heroes worthy of admiration.
Like many prostitutes and "adult entertainment" workers, Rahav had no respect for her customers and may even have despised them. She became disillusioned with the culture of falsehood and deception created and perpetuated by these lustful and immature men. Her recognition of the hypocrisy of the smooth-talking politicians of Canaan enabled her to appreciate the truth of the Torah's message and inspired her to cleave to the Nation of Israel.
We can see, then, that the Jewish spies selected their destination based upon a sound knowledge of psychological principles. They realized that the person who would be able to provide them with the most accurate assessment of the morale of the Canaanites would be Rahav. Because of her profession, the madame of Jericho had countless opportunities to interact with the most influential personalities in the region when their guard was down and their true colors were on display.
Although the leaders of Jericho appeared mighty on a superficial level, they lacked true gevurah. Their artificial image of confidence and control obscured the fact that, in truth, they were not the masters of their own destiny at all. These ostensibly powerful men allowed themselves to be enslaved by the most ignoble elements in the human psyche.
Visiting Rahav gave these men the chance to drop the charade, step out of character and be themselves for a while. And during these moments of weakness, they found comfort in sharing their hidden insecurities and fears with their professional paramour. Rahav was disgusted with the disingenuousness of the Canaanite power brokers and was more than happy to reveal what she learned from them to the invading Israelites.
The Rabbis teach us that mastery over one's environment is no substitute for gevurah. Only a person who rises above his passions and makes his decisions with wisdom and forethought is truly in control of his life.
In Pirqei Avot last week, we read the famous Rabbinic dictum "Who is mighty? He who conquers his evil inclination." Most people take this statement in a metaphoric sense. Really, they assume, the quality of "gevurah" (mightiness) means just that - the possession of brute, physical strength. But, they claim, the Rabbis transformed the concept into something spiritual in order to put a more positive spin on it, and to make it seem more worthy of admiration.
I disagree with this approach. I think that the Rabbis are providing us with a tremendous insight into gevurah that is intended quite literally.
The average person goes to great lengths to appear powerful and "in control" of his life. When we reflect upon the epitome of "coolness" in our culture, we envision an individual who is unswayed by environmental influences - he calls the shots, so to speak, and others carry out his bidding, while he remains consistently detached, calm and collected.
Yet beneath that veneer of mastery he exhibits in the outside world lies a turbulent inner life, dominated by passions and emotions that are very much in the "driver's seat" of that individual's decision making processes. He is not as powerful or well-put-together as he would like us to believe. His desire for instinctual and psychological pleasures of all kinds rages within him and influences his conduct on an almost constant basis. Whereas the external elements of his life appear orderly and well managed, his soul is a bundle of petty emotions that are his true "masters" in life. Only a person who has command over his internal world is really in control.
We encounter examples of this dichotomy in the media all the time. Recently, right here in the Washington, DC area, several high profile businessmen and politicians were disgraced when their names were found on the customer list of an upscale escort service. These purportedly mighty individuals are in reality putty in the hands of their instinctual drives. Once their indiscretions become public knowledge, it is difficult for them to regain the respect of the masses - respect that, it seems, was predicated on an illusion from the outset. These characters were admired because people believed they embodied genuine gevurah; the dispelling of this misconception is a source of great humiliation for all involved.
This insight into the concept of gevurah can also help us to explain a fascinating occurrence at the beginning of the Book of Joshua. When Joshua sends spies to Jericho to assess the morale of the locals, they stop in at the home of Rahav, the proprietress of an inn which also functioned as a 'house of ill repute'. The Midrash tells us that Rahav was not just any member of the world's oldest profession - she was the equivalent of the premiere "upscale" escort in Biblical times, who enjoyed relationships with all the rich and famous of Canaan.
The question is often raised - why did these righteous men see fit to lodge in a place of immorality and prostitution? Couldn't they have stopped in a more wholesome location?
In light of our analysis, the answer seems clear. The powerful leaders of Canaan had no problem maintaining a public image of coolness and detachment before their constituents. The common people may have been blissfully unaware of the private insecurities and deficiencies of their kings and princes. But Rahav saw these influential figures for who they really were - weak men, addicted to and enslaved by base pleasures and fantasies, who nonetheless sought to present themselves as larger-than-life heroes worthy of admiration.
Like many prostitutes and "adult entertainment" workers, Rahav had no respect for her customers and may even have despised them. She became disillusioned with the culture of falsehood and deception created and perpetuated by these lustful and immature men. Her recognition of the hypocrisy of the smooth-talking politicians of Canaan enabled her to appreciate the truth of the Torah's message and inspired her to cleave to the Nation of Israel.
We can see, then, that the Jewish spies selected their destination based upon a sound knowledge of psychological principles. They realized that the person who would be able to provide them with the most accurate assessment of the morale of the Canaanites would be Rahav. Because of her profession, the madame of Jericho had countless opportunities to interact with the most influential personalities in the region when their guard was down and their true colors were on display.
Although the leaders of Jericho appeared mighty on a superficial level, they lacked true gevurah. Their artificial image of confidence and control obscured the fact that, in truth, they were not the masters of their own destiny at all. These ostensibly powerful men allowed themselves to be enslaved by the most ignoble elements in the human psyche.
Visiting Rahav gave these men the chance to drop the charade, step out of character and be themselves for a while. And during these moments of weakness, they found comfort in sharing their hidden insecurities and fears with their professional paramour. Rahav was disgusted with the disingenuousness of the Canaanite power brokers and was more than happy to reveal what she learned from them to the invading Israelites.
The Rabbis teach us that mastery over one's environment is no substitute for gevurah. Only a person who rises above his passions and makes his decisions with wisdom and forethought is truly in control of his life.
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