In Late Antiquity the Greek cynic and philosopher Epicurus fleshes out the cognitive dissonance people experience when contemplating the problem of theodicy:

1. Is God unable to prevent evil?

2. Is God unwilling to prevent evil?

3. If God is able and willing to prevent evil, then where does evil come from?

4. If God is neither able nor willing to prevent evil, then why do we call him “god”?

If God micromanages creation, as the Flood narrative seems to teaches, then why does the Creator tolerate natural evil? More to the point: Is all natural evil directly or indirectly due to moral evil? When the Lisbon earthquake struck in 1759, many skeptics wondered how God could allow such a devastating disaster to strike. From the modern critical perspective, the story of the Flood raises serious issues regarding the relationship between natural evil, commonly referred to as “acts of God,” and God’s justice.  In the case of moral evil, the impact felt by the victim is identifiable and with the help of the law, the perpetrator(s) can be brought to justice. But natural evil poses a different kind of problem. One cannot subpoena an earthquake or a fire, or a disease after they strike. When natural evil strikes, the effects leave for the most part, little positive benefits with nobody to blame—except God.

After the Lisbon earthquake, the French philosopher Voltaire articulated his own brand of Epicurean doubt. Voltaire wondered how religious people could still refer to God as “benevolent” or “loving” after the death of so many thousands of innocents. In response to Voltaire’s criticism, his fellow Frenchman, Jean Jacques Rousseau argued that human beings must take the primary responsibility for what happened during the Lisbon earthquake. Poorly designed structural buildings, along with a lack of thoughtful urban planning and human error, played a role in the corporate damage the earthquake caused. A superiorly designed city might have suffered much less casualties and death. [1]

It is remarkable and ironic that Voltaire would put greater reliance on God given his penchant for upsetting the local ecclesiastical authorizes on matters of faith. It is no less ironic to see one of the great secular philosophers of his age, Rousseau, defend God’s order of creation with the vim and vigor of a skilled theologian.  “If,” as the philosopher Susan Neiman writes, “Enlightenment is the courage to think for oneself; it is also the courage to assume responsibility for the world which one is thrown into.”[2]  This message applies to all the genocides that we have witnessed in the last 100 years or more. Mature faith calls for diligence and activism.

Rousseau and Voltaire’s debate could apply no less to the destruction of New Orleans produced by Hurricane Katrina. Voltaire would certainly condemn the faith of those who believed in a benevolent deity. By the same token, Voltaire would have also scoffed at the religious leaders of today who saw Katrina as a divine tribulation for the city’s brazen sins. Religious leaders from numerous faiths ascribed a variety of reasons as to why Hurricane Katrina was so devastating. Some leaders blamed the licentious life-style of New Orleans[3], while others claimed it was divine retribution for the United States’ support of the removal of Jewish settlers in the Gaza Strip.[4] Buddhist and Hindu scholars blamed it on karma, while Muslim across the globe imams proclaimed in unison, “The Terrorist Katrina is one of the Soldiers of Allah…”[5]

One can only respond with the famous words of Thomas Hobbes, who popularized this ancient Roman proverb, Homo homini lupus—“man is wolf to man.”

Evidently, according to these religious men, God never left the Flood Business.  But on a more serious note,  Katrina illustrates how the various bodies of government (e.g., the City of New Orleans, the State of Louisiana, the Federal Government, FEMA, the Mayor, the Governor, the President, the local residents, and so on) failed to make maximum use of the resources available. Local officials knew in advanced that this type of storm was possible and that the levees could break. Why was nothing done about it? Why were the monies allocated for rebuilding the levees not utilized decades after they were collected from the government? Why was there no effective evacuation plan? Why did it take so long for the relief agencies to respond? How the local inhabitants compound the problem with their disregard for the law. Although the weather was fierce, the onus of Katrina’s damage did not come from the weather but from the systemic breakdown of government.

The Lisbon earthquake and Hurricane Katrina represents only one kind of theological dilemma involving theodicy. On December 26, 2004, an undersea earthquake measuring 9.3 100 miles off the western coast of Sumatra, Indonesia produced the second largest earthquake in recorded history and generated massive tsunamis. Over 230,000 people lost their lives in just a matter of hours. Given the destructive force of the tsunamis, would Rousseau agree with Voltaire, and hold God responsible for the tsunamis?

Not necessarily.

One could logically argue that given the technology, wealth, and information we possess of weather patterns and seismic conditions, nations can now take steps to help minimize natural catastrophes. Tectonic plates will continue to shift; magma from volcanoes will continue to explode with fiery force; the wind will continue to generate hurricanes and tornadoes (which incidentally, were also detected on the planet Saturn—a place far removed from human habitation).

Natural law will not change; yet, when these disasters occur, people of good faith can bring tikkun (repair) through a tsunami of compassion. When God enjoined Adam to, “Fill the earth and subdue it!” (Gen. 1:28), the biblical narrator may have had this type of thought in mind. “Conquering the earth” may very well involve fixing nature’s many imperfections. A mature faith in God requires that we be responsive to the various mishaps and flaws of creation through a covenantal co-relationship with the Divine.

Among the medieval theologians, Aquinas argued that all types of natural disaster derive from the fact that they are earthly phenomena, which are by their very constitution prone to corruption and dissolution.[6] A physical world based on the laws of physics, has no choice but to be subject to the reverberating fluctuations of imperfection. Only in the truly spiritual realm are entities believed to be bereft of deficiency. Thomistic theology asserts that had Adam refrained from sinning, his physical constitution would have been completely subservient to the soul’s spiritual life-force (a point which Augustine and Ramban both agree). Natural evil would exist, but it would not have any effect upon him; Adam and his progeny would have remained spiritual supermen, completely unaffected by aberrant changes in the environment. The human capacity to exercise ethical judgment would remain unimpaired, due to the soul’s complete harmony with the body, which God ensures. However, in a “fallen world,” humankind must come to terms with the world’s state of disrepair.

This writer takes sharp issue with Aquinas’ view that the world is “fallen,” but would agree that we have to come to terms with the world’s state of disrepair.” Maimonides stresses time and time again that natural law will operate on this planet whether man exists or not. Much of our problem with the natural evil that occurs in this world is due to a mistaken belief that is human-centric. As human beings, because of our higher intelligence we get disturbed at the great loss of life that occurs whenever a hurricane or a tsunami strikes. Animals do not obsess over the question: Why do bad things happen to good lions or tigers? Nature seems to accept the inherent randomness of the universe. We suffer perhaps because we tend to think our technology can save us; while that is certainly true some of the time, it is not true all the time.

In Genesis 1:31, the biblical narrator tells us, “God saw everything that he had made and indeed, it was very good.” Some subtleties get lost in translation, and this verse illustrates this point well.  Every aspect of Creation, from the most majestic galaxies to the most infinitesimal particle, functions as God intended it to.[7]  In my Genesis commentary on this verse I wrote:

• Although the term “good”  טוֹב (tôb) appears six times earlier [8] in the creation narrative, here it appears for the seventh time to symbolize completeness. The peshat reveals that it is only after God has created humankind—after His image and likeness—that Creation graduates from being merely “good” to becoming “very good.” Some Jewish mystics observed that the letters of the word מְאֹד (mĕ’ōd = “very”) may also be read as an anagram for אָדָם (‘ādām = “human being”).^[9]

In a Talmud class I had just given last night, I was privileged to hear a most wonderful insight from a young 17 year old student named Austin, who has a promising career as a future zoologist. He pointed out that pine cones have a very unusual way of releasing its seeds. Pine cones remain tightly closed until the cones are heated at an extremely hot temperature, as in the case of a forest fire. At the death of the parent pine cone, the seeds are then released, which produce future pine trees. The story about the pine cones illustrates that in the face of a natural catastrophic event, like when a lightning bolt strikes a dry patch producing a raging forest fire; something can arise from the ashes of death itself–even when we least expect it.

Continue Reading

A number of Judaic scholars explain בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים to mean “in the image of the angels.”[1] However, some medieval rabbinic scholars differ. In the spirit of Midrashic exegesis, R. David Kimchi (1160-1235) and others[2] take a different approach, suggesting that God solicited all of Creation to participate in humankind’s formation; the Creator intended for a human being be a composite of the spiritual and the terrestrial realms. Jewish mystics also tend to see all parts of Creation—from the spiritual heights of the heavenly realm to the nether regions of the earth—converging in humankind.

Modern anthropology illustrates the wisdom of Kimchi’s insight. Humankind also derives many of its basic personality traits not only from God—but from nature.[3] The philosopher, Michael Shermer, observes that morality is not unique to human beings, per se, but can be seen in the animal kingdom as well:

• The following characteristics appear to be shared by humans and other mammals, including and especially the apes, monkeys, dolphins and whales: attachment and bonding, cooperation and mutual aid, sympathy and empathy, direct and indirect reciprocity, altruism and reciprocal altruism, conflict resolution and peacemaking, deception and deception detection, community concern and caring what others think about you, and awareness and response to the social rules of the group. Species differ in the degree to which they express these sentiments, and with our exceptionally large brains (especially the well-developed and highly convoluted cortex) we express most of them in greater degrees than other species. Nevertheless, the fact that such premoral sentiments exist in our nearest evolutionary cousins may be a strong indication of their evolutionary origins. Still, something profound happened in the last 100,000 years that made us—and no other species—moral animals unprecedented in nature.[4]
  

Biologist Lyall Watson also takes a scientific look at the existence of evil, and like Shermer, he sees a mutual affinity between human and animal behavior. Watson once observed a group of young penguins standing on the edge of an ice floe, learning how to swim. Fearful that there might be a leopard seal lurking in the murky waters, the penguins stood their ground and refused to go into the water. As thousands of penguins crowded on the floe, some pushing occurred from the back of the ranks until one of the penguins slipped into the water. After the lone penguin entered the water, a leopard-seal suddenly appeared and ate the small creature.

Reticently, the other penguins backed off until eventually, the group pushed another one of its members into the water. Sure enough, the leopard-seal reappeared and swallowed the second penguin as well. The same process occurred again, and by the fourth time, apparently, the leopard-seal had eaten enough and the fourth penguin was left safe and sound. Afterwards, the entire penguin group jumped in and enjoyed the swimming as if they hadn’t a care in the world. From this incident, Watson deduced that selfishness and cowardice are not just human traits; there are many other species of animals that share these qualities as well.[5]

From a theological perspective, one could say that since God created humanity as a microcosm of the created order, it is only natural that humankind would possess all these traits as part of its moral and evolutionary constitution.  Our genetic makeup as a species is hardwired for survival. Driven by a ruthless and determined desire to survive, the success of a species depends upon its ability to reproduce itself, in spite of the odds that face it. Only by understanding the nature of our genetic history, as Watson and Shermer (and others) have formidably argued, will we ever be able to rise above our genetic heritage.

Our ability to see life in synergistic terms is another aspect that makes us different from the rest of Creation. This self-awareness enables us as a species to transcend our own biological evolution by probing the mystery and nature of our being. The actual source of evil does not exclusively derive from the “Fall.” On a deeper level, evil may also emanate from a natural source, which humankind shares with the rest of the animal kingdom.[6] Our will to survive by any means possible, at least in neo- Darwinian terms, may partially explain why human tragedies of the Holocaust and other genocides continue to plague civilization even in the 21^st century.

So, how does one define the uniqueness of the Divine image in an age of scientific awareness and incredulity? How do human beings differ from their evolutionary predecessors? Shermer notes there are several aspects that make human beings different from the rest of the animal world, and they are (1) self-awareness and knowledge that others are also self-aware; (2) possessing the ability for human choice and freedom; (3) awareness of one’s own consciousness; (4) the ability to utilize symbolic logic in evaluating and determining ethical behavior; (5) recognizing the consequences of one’s deeds; (6) taking responsibility for one’s decisions. From a religious perspective, I would add that humankind’s ability to respond to a Higher Authority outside of one’s own psyche is also indicative of a human spiritual vocation. In the final analysis, the ability to experience personal transformation, individuation and transcendence is what makes human beings more Continue Reading

James L. Kugel, a Modern Orthodox rabbinic scholar, demonstrates a willingness to engage and integrate the historical-critical methods of biblical criticism, especially remarkable when considering his theological background and training. Kugel points out several other differences between the P school vis-à-vis the J school, which are deserving of special mention. Speaking as someone who was trained originally in the Hassidic tradition, I can personally attest to the courage and intellectual integrity Kugel possesses. Most Orthodox scholars would never have the strength of religious convictions to express the kind of ideas Kugel champions in his writings. Bravo! The following article is Part I of my con-versation with James Kugel that I wrote in my new commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).”

WARNING: The article is fairly lengthy and probably too technical for people who are unfamiliar with the basic theories of the Documentary Hypothesis. If reading gets too boring, do what I do–skip it! For those who are more of the stout of heart, enjoy!

=======

According to Kugel, P’s theology contains some of the most “chilling conceptions” the ancients ever had about the Deity:

• It was already noticed that the God of Genesis 2-3 had a more “hands-on” approach to creating the world than the God of chapter 1, attributed by scholars to P. In chapter 1, God simply speaks and things happen—suddenly there is light, suddenly there is a firmament, and so forth. One would not be wrong to characterize this God as somewhat more impersonal. But even this description is more personal than the God revealed in later portions of the priestly text, according to scholars. Recent analysis has in fact highlighted the difference between the way God is depicted in the priestly parts of Genesis and the way He is depicted after that. In P’s part of Leviticus, for example, God does not speak in the first person, “I will do this” or “I have ordered that”—not even to Moses. It is as if P seeks to deny that God can be thought of as a person-like Being, one who can say “I.” So too, P’s God does not personally punish people; punishment just somehow falls on wrongdoers and they are “cut off” (in the passive voice) or otherwise disciplined (P doesn’t say how). Nor does He personally forgive; instead; it is forgiven to the sinner who makes good his infraction. P’s version of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai is consistent with this picture; Moses enters the cloud and hears a voice, but the people outside hear nothing at all.  All this seems to correspond to something profound in P’s theology.[1]

Clearly, there is scriptural support to Kugel’s theological position. However, closer scrutiny reveals that P’s depiction of the image of God is not really as “impersonal” as Kugel asserts. For example, it is no linguistic fluke that the divine epithet אֱלֹהִים (‘élöhîm) also means “judge,” for God creates the universe according to a template of order and justice. When a human being adheres to the divine harmony that pervades the cosmos through observing the precepts of the Torah, earthly existence literally becomes enlightened and unencumbered. Life is a journey where every human act carries within it the seeds of its own well-being and life destiny. Alternatively, the sinful act unleashes forces that will engulf and self-destruct the wrongdoer, or at the very least, make one’s life difficult to manage. This thought is captured beautifully in Psalm 1:

Happy are those who do not follow the counsel of the wicked,

Nor follow the path of sinners,

Or has joined the company of the impudent;

Rather, the teaching of the Lord is his delight,

God’s teaching they study day and night.

They are like a tree planted beside streams of water,

That yields fruit in its season,

Whose foliage never wither,

And whatever it produces thrives.

But the wicked are different!

They are like the chaff driven by the wind

Therefore, the wicked cannot survive judgment

Nor will sinners be in the assembly of the just

The LORD loves the way of the just

But the path of the wicked leads to ruination

Psalm 1:1-7

Psalm 1 stresses that throughout our existence we must learn to recognize the difference between the wheat from the chaff, and the real from the illusory; we must consciously choose between the experience of being connected with the divine, or the feeling of being spiritually anxious and homeless. Regardless of our individual choices, one thoughtful or thoughtless action impacts the world. This message runs like a stream of consciousness throughout the Genesis narratives.

However, this theological notion is certainly not at all unique to P but is present in the theology of J as well, a good example being the story of the Exodus. When YHWH commands mighty Pharaoh to release the Israelites, the Egyptian monarch soon discovers that there are consequences to his disobedience. Soon, his entire country is plagued by a series of natural disasters that bring misery and suffering to all of his people. Nature, herself, rebels against the rule of tyranny and attempts to set the record straight once and for all. The great spiritual “chain of being” found in the tradition of P, is equally present in the stories attributed to J and not just P, as Kugel claims.

Kugel further asserts that in Leviticus, God does not speak to mortals in the first person.[2]  Evidence for such a theory seems inconclusive. The fact remains that there are ample instances where God does speak in the first person, as personal pronouns appear throughout Leviticus, which is the locus classicus of priestly texts.[3] These passages are replete with numerous anthropomorphisms that one would not expect to see if P truly had an aversion for using them. Note, also, that whenever God says, “I will . . . ,” it is always spoken in the context of a dialogue with His covenantal party. There is absolutely nothing “impersonal” about this exchange between God and Moses, or with Aaron and the Israelite people. God is also portrayed by the Holiness Code of Lev. 19 as being intensely personal and concerned with ethical human conduct. Therefore, P appears to be more concerned with the human condition than Kugel is willing to acknowledge.

Still, in Leviticus 26-28, P paints a very different picture. God does announce that He will take it upon Himself to personally afflict wrongdoers (note the repetitive phrase, “I will . . .”) who violate the commandments. Thus, the biblical language illustrated in Leviticus 26-27 is as anthropomorphic in its imagery as any passage found in the J tradition. In each of these passages, the Creator is always depicted as playing an active role in administering retribution whenever it is warranted.

• Prayer, Sacrifice and the Priestly Theological View 

One of the most extraordinary claims Kugel makes pertains to the relationship between sacrifice and prayer:

• Perhaps the most striking thing to scholars about the God of P is that people do not pray to Him. The book of Psalms is full of prayers and songs of praise to God, many of them quite ancient, and scholars have established that the majority of these psalms were composed to be recited in God’s “house,” the temple where He was deemed to be present.  But a reader of P would never guess that this was so. P describes in great detail the offerings in the temple, but he never says a word about prayers or songs being recited there. In fact, in P people never pray; what good would it do? P’s God is an almost impersonal force. So, too, the ancient festive hymns praising Him are never mentioned in P either . . . . . . In our own modern society, such a vision of God might actually appear comforting to some. After all, without quite putting the thought in words, we live in a world that is based on ruling out a role for the divine in daily life. That would suit P just fine—keep supporting the temple, he would say, and we’ll keep offering the sacrifices. Meanwhile, political upheavals, natural catastrophes, the suffering of the righteous—these are not problems for P’s theology; God is enthroned in splendid isolation. He has no interests in thank-yous, so save your breath.[4]

Kugel assumes that sacrifice did not co-exist with prayer, yet, in Hosea 14:3 we find: וּנְשַׁלְּמָה פָרִים שְׂפָתֵינוּ (û|nüšallümâ pärîm Süpätêºnû) “Instead of bulls we will pay the offering of our lips” (NJPS), which suggests that prayer is the equivalent of sacrifice, or, prayer is a replacement for sacrifice. The Talmud bears this wisdom out: “With what shall we replace the bullocks we formerly offered to You? ‘Our lips,’ in the prayer we pray to thee.[5] Rabbinic tradition attributes the institution of prayer to the patriarchs[6] or to a Mosaic decree and this tradition has remained an important part of the sacrificial cult since its inception.[7] Perhaps it could be said in defense of Kugel’s claim, that the Hosea passage represents an evolutionary change in the theological imagination of ancient Israel; Hosea expresses a thought that is not present in P—at least as it is understood in the Pentateuch. However, closer study of the Leviticus texts does not bear this out. If anything, the imagery of Hosea is predicated upon the sacrificial imagery of Leviticus.

The relationship between sacrifice and confession is stressed in numerous passages in the Levitical literature: (1) With regard to the guilt and trespass offerings (Leviticus 5:5), it is significant that the Torah insists spiritual rehabilitation of the sinner must begin with the verbal act of confession, thus preceding the sacrificial act. Atonement begins within the heart and soul of the worshipper in order for Divine forgiveness to become effective (cf. Psa. 51:16). Confession, per se, is crippled unless it is motivated by one’s sincere feelings of remorse and contrition.[8] (2) The Yom Kippur offering referred to in Leviticus 16:21, establishes confession as a pre-condition for atonement and purification, without which the Yom Kippur offering is useless. (3) In Leviticus 26:39-42, we discover that the act of verbal confession atones for sins that can no longer be expiated through sacrifice—a reality that is caused by the state of Israel’s expulsion from her homeland. It seems difficult to imagine how any kind of atonement offering could be effective without the verbal declaration of confession. (4) Based on the priestly legislation of Numbers 5:7, all acts of fraud, perjury and embezzlement are no less morally defiling than that of leprosy. In many ways, these moral failings ought to be considered far worse since crimes of moral turpitude require an act of will and a denial of conscience; cultic impurity that is due only to physical circumstances pale in comparison. To enter God’s Presence, there must be an effort expended to repair the breaches that undermine social justice and personal trust. To facilitate the spiritual renewal of a sinner, one must make a confession and bring the appropriate atonement offering. In the priestly worldview, those individuals who defile the spiritual integrity of the Tabernacle are a far greater affront to its purity than those suffering from physical ailments such as leprosy, unusual body discharges, and corpse contamination. This same point is also repeatedly stressed throughout the prophetic literature.

From this perspective, the collage of verses referenced above prove that prayer, at least in the form of a confession, existed early on in the priestly traditions of Leviticus and Numbers and played a vital role in the sacrificial cult. The evidence for this assertion contradicts Kugel’s image of an isolated deity who is indifferent to human offerings. Sacrifice in the Tanakh always involves more than just rote ritual; the act of sacrifice adds a sacred dimension to the community and individual, but this sacredness is contingent upon the moral integrity and purity of mind and deed of the person offering the sacrifice. Human morality in the final analysis is, according to P’s theology, the benchmark of the Divine Image referred to in Genesis 1:26.

From an anthropological standpoint it is fair to ask, what primal society didn’t offer prayer along with its sacrifices? Among nearly all the major religions of the world, the relationship between sacrifice as a means of expiation, always presupposes the existence of a Higher Being, whose moral character demands a change in the worshipper’s moral behavior, namely, that individual is personally responsible for the removal of his sin. Human fault may occasionally be traced to a moral lapse, but it can also be due to the failure of properly carrying out a ritual, or may even be the result of an unconscious reason that requires expiation. In terms of the other types of sacrifice, thanksgiving offerings are invariably accompanied with prayers of praise, acknowledgement and gratitude for the goodness the worshipper receives.

• Priestly Theology and the Priestly Benediction

Perhaps one of the most personal and best known ancient priestly prayers[9] that Kugel does not take into consideration is the Priestly Benediction of Numbers 6:22-27:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, “Thus you shall bless the Israelites: You shall say to them,

“The Lord bless you and keep you;

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

So they shall put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.

The visceral power of this prayer is due to the fact it is shamelessly anthropomorphic. While discursive theological language speaks much ado about the nature of God, it cannot begin to describe in words the actual experience of God. Prayer flows from a heart that is alert and open to the miniature synchronicities which disclose God in the world. Biblical theology stresses that even with all its obvious limitations—anthropomorphism is the language of encounter par excellence throughout the Tanakh. Continue Reading

According to Rashi (1040-1105), one of humanity’s chief distinctions from the animal world lies in its unique ability to formulate speech in expressing ideas about itself, the world, and God. As proof, Rashi cites the Aramaic translation (Targum) of Onkelos (2nd cent. c.e.), who paraphrases the verse to mean: וַהֲוָת בְאָדָם לְרֻוחַ מְמַלְלָא “and it became within man, a speaking spirit,” as if to say humanity represents the most evolved of all created entities, for humankind alone was granted the power of understanding and speech.

These traditional interpretations regarding the human capacity for complex and abstract speech raise important questions in light of our contemporary knowledge of zoology, comparative linguistics, anthropology, and neuroscience. Simply put, how unique is the human capacity to speak and communicate through language? Is human language the by-product of a long evolutionary history, or is it more the result of spontaneous development that is unique to people?

There is a large scientific interdisciplinary debate about the nature of human communication going back to the time of Darwin, who originally theorized that human language is simply an evolved form of communication, no different in principle from the grunts, gestures, and calls generated by other non-human species. Darwin posits, “I cannot doubt that language owes its origin to the imitation and modification of various natural sounds, the voices of other animals, and man’s own instinctive cries, aided by signs and gestures.”[1] While natural selection argues for a gradualist account for language, the appearance of organized language makes its mysterious but spontaneous appearance only in humankind. Until the 20^th century, the origin of language remained a forbidden topic in certain academic circles, probably because of its highly speculative nature.[2]

Still and all, some linguistic scholars like Noam Chomsky reject the Darwinian idea that language could have evolved by natural selection. Chomsky asserts that the human language instinct is fundamentally incompatible with the modern Darwinian theory of evolution, in which complex biological systems arise by gradual accumulation over generations of random genetic mutations that enhance reproductive success. As such, language is a skill limited strictly to humans, who are the sole possessors of the cognitive hardware which makes language possible.

Chomsky contends that human language is radically different from primate communication and draws attention to the incredible ease with which children learn to communicate (as opposed to learning, for instance, mathematics) far beyond the intellectual capacity of their years.[3] Such ability is actually hardwired within the brain itself, which enables it to grasp the words along with its grammar, intuitively knowing how to make symbolic sense of the words that are spoken. Chomsky refers to this mental faculty as the “Language Acquisition Device” or simply “LAD.” The child’s innate ability to acquire the grammar necessary for a language can best be explained only if one assumes that all grammars are variations of a single, generic “universal grammar,” which is a cross-cultural phenomenon that reveals how all human brains come “with a built-in language organ that contains this language blueprint.” He postulates that there is an “organ” within the brain that enables it to effortlessly learn the meaning of symbolic language. It is this “instinct” or “innate facility” that makes human language unique.

Among modern linguists, M.I.T. Professor Steven Pinker offers one of the most controversial theories about human language in his book, The Language Instinct.[4] While Pinker is sympathetic to many of Chomsky’s original insights regarding the uniqueness of human language, he also sides with the Darwinian view that the brain’s innate grammatical abilities are not necessarily incompatible with natural selection and mutation. He writes, “There must have been a series of steps leading from no language at all to language as we now find it, each step small enough to have been produced by random mutation of genes and with each intermediate grammar being useful to its possessor.”[5]

One could argue that once a person defines language from a purely human perspective, other forms of non-human language are at a disadvantage from the start. It is perhaps more relevant to ask ourselves, how do animal species communicate with one another? Or, can human beings, for example, train primates to understand or speak human language? If in fact, the understanding of symbols is a vital prerequisite to the development of language, then, is the phenomenon of syntax, as Chomsky argues, the most important defining feature that is exclusive to human language?

Some scientists, like primatologist Sue Savage-Rumbaugh, contend that certain species of primates are capable of developing a basic sense of syntax. She offers an altogether different approach to the relationship of animals and language, through the use of lexigrams and computer-based keyboards, the same kind of technology that is used for children and adults with language deficits. With this method, each lexigram or symbol represents a word; however, a symbol is not necessarily characteristic of the words it represents. Remarkably, the information gathered at the center regarding the primates’ abilities to acquire symbols, comprehend spoken words, decode simple syntactical structures, learn concepts of number and quantity, and perform complex perceptual-motor tasks have revolutionized the way  scientists understand primate communication. [6] Other researchers have also managed to teach gorillas how to utilize sign language.[7]

Studies with the African Grey Parrot, named “Alex,” have been studied for the past thirty years by animal psychologist Irene Pepperberg, initially at the University of Arizona and later at Harvard and Brandeis University. Prior to her studies, most scientists believed that birds were only capable of mimicking human speech, but were incapable of using words creatively. According to Pepperberg, birds actually possess a capacity to reason and utilize words in expressing themselves and can even count! Alex’s intelligence is believed to have been comparable to that of dolphins and great apes, if not that of a five-year-old human child. Had it not died prematurely because of illness, it might have developed an even greater capacity to express itself through human language.[8]

Marine biologists have also discovered that the humpback whales’ songs continue to change as the season progresses. The New Year’s song will start off where last year’s song has ended, providing evidence of an enormous memory capacity. As the season progresses, the song will gradually change. New pieces will be added while other sections will be dropped. One whale may carry a note a bit longer than another whale, but the structure and components are the same. One recent study points out that their language sophistication is so great, that some whales seem to sing in different dialects depending on their place of origin. For example, blue whales off the Pacific Northwest sound differently from blue whales in the western Pacific, which sound differently from those living off of Antarctica. Moreover, they all sound differently from the blue whales living near Chile. Whales in the eastern Pacific are purported to emit lower-pitched sounds followed by a tone, while other whale populations use a different variety of pulses, tones, and pitches. Perhaps the regional differences in their tones are similar to the distinctions between French and Italian, or are variations of the regional accents found in this country. In addition, whales even have a grasp of grammar whenever they communicate with one another.[9] Continue Reading

When we think about animal rights, we tend to identify this movement with Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), which in turn was modeled after the British Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA), was set up in Victoria in 1871. Yet, the spiritual roots of animal rights derive from the Bible itself.  Here is a brief story that I think pet-owners will enjoy, which points out how sentient and spiritually aware animals may actually be. For those of us who enjoy pets, this is no great secret  . . .

Actually, the Bible is one of the great works of antiquity that first proclaimed the rights of animals in its Sabbath legislation of the Ten Commandments: “But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates” (Exod. 20:11). Animals are sentient beings, endowed with moral standing–they too, are entitled to the wonders of the Sabbath rest!

There is the story of a certain pious man who owned a plowing heifer. In the course of time, his wealth slipped out of his hand, and he had to sell her to a heathen. The new master plowed with her during the six [working] days of the week. On the Sabbath, he brought her out again to plow for him, but she lay down under the yoke and would not work. Though he kept beating her, she would not budge from her place. Seeing this, the heathen went to the pious man and said to him, “Come, take back your heifer. Six days I worked her, but when I took her out on the Sabbath, she lay down under the yoke and would do no work whatever. And though I beat her again and again, she would not budge from her place.”

After the heathen spoke, the pious man understood why the heifer would do no work–it was because she had become accustomed to rest on the Sabbath. So he said to the heathen, “Come along, and I will get her up and make her plow.” When he came to the heifer, he whispered into her ear “O heifer, heifer, you know that when you were in my domain, you were allowed to rest on the Sabbath. But since my sins brought it about that I had to sell you to this heathen, I beg of you, stand up and do the will of your [new] master.”

At once the heifer stood up and was ready to work. The heathen then said to the pious man, “I won’t let you go until you tell me what you did to her and what you whispered in her ear. Perhaps you bewitched her.” The pious man replied, “I put it to her thus and so.”

Upon hearing these words the heathen, shaken and amazed, reasoned with himself: If a heifer, which has neither speech nor knowledge nor understanding, could acknowledge her Creator, shall not I, whose Maker made me in His own image and likeness, and put knowledge and At once the heifer stood up and was ready to work. The heathen then said to the pious man, “I won’t let you go until you tell me what you did to her and what you whispered in her ear. Perhaps you bewitched her.”

The pious man replied, “I put it to her thus and so.” Upon hearing these words the heathen, shaken and amazed, reasoned with himself: If a heifer, which has neither speech nor knowledge nor understanding, could acknowledge her Creator, shall not I, whose Maker made me in His own image and likeness, and put knowledge and understanding into me–shall not I acknowledge my Creator? At once he went off, became a proselyte, and was privileged to acquire so much Torah that he came to be called R. Yohanan ben Torta (“son of a heifer”). [1] Continue Reading

•  The just man knows the soul of his beast, but the heart of the wicked is merciless.                                            

—Proverbs 12:10

The author of Proverbs stresses an important ethical lesson: a humane person considers the needs of his animals and acts kindly towards them.^[1] The world of Creation is full of sentient beings, which also experience many of the joys and blessings that people commonly enjoy: like humankind, these creatures also experience pain. Suffering is a common language that links humanity with other species of animal life. Therefore, Jewish ethics take sharp issue with French philosopher Rene Descartes (ca. 1596–1650), who compares animals to machines that service people, stating that their suffering “means nothing more than the creaking of a wheel.”[2] In physiological terms, according to Descartes, what human beings and animals share is that their bodies function by the laws of mechanics. One might respond: How then do human beings differ from animals? Descartes argues that the Creator endows human beings with a divine soul and a moral conscience—qualities that are lacking in animals. In addition, unlike animals, human beings possess the ability to conceptualize and verbalize ideas. Most importantly, only human beings are capable of conscious and rational thought since they are uniquely endowed with the ability to be self-reflective. Only a human being is capable of exclaiming, “Cogito ergo sum.”

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[3] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite disregarding the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshipper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27). “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[4]

Pursuing a similar approach found in Philo, Maimonides comments on a number of biblical precepts dealing with preventing cruelty towards animals in his Guide:

• It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28), the reason being, is so that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in plain sight of the mother; the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There can be no difference in this case between the pain of man and the pain of other sentient beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by reasoning, but is a matter determined by instinct and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to ox and lamb, because of the domestic animals used as food these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. . . . If the Torah provides that such grief should not be caused to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow human beings![5]

According to Maimonides, an animal’s ability to feel emotional pain gives it moral standing; it is for this reason that the Torah prohibits these acts. Not all Jewish thinkers concur with Maimonides. Ramban claims that the prohibitions against cruelty to animals are not so much for the animal’s benefit, but for the sole moral development of humankind. Cruelty towards animals is desensitizing (commenting on Deuteronomy 22:6 and Leviticus 22:28), which will eventually produce brutality and insensitivity to the pain and suffering of others.

• The ruling on the mother bird is not predicated upon the Almighty’s “pity” for the animal. Otherwise, God would have forbidden their slaughter altogether! The reason, however, for the prohibition is to instill within us compassion and the avoidance of cruelty; butchers and slaughterers often become insensitive to the suffering on account of their occupation. Therefore, to avoid engendering these negative traits, the Torah proscribed precepts that a person should not slaughter the mother and its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28) and sending away the mother bird (Deut. 22:6). Such laws are not inspired by feelings of consideration for their suffering but are decrees to inculcate humanity in us. [6]

This is an old posting, but in honor of Halloween, I thought I would resurrect it for tonight!

A student asked an interesting question: Why don’t Hassidic Jews have cats for pets?

Black cats were also associated with the demonic realm. In one bizarre passage, the rabbis said that if a person really wanted to see what demons look like, he should perform the following instructions: Take sifted ashes and sprinkle around his bed, and in the morning he will see something like the footprints of a cock. If one wishes to see them, let him take the after-birth of a black she-cat, the offspring of a black she-cat, the first-born of a first-born, let him roast it in fire and grind it to powder, and then let him put some into his eye, and he will see them . . . R. Bibi b. Abaye did so, and experienced harm from seeing them. The scholars, however, prayed for rabbi and he recovered (BT Berachot 6a).

And you wondered: What do they teach young Talmudic students?! Well, now you know!

Such rabbinical beliefs were common in the Babylonian age; it is for this reason, the Talmud is very important text for understanding Babylonian folklore, which it absorbed from their culture.

Western folklore records that if a black cat crosses one’s path—especially it is missing a tale—symbolizes bad fortune; on other hand if the black cat walks along side of the person, it is a sign he will be blessed with good fortune. A cat’s tail was used as a medicine that is why they used to chop it and use it for any type of health problem.

KILLING CATS — ANOTHER STORY ABOUT EUROPEAN “CIVILITY”

It got so bad that in Christian Europe, the church made an effort to suppress witchcraft, and the cat came to be identified with witches. Any woman owning a cat was killed along with her cat, because she was purported to be a witch. Cats, as demons, were burned, usually in a rite on Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday.

The early 20^th century anthropologist James Frazer thus writes in The Golden Bough, “In the midsummer fires formerly kindled on the Place de Grève at Paris it was the custom to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats, which was hung from a tall mast in the midst of the bonfire . . . In the department of the Ardennes, cats were flung into the bonfires kindled on the first Sunday in Lent; sometimes, by a refinement of cruelty, they were hung over the fire from the end of a pole and roasted alive. “The cat, which represented the devil, could never suffer enough. . . While the creatures were perishing in the flames, the shepherds guarded their flocks and forced them to leap over the fire, esteeming this an infallible means of preserving them from disease and witchcraft. Squirrels were also occasionally burned in the Easter fire . . .” Cats almost disappeared from Europe, and this led to disastrous consequences when the rats brought the Bubonic Plague in the 1300s from China.

CATS BECOME SAVIORS OF HUMANITY!

Europeans back then (like now too) were not terribly astute. The mayor of London ordered the execution of all house-hold pets, but this political move did not stop the plague–it actually accelerated it.  An explosion of the rat population only increased the plague’s intensity until the Europeans eventually realized that people who had kept cats, in violation of the law, fared better; for the cats, according to their nature, killed the rats that carried the fleas that really carried the plague. With this discovery, cats became the saviors of Europe and were soon became protected by law.

ARE CATS A THREAT TO BABIES?

Since cats were often seen as symbols of evil, some cultures in the 13th and 14th centuries believed that cats would “steal a baby’s soul.” Specifically, people thought cats were attracted to a baby’s breath. This belief still  persists today; parents claimed in 2000 that an infant died with the family cat sitting on the baby’s face. However, upon an autopsy, it became clear that the baby died from Crib Death (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). The fact that the cat’s proximity was on or near the baby’s face was coincidental. Cats will often sleep near a person’s head.

The story proves that many superstitions of history have some basis in something that occurred. Since the medievalists did not understand the nature of Crib Death, they looked to demonic reasons why an infant died. Unfortunately, the poor cat got blamed.

Getting rid of the family cat may not be an altogether bad idea; it is not uncommon for new parents to get rid of the family cat before a baby is born. Although suffocating babies is very unlikely, a cat may scratch a baby especially if the baby annoys the cat. In any event, it is a good idea for an adult to be in the room with the cat and infant.

SOME CULTURES LOVE THEIR CATS!

Not all cultures share disdain toward the cat. In Egypt, where the cat was originally domesticated, the cat was considered to be the guardian spirit of the home. In addition, cats were also mummified—anyone in the afterlife would certainly want to have one’s beloved pet! If someone killed a cat, the crime: death! Cats were so beloved because they could walk in the shadows with no fear; their heightened senses gave them a vision that could penetrate the darkness of the night.

Cats in ancient India were considered saints, while in Nordic countries it was common for brides to get married on Friday, a day that was dedicated to the cat goddess called Priya.

Still and all, despite the bad press cats get in the medieval era, the Talmud does say “Had Torah not been given to humankind, our ancestors would have had to learn modesty from the cat” (BT Eruvin 100b). Throughout much of recorded European history, Jews often kept feral cats to keep the mice population in check. Continue Reading

One of my favorite stories about the holiday of Sukkoth comes from the 18^th century.

The Duke of Manheim asked R’ Zvi of Berlin: “Why do children ask the ‘Four Questions’ on Passover and not on Sukkot? It would appear that Sukkot brings more changes to their lives than Passover does! For example: during Sukkoth, everyone eats their meals outside in the Sukkah, such a tradition does not exist with Passover  . . .”

R’ Zvi answered the Duke’s question with sardonic wit, “During the Passover Seder, the child sees everyone sitting around the table, at ease like free men, and not like a wandering people in exile. This brute fact arouses the child’s curiosity and he asks the obvious question: ‘Why is this night different?’ On Sukkot, however, the child sees Jews exiled from their homes and without a true roof over their heads. That does not surprise him at all; Jews have always lived that way, ever since they first went into exile.”

Freedom for the Jew living in Europe seemed more like a dream, rather than a reality.

As I pondered this story, I decided to double-check the historical records of various different expulsions of Jewish history—if only to satisfy my curiosity.

Here is a cursory glance at many of the wanderings our people have experienced over the last 2000 years.

250 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Carthage

415 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Alexandria

554 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Clermont (France)

561 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Diocèse of Uzès (France)

612 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Spain

642 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Visigoth Empire

A member of the western Goths that invaded the Roman Empire in the fourth century settled in France and Spain, and established a monarchy that lasted until the early eighth century. The Arian Visigoths were also tolerant of Jews. However, the Visigothic persecution of Jews began after Visigothic King Reccared converted to Catholicism. Shortly after the King was elected,  the bishops urged him to declare that all Jews must be baptized or expelled. Sound familiar? Now let’s look at some other dates of Jewish history where this same pattern reoccurred:

855 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Italy

876 — – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – Sens

1012   — – - – - – - – - – - – —-Mainz

Note: 1012  – Emperor Henry II of Germany expels Jews from Mainz; this marked the beginning of persecutions against Jews in Germany.  As you can see, by the time Martin Luther had come around, anti-Semitism had several centuries to gestate in Germany.

• In 1290, King Edward I issued an edict expelling all Jews from England. Lasting for the rest of the Middle Ages, it would be over 350 years until it was formally overturned in 1656, thanks to the efforts of Oliver Cromwell and Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, the famous Jewish leader of Amsterdam. The edict was not an isolated incident, but the culmination of over 200 years of conflict on the matters of usury.

Note: 1306  The Expulsion from France. Jewish wealth was more often than not the main motivation in the Jews’ expulsion from these countries. The Catholic Church coveted Jewish money, and their local leaders frequently used religion as an excuse to rid their countries of the Jews.

Historically, the Jews had settled in France for well over a thousand years, but this quickly changed when Philip Augustus came to power in 1179. Augustus decided to rid the country of his Jewish citizens so he could confiscate their wealth and also solidify his power as King. He used the infamous blood libel canard as his excuse.

I will not go into further detail about the other expulsions; I just wanted to provide some simple illustrations why the Rabbi Tvi of Berlin was more correct than many people might realize.

The various expulsions of the Jews illustrates the morally bankrupt polices that governed the Christian world all the way up to the modern period. The Holocaust would never have been possible had the Christian world not already prepared the ascent of Hitler by promoting the Jew in the most disparaging light.  It is a pity that Christianity has rarely ever practiced the precept of forgiving one’s enemies, as Jesus instructed in his Sermon on the Mount and in other NT narratives (cf. Matt. 5:43-44; Luke 17:2-4, passim). Jews have been unforgiven–even though 2000 years separate their 1st century ancestors. I often wonder what Jesus himself would say to his followers, “Ladies and gentlemen, I think you got it all wrong . . .”

Most modern Jews tend to think that anti-Semitism is not especially virulent in the United States. However, in troubled times such as ours, it could very easily become a spiritual airborne virus. Today, with the Occupy Wall Street crowd, once again we are hearing many of the same type of canards against “Jewish money” that we have heard long ago.

Sukkoth reminds us that anti-Semitism is a disease that transcends geographical boundaries. More importantly, Sukkot teaches all human beings the importance of creating shelter for the homeless and the vagabonds, who more often than not, become the scapegoats for a troubled society.

Remarkably, much of the Sukkot holiday focuses on the importance of hospitality. Despite the countless expulsions of our people, Jews celebrated Sukkoth by creating shelter for all those who found themselves on the ragged edge of life. I, for one, am very proud of how Israel has welcomed so many refugees who have been rejected by their original country of origin.  Since her inception as a nation, Israel absorbed over a million Jews, who were kicked out of the Arab countries in 1948.  Thousands of Druze also found sanctuary in Israel, as well as the Bahai, whose Temple was rebuilt in Haifa.

Israel is the only country that protects the rights of its Arab citizens as well. I would also add that when people suffer from natural or man-made catastrophes anywhere around the world, Israel is always there to offer a helping hand—creating shelter wherever possible. In the early 1970s, Israel welcomed the famous Vietnamese boat people, and later Christian Ethiopians, Sudanese refugees, and numerous other ethnic groups.

Much of historical memory is rooted in the biblical injunctions, “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 22:20). “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 23:9). Think about it. There are thirty-six warnings against exploiting the resident alien, who frequently was at the mercy of the host country. Sound familiar?

With 36 warnings against unsuitable behavior toward a stranger, no other commandment is referred to as frequently as much as this particular biblical proscription. Our tradition teaches us over and over again: “You shall love the stranger…The resident stranger that dwells with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:34).

Henri Nouwen, the distinguished Catholic theologian writes about the basic essential qualities of hospitality shortly before he died:

• In a world full of strangers, estranged from their own past, culture, and country, from their neighbors, friends, and family, from their deepest self and their God, we witness a painful search for a hospitable place where life can be lived without fear…That is our vocation, to convert the hostis into hospes, the enemy into a guest and to create the free and fearless space where brotherhood and sisterhood can be formed and fully expressed. Continue Reading

A recent article appeared in the Israeli newspapers about a stray dog that was hanging out in the Mea Shearim district of Jerusalem. For those unfamiliar with Mea Shearim, this vicinity is inhabited by Jerusalem’s most Ultra-Orthodox Hassidic Jews.

The story is a peculiar one, and what exactly happened remains to be clarified. But here are two versions as to what happened.

First version:

Some rabbis of a local rabbinical court  met and decided to talk about the problem of the straying dog. Rather than call the SPCA to take the animal to the local animal shelter, the rabbis remembered a certain attorney to be reincarnated as a dog for having sued the rabbis in a secular court! The fact the dog walked by the entrance of the esteemed rabbinic court could only mean that God had indeed punished the deceased attorney! They then issued a rule that the local children should stone the animal to death because this would allow the soul to find a “tikkun” a “spiritual correction” for the evil this former attorney committed while he was alive.

One reason why I think this version may be correct is because it is simply to weird for a normal person to make up. Lurianic Kabbalah in particular is replete with this kind of superstition and folklore . For example, people who use God’s Name in vain are reincarnated as cats, while anyone cutting off his side-curls (peyot), will be incarnated as an ox.  Those guilty of homosexuality are incarnated as bats, while those guilty of making love by candlelight, will be reincarnated as a female goat. Luria believed that black dogs are especially viewed as demonic beings–and the dog the children attacked was a black dog! (See Y. Luria’s Shaar HaGilgalim). Of course this is all errant nonsense, but the people who live in Mea Shearim really take Lurianic superstition quite seriously!

The grandiosity and arrogance of the rabbis disturbs us. The Torah emphatically teaches us to respect the spiritual limits of our knowledge, “Secret things belong to the LORD our God, but those that are revealed belong to us and our descendants forever, so that we might obey all the words of this law” (Deut 29:29), i.e., worry about what you can do to better our world now first! Do not obsess about the hidden and metaphysical ways of God, which no mortal can ever expect to truly know–not even a famous Kabbalist like Rabbi Isaac Luria!!

Second Version:

A different version of the story asserts that Rabbi Levin never made such a claim; it was mere hearsay. Nobody told the children to stone the dog, but they did. Fortunately, the dog managed to escape. Is the rabbi lying? Inquiring minds really wanna know!

Regardless of how the story unfolded, stoning a dog is certainly a violation tsa’r ba’ale hayim (preventing cruelty toward animals). The bottom line is very simple: Children will not learn compassion, unless their parents start teaching them. Had these parents reared their children with a loving pet, I think such violent incidents might not have ever occurred.

Possible Philosophical Antecedents for Discussion

There is an ancient fragment of a philosophical teaching of the great pre-Socratic philosopher known as Xenophanes that invites comparison to the Mea Shearim story. Fragment 7 records how the celebrated philosopher Pythagoras, who believed in reincarnation, once found somebody beating a puppy and ordered him to stop.  He said to the assailant, “Stop! Do not strike it, for it is the soul of a man who is dear to me. I recognized it when I heard it screaming.”

The story is intriguing. It would appear that Pythagoras felt that the belief in reincarnation ought to teach people how to avoid displays of cruelty—especially since one never knows whether that animal might be a former best friend! Pythagoras considered all animals as brothers and sisters of humankind. Accordingly, a young pup deserves kindness for no reason other than the fact it is a sentient being like we are, then surely all animals ought to be treated with sentience and respect. Frankly, this seems to be the most plausible explanation.

The whole point is merely to illustrate that the belief in reincarnation need not make people act more cruelly toward the pathetic creature, quite the opposite!

Philo and Maimonides: Animal Sentience as a Basis for Human Empathy

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[1] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite with disregard for the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshiper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27).

The rational  for this precept is obvious, “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[2]

Pursuing a similar approach found in Philo, Maimonides comments on a number of biblical precepts dealing with preventing cruelty towards animals in his Guide:

“It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28), the reason being, is so that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in plain sight of the mother; the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There can be no difference in this case between the pain of man and the pain of other sentient beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by reasoning, but is a matter determined by instinct and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to ox and lamb, because of the domestic animals used as food these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. . . . If the Torah provides that such grief should not be caused to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow human beings!“[3] Continue Reading

Available Now!

Well, the time has come for me to start promoting my new book: Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation Part 1: Genesis 1-3.

You can purchase the book at a nice discount at Amazon.com

You can also get it at Barnes and Nobles. For me, writing a book is a lot like giving birth to a baby–for we create from the depths of our own being and essence. Creativity offers a remarkable pathway to discovering how God speaks and inspires our soul.

**PURIM SPECIAL ** Buy it now, you can get it for $20.70 at the following link:

http://www.amazon.com/Birth-Rebirth-through-Genesis-Conversation/dp/1456301713/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1323359269&sr=8-2

Reviews:

“. . . all who carefully read this book are in for a deeply rewarding experience. . . .”—Prof. Marvin R. Wilson, Author of Our Father Abraham: Jewish Roots of the Christian Faith“

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

“ 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

“ [Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation] 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

“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.

“. . . span[s] 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.”
—Paul Borgman, author of David, Saul, and God: Rediscovering an Ancient Story

“Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis . . . adroitly moderates a virtual conver-sation 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

Get your copy today!