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Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis. . . adroitly moderates a virtual conversation between traditions and thinkers. This book is a wondrous springboard into a rewarding dialogue between  biblical scholarship and the philosophical perspective.

Micah D. Halpern, author of THUGS, The Micah Report, and Jewish Legal Writings by Women

“A fascinating, learned, and wide-ranging commentary that creatively blends the  insights of ancients, medievals, moderns, and post-moderns. . .Readers will enjoy this book.”

Prof. Warren Zev Harvey, [Chair, Department of Jewish Thought], The Hebrew University of Jerusalem ,

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I believe that all who carefully read this book are in for a deeply rewarding experience. A study of the text and commentary of Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: The Timeless Theological Commentary will contribute greatly to an understanding of the rich and diverse fabric of biblical narrative and provide an appreciation for its creative application to the problems of the modern world . . . Birth and Rebirth through Genesis is a book for Jews and Christians.

Prof. Marvin R. Wilson, Author of Our Father Abraham: Jewish Roots of the Christian Faith

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The book is a profound exploration of the important metaphors, symbols and archetypal structures of Genesis. . . Most remarkable about this stunning array of insights is that it leaves space for personal discovery, and time to hear the beat of heart-thoughts behind the words.

Paul Pines, author of My Brother’s Madness.

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Rabbi Michael Samuel’s Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation frees the reader from the confines of the theological spin of particular interpretations . . . . this work is spiritually fresh and relevant for a new generation of readers regardless of their religious background and faith.

Rabbi Dr Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, co-author of Jewish with Feeling

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While this is a book written by a rabbi well-versed in the rabbinic tradition, one cannot read more than a few pages to discover that his research, his interests, and his appreciation of critical thought span the centuries of both Jewish thought and Christian, while encompassing the best of the non-faith-bound philosophers of these same millennia . . . Rabbi Samuel is fearless in drawing on their works and their thinking in order to provoke his reader to leap beyond the well-worn paths of the past.

Allan C. Emery III, PhD, Senior Editor of Hendrickson Publishers.

Have you ever wondered about the beginning of Genesis in the context of the three thousand years of pondering prompted by these seminal three chapters? . . .  This magnificent interdisciplinary work will prompt, will compel, its reader to consider fundamental issues of the dynamic among text, self, and others within the context of cultures and time. . . . and deals superbly with  nothing less than everyone’s journey of “Birth and Rebirth.”

Paul Borgman, Author of Genesis: The Story We Haven’t Heard

Solomon’s wisdom is well-known. In 1 Kings 3:16-28, two new mothers approach Solomon, bringing with them one dead baby, and one live one. Each mother presents the same story and accusation: She and the other woman live together and have both recently given birth to two baby boys. One night, soon after the birth of their respective infants, the other woman woke to find that she had smothered her own baby in her sleep. In anguish and jealousy, she took her dead son and exchanged it with the other mother’s child. The following morning, the woman discovered the dead baby, and soon realized that it was not her own son, but was the other woman’s instead.

After some deliberation, King Solomon calls for a sword to be brought before him. He declares that there is only one fair solution: the live son must be split in two, each woman receiving half of the child. Upon hearing this terrible verdict, the boy’s true mother cries out, “Please, My Lord, give her the live child—do not kill him!” However, the envious mother exclaims, “It shall be neither mine nor yours—divide it!” The identity of the real mother was obvious. Solomon instantly gives the live baby to the real mother, realizing that the true mother’s instincts were to protect her child, while the liar revealed that she did not truly love the child.[1]

Early rabbinic folklore records that  once there was a two-headed man lived in the time of King Solomon who fathered six normal children. He sired a seventh child who had two heads just like himself. After the father died, the son with two heads came before King Solomon demanding a double share of the inheritance. King Solomon covered one head and poured hot water on the other. and both mouths cried out: “We are dying, we are dying! We are but one, not two.” Solomon decided that the double-headed son was after all only a single being. From this experience, King Solomon proved that two heads are not necessarily better than one with respect to receiving a double inheritance! [2]

Two Modern Cases

Here are a couple of modern cases that would have puzzled even one as great as King Solomon!

In August, 2000, a British court allowed an operation to separate Siamese twins. The conjoined twins, named, Mary and Jodie, were joined at their lower abdomens, with their heads at the opposite ends of their merged bodies and their legs emerging at right angles from each side. They shared just one heart and one pair of lungs.  After birth, it became clear that both girls would die within months if they were not separated. Any operation to separate them would kill the weaker twin Mary, who depended entirely on Jodie for her blood.  However, by “killing” Mary, Jodie would have a better chance of surviving.

Being devout Catholics, the parents refused to allow their children to be separated; they accepted the circumstances as God’s will ; they were prepared to let the babies die. Incidentally, this position was later endorsed by the Catholic Church. In September, a British court overruled the objections of the parents and ordered that the operation be performed and so, on November 6, the physicians surgically separated the twins. Mary died on the operating table.

This is not the first time this difficult moral dilemma has occurred. In September 1977, Siamese twins were born to a prominent rabbinic family in Lakewood, New Jersey. The children were taken to Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia, where Dr. C. Everett Koop (who would later went on to become the Surgeon General of the United States) soon realized that if the operation was to be performed, it would mean that the life of the weaker child, referred to as “Baby A” would have to be sacrificed so that “Baby B” would have a chance to survive.

The hospital administration was concerned with the legal and ethical ramifications of the case, as everyone tried to find a way to resolve this dilemma.  At that time, the parents turned to Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (1895-1986), who was once regarded as one of the most highly respected Halachic authorities in the 20th century. As a man of great personal piety and integrity, his  guidance was beyond reproach. The parents went to him to render a legal decision.

At first Rabbi Feinstein wondered they were dealing with “one human being,” but it was clear that since there were two brains and two nervous systems, ergo, they were two separate human beings.  Two weeks later, after reflection and repeated consultations with the medical staff, Rabbi Feinstein issued a ruling allowing the operation. [3] Rabbi Feinstein observed that there are two primary issues in deciding this question; one is the propriety of sacrificing one life for the sake of saving many others, and the second is how one defines the concept of “self defense.”

The Talmud establishes that one may not commit murder for self preservation. If a person  threatens another,“Kill so-and-so, or else I will kill you ” the person ordered to kill should sooner let himself be killed than become a murderer. All lives have equal value, and “how do you know your blood is redder than his; maybe his blood is redder than yours. [4] By killing in order to save his own life, the killer presumed that his life has greater importance than the person he killed–which from  God’s perspective may prove to be completely unwarranted!

This difference of opinion is of great relevance to the case of the conjoined twins.“Baby A,” reasoned the elderly rabbi,  had no independent ability to survive. Her entire survival depended upon “Baby B,” who had the circulatory system to back up the heart and liver’s functioning. If both will die without the operation, and one could survive with the operation, it is as though “Baby A”, the weaker child, has been “selected” for death, because she is certain to die.[5]

Rabbi Feinstein finally decided the case based on the law of the rodef (“pursuer”). There are times when the Torah allows a person to use lethal force–when it comes to matters of self-defense. In addition, an outsider observing the altercation has an obligation to use lethal force in order to save the life of the victim (e.g., a policeman shooting a robber). The Talmud says that even if the aggressor is too young to understand his actions, he is still considered a “pursuer.” However, there is an important exception.

At any rate, Rabbi Feinstein felt that it is still possible for the unborn child to be considered a “pursuer”, because each the mother in travail whose life is endangered and the infant struggling to be born are in a real sense, mutually threatening one to the other. Even in the absence of malice, circumstances can produce a situation that is analogous to the “pursuer.”

Contrarian Perspectives

Verily, not all rabbinical scholars agree that this logic is compelling. The first Chief Sephardic Rabbi of Palestine, Rabbi Ben Tzion Uziel (1880-1953) reasoned that since the Talmud considered childbirth a perfectly natural act, the baby could not be considered a “pursuer” for the dangers that exist here are generated from God. Rabbi Uziel argued that one cannot say that a baby is “pursuing” its mother to kill her since the baby is merely a participant in the miracle we call birth. Since the baby has no animus toward the mother, it may not be put to death once it has a life of its own, i.e., after the baby sees the light of day.[6]

But how do we apply this controversy with the above case of the co-joined twins? Could  the weaker twin, “Baby A” be considered a “pursuer” in relation to “Baby B”?  At first blush, it depends on which Halachic view you follow. If you accept the opinion of Rabbi Ben Tsion Uziel, then you must say that natural circumstances can’t categorize someone as a “pursuer.”

Let us suggest an alternative approach to Rabbi Uziel’s position. Had the question of co-joined twins been asked to Rabbi Uziel, he might have ruled that the operations were necessary – but not because of the  “pursuer” argument advocated by Rabbi Feinstein, but for an altogether different Halachic principle: pikuah nefesh – the imperative to save a life.” If nothing were to be done, both children would certainly die, but the physician has the imperative to save whatever life he can, and since the more viable child had a greater chance, “Baby B’s” life takes precedence over “Baby A.”

From this viewpoint, it becomes more a matter of practicality – the infant who has a greater grasp on life takes priority.  In other words, this is essentially a principle of what is known as “triage”. As a process, triage is used for sorting injured people into groups based on their need for or likely benefit from immediate medical treatment. Triage is used on the battlefield, at disaster sites, and in hospital emergency rooms when limited medical resources must be allocated. [7]

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Notes:

[1] It is intriguing to speculate why the Solomonic passage has omitted in a famous Mishnaic case pertaining to two disputants who made a maximalist claim on a lost property that was discovered. The Mishnah in Bava Metzia — 1:1 reads:

Two [in court] lay hold of a garment—this one says, “I discovered it!”—And that one says, “I discovered it!”—This one says, “It’s all mine!”—And that one says, “It’s all mine!”— This one takes an oath that he has no less a share of it than half, and that one takes an oath that he has no less a share of it than half. And they divide it up. This  one says, “It’s all mine!” And that one says, “Half of it is mine!”The one who says, “It’s all mine” takes an oath that he has no less a share of it than three parts. And the one who says, “Half of it is mine,” takes an oath that he has no less a share of it than a fourth part. This one then takes three shares, and that one takes the fourth

[2] Hibbur ha-Maʿasiyyot, No 11; BHM IV, 151–152; Maʾasiyyot (Gaster’s edition), 113, 75; Al-Barceloni, 173; Mordecai, Tefillin, who gives PRE as his source. See Gaster, Exempla, No. 113; Steinschneider. Hebräische Bibliographie, XVIII, 16, and Salzberger, Salomo-Sage, 58. Sources cited from: L. Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews (2nd ed.) (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2003 ed.), 951.

[3] See Rabbi Moshe David Tendler’s The Responsa of Rav Moshe Feinstein: Vol. I Care of the Critically Ill a Translation and Commentary (Hoboken, Ktav 1996), 125-135. Rabbi Moshe David Tendler was Rabbi Feinstein’s son-in-law. See J. David Bleich, Tradition, Fall 1996, pages 92-125.

[4] BT Sanhedrin 74a.

[5] The Scriptural source for this law comes from the time when King David ordered Joab to bring Sheba ben Bichri to justice (2 Samuel 20ff).

[6] One could argue that Rashi, who permits turning over the selected individual to the aggressor, would allow the surgeons to perform the surgery. Although “Baby A” will certainly die in surgery, it is as though “Baby A”  has been “selected” to die, and she may be killed in order to save “Baby B’s” life. However, Maimonides, who on principle opposes killing one to save many, would oppose this operation. Rabbi Tendler reports that Rabbi Feinstein refused to rely on Rashi’s opinion, because he did not want to rely on a disputed opinion in a life and death case.

[7] A personal caveat: I once had a conversation with the late Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth, Rabbi Immanual Jacobowitz back in 1985 at a Jewish Medical ethics convention in San Francisco, who felt that “Baby A” should never have been sacrificed for “Baby B” and concurred with Rabbi Ben Tsion Uziel’s logic, but Rabbi Jacobowitz’s reading of R. Uziel may not be correct for the reasons we will suggest later on.

As we noted in another posting,  part of the misunderstanding lies in the translation of the Hebrew word “tame” which really means “impure,” but is translated as “unclean” which implies that hygiene is at the heart of the observance. This doesn’t mean that hygiene is not important, for if one observes the kosher laws, it will enhance personal hygiene  but this is a residual effect and not the primary motivation behind the kosher laws. In the medieval age during the height of the Black Plague, Jews were frequently attacked because their hygiene was superior,  for the Jews always washed their hands. On the other hand, the Hebrew word shketz (which is used to describe non-kosher fish) definitely has a pejorative connotation denoting filth or anything that is disgusting (cf. Nah. 3:6, Eze. 5:11).

Among the various reasons that have been given for these laws. The traditional and most obvious reason is the religious or spiritual, “You shall be men consecrated to me”  (Exod. 22:31). A holy people needs to distinguish between the sacred and the profane. The celebrated “Letter of Aristeas,” a Judaic philosophical work that was originally written in Greek (100 B.C.E.), contains some of the oldest explanations found anywhere regarding the dietary laws. In his letter, Aristeas taught that the purpose of the kosher laws served as a hedge differentiating the Jewish people from other nations. He also stated that these laws were given to the Jews to inculcate in them the spirit of justice, to awaken pious reflections, and, by their means, to help form the character of the individual. To prove his contention, he pointed to the fact that in kashrut, birds of prey are forbidden as food so the Jew might recall the first principle of social justice:  one must never prey on others.

Almost two centuries later, Philo of Alexandria, a Platonist philosopher and leader of the Alexandrian Jewish community (who was the first theologian to comprehensively integrate Greek wisdom with the Torah) attempted to interpret Scriptural law by means of the Greek method of allegory, assigning a human vice to every creature branded in the Bible as “unclean,” and reading into every prohibition a devout exhortation to man to take himself in hand and master his “unclean” passions and habits. Moreover, the dietary laws also taught the Jews about “the practice of virtue by frugality and abstinence” (Special Laws 101) The very idea of whether food can influence behavior is a subject that has long been debated since antiquity and still is being debated even today.

The Christian scholar George Foot Moore rejects this theory and feels there is neither internal nor external evidence to support this position (Judaism, 1, 1927, p. 21). He reasons:  “They were ancient customs, the origin and reason of which had long since been forgotten. Some of them are found among other Semites, or more widely; some were, so far as we know, peculiar to Israel; but as a whole, or we may say, as a system, they were the distinctive customs which the Jews had inherited from their ancestors with a religious sanction in the two categories of holy and polluted. Other peoples had their own, some of them for all classes, some, as among the Jews, specifically for the priests, and these systems also were distinctive” (op.cit., 21-22).

This takes us to the next part of our story . . . a man, who calls himself Pen Tivokeish–a rather ingenious and clever name. After being brainwashed by the Haredim, he is now very ambivalent about God. Who could blame him? Pen also happens to be a God-wrestler, just like my son.

Here is how his story began. While attending the Discovery Seminar at Aish HaTorah, Pen felt reasonably confident that the critical arguments justifying the belief in an historical Exodus, as well as the arguments refuting evolution and Genesis were unassailable. Or were they? Pen decided to refine his arguments on his own, and discovered that the answers he had ingested were no longer adequate. The more he investigated the issues on the Internet, the more the old Aish arguments began to unravel–along with his faith.

In the end, Pen decided to do what other Generation X-ers do–start a blog as a soliloquy for expressing their deepest spiritual yearnings.  By the way, he has a blog called Penned-In – a pun on both his own sense of confinement and his writing – has proved an outlet for “stuff I probably can’t say in any other settings”, he explained . . . .

Good idea, the spirit of Maimonides must be smiling on Pen Tevakashe.

Freud’s insights in the psychology of fundamentalists is especially poignant here. Freud writes in his Future of an Illusion, that any time people feel a compulsion to justify their faith by resorting to rational proofs, it is because they harbor an unconscious cynicism and really, deep down in their heart of hearts, do not believe in the theological rhetoric they have been forced-fed. Freud obviously describes what young people like Pen and Moshe have struggled with through much of their lives.

“Let us try to apply the same test to the teachings of religion. When we ask on what their claim to be believed is founded, we are met with three answers, which harmonize remarkably badly with one another. Firstly, these teachings deserve to be believed because they were already believed by our primal ancestors; secondly, we possess proofs which have been handed down to us from those same primeval times; and thirdly, it is forbidden to raise the question of their authentication at all.

In former days anything so presumptuous was visited with the severest penalties, and even to-day society looks askance at any attempt to raise the question again. This third point is bound to rouse out strongest suspicions. After all, a prohibition like this can only be for one reason–that society is very well aware of the insecurity of the claim it makes on behalf of its religious doctrines. Otherwise it would certainly be very ready to put the necessary data at the disposal of anyone who wanted to arrive at conviction. This being so, it is with a feeling of mistrust which it is hard to allay that we pass on to an examination of the other two grounds of proof. We ought to believe because our forefathers believed.

But these ancestors of ours were far more ignorant than we are. They believed in things we could not possibly accept to-day; and the possibility occurs to us that the doctrines of religion may belong to that class too. The proofs they have left us are set down in writings which themselves bear every mark of untrustworthiness. They are full of contradictions, revisions and falsifications, and where they speak of factual confirmations they are themselves unconfirmed . . .” [1]

Spinoza expressed similar complaints in his Theological-Political Treatise (c. 7).

Personally, I encourage my students to wrestle with faith; in the end, faith may be understood in rational terms, but it must be personally authenticated for it to become something real and meaningful. That is obviously the existentialist in me speaking, but I sincerely encourage my son Moshe and also  Pen Tivokeish to continue exploring the great questions that challenge us to expand our consciousness in this world.

Questioning is a good thing, and true believers need to embrace a little bit of skepticism in their thought processes. Maimonides was the first Jewish philosopher to view theological agnosticism as a good thing, for in the end, before we can define what we do believe in, we must first define what we don’t believe in. Faith is a process . . . .

For a starter, I think the best way to discover God is not through apologetics, or scholastic theology, but through the ethics of Levinas and Buber–both of whom, teach the theology of ethics. This is important point, for if the presence of the Creation intimates anything, it hints that God is a relational Being.

More to follow . . .

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Notes:

[1] Sigmund Freud and James Strachey, Peter Gay, The Future of an Illusion (New York:  W. W. Norton & Company, 1989), 33.

Whoever dwells in the goodness of his [God's nature dwells in God's love. Love, however, has no "Why." If I had a friend and loved him because of all the good I wished came to me through him, I would not love my friend, but myself. I ought to love my friend for his own goodness and for his own virtue and for everything that he is in himself. . . .This is exactly the way it is with people who are in God's love and who do not seek their own interest either in God or in themselves or in things of any kind. They must love God alone for his goodness and for the goodness of his nature and all the things he has in himself. This is the right kind of love." [1]

Rav Dessler arrives at a similar conclusion. If a person’s love for God does not produce a loving or awaken a loving response, then the love we profess in our prayers to have for God is powerless and ineffectual–the love of God must translate into a love for life.  Anything less is a love of that is based upon receiving rather than giving. If the goal of prayer is to promote our capacity to take, then the ultimate concern of prayer is not the worship of God but the worship of the human ego and desire.

The only way we can ever come to the sincere realization that God is truly a dispenser of love and mercy, occurs when we emulate God by giving of ourselves towards others.  This is the attitude we must cultivate in Jewish life today–especially in the synagogue, for if we continue promoting a philosophy of consumption, we may die from spiritual obesity. Creating a spiritual community takes hard work, caring, sharing in creating ambiance of mutual support.

(to be continued)

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Notes:

[1] Meister Eckhart and Mathew Fox(trans.)  Breakthrough–Meister Eckhart’s Creation Spirituality In New Translation (New York: Image, 1980), 206-207

[2] Rabbi Eliyahu E. Dessler and Aryeh Carmer (trans.) Strive for Truth (Jerusalem: Feldheim, 2004), 95-125.

One of the most intriguing critiques regarding prayer expressed in Late Antiquity, comes from one of the most famous and brilliant of the Early Church Fathers–Origen (c. 185-254). Deeply influenced by Hellenistic thought, Origen felt that the idea of asking God for things seemed absurd, for if God is omniscient, He knows what we need without us having to tell Him so. Furthermore, if God is good, He will give us want we need without being asked. He writes:

God knows all things before they come into being and there is no nothing becomes known to him from the fact of its beginning for the first time when it begins, as though it were not previously known. What need then is there to send up prayer  to him who knows what we need even before we pray? For the Heavenly Father knows what things we need of before we ask him (Matthew 2 6:8). And it is fitting that he, being Father and Maker of all who loves all things that are, and abhors nothing which he has made (Wisdom 11:24), should order in safety all that has to do with each one, even without  prayer, like a father provides for his little children, and does not wait for them to ask, either because they are quite unable to ask, or because through ignorance they often want to receive the opposite of what is of use and help to them. And we fall short of God more than those who are quiet children fall short of mind of those who begot them.” [1]

Among modern philosophers, Immanuel Kant wrote nothing about the efficacy about petitional prayer in any of his three great critiques, but in his  philosophic classic, Religion Within the Limits of Reason, Kant  blasted petitionary prayer much in the style of Origen and Maimonides:

“Praying, thought of as an inner formal service of God and [183] hence as a means of grace, is a superstitious illusion (a fetish-making); for it is no more than a stated wish directed to a Being who needs no such information regarding the inner disposition of the wisher; therefore nothing is accomplished by it, and it discharges none of the duties to which, as commands of God, we are obligated; hence God is not really served. A heart-felt wish to be well-pleasing to God in our every act and abstention, or in other words, the disposition, accompanying all our actions, to perform these as though they were being executed in the service of God, is the spirit of prayer which can, and should, be present in us ‘without ceasing.’ But to clothe this wish (even though it be but inwardly) in words . . . ”

He notes, “It is no more than a stated wish directed to a Being who needs no such information regarding the inner dispositions of the wisher; therefore nothing, is accomplished by it, and it discharges none of the duties to which, as commanded of God, we are obligated, hence God is not really served.” [2]

As we mentioned above, Maimonides probably would have agreed.

However, not every modern Jewish thinker thinks so critically about prayer. Rabbi Eliahau Dessler, one of the 20th century’s greatest  Judaic teachers of  the Mussar Movement, takes a different tact. According to Rav Dessler, utilizing prayer as a means for obtaining goods is nothing more than spiritual consumerism; such religious devotion cheapens the very act of worship.

Once this happens, the worshiper becomes what he terms as “a spiritual taker” and that all his/her prayers will  inevitably be by definition, devoid of sincerity. True prayer must divest itself from any tinge of selfish interest for profit. Every worshiper should specifically pray that, “May God’s Name be sanctified through me.” He adds, “If we are to be solicitous of anything, we should pray our prayers should enable us to pursue our ultimate goal and concern: to increase the light of God’s Presence in the world.

The goal of all worship should not be aimed at taking from God whatever we want but instead ought to be dedicated towards giving, for it is by giving we can discover Transcendence. We become most like God only when we give of ourselves. Rav Dessler’s point reminds me of a well known aphorism of the 20th century preacher Harry Emerson Fosdick, who  often said, “God is not a cosmic bellboy for whom we can press a button to get things done.”

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Notes:

[1] Origen and Eric George Day (trans), Treatise on Prayer (London: SPCK, 1954), 94.

[2] Immanuel Kant and Stephen R. Palmquist (trans.), Kant’s Critical Religion (Farnham, UK: Ashgate Pub Ltd, 2000), 456.

I thought it would be nice to focus on a topic that I think many of us struggle with–prayer. Here are a few of my meditations.

In our modern age, it is not uncommon for people to think of traditional prayer as childish, if not absurd. Many years ago, I came across an interesting theological objection to the enterprise of petitionary  prayer: If God is allegedly “Omniscient,” then surely God knows what we mortals need, without having us to remind Him!” The question gets even more complex. The individual of the 21^st century generally believes more in the physics of natural law than the metaphysics of mysticism.

In a universe governed by natural law, is asking God to alter the laws of physics even appropriate? To petition God in prayer, or to suggest that God can somehow be persuaded to “change His mind,” or show “sympathy” and “mercy” is, from a strict Maimonidean perspective, theologically pointless—even ridiculous. Following Maimonides’ attitude on this subject, the late Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth, Lord Jakobovits plainly admits:

“What purpose can be served by formulating our pleas to God? Does the all-knowing God, who knows our needs better than we do, require their articulation of what we feel in our hearts? Still more difficult theologically, how can we hope by prayer to change His will? Our very belief in the efficacy of our petitions would seem to challenge God’s immutability, and even questions His justice, since we should assume that whatever fate He decrees for man is essentially just; why, therefore, do we seek to reverse it?…  But such questions are based on a false, indeed pagan, understanding of prayer as a means of pacifying and propitiating the deity and thus of earning its favors. It was against these perverse notions that the Hebrew Prophets directed their denunciations so fiercely when they fulminated against the heathen form of sacrifices, the original form of worship later replaced by prayer. Like sacrifices, prayer is intended to change man not God. Its purpose is to cultivate a contrite heart, to promote feelings of humility and inadequacy in man, whilst encouraging reliance on Divine assistance. Through prayer, the worshiper becomes chastened, gains moral strength and intensifies the quest of spirituality, thereby turning into a person worthy of response to his pleas.” [1]

According to Maimonides, it is not God who must do the “changing,” rather it is humankind that must do the changing, through prayer and the spirit of penitence. Once the individual changes his/her attitudes and behavior, their perception of God in the world will become greatly enhanced. Maimonides’ attitude is consistent with his other ideas about progressive religion; the Torah sometimes adopts practices that may not necessarily be philosophically sound, but nevertheless serve as a stop-gap until humanity’s next step in its spiritual development and evolution.

Indeed, without these measures being taken, humankind will never evolve to a higher form of worship. In terms of its functional value, intercessory and petitionary prayer serves more of a heuristic purpose in reminding the worshiper that Israel governed by purely secular forces that operate in the world. To eliminate this type of prayer would only lead to national cynicism of Israel’s spiritual vocation.

In one famous passage of the Guide, Maimonides confesses that in evolutionary terms, petitionary prayer represents only a relative improvement over the animal sacrifices the Israelites offered in ancient times. Still and all, as a religious pragmatist, Maimonides knew that purging the liturgy of all its anthropomorphic metaphors would be regarded by the masses as a scandalous act. It would be like Moses attempting to eradicate the Israelite’s desire to offer sacrifices as a way of worship. Had he done so, he certainly would have met stiff resistance!

. . .  At that time this would have been similar to the appearance of a prophet in these times, calling upon the people to worship God, would say, “God has given you a Law forbidding you to pray to Him, to fast, to call upon Him for help in misfortune. Your worship should consist solely in meditation without any works at all.[2]

Although intercessory prayer is a concession fraught with linguistic pitfalls, Maimonides felt convinced that most human beings are, unfortunately, incapable of experiencing the grandeur of contemplative meditation. The true worshiper knows the limitations of the spoken word, and realizes that there is no earthly analogy that can do justice in describing the Creator. Yet, were we to eliminate intercessory prayer from the liturgy, the very fabric of our religious and spiritual life would unravel and ultimately disappear.

Regardless of Maimonides’ ambivalence about the nature of intercessory or petitionary prayer, he accepted its place in the spiritual evolution of human consciousness. Perhaps Maimonides felt that this was a small price for the eventual good that it would eventually germinate. God does not work against human nature, but instead patiently prods it along, directing it towards its ultimate destiny. Perhaps as human beings developed, simplistic prayer would eventually be replaced with the silence of the contemplative meditative experience.

But was Maimonides really correct? Stay tuned for more!

[1] S. Singer and Immanuel Jakobovits (foreword), The Authorised Daily Prayer Book of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth (Cambridge: Press Syndicate of University of Cambridge), xvi.

[2] Guide of the Perplexed, Shlomo Pines (tr.), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), 526.

During the days of Enosh, humankind made a serious mistake, and the wise men of that generation gave foolish advise. Enosh himself was one of those who erred. Here is what developed: They said for as much that God created the stars and the celestial planets with which to control the world. He placed them on high and treated them with honor, making them servants who minister before Him. Therefore, it is only fitting to praise and glorify them and to accord them with honor. The ancients perceived this to be the will of the Blessed Holy One, that they aggrandize  and give homage to those whom He magnified and honored. Just as a king desires to be honored by the servants  who stand before him. Indeed by doing so, they thought they were in fact honoring the King.  After considering this notion, they began to construct temples to the stars and offered sacrifices to them. The ancients would praise and glorify the heavenly hosts with words while prostrating themselves before them, because by doing so, they thought they would be fulfilling God’s will. This was the essence of idolatry, and the  justification given by  those who worshiped them.  Originally, the ancients did not say there is any other god except for this star. . . .[1]

Maimonides contends that  the ancients eventually forgot about the one true God. It was far easier for them to believe in what was visible rather someone or something that was invisible.  They assumed that all the celestial powers were vested in whatever representation they chose to worship.

Some theories dating back to the ancient Greeks proposed an equally intriguing theory about the origin of religion. The founder of atomism,  Democritus (ca. 460?-370? BCE), was among the first thinkers to suggest that the gods were nothing more than physical phenomena that appear to mankind, and only  “appeared” to speak. This belief arouse from early man’s terror of the solar eclipse, thunder, and so on.  The belief in these “deities” made it necessary for the ignorant, ethically stunted to refrain from wrongdoing only through the fear of punishment, and not because they regarded morality as essential for their happiness.

In some of Plato’s writings, the famed philosopher felt that the belief in gods were necessary, in order to curb human wickedness and corruption. The belief in gods presupposed there is an order to the universe, and if there were indeed no gods, then the order of the heavens must be an accident. [2]  Several other Greek and Roman thinkers saw a kinship between superstition and religion. In its earliest Latin literary usage by Plautus and Ennius, superstitio was already a negative term describing divination, magic, and “bad religion” in general. Cicero gives a concrete example, explaining that “those who spent whole days in prayer and offered sacrifices, that their children might outlive them, are called superstitious” [3].

For classical Roman observers like Seneca, Lucretius, and Cicero, and Livy superstition meant erroneous, false, or excessive religious behaviors stemming from ignorance of philosophical and scientific truths about the laws of nature.  Such ignorance was associated with the common people (vulgus) and with the countryside (pagus), so that superstitious behavior as practiced by simple old men and women.

In Cicero’s On Divination, the philosopher concludes that religion was useful because it helped to control human behavior and could be used as a tool for public policy; and in this context divination could be useful too (as when an unwise political decision was prevented by the announcement that the omens were unfavorable). To many of these thinkers, the ancients “invented” the belief in gods as “a noble lie,” a necessary crutch (or as an “illusion” as formulated by Freud) or simple and ignorant people to believe that these deities have the means for securing blessing and avoiding disaster.

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Notes:

[1] Maimonides, MT Hilchot Avodat Kokavim 3:9

[2] Plato, Republic III, 414b.

[3] Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 2.28

“Anyone who covets a servant, a maidservant, a house or utensils that belong to a colleague, or any other article that he can purchase from him and pressures him with friends and requests until he agrees to sell it to him, violates a negative commandment,even though he pays much money for it, the Torah states,  “Do not covet” (Exod. 20:14). This is not the kind of commandment that would be subject to corporeal punishment, for the thought of coveting does not involve a deed. However, once a person takes possession of the article he covets, “Do not covet the gold and silver on these statues and take it for yourself” (Deut. 7:25), then he has transformed the thought of coveting into a deed . . .

Anyone desiring a home, a wife, utensils, or anything that belongs to another that he can acquire from him, is guilty of violating the biblical proscription regarding coveting–-from the time he thinks in his heart, “How is it possible to acquire this from him?” and his heart is aroused by this matter, as the Torah states “Do not desire” – “desire “ is directed only within the human heart.”

Thus according to Maimonides, there are two prohibitions: the covetous desire and the act that is involved in obtaining his neighbor’s property. Some rabbinic scholars differ. [2]

Maimonides adds, “The moment one entertains the thought how to obtain a neighbor’s possessions, e.g., a  home, a wife, utensils, he violates the injunction against coveting, for the Torah makes it clear: “Do not desire….”  (Deut. 5:18), for desire belongs to feelings of the heart and nothing else. Coveting is so serious because it leads to  robbery. Should an owner refuse to part with his property, the one who covets may act upon his desire and decide to rob his neighbor of his belongings, as it is written, “They covet fields, and seize them; houses, and they take them; They cheat an owner of his house, a man of his inheritance” (Micah 2:2). In the event the victim stands up and attempts to rescue his property, the covetous man may decide to murder his victim, as we see in the story of Ahab and Naboth in  1 Kings 21:1-29.” [3]

On the other hand, Ibn Ezra asks a famous question: How can the Torah forbid a person to covet? Actions are surely easier to control, but how can one control a feeling? If one has a desire for something that another person has, is it reasonable to expect him to banish that desire?

Ibn Ezra provides an intriguing psychological response: Suppose someone told a greedy person that in a far-away kingdom, there are mountains of gold and precious gems, and that one could literally  become wealthy by hauling off buckets of gold and jewels. Although he might desire such opulence, he would never indulge his fantasy by giving it serious thought since it is so far removed from him. In other words, consider whatever you desire to be unattainable and beyond your reach.

However, some Jewish medieval moralists take sharp issue with this point. One early 15th century rabbinic scholar (who kept his name anonymous) argues that the Bible is concerned about acting upon one’s impulses. It follows that the more one obsesses about another person’s wealth or belongings, the more one is apt to actually sin. Thus it is not the flickering thought of coveting that is forbidden here, it is when one seriously takes the time to actualize a sinful thought. The following story may serve as an example:

There was once a man who had a wicked neighbor whose property was separated from his own by a wall- This wicked man lusted after his neighbor’s wife and some of his possessions. One Friday, he heard his neighbor telling his wife: “I want to go away for the day on business,” and he did so.

What did this wicked man do?

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Notes:

[1] Maimonides, MT Hilchot Gzelah v’ Avedah 1:9. There are several other interesting laws Maimonides mentions regarding coveting, but in the interest of time, we will save them for a future posting.

[2] S’mag and Saadia Gaon consider coveting as only one general proscription. S’mag argues, “If Maimonides were correct, it would suggest that the Torah considered desiring a neighbor’s house to be as serious as desiring his wife! However, we must conclude that when the Torah utilizes the terms “desire” and “covet,” they must be understood as synonyms.”

[3] MT Hilchot Gzelah v’ Avedah 1:10-13.

In the world of the psyche, the imagination runs amok in our unconscious and conscious minds. Our dreams bear witness to this mysterious reality where the line between the real and the unreal seem to conflate. The Talmud actually has a pretty sophisticated treatment of demons. In one of the more remarkable passages of the Talmud, we find:

Abba Benjamin says, If the eye had the power to see them, no creature could endure the Mazikin [the "damagers"]

Abaye says: They are more numerous than we are and they surround us like the ridge round a field.

R. Huna says: Every one among us has a thousand on his left and ten thousand on his right (Psalm 91:7).

Raba says: The crushing in the Kallah lectures comes from them.  Fatigue in the knees comes from them. The wearing out of the clothes of the scholars is due to their rubbing against them. The bruising of the feet comes from them. If one wants to discover them,  let him take sifted ashes and sprinkle around his bed, and in the morning he will see something like the footprints of a rooster. If one wishes to see them, let him take the placenta of a black she-cat that is the offspring of a black she-cat that is the first-born of a first-born, let him roast it the placenta in fire and grind it to powder, and then let him put some into his eye, and he will see them. Let him also pour it into an iron tube and seal it with an iron signet that they the demons should not steal it from him. Let him also close his mouth, lest he come to harm.

R. Bibi b. Abaye did so,  saw them and came to harm. The scholars, however, prayed for him and he recovered.[1]

Most of you reading this probably think some of the rabbis may have been taking hallucinatory drugs. This is one interpretation we cannot rule out. As we suggested above, the rabbis might have been describing frightening dreams or nightmares they experienced. We do not really know the original context that fueled these interesting discussions. In the spirit of open-minded discussion, it pays not to rush and invalidate points of view that we make find disagreeable. 

Jewish Rationalism to the Rescue!

Rationalists like Maimonides, Ibn Ezra, and Gersonides viewed demons, amulets, and other talismans as superstitious beliefs.[2] The fact that these medieval scholars espoused such an unpopular idea, sets them apart from the rest of the medieval world that accepted these folk beliefs. In one Talmudic passage we find,”It was taught: If food and drink are kept under the bed, even if they are covered in iron vessels, an evil spirit rests upon them” ergo, one should not eat the food. [3]  Note how Maimonides reconstructs the law, “A person should not place a cooked dish under the couch on which he is reclining, even though he is in the midst of his meal, lest an entity that could harm him fall into the food without his noticing.” [4] True to form, Maimonides demythologizes the Talmud, and one does not find any references of demons throughout his Halachic work.

The Invisible World Within Us

Maimonides’ interpretation is interesting from a more modern and scientific perspective. If the human eye were capable of seeing the actual size of bacteria and parasites that exist on the human body, one would certainly go mad. Scientists observe that the human body is made up of more bacteria than anything else. Millions of bacterial cells found within one human body are  could probably fill a half-gallon jug!  Each of us is one big playground for all kinds of germs and fungi. Bodily bacteria serves both negative and positive functions; some perform essential actions – like helping us process food while others occasionally mutating to make us ill. The hydrochloric acid in the human stomach can destroy virtually all bacteria, but there is a resilient type of species called Helicobacter pylori that is the exception to the rule. This germ is capable of penetrating and colonizing the mucus lining of the stomach, where it can cause a number of gastrointestinal diseases like peptic ulcers and gastritis.

CBS Syndrome

Fellow blogger named Aharon Varady came up with an ingenious concept that is intriguing. According to him, the Talmudic passage we have here may be referring to an illness called Charles Bonnet Syndrome (CBS). This disease  is characterized by bizarre and vivid visual hallucinations. Interestingly, people who suffer from CBS aren’t mentally ill but have visual impairments such as macular degeneration. Even weirder is that the hallucinations often involve characters or things that are much smaller in size than reality.

Of course, each of the four interpretations we have given so far represent a more modern re-reading of a Talmudic text, but the beauty of the Talmud is the fact that even its most arcane sections can lead to some very fascinating deconstructions.

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Notes:

[1] BT  Berakhot, 6a.

[2] Maimonides, MT Hilchot Gerushin, 2:13;  Guide, i. 7; Maimonides’ Commentary to Mishnah Pesachim 4: 11, and Abot 5:6; Ibn Ezra on Lev. 17: 7. Each of these scholars denied the existence of demons.

[3] BT Pesachim 112a.

[4] Maimonides, MT Hilchot Rotseach 12:5.

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