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2016 as a Refracting Lens: A.J. Heschel's Illumination of Jewish History

Andrews , Zvi

Andrews Pardes, Z. (2016). Midrash as a Refracting Lens: A.J. Heschel's Illumination of Jewish History (Unpublished master's thesis). University of Calgary, Calgary, AB. doi:10.11575/PRISM/26914 http://hdl.handle.net/11023/3526 master thesis

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Midrash as a Refracting Lens: A.J. Heschel's Illumination of Jewish History

by

Zvi Andrews Pardes

A THESIS

SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE

DEGREE OF MASTER OF THE ARTS

GRADUATE PROGRAM IN RELIGIOUS STUDIES

CALGARY, ALBERTA

DECEMBER, 2016

© Zvi Andrews Pardes 2016 Abstract

A.J. Heschel’s Min Ha-Shamayyim BeAspaqlaria Shel Ha-Doroth (TMS) never received the comprehensive scholarly attention that it deserves. Its philosophical and theological emphasis was out of place in the oeuvre in which it was published. Decades later it resurged in popularity, but by and large not amongst those with the textual and philological grounding in rabbinics to assess it meaningfully.

TMS stands as a compelling analysis of early-rabbinic theological trends and the historical ramifications therein. I pay careful attention to Heschel’s sources and other experts in the field. I demonstrate that there is a decisive difference in philosophical outlook that can be traced between the schools of Aqiva and respectively, just as Heschel argues.

Likewise, the theological dichotomies which Heschel articulates between these two textual personalities and their schools is shown to inform later permutations of these tensions throughout the Jewish History of Ideas.

ii Acknowledgements

Getting to the point of writing these acknowledgements has been a far longer and more difficult process than I would ever have believed when first setting out on this process. That is not to say that it wasn’t a pleasurable or enriching experience. Far from it. The experience has deepened my intellectual awareness on multiple levels. Obviously my knowledge and love of rabbinic texts grew exponentially. More than that, though, I find myself more realised as an individual – intellectually and spiritually.

I wish to express my gratitude to the Department of Religious Studies (now the

Department of Classics and Religion) at the University of Calgary. The depth and passion for subject matter amongst the faculty there has imprinted on me for life. I am grateful for the time I spent there, the support I received, and the knowledge and understanding I gained.

My experience would have been far diminished without the cohort of friends and colleagues that shared it with me. In particular, I want to thank Dr. Oren Steinetz and

Miriam Fry. The long talks and debates on everything from text and politics to pop culture were a precious component of my graduate studies. I would never have made it to this point without the support, encouragement, and help I received from these friends. I am indebted to them.

No influence on me was more profound than that of my supervisor and mentor, Dr.

Eliezer Segal. Our lengthy discussions about rabbinic texts and have shaped my intellectual approach and mindset to religion, history, and everyday life. I am unsure how to verbalize the extent of my gratitude for the guidance and teaching I received.

Last to be mentioned but first in priority is my wife, Gahl Pratt Pardes. Her love, encouragement, and insistence were utterly essential to the process. Gahl has my love and gratitude forever.

iii Dedication

To my brilliant, beautiful, and sweet daughter Yaʿarah.

״וַ יִּ שְׁ לַ ח אֶ ת-קְ צֵ ה הַ מַּ טֶּ ה אֲ שֶׁ ר בְּ יָ דוֹ, וַיִּטְ בֹּל אוֹתָהּ בְּ יַ עְ רַ ת הַדְּבָשׁ; וַ יָּשֶׁ ב יָ דוֹ אֶ ל-פִּ יו וַתָּ אֹרְ נָ ה עֵ ינָ יו“ (שמואל א׳ י״ד כ״ז)

iv Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii Acknowledgements ...... iii Dedication ...... iv Table of Contents ...... v List of Symbols, Abbreviations and Nomenclature ...... vii Epigraph ...... viii

INTRODUCTION ...... 1 1.1 A Historical and Terminological Backdrop ...... 1 1.2 Varieties of ...... 4 1.3 and ...... 7 1.3.1 ( D. Pisqa 32) ...... 9 1.4 Two Schools – Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael ...... 18 1.5 Some Final Notes on Methodology ...... 28

CHAPTER TWO: TORAH MIN HA-SHAMAYIM ― AN ANALYTIC ASSESSMENT33 2.1 The Life and Times of Torah Min Ha-Shamayim ...... 33 2.2 Aggadah as ...... 45 2.2.2 (Sifre 49) ...... 49 2.2.3 (Lamentations Rabbah 2:5) ...... 55 2.3 ‘Eternal Paradigms’: Rabbi Aqiva and ...... 64 2.3.1 (Bereishith Rabbah 1:1) ...... 70 2.4 Conclusion ...... 76

CHAPTER THREE: HESCHEL AND THE MEKHILTOTH ― A COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS ...... 78 3.1 The Mekhiltoth: Two Schools on the Same Biblical Text ...... 78 3.2 Differences in Literary Style ...... 83 3.2.1 (MI, Baḥodesh 2) ...... 84 3.2.2 (MSY, Baḥodesh 49:1) ...... 85 3.3 The ...... 94 3.3.1 (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh 1) ...... 97 3.3.2 (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 48:5) ...... 99 3.4 A Terrestrial Lens and a Heavenly Lens ...... 103 3.4.1 (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh 2): ...... 103 3.4.2 (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 49:5): ...... 104 3.4.3 (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 4) ...... 108 3.4.4 (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 9) ...... 109 3.4.5 (MSY, 51:2) ...... 110 3.5 Aggrandized, Miracles Diminished ...... 116 3.5.1 (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 9) ...... 117 3.5.2 (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 56:2) ...... 117 3.6 Conclusion ...... 119

CHAPTER FOUR: RABBIS AQIVA AND ISHMAEL THROUGH THE AGES ...... 122

v 4.1 The Historical Argument of TMS ...... 122 4.2 and Torah: Two Views ...... 128 4.2.1 ( Ḥagigah 1:9) ...... 129 4.2.2 (Babylonian , Menaḥoth 29b) ...... 133 4.3 Rabbi Aqiva: and the Mysteries of the Torah ...... 137 4.3.1 (Tosefta, Ḥagigah, 2:1-2) ...... 139 4.3.2 (MSY, DeSanya, 1:1) ...... 153 4.3.3 (, Exodus, 1-2) ...... 156 4.3.4 (Zohar, ) ...... 164 4.4 Ishmael the Rationalist ...... 172 4.4.1 (Guide for the Perplexed, II: XXIX) ...... 180 4.4.2 (MI, Pisḥa, 7) ...... 187 4.4.3 (Guide for the Perplexed, XXVI) ...... 194 4.5 Conclusion ...... 199

CHAPTER FIVE: EPILOGUE ...... 201

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 203

vi List of Symbols, Abbreviations and Nomenclature

Symbol Definition MI Mekhilta D’Rabbi Ishmael MSY Mekhilta D’Rabbi Simeon Bar Yoḥai TMS Torah Min Hashamayim

vii Epigraph

In order that you not say, “I have studied halakha (Jewish Law), it is enough for me.” Therefore the verse teaches, “For if ye shall diligently keep all this commandment which I command you, to do it, to love the LORD your God, to walk in all His ways, and to cleave unto Him” (Deut. 11:22) All this commandment ― this is the study of midrash; halakhot, and aggadot.

Therefore the verse says, “…that He might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every thing that proceedeth out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live.” (Deut. 8:3)

This is Midrash, for, everything which proceedeth out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live ― these are both halakhot and aggadoth.

-Sifre Devarim, ʿEqev 48

viii

Introduction

0.1 A Historical and Terminological Backdrop

Rabbinic has a rich literary legacy that has been approached conceptualized many different ways throughout Jewish history. This thesis considers one such approach, in examining the philosophical assessment and thematic analysis of rabbinic theology by

Joshua Heschel, as presented in Torah Min Ha-Shamayim BeʾAspaqlariah Shel HaDoroth12

(Heavenly Torah as Refracted Through the Generations3), referred to below as TMS. Heschel’s work on , has previously never been systematically assessed and has often been misunderstood. It is the intent of this work to probe the value of Heschel’s analysis of rabbinic

Judaism and the contributions it may still make to how the body of Jewish rabbinic literature is understood in contemporary scholarship. By way of introduction, a preliminary discussion of rabbinic literature is presented below in order that Heschel’s work on the subject may be properly positioned and considered.

Judaism, throughout its long history, has had an abiding reverence for Torah, both as a physical object and as a theological concept. The term Torah can be a confusing one, as it is used to refer to the Pentateuch specifically, as well as to the entirety of the Jewish scriptural canon, equating roughly with what is referred to as the or the Hebrew . The

1 , Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), 3 vols. (London: Defus Shontsin, 1962). 3 vols. London: Defus Shontsin, 1962, 1965, 1990 respectively. The Jewish Theological Seminary printed the last volume. 2 In general, my transliterations of and abbreviations of Hebrew follow the General Purpose Style of the Society of Biblical Literature. 3 I borrow this translation from the recent translation of the work by Gordon Tucker. (Abraham Joshua Heschel and Gordon Tucker, Heavenly Torah: As Refracted Through the Generations, ed. and trans. Gordon Tucker (New York: Continuum, 2005).) While I use this translation of the title, Tucker’s translation itself is unsatisfactory. The phrase “as refracted” from the Hebrew title “BeʾAspaqlariah” could also be rendered as “Through the Mirror” or “Through the Speculum of the Generations.” 1

latter meaning, referred to as Miqraʾ4, includes the Pentateuch, or Five Books of , the

Neviʾim (Prophets, such as Ezekiel and ) and the (Writings, such as Psalms).5

Torah, however, can also be used to include what is referred to as the body of oral traditions

(often referred to as “the ”) which is believed to have been received alongside the

Oral Torah’s written counterpart at Mount Sinai. Adding to the confusion, the term Torah is also employed comprehensively; it is used at times to refer to the totality of Jewish sacred texts, philosophies, and ideas, even where two systems within this broader definition of Torah may contradict one another in belief or approach.6 Aside from the fixed text of Miqraʾ, the intellectual and theological basis for the material that comprises Torah in its broadest sense is to be found in the spiritual and textual legacy of the Rabbinic Era.

Arising out of the political, economic, and theological chaos of the Second Temple era, a concerted attempt was made by a certain group of , living largely in the ancient Land of

Israel, to preserve, as well as reinforce, the received oral traditions that accompanied the written texts of Miqraʾ. The Rabbinic Era (100 BCE – 600AD)7 was a time in which the inherited lore and teachings of previous ages were given a concrete form through the erudite expounding and transmission of the Jewish oral tradition by religious scholars (rabbis). This orally preserved

4 The term Miqraʾ literally means that which is recited/read and is linguistically similar to the term qurʾan. 5 The neologism TaNaKh is an sometimes used to refer to this wider scriptural meaning of Torah. TaNaKh = Torah (i.e. The Five Books of Moses), Neviʾim (Prophets), and Ketuvim (Writings). 6 For example, the study of both the works of and , for instance, while, philosophically and theologically speaking, at odds with one another, is still referred to by many as . 7 There is not a fixed and unanimous decision as when exactly we consider the rabbinic era to begin. I am using a rough dating system to include some of the earlier as well as the (the earliest pairs of rabbinic scholars dating from the time of Ezra through the time of Yoḥanan ben Zakkai, who was perhaps the first Tanna proper, shortly before the destruction of the Second Temple). For our purposes here, the difference is not significant. Suffice it to say, the rabbinic era for our purposes includes the era of the Tannaim on one end, and the codification of the Babylonian Talmud on the other. See also Hermann L. Strack and Gunter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash (Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 1992), 1–7. 2

memory contained a hermeneutic framework of the laws, homilies, and customs that surrounded and interpreted Miqraʾ. These traditions are referred to in rabbinic literature as “the Oral Torah,” in contradistinction to “the Written Torah.” The latter is a body of sacred text that is fixed, rigid, and closed; nothing can be added, removed, or changed. In contrast, the Oral Torah is flexible and multivalent and comprises numerous interpretive traditions regarding the fixed texts of the

Written Torah. By consequence, rabbinic interpretations are varied, polysemic, multi-vocal and multivalent. This is all to say that the same text of Miqraʾ can legitimately produce multiple meanings, and multiple interpretations and legal pronouncements can be contained within a single text as embedded strata. This is not to say, though, that the rabbis were relativists by any means; there were and are limits within the rabbinic system as to what constitutes legitimate interpretation.8 According to the Rabbinic Tradition, this Oral Torah is derived from an unbroken chain of oral teachings received by Moses at Mount Sinai that was both transmitted and

8 I am indebted to and informed by an excellent paper on the nature of rabbinic writing by Stephen D. Fraade, entitled Steven D. Fraade, “Rabbinic Polysemy And Pluralism Revisited: Between Praxis And Thematization,” AJS Review 31, no. 01 (April 2007): 1–40. Fraade uses a wide range of material to effectively demonstrate that rabbinic writing, including the tannaitic material, is polysemic and multivocal. Fraade effectively counters Daniel Boyarin, who claims in this regard that the polysemic nature of rabbinic writing is a post-amoraic construction arising in reaction to post-Nicean , giving strong weight to arguments based on the Babylonian Talmud. After presenting a strong weight of textual evidence and convincing argumentation, Fraade writes: …I have amply demonstrated that interpretive polysemy and legal multivocality (if not absolute indeterminacy) are well attested in our earliest tannaitic rabbinic corpora, both as textual praxis and as theological thematization. The fact that there may be in those early collections fewer explicit and less elegant examples of the latter than of the former (which can be found on virtually any page of tannaitic midrash, , and Tosefta) should not be surprising, as that is what we would expect by the very nature of thematization and narrativization over time: lagging in its arrival but more progressively robust in its articulation... Nor do I see warrant for attributing these particular developments (the praxis and thematization of interpretive polysemy and legal multivocality) to the institutionalization of post-Nicaean Christianity, especially to the extent that they are already evidenced (even if less maturely) in tannaitic and early amoraic Palestinian sources. This highlights the dangers, more generally, of basing far-reaching historical conclusions on comparisons between the Babylonian and Palestinian alone, or on the internal literary stratification of the Babylonian Talmud alone (in but a handful of passages), when a much broader array of Palestinian tannaitic and amoraic sources are available for comparison and hence for producing a much more nuanced picture. Ibid., 37–38. 3

developed from teacher to student, each generation not only transmitting the traditions of the generations which preceded, but adding to them new expression and innovation. Various genres and codifications of this rabbinic material emerged and were ultimately preserved after the rabbinic era by being committed to the written word.9 Nonetheless, the status of this Oral Torah remains, long after it has ceased to be oral at all.

0.2 Varieties of Rabbinic Literature

The Rabbinic Era is broken down into two important historical time periods, beginning with the Tannaitic Era (c. 10 CE-220 CE), and then followed by the Amoraic (c. 200 CE-500

CE). A Tanna is a rabbi of the first period, and they lived, with only a few exceptions, in the ancient Land of . In contrast, an Amora is a rabbi of the latter period, from either Israel or

Babylonia. The Tannaim (plural of ‘tanna’) were the direct transmitters of older oral traditions, as well as great innovators who produced new interpretations and approaches to Miqraʾ and the

Law. Notably, the Tannaim produced collections of oral laws and traditions culminating in the

Mishnah (discussed below). By contrast, the (plural of ‘amora’) largely strove to expand and explain what the Tannaim had established. My project is principally concerned with the Tannaitic Era, as this was the era in which the inherited lore and teachings of previous ages were first given a concrete and systematic form. This era produced the foundational texts, which

9 There is a strong tendency in rabbinic writing to properly attribute from whom a given statement derives, as the pedigree of tradition is important. The essence of this rabbinic belief is expressed in the opening Mishnah from Pirqe Avot (Chapters of the Fathers) that reads: “Moses received the Torah from Sinai, and he imparted it to Joshua, and Joshua [imparted it] to the Elders, and the Elders [imparted it] to the Men of the Great Assembly. They said three things: Be level-headed when pronouncing judgment, Raise up many students, and make a fence around the Torah.” m.Avot.1:1 This mishnah continues on to delineate the order of transmission, leading it from one of the purported formative events of Rabbinic Judaism, the Great Assembly, through to the various generations of rabbinic figures appearing in this mishnaic work. 4

are broken down into the two principal genres of tannaitic literature: mishnah and midrash.

Midrash (plural midrashim) refers to the exposition of Biblical verses through various hermeneutic techniques and interpretive devices; typically, a verse is quoted and then expounded according to the rabbi’s exegetical method. While the compendia of midrashim are structured around the order of the Biblical works and engage with the Biblical text directly, the exegetical character of midrash is contrasted with works of mishnah, which are structured independently and by topic rather than through reference to Biblical verses.

The use of mishnah as a genre, however, and one that is contrasted with midrash, is an invention of modern scholarship. While it has its uses, and will be employed here, it is important to keep in mind that the distinction is not hard and fast. The terms midrash and mishnah are not to be understood solely as genres, but refer to redacted collections characterised by the predominance of their respective genre-specific exegetical method.10

The principal mishnaic works produced include both the Mishnah and the Tosefta. By

The Mishnah, I refer to the mishnaic redaction of Rabbi Judah the Prince (from here on to be referred to as the Mishnah with the M capitalised). There were a number of competing compilations of mishnah, such as that of Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Joshua, and Rabbi Aqiva, as well as a number of Rabbi Aqiva’s students. None of these have survived except via quotations in the

Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmudim. The mishnaic work which was ultimately accepted and became the Mishnah was that of Judah the Prince, a student in the tradition of Rabbi Aqiva, having studied, amongst others, under three of Aqiva’s chief students: Rabbi Simeon b. Yoḥai,

10 The contrast between the two genres is a helpful tool for classification, however there are exceptions, particularly within the Mishnah of Judah the Prince (or the Mishnah, see below), which exhibits many examples of midrashic reference to biblical text for justification. 5

Rabbi Meir, and Rabbi Yehuda b. Ilai. Thus, kernels of the earlier Aqivan mishnah are to be found in the canonical Mishnah of Rabbi Judah the Prince. In general, elements of earlier strata of mishnaic redaction are evinced within rabbinic literature.11 The Tosefta, meaning supplement, or addition is a subsequent collection of mishnaic material, that is to say, material that did not make its way into the Mishnah, but nonetheless shares its basic structure, often with a greater degree of elaboration in contrast to the brevity of the Mishnah.12

These works of midrash and mishnah, collectively, constitute the literary legacy of the

Tannaitic era; the importance of these early rabbinic texts to the subsequent development of

Judaism cannot be understated. Material from the mishnaic works and the tannaitic Midrashim13 were incorporated into and studied as the foundational materials of the Jerusalem14 and

11 See J. N Epstein, Introductions to Tannaitic Literature (Heb) (Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv, 1957), vol. I. Introduction to Mishnah and Tosefta. 12 Despite its name, which would imply the status of an addendum, the Tosefta constitutes an important segment of the tannaitic corpus and should not be considered secondary to the Mishnah as a historical source of tannaitic law and thought. Rather than a supplement to the Mishnah, the Tosefta, as Shamma Friedman convincingly argues, is in fact primary where we find parallel material. …The Tosefta appears to be an anthology of material relating to the Mishnah, some of which is couched in explanatory formulae, but other materials preserving older forms of the same halakhot contained in the Mishnah. The Tosefta is clearly a work subsequent to the Mishnah in time, and containing an entire post- mishnah stratum. However, regarding the parallel halakhot, this relationship is reversed; the Tosefta retains the earlier forms of the halakhot, which were reworked by the editor of the Mishnah. Another way of putting this: part of this post-mishnaic compilation supplies the Mishnah’s sources. Shamma Friedman, “The Primacy of Tosefta to Mishnah in Synoptic Parallels,” in Introducing Tosefta: Textual, Intratextual, and Intertextual Studies, ed. Harry Fox and Meacham Tirzah (Ktav Pub. House, 1999), 101. 13 Midrash, as mentioned, is also not solely a genre. During the Tannaitic Era, various arrangements of midrashic material were produced which applied, arguably, a number of midrashic exegetical techniques to the biblical text. The project of producing midrashic compilations continued well into amoraic period (e.g. ) and beyond. 14 This is also called the Palestinian Talmud (PT) and as the name suggests it contains the statements of amoraic rabbis hailing mainly from the Land of Israel and was redacted sometime in the late 4th century C.E or perhaps early 5th century. It was not composed in isolation from the scholars living in Babylonia, nor was the opposite true. Both Talmudim contain statements from sages from both lands. The Babylonian Talmud (BT), however, was redacted later (for the most part a 6th century CE redaction) and is broader in scope, incorporating the earlier rabbinic traditions and transcending them. The exact nature of the relationship between the BT and the earlier rabbinic material is complex and well beyond the scope of our present project. For a fuller description of the redactional issues regarding the BT, See J.N. Epstein, Introduction to Amoraic Literature: Babylonian Talmud and Yerushalmi (Heb), ed. E.Z. Melamed (Tel-Aviv: The Magnes Press, The Hebrew University\Dvir, 1962), 9–270, especially pg. 12. See also Strack and Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, 194–197. For my purposes, it is 6

Babylonian Talmudim. These works collectively constitute the bulk of the rabbinic corpus, the quasi-canonical body of Judaism’s foundational post-Biblical texts. This corpus illuminates for us how the Rabbis imagined the contours of the Biblical text, and it draws us into their ways of understanding the world, God and themselves. It is a rich body of lore, law, and wisdom containing a multitude of diverse opinions and voices that informed subsequent trends in Jewish legal discourse and religious thought, exhibiting differing modes of theological and praxical methodology and thematization. Both the content and structure of these works continue to have an enduring impact on Judaism in thought and practice. The rabbinic compendia constitute a body of literature that is dynamic, sweeping in the range of content, and crucial to any systematic account of Judaism through the ages.

0.3 Aggadah and Halakha

Another important distinction to be made is that which exists between halakhah and aggadah: the two genres are the primary constituent elements of both mishnah and midrash.

to go, meaning ‘the way’ or ‘the law’) refers to Jewish law while – ’הלך‘ Halakhah (from the root

meaning to “tell,” “explain,” “transmit”) is a difficult term to – ’הגיד‘ aggadah (from the root define concisely, and is often defined only negatively, as the material that is not halakhic.

Aggadah consists largely of homiletic expositions, theological speculations, hagiographic tales and other types of material. Aggadah is a complex entity, and its nature is a central theme in

Heschel’s work.

enough to view the BT as an important amoraic work, which incorporates and reflects important earlier traditions and is arguably the most influential work of the rabbinic era on subsequent generations of Jews. 7

Based on the above distinctions, midrashic texts may be categorised as either halakhic midrash (midrash pertaining to halakhic content) or aggadic midrash. Yet it is by and large the aggadic content which is relevant to the present work. For the purposes of illustration, I therefore give an example and brief analysis of specifically aggadic midrash below.15 This analysis serves to highlight the literary and conceptual features at play and to frame the approach used for these primary sources. The text is a running commentary on the following biblical verses:

Hear, O Israel: the LORD our God, the LORD is one.

And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thy hand, and they shall be for frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the door-posts of thy house, and upon thy gates.16

This passage constitutes the first chapter of a central liturgical praxis, recited twice daily in the rabbinic tradition. Referred to as the Shemaʿ (Hear O Israel), it is theologically central to rabbinic and subsequent Jewish belief and is a key element of the morning and evening prayers.

15While Mishnah is by and large halakhic in its content, with the exception of m. Avot (a short excerpt is quoted in footnote 9) and a few passages scattered here and there. Another example of aggadic mishna is the Tosefta quoted in (Tosefta Ḥagigah 1:9). In contrast, tannaitic midrash flows naturally between the two, undermining any notion of strict genre-specific divide. There is a long-standing practice in rabbinic scholarship to refer to the tannaitic midrashim as midrash halakhah (halakhic midrash) and in turn to refer to amoraic midrashim as midrash aggadah (aggadic midrash). The reason for this is that the former was deemed to be primarily composed of halakhic material while the latter was deemed to be largely aggadic in character. This is not a satisfactory nomenclature as a substantial percentage of tannaitic midrash is aggadic in nature. Furthermore, the division is not set in stone, there are many instances where legal passage is blended with and supported by narrative material. Instead, the distinction between tannaitic midrashim and amoraic midrashim, based on language and the rabbinic figures presented, will instead be used. 16 Deuteronomy 6:4-9, JPS (1917) Edition. All biblical quotes will be from this edition, excepting where contained within the citations of others. In all translations, whether cited or produced personally, I italicize the biblical verses and number the units for clarity. 8

Consider then, the following aggadic discussion from Sifre Devarim, a tannaitic midrash on

Deuteronomy. The following elaborates on the words And ye shall love the Lord your God:

Text One (Sifre D. Pisqa 32)

[1] R. Aqiva says: Once Scripture says with all thy soul, with all thy might follows by inference from the

God [מדה] implies whatever measure [מאוד] major to the minor. Why then with all thy might? Because might

metes out to you, whether of good or of punishment. Similarly, David says, (How can I repay unto the Lord

all His bountiful dealings toward me?) I will lift up the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord

(Ps. 116: 12- 3). I found trouble and sorrow, but I called upon the name of the Lord (Ps. 116:3-4)." So also

Job says, The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21) for the

measure of good and for the measure of punishment. What did his wife say to him? Dost thou still hold fast

thine integrity? Blaspheme God and die (Job 2:9). What did he say in reply? Thou speakest as one of the

impious women speaketh. Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil? (Job 2:10).

The people of the generation of the flood were vile during good times, yet when punishment came upon them,

they accepted it, whether they liked it or not. This is a matter of reasoning from the minor to the major: if one

who is vile during good times is well behaved during punishment, should not we, who are well behaved

during good times, be well behaved also during punishment? That is what he meant when he said to her,

"Speak like one of the impious women."…

[2] R. Simeon ben Yoḥai says: Precious are chastisements, for three goodly gifts coveted by all the nations

of the world were given to Israel solely for the sake of sufferings, and they are: Torah, the Land of Israel, and

the world-to-come. Whence Torah? From To know wisdom and chastisement (Prov.1: 2), and Happy is the

man whom Thou chastisest, 0h Lord, and teachest out of Thy Torah (Ps. 94:12). Whence the Land of Israel?

From The Lord, thy God, chasteneth thee . . .. For the Lord, thy God, bringeth thee into a good land (Deut.

8:5,7). Whence the world-to-come? From The commandment is a lamp and the Torah is light, and reproofs

of chastisement are the way of life (Prov. 6:23). What is the road that leads a man to the world-to-come?

9

Chastisements. R. Nehemiah says: Precious are chastisements, for just as sacrifices cause appeasement, so

do chastisements. Concerning sacrifices Scripture says, “And it shall be accepted for him, to make atonement

for him” (Lev. 1:4), while concerning chastisements it says, “And they shall be paid the punishment for their

iniquity” (Lev. 26:43). Indeed sufferings appease even more than sacrifices, for sacrifices involve one's

money, while sufferings involve one's own body, as it is said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he

give for his life (Job 2:4).

[3] Once R. Eliezer fell ill, and R. Tarfon, R. Joshua, , and R. Aqiva came to visit him.

R. Tarfon said to him, "Master, you are more precious to Israel than the orb of the sun, for the orb of the sun

sheds light on this world, while you have enlightened both this world and the world-to-come." R. Joshua said

to him, "Master, you are more precious to Israel than the gift of rain, for rain grants life in this world, while

you give it in this world and in the world-to-come." R. Eleazar ben Azariah said to him, "Master, you are

more precious to Israel than one's father and mother, for father and mother bring one into this world, while

you have brought us into this world and into the world-to-come." R. Aqiva said to him. "Master, precious are

chastisements." R. Eliezer thereupon said to his disciples, "Prop me up." When R. Eliezer had sat up, he said

to Aqiva, " Go on, Aqiva." R. Aqiva went on: It is said, Manasseh was twelve years old when he began to

reign, and he reigned fifty and five years in Jerusalem (2 Chron. 33:1), and These also are proverbs of

Solomon, which the men of Hezekiah king of Judah copied out (Prov. 25:1). Could one imagine that Hezekiah

taught Torah to all Israel but not to Manasseh, his son? Rather, all his instruction and all his toil was of no

avail to him. Only chastisements availed him, as it is said, And the Lord spoke to Manasseh and to his people,

but they gave no heed. Wherefore the Lord brought upon them the captains of the host of the king of Assyria,

who took Manasseh with hooks, and bound him with fetters, and carried him to Babylon. And when he was

in distress, he besought the Lord, his God, and humbled himself greatly before the God of his fathers, and he

prayed unto Him, and He was entreated of him, and heard his supplication, and brought him back to

Jerusalem, into his kingdom (2 Chron. 33:10-13). Hence, precious are chastisements.17

17 Reuven Hammer, trans., Sifre: A Tannaitic Commentary on the , Yale Judaica Series, v. 24 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), 60–61. 10

Here we have a text that is midrashic in two senses. 1) It is structured sequentially on a biblical text, and 2) It is found within a midrashic work, Sifre Devarim. Beyond these formal features – oft cited as the definition of midrash but rather limited in actual explanatory power – we are presented here with a textual exposition that explains one verse often in light of another in an interconnected web. In this way, midrashic passages express both attributed and unattributed viewpoints. There is also an internal conceptual and thematic structure, which typifies rabbinic in general and midrash in particular. As Daniel Boyarin puts it, midrash is “the linking up of text to text to release meaning” within a viewpoint that sees the totality of Torah as “an interpretation of the events told…rendered possible by a hermeneutic theory that sees the Bible as a self-glossing work and as a process of connecting concrete signifiers”18. We see this approach to text at play here. Our passage above is composed of a string of loosely connected commentaries on the opening paragraph of the Shemaʿ, with a variety of interpretations placed side by side. We are presented with explanations that seek to interpret one verse in light of another found in Scripture through a series of connecting concepts, which develop the theme. Most often, these interpretations are sensitive to the literary context of the verses used.19 However, the interpretation itself can either reinforce the role of a verse in its context or knowingly and willingly contradict it.20 Obviously, this passage is concerned not with

18 “‘This We Know to Be the Carnal Israel’: Circumcision and the Erotic Life of God and Israel,” Critical Inquiry 18, no. 3 (April 1, 1992): 480, doi:10.2307/1343813. 19 For example, in the discussion of suffering (discussed below), Rabbi Aqiva references both Psalms and Job. Both of these references are contextually situated in descriptions of suffering that emphasise that God is to be praised despite (and even because of) suffering. 20 An example of this is the verse from Deuteronomy cited as a prooftext by Rabbi Simeon in [2]. The verse is situated in a context that both implies and contradicts Rabbi Simeon’s interpretation. The biblical passage does indeed refer to various sufferings over the forty-year period of wandering in the desert in order to test the people’s obedience and instruct them that man doth not live on bread only. And indeed, that, as a man chasteneth his son, so the LORD thy God chasteneth thee. However, the overall message is that living in the Land of Israel and thriving 11

matters pertaining directly to the technicalities of law, but with theological and philosophical concerns.21 The passage, in parts not quoted above, focuses on the nature of the commandment to love God and develops a contrast between religiosity based on fear versus the superior state of loving God. However, in terms of its overall structure, the text is thematically arranged from beginning to end by the religious quandary of suffering. The unasked question is how suffering should be understood. If we serve God out of love, and not out of fear of punishment, is suffering even a punishment? To what extent should we be concerned with it? If it is not a punishment,

there, depends on obedience. Disobedience will bring suffering, destructions, and ultimately being driven off the land. Suffering is an effect of losing the Land, in addition to a cause in initially gaining it. 21 The following halakhic text, from a passage in close proximity to this one, helps to illustrate the contrast between the two genres. (However, it also highlights the artificiality of the division, in that the text flows right back into a related, yet aggadic story.)

And when thou liest down (6:7):

[1] You might think that this applies even if one lies down in the middle of the day, hence Scripture goes on

to say, And when thou risest up (6:7) you might think that this applies even if one is awake in the middle of

the night, hence Scripture says, When thou sittest in thy house and when thou walkest by the way (6:7)—the

Torah is using common forms of speech. Once R. Ishmael was reclining…

Note Rabbi Ishmael’s distinctive application of the notion that Torah speaks conventionally, not literally, when defining this commandment. The verse describing the requirement to recite the shemaʿ when one rises and when one sits refers to general times of the day and not to actual postures. The passage continues into an interesting aggadic story reflecting the contentious nature of this ruling. Ishmael advocates for the above decision in opposition to a

Sage who does not.

Sifre Devarim Pisqa 34. Translation from Reuven Hammer, Sifre, 65.

12

why, then, do we suffer in life? The passage begins with a more concrete exegesis of the verse, which only tangentially touches on the theme of suffering, and conversely concludes in a way that is only barely connected to the literal verses but maximally engaged with the said theme.22

To illustrate this point, note how Rabbi Aqiva, in [1], asserts that the literal phrase with all thy soul would naturally include with all thy strength.23 Thus, the verse must then refer to something more expansive than simply adding redundantly with all thy strength, which would otherwise be an unnecessary waste of sacred text. The essential assumption at play is that

Scripture represents a complete and perfect whole, wherein redundancy is, to a lesser or greater extent, an exegetical marker signifying additional information. Here, Rabbi Aqiva (whose exegesis is typified by using language expansively) is making an analogy based on linguistic

measure. Both words share two (מדה) is similar to the word (מאוד) similarity. The word strength of three radical root letters and are similar enough for Rabbi Aqiva to be willing to interchange their meanings. Thus, serving God with all thy might really means to serve God with whatever measure He metes out to you.24 What follows is an excellent example of what Boyarin describes, where the totality of scripture is a self-glossing text with a series of connected concrete

22 I would assert that this is an express redactional choice by the editor(s) of the Sifre, reflecting a more systematic view of the topic on the part of the anonymous and quoted rabbis found therein. The Sifre Devarim is thought to belong to the school of Rabbi Aqiva, the import and implications of which shall be discussed below and throughout this work. qal waḥomer) is translated by Hammer as From major –קל וחומר) In the original Hebrew, the hermeneutic device 23 to minor. The term is a ubiquitous exegetical technique in rabbinic writing that argues a point as a fortiori, from major to minor or minor to major. For example, if A is stronger than B and B is stronger than C, than, qal waḥomer, A is stronger than C. See Louis Jacobs and David Derovan, “Hermeneutics,” ed. Michael Berenbaum and Fred Skolnik, Encyclopaedia Judaica (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), Gale Virtual Reference Library, http://go.galegroup.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CCX2587508805&v=2.1&u=ucalgary&it=r& p=GVRL&sw=w&asid=fbffe3c8228b9bb47e285783032b5377. and the bibliography therein. 24 We see a similar interpretation at the end, where takes the term meʾod to mean modeh – praise. 13

signifiers. This notion of loving God, despite what comes, is, according to Rabbi Aqiva, what

David intended in the verse in Psalms where he continues to praise God despite suffering. The well-known conversation between the all-suffering Job and his wife, too, becomes a dialogue on how to love God, and thus a commentary on the Shemaʿ itself. It is not only the mere acceptance of suffering that is required in order love God with all thy soul. If wicked people have had to endure sufferings without complaint, all the more so should the righteous. Suffering becomes the righteous more than the wicked!

This particular stance25 on theodicy is expanded as this midrash continues with a further a discussion of suffering in similar vein (some of which is absent in the above citation): suffering is what makes Israel loved in the eyes of God, analogous to a father reproaching his son. One who does not suffer, the text implies, should be worried about the status of his or her reward in the world-to-come. According to Simeon ben Yoḥai, in [2], Torah, the Land of Israel, and the world-to-come are only obtainable through suffering. The Hebrew words for suffering and

Furthermore, the word for .(יסר) reproach or chastisement are similar, sharing the same root

can also be translated as instruction, depending on context. As we have already (מוסר) reproach seen, rabbinic exegesis often plays with similarities between words as well as words with ambiguous meaning, using them as a source of what is often creative interpretation. The prooftexts in [2], with the exception of the text from Deuteronomy, would typically be translated in the sense of instruction. However, in its midrashic context the intention of the word is clearly

25 Important to my purpose here, this text centres largely on the opinions of Rabbi Aqiva and his students. Absent are the opinions of Rabbi Ishmael and his school, which does not seem to advocate anything like Aqiva’s notion of suffering being an act of love from God to Israel. What we see here is a specific theological viewpoint developed within one school versus the other. 14

understood to refer to suffering. The prooftext presented from Deuteronomy is even more surprising because it runs completely contrary to the literal sense of the biblical passage (Deut. chap. 8), which emphasises the importance of fulfilling God’s commandments and the consequences for failing to do so. The sufferings mentioned in this biblical chapter were of the people’s own making – the consequences for having continually tested God and questioning

Moses’ motives. Much of the theme of Deuteronomy is one of reproach for a stiff-necked people who will ultimately sin and be cast out of the land, though ultimately returned to it as well. The biblical text emphasises suffering as a result of not fulfilling God’s laws. Yet, what this midrash does is partially engage and partially transform the literal meaning. God brought the Children of

Israel into the land and this was specifically accomplished through suffering. However, God promises to keep Israel in the Land on subject to the condition that Israel observes his commandments.26

The midrashic text continues to expand the issue of suffering in [3], which relates a parable (a common feature of aggadic material). A consistent running theme is the world-to- come. Rabbi Eliezer (ben Hyrcanus), one of Rabbi Aqiva’s main teachers (the other being Rabbi

Joshua), is dying a painful death. This event occurred after Rabbi Eliezer’s deposition from his position in the Sanhedrin, leaving him isolated except for a few of his students and colleagues.

Feeling isolated and ignored at the end of his life, the first three of his younger contemporaries

26 See footnote 20 above. Also, It is important to assess the Sifre Devarim in its own historical context (though of course not reduce it to only that). As Reuven Hammer notes, the sections of rebuke in Deuteronomy are not ignored. “Although the sections on rebuke are replete with condemnation of Israel, which must be seen not only as a reflection of historical events but also as a comment on current affairs (see Pisqa 12, 14, 20, 24, and numerous sections in Haʾazinu), Sifre misses no opportunity to praise the people and stress God’s positive relationship to them, emphasizing the unbroken nature of this relationship. Hammer, Sifre, 17–18. 15

and students attempt to console Rabbi Eliezer by emphasizing the manner in which his teachings have spiritually advanced Israel. He is greater than the sun for enlightening both the present world and the world to come. He is more precious than rain, for his teachings sustain even unto the next world. And he is more efficacious at giving life even than one’s parents, for he brings

Israel into the next world in addition merely to this world. However, it is Rabbi Aqiva whose statement catches his attention, and soothes him. Rabbi Aqiva tells his ailing master that suffering itself is precious. Suffering alone was able to rectify the character of the wicked King

Manasseh, an argument structured from both Proverbs (Manasseh’s father, Hezekiah, is understood to have taught Torah to the people of Israel) and the history described in Chronicles.

Suffering is reparative, and is ultimately borne of God’s love.27

The above midrashic passage on suffering is the kind of intratextual and intertextual approach, which, while perfectly willing at times to defy the literal meaning, nonetheless sees the totality of Torah as a single coherent unit. This text also reflects the harsh reality of the times in which it was produced for the Jews living in the Land of Israel. It is aimed not only at answering for why there is suffering, but attempts to soften it, even glorify it, as a true demonstration of

God’s love. It manifests a theological disposition aimed at comforting a suffering people, and struggles to account for why serving God and being chosen by God would be accompanied by so

Sufferings of Love is well attested to in scholarship as a distinctive idea of Rabbi – יסורין של אהבה The theme of 27 Aqiva’s, associated with his martyrdom and mysticism. See Efraim Elimelech Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, trans. Israel Abrahams, Publications of the Perry Foundation in the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University, 1975), 444–461. Heschel develops this theme as a point of contrast between Rabbi Aqiva with Rabbi Ishmael, who did not accept suffering so easily and, instead, viewed suffering as a legitimate gripe to bring to God provided that the person suffering is righteous. This will be expanded somewhat in More recently, Daniel ."יסורים – Chapter One. See Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), chap. 6. "Suffering Boyarin, wrote a book chapter on the subject of Rabbi Aqiva’s theophanic and martyr-based view of suffering and God. See Daniel. Boyarin, Intertextuality and the Reading of Midrash (Bloomington [u.a.]: Indiana Univ. Pr., 2010), chap. 8. “Between Intertextuality and History: The Martyrdom of .” 16

much hardship. It is important to assert, though, that midrash should not and cannot be reduced to simply a manifestation of historical situation. It is also very much an engagement with an older text and constitutes a very sincere exegetical venture. As Daniel Boyarin, writing on an analogous text writes:

Traditional scholarship has considered midrash a wholly transparent reflection of the historical conditions

obtaining at the time of its creation. This is in spite of the fact that its explicit generic claim is to be

interpretation of a text which belongs to another time and place. Indeed, it may be because of this claim.

Since midrashic interpretation often seems so far from what we might imagine as paraphrase, it seems

inevitably to condemn itself to a reading which takes it as a reflection of something else, almost as a kind of

historical allegory, disguised as pseudocommentary. This version of historicism has the virtue of emphasizing

the vital, ideological import of midrash, but underestimates the contribution to ideology of reading the Bible.

More recently, theorists working in the "deconstructive" mode have read midrash in terms suggesting that it

is a kind of protodeconstruction, a hermeneutics of Dionysian free play with the biblical text. This move has

had the great virtue of leading to a reconsideration of these texts as a reading of the Bible, but seems to

undermine the very significance of that reading for social practice, indeed for life and death. A revised

conception of the hermeneutics of midrash ought accordingly to allow us to reunderstand its relation to

history and rabbinic culture and account for both its character as interpretation and its relation to life in

historical time.28

Therefore, although the text from Deuteronomy is certainly a response to relevant contemporaneous circumstance (i.e. Roman oppression – Rabbi Aqiva himself ultimately dying a martyr’s death) the exposition on suffering is also a very particular view of theodicy as an applied hermeneutic. There is no reason not to approach this view of the Problem of Suffering

28 Boyarin, Intertextuality and the Reading of Midrash, 117–118. 17

with the same kind of philosophic analysis as one would afford to a more direct and conventionally philosophical treatise, and many reasons to do so. Aggadic expositions such as the one considered allow us to tease out from the text very real philosophic trends within the rabbinic corpus. As it happens, this text belongs to the School of Rabbi Aqiva. Heschel argues that Rabbi Aqiva has a philosophical outlook on suffering that contrasts its counterpart, the

School of Rabbi Ishmael. The contrast between the two Schools is outlined below.

0.4 Two Schools – Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael

Tannaitic midrash is composed of strata from varying periods, and the final redacted versions of the tannaitic midrashim draw on statements and deliberations from many periods - some of which predate the Tannaim, while some others post-date the oral codification of the mishnah.

Arguably the most important strata, however, are those extant from two rabbinic figures and their schools, that of Rabbi Aqiva and that of Rabbi Ishmael. The roles that these two schools play in our understanding of the world of thought in which the ancient rabbis lived is the essential thesis of TMS.

Until the modern era, questions of authorship and redaction of rabbinic material, with strong emphasis on the Babylonian Talmud, were largely addressed by two important historical sources. One was the Iggeret or Letter of Rabbi Sherira Gaʾon, a historical responsum sent by

Sherira Gaʾon (c.900-1000 C.E.) to the community of Kairwan concerning the history, authorship, and composition of the Talmud. The second was to be found in Maimonides’ preface to , in which he describes the nature and origin of the Oral Torah. These two works continued to have a powerful voice well into the nineteenth century when a number of

Jewish scholars, part of the larger Wissenschaft des Judentums movement in Germany, turned to

18

these rabbinic texts and applied to them the emerging textual study methodologies which prevailed (and to a large extent continue to prevail) in historical research. I refer here to the philological study of textual and redactional criticism. The central focus was to evaluate manuscripts, assign authorship, determine the original readings, reconstruct lost texts, date and assess the historicity of various texts, and subsequently establish an intertextual chronology. This eclipsed the medieval treatises, showing a world of rabbinic literature that was far more sophisticated in its composition and redactional history than was previously thought.

One of the most important philological scholars of rabbinic texts at this time was David

Zvi Hoffman (1843-1921). Hoffman was the first to systematically divide the tannaitic midrashim into the model of the two schools. At the time, there were only four tannaitic midrashic texts (midrash tannaim) in manuscript and print form known to exist:

1. Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (MI) on the text of Exodus;

2. (also known as Torath-Cohanim) on Leviticus;

3. Sifre Ba-Midbar (Sifre B.) on Numbers; and

4. Sifre Devarim (Sifre D.) on Deuteronomy.

Hoffman noticed, after close examination, that there were differences between two bodies of texts. One group of texts (Sifra29 and Sifre D.) contained mostly the statements of Rabbi Aqiva and his students with only occasional statements from Rabbi Ishmael and his students. The other group of texts (MI – as the name might suggest – and the Sifre B.) reflected the converse. These works exhibited differing exegetical techniques and terminologies, each one respectively applying rules or interpretive systems that textually could be traced to the two schools. Hoffman

29 In actual fact, Sifra is a composite, with sizable chunks belonging to one school or the other. 19

concluded that midrashic tannaim could thus be divided into two schools: the School of Rabbi

Aqiva, and the School of Rabbi Ishmael.30 31

The work of Hoffman was greatly expanded fifty years later by J. N. Epstein (1878-

1952). Epstein was a giant in the field of rabbinics and the philological assessment of rabbinic texts. Building on the work of Hoffman, Epstein developed the theory of the Two Schools even further, with sophisticated comparisons of the midrashic material to the Talmudim. The general conclusion about the differing approaches of the two schools can be roughly summarised as two differing approaches to biblical exegesis: Rabbi Aqiva and his school apply a system known as

30 Hoffman’s work, written in German, is entitled David Zvi Hoffman, Zur Einleitung in Die Halachischen Midraschim (Berlin: M. Driesner, 1886). The work has been translated into Hebrew by Alexander Rabinovitz as , Mesilot Le-Torat Ha-Tanaʹim, trans. Alexander Siskind Rabinovitz, 728. 31 Hoffman also contended that there must be two tannaitic works on all the books of the Pentateuch31, from both of the respective schools, and was the first to offer a complete reconstruction of the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Simeon bar

Yoḥai31 (MSY), based almost entirely on the Midrash Ha-Gadol (the Great Midrash – a 13th century Yemenite text which contains large sections of the lost MSYas well as roughly seven pages from the the recently discovered Cairo

Genizah. The work was effectively lost since the 17th century but is frequently quoted in medieval and Geonic sources. Hoffman also consolidated fragments of the other lost midrashim.

J.N. Epstein also produced new critical editions and began an updated reconstruction of the MSY based on a wealth of new manuscript that had been discovered, including a wealth of material coming out of the Cairo Genizah, the contents of which were, by that time, being effectively catalogued. Epstein’s greater degree of access to manuscripts allowed him to apply a more critical apparatus to his critical text. This had the ironic effect of both proving

Hoffman’s earlier reconstruction correct while rendering it redundant at the same time. (W. David Nelson, trans.,

Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 1st ed (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2006), xvi–xvii.) Epstein’s scholarship on rabbinic texts was a substantial contribution to the field of Jewish Studies and continues to be relevant and used to this day.

20

ribbui u-meʿut (inclusion and exclusion) while Rabbi Ishmael and his school utilise a number of hermeneutical principles within an exegetical system often referred to as a whole as klal u-pherat

(the general and the particular). The system of Rabbi Aqiva’s will cause one to latch on to a hermeneutically significant (in his view) signifier and use it to either extend a law or concept to include something else, or to exclude it. The latter system of Rabbi Ishmael, on the other hand, is more reserved and applies a number of known logical principles to the text. Common to both schools are a shared number of heuristic interpretive devices common to rabbinic exegesis, though they differ widely in the extent to which these are used.32 A fundamental difference between the schools, however, and one which speaks to the differing ways in which these schools fundamentally read the biblical text is this: Rabbi Aqiva understands the text of the

Torah to be transrational, with absolutely no redundant or extra words (even for emphasis through repetition, etc.), phrases, or even typographical features. Everything and anything is open to interpretation, and can be used either to prove or support either an existing oral law or tradition, or to produce novel exegesis.. Rabbi Ishmael and his school, in contrast, apply a more reserved approach; the Torah speaks in human language is an oft-cited refrain emphasising the view that the text of the Torah was written in a human linguistic style, in human language, with a human audience in mind. Thus, literary flourishes (usually the biblically common doubling of a verb) were to be understood simply as the vagaries of language. Exegesis is limited, then, to logical principles and reasonable, rational analysis such as befitted the text of Torah. The deeper

32 It is not within the scope of this work to fully analyse and assess each and every interpretive technique attributed to both schools respectively. For an excellent and systematic comparison of the technical tools of textual analysis as employed by the two figures, or schools, see Epstein, Introductions to Tannaitic Literature (Heb), 521–536. For a breakdown of the contemporary scholarship on the issue, see Strack and Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, 247–251. I hasten to add, however, that I do not agree with Stemberger’s conclusions, which I shall address at least in part. 21

implications of these differing technical approaches to text is significant to Heschel’s own thesis and shall be explored more deeply throughout this work. Heschel saw these as being far more than exegetical techniques used to support or derive halakhic detail – these viewpoints embody completely different theological and philosophic attitudes towards the text of the Torah. This in and of itself implies a different philosophy of Torah, so to speak, and a host of contrasting philosophic views in correlation with this essential dichotomy of perspective. By and large,

Heschel’s interpretation provides a dynamic rubric through which to engage with rabbinic texts and this work therefore argues that his contribution to our understanding of rabbinics and Jewish thought requires a fresh re-evaluation.

The historical backdrop to his claim and this thesis’ assertion of its value, however, requires further analysis. It is important to note that while Hoffman and Epstein’s model of the tannaitic midrash is well-established and accepted in scholarly circles, there are some dissenting opinions that should be mentioned. Chanoch Albeck questioned how strictly the different methods were applied within the texts attributed to either school.33 G.G. Porton argues, that there seems an even distribution of opinions attributed to Ishmael within both "camps" as well as a fair bit of Aqiva within the Ishmaelian.34 Although the two midrashic bodies of work have different exegetical terminology, this is by no means a strict division and thus, the argument goes, may reflect a later redactional construction. While neither scholar outright rejected the view of there being two schools, they both feel that it is not satisfactorily demonstrated given the variety of opinions from both schools distributed across the midrashic works. Gunter Stemberger concludes

33 Chanoch Albeck, Untersuchungen Über Die Halakischen Midraschim, Veröffentlichungen Der Akademie Für Die Wissenschaft Des Judentums. Talmudische Sektion. 3. Bd (Berlin: Akademie-verlag, 1927), 78–81. 34 Gary G. Porton, The Traditions of Rabbi Ishmael, Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity, v. 19 (Leiden: Brill, 1976), 4:55. 22

from the above that: “the exegetical differences between Ishmael and Aqiva cannot be verified; nor can their foundation of schools of interpretation.” However, the views of Stemberger and

Porton are heavily influenced by the views of Jacob Neusner (Porton’s teacher), whose views dominated the English language study of rabbinics at the time.

Scholarship has since addressed these concerns. With respect to Albeck’s position – that the differing methods are only loosely applied – new research (aside from and quite a bit more recent than Heschel’s) further cements the original claim of Hoffman and Epstein – and by extension that of Heschel himself. Notably, Azzan Yadin recently conducted extensive research on the Ishmaelian exegetical approach in Scripture As Logos: Rabbi Ishmael and the Origins of

Midrash. Yadin rigorously demonstrates the precise technical application of the Ishmaelian interpretive approach in contrast to Rabbi Aqiva’s. Yadin does so in part by clarifying the difference between dibbrah Torah - the Torah speaks (in human language) and amrah Torah – the Torah states. Based on a comparison between Sifre N. §23 and §112, Yadin comments:

The biblical verse in question addresses the punishment of a person who knowingly transgresses a divine

commandment. For an unintentional transgression (bi-shegagah), one must offer a kid as a (Num

15:27), but in the case of an intentional transgression the offender "shall surely be cut off." This last phrase

is expressed in Hebrew as an infinitive absolute followed by a finite form of the same root (k-r-t), a

formulation that emphasizes the certainty of the punishment. Rabbi Aqiva argues that the repetition of the

root is hermeneutically significant, suggesting that the sinner is to be cut off twice: once in this world and

again in the world to come. Rabbi Ishmael counters Rabbi Aqiva's argument by pointing to a third occurrence

of the same root in the previous verse, "that person shall be cut off [nikhreta]" (Num 15:30). If Rabbi Aqiva

understands each of the two forms of k-r-t in Numbers 15:31 as corresponding to two worlds, would this

logic not dictate that the third form correspond to a third world? Rabbi Ishmael undermines Rabbi Aqiva's

23

interpretation by reductio ad absurdum and concludes, instead, that, "TORAH spoke the language of man."

In its two occurrences, dibberah torah does not introduce a statement made by TORAH, but rather

characterizes TORAH's speech. The formula is not concerned with what TORAH says but with how it says

it. As a result, the hermeneutical function of dibberah torah is very different from that of 'amrah torah. In

Sifre Numbers §23, the identity of yayin (wine) and shekhar (intoxicant) is stated at the outset without the

support of a prooftext ("yayin is shekhar and shekhar is yayin"). The statement "TORAH spoke in two

expressions" is a general support of scriptural synonymity, buttressed by additional examples of this

phenomenon. Similarly, in Sifre Numbers §112 the phrase "TORAH spoke the language of man" is not

specific to Numbers 15:31. That is, the phrase does not refute Rabbi Aqiva's position; the reductio ad

absurdum argument involving the third instance of k-r-t does. "TORAH spoke the language of man" explains

why Rabbi Ishmael, having rejected Rabbi Aqiva's interpretation, does not present an alternate reading of the

infinitive-plus-finite-verb form (hikaret tikaret); to wit, it is a permissible mode of speech free of interpretive

implications. In both cases, then, dibberah torah addresses general hermeneutical issues rather than

introducing decisive legal prooftexts, as with 'amrah torah. In summary, TORAH's speech is usually

introduced by the phrase 'amrah torah and consists either of verbatim citation of biblical verses or of

paraphrases based on what Scripture is understood (by the rabbinic interpreter) to be saying. The content of

TORAH's speech is Torah, Scripture, and its words do not need explication or justification; they are

hermeneutically self-evident statements applied to other verses. There is also a second, rare mode of speech

attributed to TORAH – dibberah torah – that refers to biblical discourse more generally, suggesting that

Scripture possesses a particular style and that not every textual phenomenon justifies interpretation. Aside

from the respective functions of the two phrases, the distinction as such is significant, as it suggests that the

Rabbi Ishmael midrashim employ interpretive terminology in a deliberate manner.35

35 Azzan Yadin, Scripture as Logos: Rabbi Ishmael and the Origins of Midrash (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 18–19, http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/scripture-as-logos-rabbi- ishmael/9780812204124-item.html. 24

The ramification of Yadin’s argument is highly significant. Not only is there a clear difference in the application of technical terms, but also this difference is hermeneutically meaningful in a manner that is precisely in line with the core of Heschel’s argument, as I shall articulate further in the following chapter. Suffice it to say, the intentional application of technical exegetical terms is applied with a specific intentionality informed by an overriding theological perspective. Though not addressed directly by Yadin, the Aqivan view also gives us a glimpse into his own broader theology – one that sees the expansive interpretation of text as connecting, in this case, with Aqiva’s own eschatological views.

Another dissenting consideration opposed to the model that Hoffman, Epstein, and ultimately Heschel espouse is that the redacted works appear to be evenly divided between the

Schools, throwing the distinction between the Schools into doubt and leading to Neusner’s conclusion that the difference is purely a later redactional contrivance. This line of argument is rather weak, however. Although the redacted works often contain material from both schools, the distinction is nonetheless well established. This project relies on sound scholarly arguments that affirm the Schools as distinct. While the redactors of the various tannaitic midrashim included material from both schools, as is typical of rabbinic texts in general which seek to preserve what constitutes non-normative opinions in the eyes of the redactors,36 the sheer preponderance of

36 Part of Albeck’s claim -- that with regard to the tannaitic midrashim we are likely dealing with the product of later redaction instead of two distinct schools -- is based on the fact that the MI is not directly referenced in the Talmud by name. However, J. Z. Lauterbach (1873–1942), who produced an excellent critical edition and translation of the MI, counters with the following: There is no reason whatever to assume that the Midrash to Exodus which was known to the Amoraim and referred to by them under the general name Sifre was an altogether different work with no relation whatever to our Mekilta. It certainly cannot be assumed that at the time when the first redactors of our Mekilta and our Sifre set out to compile these works, the earlier amoraic collections containing Midrashim to the three books of the Torah, covered by our Mekilta and our Sifre, had already been entirely lost…It is rather safe to assume, on the contrary, that the collections of amoraic times formed the nucleus of the Midrashim preserved to us, and are actually contained in them…This earlier work, or original draft of our 25

textual examples of the distinctive methods and language of the two Schools cannot be ignored.

The scholarship claiming the contrary does not undermine the thesis that there were indeed two

Schools (with a demonstrated substantial difference not only with respect to terminology but also in terms of content, style and technique). The conceptual division between the exegetical traditions of Rabbis Ishmael and Aqiva, begun by Hoffman and continued through the work of

Epstein, have, to a greater or lesser extent, received widespread acceptance. Eliezer Segal deems the division between the two schools “a successful achievement of the wissenschaft.”37

Furthermore, regarding the integrity and cohesion of the tannaitic midrashim, Segal remarks:

The compendia of tannaitic midrash have a character that is distinct from their better-known and more

frequently studied amoraic counterparts. Whereas the latter are usually fragmentary assemblages of disparate

sources whose structure and content reflect a close tie to the public discourses preached in the ,

the former come across, on the whole, as integral and unified works, presented in a single language (Hebrew,

without Aramaic) and with a redactional presence that is subtle and relatively seamless.38

Suffice it to say, this thesis operates on the following assumptions:

Mekilta, most likely had its origin in the school of R. Ishmael, or at least was based for the greater part upon some collected teachings of his disciples. The preponderance of R. Ishmael’s teachings and the frequency with which his disciples are mentioned, which are characteristic features of the Mekilta in its present form, justify this supposition. But it would be unwarranted to assume that this earlier work known to the Amoraim was a work of the school of R. Ishmael exclusively, as contrasted with, or distinguished from, similar works of the school of R. Akiba. The Amoraim, even of the first generation, were not so strict as to maintain separately distinct collections containing exclusively the teachings of R. Akiba and other special collections containing exclusively the teachings of R. Ishmael. They would not hesitate to incorporate teachings originating in the one school in a collection consisting, in the main, of teachings from the other school, as long as these were, in the new collections, given in the names of their respective authors. Jacob Zallel Lauterbach, trans., Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication Society, 2004), xxviii–xxx. 37 Eliezer Segal, “Interpreting Midrash 3: Midrash and the Tannaitic Aggada,” Prooftexts 12, no. 2 (May 1, 1992): 188. 38 Ibid. 26

1. The tannaitic midrashim, even where they contain various strata of material, are indeed a

cohesive product and reflection of the historical Tannaim and their biblical exegesis.

2. There exist two distinct approaches to exegesis within the tannaitic corpus: that of Rabbi

Aqiva and that of Rabbi Ishmael.

3. The critical editions used of rabbinic texts, including the reconstructed Mekhilta de-Rabbi

Simeon bar Yoḥai, are the product of extensive and competent manuscript analysis and,

despite needing updating based on new manuscripts, they are nonetheless reliable for

studies which consider trends in aggregate (though they may be admittedly problematic

for studies relying on single textual fragments).

Regarding the second assumption, I would add that we are justified in assuming, lacking evidence to the contrary, that this represents the true historical development of two contrasting personalities and schools no more or less reliable than any of the many debates and arguments that are present throughout the rabbinic corpus.39 My opinion on the matter is informed, to a large extent, by what Daniel Boyarin argues in a critique of the views of Jacob Neusner. As mentioned above, Neusner believes that much of the substantive theological content in the form of an Aqivan/Ishmaelian dichotomy is a construction of the redactors, who long post-date the actual tannaitic figures in the midrashic corpus. Based partly on a flawed reliance on the concept of “classical religion,” Neusner assigns a very late date to tannaitic midrash, and thus concludes

39 Even if the two schools are somehow proven to be merely a redactional construction – something which simply does not ring true, though this not something I will here set out to prove – this is simply not that important. The fact that these two textually preserved "schools" – historically real or not - exist in the earliest foundational post-biblical texts of Judaism means that the themes, concepts, and ideas that they explore need to be explored in their own right. Even if there were no such schools, in fact, and even no such people, I assert the scholarly right to use their names and schools as if they had existed. I do not think, though, that this a tenuous assumption to assume that they did indeed exist, whether or not their debates are staged textual thematizations or actual recorded discussions. In the final result, the difference is not crucial. 27

that attribution is meaningless in these texts as anything quoted is either late or pseudepigraphic.

This view further depends another of Neusner’s assumptions, namely that documents only attest to the views of the final redactors, so that they cannot be used as evidence for earlier periods.

Boyarin expertly counters Neusner’s entire project and responds to Neusner’s conclusions by stating:

There is every reason to believe that the texts were edited by sub-groups (interlocking and interacting with

others) of a larger group using what were by-and-large materials common to the whole group. If we want to

describe the Judaism of the tannaim, we will certainly have to make judicious use of the tannaitic midrashim

in that enterprise and fully expect that very Judaism to be heterogeneous itself, not coherent, self-consistent,

and complete. We will want to analyze the ideologies of the editors of the final text, as well as the counter-

ideologies preserved willy-nilly by those very editors…. The tannaitic midrashim undoubtedly preserve

much matter that is older than the Mishna as well as much that is later, and there is no escape from trying to

tell the difference. Always assuming that the material is later and writing a history of ideas on that basis

involves conjecture no less strong than assuming that the opposite is always true, and the science is, therefore,

pseudo-science. As all sophisticated historians know by now, all we have are constructions - some more and

some less plausible.40

0.5 Some Final Notes on Methodology

The approach used in this thesis is not one that is primarily philological; rather, it sits at the intersection of specialised rabbinic exegetical analysis and the philosophy of religion. While consciously depending on the fruits of two centuries of philological study, this project instead aims, not at assessing the historicity and authorship of texts, but rather philosophically assessing

40 Daniel Boyarin, “On the Status of the Tannaitic Midrashim,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 112, no. 3 (July 1, 1992): 464. 28

the thematic content thereof. The pertinent questions here are not restricted to ‘what did Rabbi X say?’ or ‘what hermeneutic principle was applied to get there?’ We must take this one step further and ask: what does this statement amongst others teach us about this rabbi’s attitude towards the text of the Torah? What does that show us about this Rabbi’s inner beliefs and opinions? What philosophical anxiety or theological position does this imply? What are the implications of such a belief? This line of enquiry requires sensitivity to the text of the Torah as well as the rabbinic gloss in question. It is crucial to ask the question: what feature(s) of a given passage in Scripture is propelling a given Sage to respond in a given manner to it? After that, we must assess the rabbi’s response within his historical context in general and also as a sincere interpretation of an even older text representing, in turn, a place in the history of ideas. Though we can never fully place ourselves in the context of another, I assert that meaning and intent may be accessed from these texts.

This methodology of analysing rabbinic exegesis is also informed by Michael Fishbane’s

The Exegetical Imagination. Fishbane asserts that the exegetical imagination in rabbinic thought arises upon the codification of the fixed texts of Miqraʾ. Fishbane writes:

Rabbinic thought and theology are quintessentially bible-based – whether they are

explanations, interpretations, or allegories of their scriptural source... For the latter-day

interpreter of interpreters it is precisely these modes of re-voicing that must be studied in

order to understand how a second-order discourse derives from the first.41

41 Michael A Fishbane, The Exegetical Imagination : On Jewish Thought and Theology (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998), 3. 29

Fishbane, here, notes the required sensitivity to the texture of Scripture and to the “various verbal conditions and nuances that elicit the exegetical imagination”. Exegetical enterprise, says

Fishbane, “redefines the strategy of Scripture and orders them as ideals for life. Love and death and joy are not just aspects of one's own natural being, but values to be enacted in idealised ways... These ideals are constructed through the exegetical imagination and transmitted through the theological interpretation.”42 Thus, to paraphrase Fishbane, the concept of world-making is the ultimate edifice of exegetical interpretation. The scholar of exegesis, the “third-order of discourse”, requires sensitivity to the conditions and textures of text that the exegetes interpret.

The scholar of exegesis, in turn, must allow the discourse in question to determine its sense and he or she cannot afford to ignore the patterns of exegetical thinking preserved in the text. The scholar must then

…re-imagine the earlier exegete's habit of mind. Only thus will a truly historical theology be retrieved... The

modern interpreter is already engaged in a third-order discourse. The new voice of the contemporary scholar

is no more the voice of the old interpreters than theirs was the primary voice of Hebrew scripture. Like its

predecessor, this new voice is also engaged in prolonging the words of the ancient text – despite the new

language and contexts in which it speaks. Scholarly discourse may therefore rightly be seen as a kind of

super-commentary, analysing texts with the ideas and methods of one's own historical situation, and

integrating them into new orders of significance. Accordingly, the ideal may be to approximate an authentic

double-voicedness: to speak about the text with an intimacy and understanding achieved through philological

persistence, but in a voice that is also shaped by the conceptions and concerns of one's own time and place. I

43 do not believe that the older interpreters did any less.”

42 Ibid., 4. 43 Ibid. 30

This project is an assessment of Heschel’s own historical theology. Fishbane wrote these words some thirty-five years after Heschel wrote what was arguably Heschel’s magnum opus and decades after he passed away. Yet, Fishbane’s prescription of how to approach rabbinic text describes closely the methodology of Heschel himself, though doubtless he would not have expressed it the same way. It is, in a sense, a justification for Heschel’s approach after the fact. It represents a growing voice in the academy, which validates the methodology that Heschel used.

(TMS was not so well received in its time, as we shall discuss in Chapter One.) It only through understanding the methodology that Heschel himself applied as a student of rabbinic literature that the scholar of Heschel can obtain a meaningful understanding of TMS - a fourth-order exegesis if you will.

The subsequent discussion is presented in the following three chapters:

Chapter One is an assessment of the nature of TMS and its central claims. This includes

Heschel’s approach to aggadah, and his theological and philosophical expansion of the textual legacies of the school of Rabbi Ishmael and the school of Rabbi Aqiva. Some consideration is also given to the critical responses to TMS.

Chapter Two is a testing of Heschel’s thesis through an applied comparison between the MI and the MSY on the same chapter in Exodus, the revelation of the Torah at Mount Sinai. This comparison supports Heschel’s claims regarding substantial theological contrasts within the aggadic viewpoints, and in turn strengthens his overarching claims.

Chapter Three is a detailed analysis of Heschel’s historical claim concerning the influence of the Two Schools on the permutations of discourse in the history of Jewish religious thought. This analysis is based on the difference between the Schools, which Heschel’s schema presents with

31

regard to versus and theophany, and the ontological nature of Torah and its text.

32

Chapter One: Torah Min Ha-Shamayim ― An Analytic Assessment

1.1 The Life and Times of Torah Min Ha-Shamayim

Abraham Joshua Heschel’s Torah Min Ha-Shamayim is a sophisticated work, which has never been comprehensively assessed with the rigour that it deserves. It was not particularly well-received upon its publication: a reception provoked in part by a curious publication history,44 as well as structural and stylistic features which noticeably distinguish TMS from contemporaneous works in rabbinics. TMS is a dense work and the structuring of its major claims and corresponding proofs is not clearly delineated. TMS exhibits a style that is decidedly rabbinic. The argumentation is to some extent elliptical and contrasting opinions tend to be presented almost conversationally through a backward-and-forward meandering between approaches to a given theme. TMS employed a writing style and an interpretive focus that was not well received (nor in vogue) in scholarly circles and is marred by a lack of editing as many citations contain pagination and other minor typographical errors. Yet, taken as a whole TMS does employ a sound methodology and makes important and, I argue, defensible claims. Doing

TMS justice requires careful reading with special attention to Heschel’s sources, as well as the notes of the critical texts and scholars that Heschel was using. Key arguments and claims, which may seem on the surface to be unsubstantiated, are textually supported and developed over the course of the work as they unfold through the theological categories that are explored. With each

44 The publishing of TMS was somewhat tumultuous. Volume I was printed in 1962 and Volume II was printed three years later in 1965. These two volumes where published by Defus Shontsin, the Israeli branch of Soncino. However, Volume III was not printed until 1990, 18 years after Heschel passed away in 1972, and was published by the Jewish Theological Seminary. TMS was written largely from memory towards the end of Heschel’s life and was not well edited; Heschel’s voluminous references to primary texts often contain typographical and numerical errors throughout the first two volumes. 33

category, relevant examples from a wide range of primary texts are layered in order to develop a weight of evidence.45

In assessing the purpose and focus of TMS, it is important to understand just how much the work contrasted with the scholarly work of Heschel’s contemporaries. The academic study of rabbinic literature at the time was a direct outgrowth of the stolid German 19th century scholarship of the Wissenschaft des Judentums, or, the Science of Judaism. This was a scholarly movement that dominated the academic study of Judaism and attempted to dispassionately assess

Jewish texts and traditions with bias-free rigour and critical objectivity. Most studies focused on assessing the pedigree of manuscripts and focused largely on questions of dating, authorship and attribution. An important example of this approach would be the cataloguing of distinct terminological devices employed within one body of text contrasted with another and thus used to tease out and assign the various strata. This approach to the study of rabbinic literature dominated the field of Jewish Studies well into the 1960’s and, to a lesser degree, continues today. Therefore, when the first two volumes of TMS were published it constituted a drastically different focus (though characteristic of Heschel’s work in general) than the research of most of

Heschel’s contemporaries.

Heschel, as a philosopher of religion, sought to understand these texts in light of the theological ideas they contain. For Heschel, there was more to discover through analysis of rabbinic works than simply the classification of various redactional layers. The distinct personalities or groups within the transmitted text represent entire worlds of exegetical

45 It is also the case that occasionally Heschel will cite a supporting text that does not directly help his argument, or seems very weak. However, careful notice of the notes of the critical editions that Heschel was using often yield insights into Heschel’s rationale that are not obvious. 34

expression representing, in turn, substantively varying religio-philosophic perspectives.

Variances in terminology and exegetical method within these texts, combined with an eye for the exegetical triggers inherent in the text of Torah itself, allow us to delve into the interpretive mindset of the exegetes whose voices are all part of the choral symphony that collectively constitute the Oral Tradition currently extant. If we pay careful attention to these voices, we can build an understanding of the mind behind the voice: differing approaches to the nature of Torah, the nature of humanity and our role in the world, and the manner(s) in which we can relate to the

Divine.46 There is more to learn from differences in exegetical technique than terminology that may or may not reveal any substantive theological divide, as some contend. Rather, these differences contain implicit (and very often explicit) theological viewpoints that must be examined as part of the intellectual fabric of these texts.

This is by no means to say that there was a lack of interest or cognizance, on Heschel’s part, of the text-critical and philological method and quandaries. On the contrary, TMS consciously and deliberately makes use of such scholarship as the foundation through which solid thematic interpretation can occur. Heschel had a keen eye for the minutiae of textual variances and was clearly familiar with the vast majority of the scholarly material that had been accomplished up to the time he was writing TMS. Heschel’s central thesis derives directly out of the seminal work of David Zvi Hoffman and J.N. Epstein. Heschel based his study of rabbinic theology on the best text-critical editions available, with a demonstrated familiarity with textual

46 As discussed above, Heschel’s approach, though different in content, is very much paralleled by the methodology outlined by Michael Fishbane. By applying sensitivity to the minutiae of the text of Miqr’a, we can see the textual features which trigger the “exegetical response”. By studying these responses, in turn, we can reconstruct the philosophical and theological ‘worlds’ that the exegete creates. This “second-order” exegesis that Fishbane describes in his work closely approximates Heschel’s own method, which Heschel unfortunately never clearly delineates and must be teased out in a “third-order” exegesis, so to speak. 35

variants, even now and then asserting the strength of one reading over another on the basis of a text-critical rationale. Yet, for Heschel, philology is a means and not an end. The teleos of philology is to assess meaning and tease out the implications in the realm of ideas. It is the theological and philosophical implications of the knowledge gained through more than a century of rigorous philological analysis that constitutes the soul of TMS. Rather than deviating from good textual scholarship, TMS was a substantial broadening of what such study could (and perhaps should) produce. TMS crossed deep-seated disciplinary lines producing a work that was at once textual, even technical, but also deeply thematic, reflective, and philosophically broad.

TMS was, in a sense, doomed by its drastic change of emphasis within a field that was largely not concerned with theology. Fritz Rothschild, a professor of Jewish Philosophy at the

JTS (Jewish Theological Seminary) warned Heschel that TMS would not be well received, and his observations proved true. As Heschel’s biographer Edward K. Kaplan writes:

Rothschild warned him that few academics or traditionalists dared to think beyond

conventional boundaries. The only people capable of reading such a book would be

scholars with a thorough grounding in the Hebrew and Aramaic sources. And most of these,

he predicted, would be incapable of appreciating Heschel’s eclectic method. Text scholars

like had no interest in theology; philosophers like Will Herberg did not

know enough Hebrew.47

47 Edward K. Kaplan, Spiritual Radical: Abraham Joshua Heschel in America, 1940-1972 (Yale University Press, 2007), 207. Kaplan based this on interviews with Dr. Rothschild. See note 30, page 430. 36

TMS had the unfortunate fate of being published before work of this kind was popular, and it did not elicit a substantial response amongst Heschel’s contemporaries beyond a handful of brief book reviews and the occasional comment or footnote. Heschel wrote TMS in a flowery and sophisticated Hebrew and drew on reams of Hebrew texts spanning some sixteen centuries. At the time, those able to grapple with the Hebrew sources were simply not interested in theology.

Those appreciative of the philosophic and thematic side of TMS were often not versed in enough

Hebrew or rabbinic literature to comprehend its scope or the style and efficacy with which

Heschel supports his claims. The result was a lacklustre reaction to TMS that consisted mostly as a handful of book reviews. Some of these were laudatory, some scathing, but none went into much detail or depth. In effect, the scholarly response was resounding silence.48 The publication of TMS was received with little fanfare. Those scant book reviews were varied; some of them were laudatory, some critical. The criticisms, though, spoke more to technical issues of philological method than to the thesis as a whole and in no case was a substantive analysis of

48 For a detailed description of historical events surrounding the publication of TMS and the responses to it, see Ibid., 207–210. Kaplan describes not only the minimal scholarly response but the interpersonal responses as well, such as the following description of an interaction between Heschel and the renowned Talmudic scholar, Saul Lieberman. At the Jewish Theological Seminary one studied Talmud only for its own sake, not for a theological or practical purpose. Moreover, for Lieberman, Judaism was essentially law, not spiritual insight. For Heschel, all sacred study could lead to deeds of righteousness. Heschel gave a signed copy of [TMS] to Lieberman, hoping for some appreciation of its value. The great Talmudist wrote Heschel a mean and denigrating note: he called it a nice volume, full of quotations, but pointed out that the great Hungarian Semitic scholar had already organized the rabbinic corpus so as to highlight Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael. Heschel confided this insult to Wolfe Kelman, who insisted that Heschel return the note to Lieberman. Heschel did so, and Lieberman answered with a more civilized acknowledgment and an implicit apology. Ibid., 209. This little bit of nasty departmental history, based on interviews with Dr. Rothschild, offers us an illuminating glimpse into the factors that lead to the unfortunate reception of TMS. Wilhelm Bacher (1850-1912) did indeed write a work centred on Aqiva and Ishmael, and in fact Heschel makes use of some of Bacher’s findings. Yet, Bacher’s work (Die Agada der Tannaiten translated by A.Z. Rabinovitz into Hebrew and entitled Wilhelm Bacher, Agadot Ha-Tanaʻim, trans. Alexander Siskind Rabinovitz (Jaffa: h.mo.l, 680). was by no means comparable to TMS in terms of scope or focus. TMS is a much more nuanced and developed work, which expands the “two-schools” model into a history of Jewish theology that far exceeds Bacher’s limited exposition. 37

TMS undertaken. Amongst the barest handful of book-reviews, not a single one was full-scale.49

Jacob Neusner uses the word Todschweigen to describe an academic response that is not a response – neither a refutation nor genuine analysis – but, rather, is murder through silence.50 I do not assert that the apathy with which TMS was received was nefarious, as Neusner seems to do so in order to condemn what he feels is the similar treatment he himself received. It is fair to say, however, that TMS was never properly assessed and was often simply ignored.

Despite being largely disregarded when its author was alive, there has been a recent resurgence in the popularity of Heschel and his writings, including TMS. Indeed, a new wave of

Heschel scholars have embarked on the study of his work largely through the examination of his public speeches, or most accessible works, compiling only the most eloquent and quotable poetic statements. These Heschel scholars consider themselves well-versed in Heschel as a liberal theologian who marched with King for the cause of righteous social justice.

Consequently, these scholars only do a cursory read of Heschel's more philosophically complex tomes, assuming the slant of his theses will naturally always agree with their progressive but ahistorical and sparingly-read views on Jewish philosophy. Specifically, TMS now faces the opposite problem from that which it faced when published: unlike the earlier generations when most Judaic scholars were text-critics and literary scholars with no interest in theological considerations, a great deal of current Heschel scholarship is being conducted by people who are lacking the requisite skill in rabbinics. Therefore, a great deal of the current work on TMS is

49 I will deal with the few noteworthy criticisms further on. I note here that Louis Jacobs, an eminent bible and rabbinic scholar in his own right wrote in praise of TMS. So to did another bible scholar, David Solomon Shapira, who saw TMS as an important reclamation of the study of aggadah as equally important as halakha. 50 Jacob Neusner, “Urbach’s Hazal Revisited On the Occasion of a Reprint, After Fifteen Years, of Ephraim E. Urbach, The Sages, Their Concepts and Beliefs.,” Religious Studies and Theology 8, no. 1–2 (January 1, 1988): 67. 38

unable to critically investigate Heschel's thesis as a work about rabbinic texts and their impact on the history of Jewish thought. It is argued, herein, however, that TMS is an important work. It is far more than a “theological edifice.”51 What personal theology it contains is rooted in the very rabbinic texts it elaborates: an extension of the theological painting of the Jewish history of ideas that Heschel skilfully draws for us. Its stylistic complexity and the broad nature of its key themes do not make it any less worthy of serious study. On the contrary, Heschel’s thesis has profound importance for our understanding not only of the theological worlds of Ḥazal but also of the role of these worlds in defining the contours of Jewish philosophical discourse throughout its various permutations through time and place. I argue that Heschel’s central thesis is well supported and based on sound philosophic analysis, in addition to erudite textual study. The scanty and unqualified criticisms of TMS are weak, and should not derail us from taking Heschel seriously.

A close read of TMS reveals that its theoretic core is to be found in the Introduction to

Volume I52 and Chapter One entitled, “Two Philosophies of Torah Exegesis”53 In these chapters,

Heschel sets up his overarching claims (which will be elaborated on presently) and then through the subsequent chapters demonstrates how they play out over a range of philosophic themes arranged by topic. Volume I as a whole makes use these topics to develop a : an overall characterisation of and contrast between the intellectual and theological temperaments of rabbis

Aqiva and Ishmael and their respective schools. Some of the philosophic themes addressed in

Volume I include:

• the purpose of mitzvoth;

51 See note 55 below. 52 I-LIX 53 My translation of the title, p.3-23 39

• suffering;

• varying concepts of the Shekhinah (Does it exist in time and space as an

anthropomorphic entity, or is it everywhere but nowhere? That is to ask, is God

transcendent or immanent);

• the nature of the Torah (Is it a human document or a transcendent (otherworldly)

document?); and

• the questions as to what extent and how Torah acts as a medium between God and Israel.

Volume II sharpens the focus to issues of revelation and ultimately questions of the ontological nature of Torah such as the following questions:

• To what extent is Miqraʾ, particularly the Pentateuch, understood to be a human

document and to what extent is it purely divine?

• How does prophecy work? How much of revealed prophecy comes from the Prophet?

• Is revelation closed or open? Does the Torah continue to be revealed? How?

Volume III emphasises that in rabbinic literature, opposing views are also “the words of the living God” implying that we must engage in informed conversation with the broadly divergent views contained within Ḥazal (understood through the historical and textual rubric of Rabbis

Aqiva and Ishmael) in order to solve the pressing questions of today. This volume grapples with issues such as the continued relevance of halakhah and the aggadic nature of halakhic reasoning.

Based on an ongoing rabbinic theology that stresses a historical unfolding of revelation, Heschel argues (largely implicitly) that rabbinic theology can offer solutions to contemporary social and

40

theological crises.54 Volume III is, by far, the most theologically oriented volume in the sense that rather than present an analysis of the historical themes within the texts of rabbinic Judaism, this volume hints at solutions for contemporary tensions within Judaism that are ever more reactionary and polemical. Heschel, for whom these issues resonated personally, very much wants his reader to engage with the paradoxes of religion in a personal manner, and not just through intellectual edification. My project will not be focusing on Volume III at all, yet even this volume is distinguished as a well-sourced work of rabbinic theology. Whatever personal

54 Reuven Kimelman gives an excellent summary of some of the themes of Volume III (as well as TMSas a whole), stating: Heschel’s biblical commentary is concerned with the prophetic understanding of the divine, and his rabbinic scholarship deals with the rabbinic understanding of Torah and shekinah, the two presentations overlap. In a sense, Heavenly Torah serves as the sequel to The Prophets. The latter and the first two volumes of the original Hebrew edition of Heavenly Torah were published in 1962. The Prophets concludes with a chapter entitled “The Dialectic of the Divine–Human Encounter.” The third volume of Heavenly Torah opens with the chapter “It Is Not in the ”; its opening subsections are “Without Sages There Is No Torah,” and “The Sages Are the Finishing and the Completion to the Torah.” This last volume of Heavenly Torah, in short, begins just where The Prophets ends, identifying the sages as the successors of the prophets. This supports Heschel’s overarching thesis that, as prophecy emerges from the encounter between prophet and God, so rabbinic Judaism emerges from the encounter between sage and Torah.

Heavenly Torah differs from mainstream academic approaches in its content as well as its mode of presentation. Where the academics seek to summarize rabbinic thinking, Heschel draws the reader inside it, exegising it from within, as it were. Not only does Heschel condense the crucial debates over immanence and transcendence into sharp juxtapositions; he composes his treatise in rabbinic Hebrew and employs religious categories native to it. The subsections of the treatise frequently are titled with rabbinic quotations. Unlike the academics, who stand outside rabbinic thinking to comment on it, Heschel’s exegesis remains in dialogue with the sages of late antiquity. Heavenly Torah is not a commentary on the rabbinic sources but rather an extension of them. Just as theology and scholarship are cut of one cloth, the language and thought of the classical Jewish sources are inseparably united. He organizes his presentation according to rabbinic categories so that the language and structure of the book enable the reader to engage the minds of the sages.

A result of Heschel’s daring procedure is the discovery that the Jewish sages rarely were of one mind. On the contrary, on most theological issues there are at least two resolutions, frequently at odds with each other. Heschel portrays this characteristic opposition of two schools of thought under the rubrics of Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael. These often are used historically, but, at other times, Heschel employs them typologically. The -bound school of Aqiva, with its emphasis on the shekinah, stands in contrast to the more mundane school of Ishmael. The Aqivan perspective was mystical, possibly eschatological, unbounded, and often paradoxical. The Ishmaelite perspective was more critical, rationalistic, restrained, and pellucid. Together, according to Heschel, they form a dialectic, not just a dyad, in which plays out the human encounter with the divine.

41

theological view Heschel wants the reader to arrive at, it is not one of a doctrinal dogma. Rather,

Heschel wants his reader to make any decision knowing what the rabbinic texts, with all their inherent tensions and contrasts, have to offer. Heschel teases out the theology contained within the rabbinic corpus and offers the juxtaposition of contrasting views in order to stress that rabbinic Judaism was not a monolithic work of doctrine but a debate about the most fundamental religious questions. The subject matter of these debates and the polysemic nature with which they are approached stress that rabbinic Judaism, with its breadth and complexity, offer relevant viewpoints and sufficient nuance for approaching contemporary theological problems within

Judaism. Heschel wants the reader to be within the exegetical worlds of Ḥazal as opposed to textual ignorance, or some obtuse rendering of Jewish theological history into unrelated phenomena in grappling with these issues.

It is Heschel’s typology and conceptual framework that occupies the focus of this work.

The thesis therefore constrains its focus mainly to Volume I and to a lesser extent Volume II. It is in these volumes that Heschel’s schematic approach to the rabbinic corpus (most especially aggadic midrash) is explicated and demonstrated. If Heschel’s interpretive framework holds, as I argue it does, then his theological conclusions need to be taken seriously and examined in that light, not disregarded as mere speculation.55 Each philosophic category that Heschel delineates,

55 I am responding, in part, to some of the initial critiques made of TMS. In particular, Efraim Urbach in Urbach, Ḥazal: Pirke Emunot Ve-Deʼot, 14 n.26. The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 695n20. wrote a particularly scathing critique of TMS. Urbach describes Heschel's TMS as a perfect example of a work which lacks “philological examination and form.” Urbach writes:

Numerous examples of the neglect of these [philological] principles are furnished by A. J. Heschel’s Theology of Ancient Judaism. In truth the author attempts to adumbrate in it a theology 42

in his very rabbinic style of backward and forward juxtaposition of source material, requires intensive analysis in its own right. This task is well beyond the scope of the present work.

Herein, I focus instead on Heschel’s theoretic framework and interpretive rubric. This work is then principally interested in Heschel’s position on aggadah, the “Two Schools”, and how this plays out as a historical influence on later Jewish philosophic debate.56 I argue that Heschel’s

of his own, in the same way as in his book God in Search of Man; a Philosophy of Judaism (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1955).

I find Urbach’s assertion unwarranted, not least due to the fact that one cannot discount a work as complex as Heschel's in a mere footnote. Urbach does not in any way even implicitly demonstrate how Heschel's work is lacking in the philological rigour which he insists on. Rather than projecting his theology backwards, I believe that it is clear (and also well-established) that TMS deals with the subject matter much loved by Heschel even in his youth. It is how Heschel understands Ḥazal, which in turn affected his personal theology, and not the other way around. TMS is conceptually prior to God in Search of Man. It is ironic that Urbach’s work, published after TMS, is structured around many of the same concepts as Heschel’s and draws on much of the same material.Efraim Elimelech Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, trans. Israel Abrahams (Jerusalem: Varda Books, 2006).

56 A lukewarm response to Heschel was that of Jacob Levinger, “He’arot Le-Torah Min Hashamayim (Notes on Torah Min Hashamayim),” De’ot Winter (1966): 45–48., who claims that Heschel's frequent references to medieval and later sources is problematic if we want to consider TMS as a work of “pure historical scholarship”. In his very short review, Levinger claims that it is difficult to define the nature of TMS, and more difficult to understand the author's intent in including what he saw as superfluous material. Perhaps, he contends, it is for the sake of anecdotes or as tangential elaboration. Levinger sees TMS as constituting a work of instructional theology with the intent of inspiring faith and recovering Jewish spirituality in a time where the concept of Torah from Heaven has been shattered or maligned amongst scholars. Levinger also points to the disagreements between J.N. Epstein and Chanoch Albeck, which in his view demonstrate an inherit difficulty in defining what material can actually be attributed to which exegetical school. Levinger's analysis is, by his own admission, incomplete; he asserts that there remains a great amount of work to do, and that TMS deserves a rigourous study. Levinger clearly did not understand Heschel’s method and overfocused on very technical issues of attributing works. Levinger was likely very much cemented to the belief that medieval Jewish thought, such as Kabbalah, was a unique episode utterly divorced from rabbinic precedents. Heschel does not use medieval material as an interpretation of Ḥazal, rather, he uses this material to demonstrate how historical tensions and trends play out through the unfolding of the Jewish History of Ideas. When Heschel articulates an aggadic dialectic, he wants to demonstrate how this can be seen to inform future theological deliberation. As for the issue of attribution, as discussed in my Introduction, it was not important for Heschel to define with certainty that a given rabbinic text is decidedly Ishmaelian or Aqivan. Indeed, Heschel draws out a wealth of aggadic about both schools from works traditionally considered to be in only one camp. Instead, based on material spanning rabbinic literature as a whole, there are widely accepted interpretive differences between the two schools based on differing language, interpretive devices, and general approach – not to mention straight forward contrasts in attributed statement! Contemporary scholarship seems to bear out that no single work is completely of one school or another. Instead, redactors had certain preferences but nonetheless included a wide 43

thesis is strong. Taken as aggregate, rabbinic texts historically verify the typology Heschel presents in TMS. Therefore, TMS changes the way that we should view the evolution of Jewish philosophical and theological trends.

range of material including competing views. I believe that Heschel would see this very much as the soul of rabbinic theology. It is not a statement of dogma but a dialectic of perspective.

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1.2 Aggadah as Theology

A central facet of Heschel's examination of rabbinic writing is the stress he places on the importance of aggadah, the non-legal homiletic and interpretive material that constitutes a substantial volume of the material found in rabbinic texts, most especially in the midrashim. I will now articulate Heschel’s understanding of aggadah and its role in understanding rabbinic literature, in order to develop the central themes of TMS. Heschel introduces Volume I with a presentation of various rabbinic sources that stress the importance of aggadah, particularly in the tannaitic era. Concerning aggadah, Heschel states, “What is the difference between halakhah and aggadah? Halakhah speaks to the actions of human beings, aggadah speaks to the actions of The

Holy One Blessed Be He.”57 This flowery expression is employed in order to typify what

Heschel feels the aggadah represents as an exegetical exercise. Just as halakhah prescribes human action in relating to the Divine, aggadah describes the Divine, so to speak. The Tannaim,

Heschel demonstrates, were equally devoted to the study of aggadah as they were to halakhah. In order to back up this claim, Heschel presents his reader with a rich array of sources stressing that aggadah is essential and far more than a quaint collection of allegories, or conceptual playthings or side-dishes to halakhah. Heschel describes modern scholarship (as it was then) as wrongly painting Ḥazal as utterly devoid of systematic thought and being concerned with matters relevant only to practical halakhah.58 Heschel, in retort, poses the question:

57 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:iv. 58 Heschel is responding to a trend that he feels begins with the very significant damage that Spinoza did in the Modern Era to subsequent conceptions of Judaism. For Spinoza, Judaism as a religion could be reduced to law and law alone. Moses needed to manage an unruly and newly freed people and thus the Bible contains no philosophy or contemplation. Rather, the Bible contains only basic moral and ritual guidelines structured only with the intent of insuring obedience. , too, is critiqued by Heschel (albeit in a far more polite and round-about manner than Spinoza) for asserting that there is no actual rabbinic theology aside from a scattering of primitive and unconnected theological thoughts. Schechter states, “apathetic towards logic and resistant towards consistent theology – these are 45

Consider and ask yourself: The Sages of Israel, whose hearts were open wide like the doors

of an atrium to the minutest aspects of halakhah – could you say that their hearts were

closed to anxieties of faith, the inner problems, and the passing thoughts of contradiction,

and they did not engage in the perpetual riddles and foundations of religion?! Were they

warriors in the war of Torah but hatchlings who had not yet even opened their eyes to

religious thought?! Could you possibly say that they distinguished only between practical

matters pertaining to the forbidden and the permitted in their actions, but could not

distinguish between legitimate understandings and invalid understandings? Jewish thought

shrunk in positioning their words as pertaining to halakhah alone, and did not delve into

those things that exist beyond the realm of halakhah.59

the qualities at which the Sages of the Talmud excelled.”(Solomon Schechter, Some Aspects of Rabbinic Theology (Macmillan, 1909), 13.) A more charitable interpretation of Schechter’s comments would not be that he outright denies the existence of rabbinic theology, rather, he feels it does not fit the paradigm of rationalistic philosophic discourse (being heavily wrapped up in the Christian parameters which defined such discourse in the West for centuries). Regardless, Heschel, was not hugely appreciative of this tendency to dismiss aggadah simply because it was not structurally “Hellenistic” as Heschel would put it. (See Reuven Kimelman, “The Theology of Abraham Joshua Heschel,” First Things: A Monthly Journal of Religion and Public Life, December 2009, 37.) Heschel’s view is that aggadah (and rabbinic exegesis in general) is an alternatively structured but equally cohesive system to its Greek counterparts. (Heschel states no interest in a direct comparison to Greek philosophical works, although he does discuss and the .) I would add that Heschel was fighting a predominantly Christian value-system with its roots in the Gnostic rejection of Jewish law. Daniel Boyarin in “‘This We Know to Be the Carnal Israel’: Circumcision and the Erotic Life of God and Israel,” Critical Inquiry 18, no. 3 (April 1, 1992): 474– 505, doi:10.2307/1343813. argues that the early-church engaged in a form of exegesis that was diametrically opposed to its rabbinic counterpart. While the latter always remained grounded to physical and literal historical events, the former forced a dichotomy between the literal text and the more ideal “meaning in the spirit.” Conversely, The rabbinic hermeneutic stance was one that did not force such a dichotomy between the literal word and spiritual signification in general. While the rabbis connect exegesis with concrete history and events, the Christian scholars make use of a Platonic construct; the surface biblical text is an outer form for an inner reality as an abstract ontology, the true spiritual meaning, as they saw it, in accord with "the eschatological spirit" of the text. I would add that this strongly impacted subsequent generations of "truly philosophic" discourse in contradistinction to a rabbinic style which is as interested in the question of how many nails in a sandal are allowed on as to whether or not God is located in time and space. Within aggadic midrash, the flow of discussion follows the contours of the written text. Instead of a text that is stripped of its literal meaning in favour of sublimating the physical to advance an inner spiritual allegory (at odds with the physical), the rabbinic manner takes a different approach and thus has a correspondingly different structure. Scholars like Schechter were, knowingly or unknowingly, buying into this very biased view of what constitutes elegant philosophical discussion. 59 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:vii. 46

For Heschel, aggadah is fundamentally a theological grappling. “The test of aggadah is to give an answer to the questions and answers ‘which stand at the height of the world60’; that is to say, the perplexing questions, which touch on the essence of religion, and the existential and social crises that accompany it. 61 To truly engage with aggadah, Heschel argues, requires a desire to gaze into the inner depths of both the individual and the community in order to listen to the problems of the soul without quailing. That being said, we must be careful to avoid projecting our own concerns backwards, to ensure that we are not assuming that the intellectual and spiritual landscape of their time is identical with our own. Through examining how the Sages grappled with theological problems in their historical contexts, however, we may discover a meaningful resonance with ours.

The study of aggadah requires sensitivity to such issues. Without this desire and willingness to be open to the existential and philosophic dilemmas of faith, aggadah is like “dry bread to a person already full.” It is my opinion that Heschel, successfully demonstrates that aggadah indicates a worldview, a perspective on matters as diverse as the nature of prophecy and revelation, the nature of God, the nature of humanity, and the extent to which Torah is either human or divine, transcendent or immanent. Despite his insistence that aggadah reflects the deepest sort of theological and existential problems, Heschel explicitly mentions that his project is not aimed at systematically comparing the problems and modes of thought of the Sages to those of Greek philosophy. Aggadah, in Heschel’s belief, cannot be grasped by such strict

60 A common rabbinic adage referring to those things of the greatest importance. 61 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:viii. 47

categories. “For as it stands, the modes of the thought unique to the Sages of the midrash and their quandaries are not expressed in the same manner of the Sages of Greece and their quandaries.”62 Heschel makes the important argument that midrash does not work within the same structural or conceptual paradigms as Greek philosophy does.63

None of this, however, should be taken to mean that there are no systems within the aggadic world, rather, aggadah manifests itself through a different structure and a different typology of themes. Heschel's stated goal is to come to an understanding of aggadah, according to its own words, which explains the give and take64 of aggadic discourse. Even aggadic discourse which may, at first glance, appear as fanciful triflings or unrealistic ramblings of exegesis are all joined to a cohesive and schematic whole which has explanatory power vis-à-vis the exegetical triggers which stimulated the discussion in the first place. Jewish thought is conceived and born in the intellectual and spiritual environment of Torah and the various commentaries thereof are permutations and conduits for study and speech. Exegesis is more than an explanation of finite text; it is the ongoing creative and spiritual endeavour that encompasses the totality of the text and the inner-life to which it pertains. The manner in which one interprets

Miqraʾ (e.g. the stories and folklore that are given in exegetical response to textual stimuli) gives us a glimpse into the beliefs and assumptions of the exegete and the intellectual and spiritual world in which he lived. All the more so do the very explicit theological beliefs, which are liberally scattered throughout rabbinic literature, give us rich material through which to assess rabbinic theology. Such statements may not seem radical in their literal form, however if we

62 Ibid. 63 See Note 57 above. 64 This is yet another rabbinic expression that Heschel employs, literally referring to the backward and forward negotiations of business. 48

examine what the theological and philosophical implications of these statements are, we can tease out deeply meaningful philosophic discourse.

Heschel endeavours to present material that supports this methodological view concerning rabbinic scholarship: any attempt to understand the rabbinic textual world without careful analysis of the wealth of aggadic material is an empty and pale reflection of the rabbinic legacy.65 Heschel quotes Sifre Devarim (49) which states, “Expounders of haggadic texts

(aggadoth) say: If you wish to come to know Him who spoke, and the world came into being, study , for thereby you will come to know Him and to cling to His ways.”66

As is often the case in TMS, Heschel only quotes the above snippet. Nevertheless, the weight of the argument tends to depend on a fuller appreciation of the full text. Consider the passage in full:

Text Two (Sifre Devarim 49)

[1] To walk in all His ways (11:22): These are the ways of The Lord, God, merciful and gracious (Exod. 34:6). Scripture says, And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call by the name of the Lord shall be delivered (Joel 3:5)—how is it possible for man to be called by the name of the Lord? Rather, as God is called merciful, so should you be merciful; as the Holy One, blessed be He, is called gracious, so too should you be gracious, as it is said, The Lord is gracious and full of compassion (Ps. 145:8), and grants free gifts. As God is called righteous, For the Lord is righteous, He loveth righteousness (Ps. 11:7), so you too should be righteous. As God is called merciful, as it is said For I am merciful (ḥasid), saith the Lord (Jer. 3:2), so too should you be merciful. Therefore Scripture says, And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call by the name of the Lord shall be

65 Heschel does not make explicitly clear with whom amongst his contemporaries he is disputing. It seems that Heschel is making a historical argument by levelling the lessons of history against contemporaneous trends. There is a background theme in Heschel’s writings that since Spinoza, the false notion that “Judaism is law” has had negative influence both on Jewish practice and scholarship. Heschel is certainly being critical of the “halakhic Judaism” that had come to dominate the Jewish community anachronistically referred to as “orthodox”. Strict orthopraxy was and largely is the predominant religious culture of this community. Furthermore, while the Wissenschaft did not utterly ignore the role and existence of aggadah, it is true that analysis of aggadic themes was by no means the central focus amongst his colleagues. The identification and cataloguing of manuscripts was far more emphasised than fleshing out of theological perspectives and their implications for Jewish thought. 66 Sifre Devarim, pisqa 49. Finkelstein-Horowitz ed., 114-115. 49

delivered (Joel 3:5), Every one that is called by My name (Isa. 43:7), and The Lord hath made every thing for His own purpose (Prov. 16:4).

[2] And cleave unto Him (11:22): Is it possible for man to ascend to (fiery) heaven and cleave to fire, seeing that Scripture has said, For the Lord thy God is a devouring fire (4:24), and His Throne was fiery flames (Dan 7:9)? Rather, (the meaning is,) cling to the Sages and to their disciples, and I will account it to you as if you had ascended to heaven and had received it (the Torah) there, and, not only that but also as if you had ascended and had received it not in peace but only after waging war in order to receive it, as it is said, Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast led captivity captive (Ps. 68:19).

[3] Expounders of haggadic texts (haggadot) say: If you wish to come to know Him who spoke, and the world came into being, study haggadah, for thereby you will come to know Him and to cling to His ways. If you do what is your duty to do, I will do what I made it My duty to do, then will the Lord drive out all those nations from before you (11:23).67

This text highlights, as well as informs, Heschel’s own approach to aggadah. The text begins as a comment on the meaning of the following two verses (11:22-23) from Deuteronomy: “For if ye shall diligently keep all this commandment which I command you, to do it, to love the LORD your God, to walk in all His ways, and to cleave unto Him, then will the LORD drive out all these nations from before you, and ye shall dispossess nations greater and mightier than yourselves.”

In [1], the midrash notes that the ways of the Lord through which Israel is commanded to walk, as referenced in Exodus, are connected with the attributes of mercy and grace. To walk in the way of the Lord, then, is imitate not the quality of judgment (not as the end of the verse in

Deuteronomy above might imply). Rather, it is the qualities of grace and mercy which need to be

67 Hammer, Sifre, 105–106. 50

emulated. We are then referenced to the verse from Joel, which states that deliverance depends on calling on the Lord. Thus, the midrash concludes, the intension inherent in being called by the name of the Lord is a focus on fulfilling God’s purpose, demonstrated with reference to

God’s teleology in Proverbs. This purpose is ultimately to mirror God’s own attributes through action. Hammer points out that the devout man (ḥasid) is zealous in his performance of commandments and willing to dispense with his legal rights.68 Pious action (ḥasid), then, is to mirror the divine qualities of mercy and justice, as opposed to punishment, and in this way one can be said to be calling on the name of the Lord.

After establishing what it means to walk in the way of the Lord – namely to embody through action the godly attributes of mercy and justice – our midrash asks in [2] what it can possibly mean to cleave to Him. God is a consuming fire and his throne is flames. Thus how can one even approach God, let alone cleave to Him? Our midrash here offers a solution: if one cleaves to the Sages and their students then it is as if that person not only cleaves to God, but ascended to Heaven itself to retrieve the Torah. Of note is the idea that this journey to heaven will be accounted as meritorious to an even greater degree: it comes about not through peace but through the waging of battles. Obviously, the assumption is that something obtained through struggle is more meaningful than something obtained easily. In this case, obtaining Torah through an embattled ascent to heaven is considered the most meritorious. The question is why.

Apparently, this is a self-reflection on the part of the author (or authors) of this aggadic text. The exegetical world of the Sages was by no means a uniform philosophy or perspective.

68 Ibid., 418 n. 4 to Pisḳa 49. Hammer directs the reader to S. Schechter, Studies in Judaism (New York: Meridian Books, 1958), 123ff. 51

Consequently, cleaving to the Sages and engaging in Torah is not a straightforward, peaceful process, but is instead an intellectual and spiritual struggle. Thus, to cleave to God is to engage in the theological struggle of internalizing Torah through attachment to the numerous and conflicting perspectives of the Sages and the myriad avenues of exegesis.

This interpretation offered above connects directly with what the midrash concludes in

[3] as a specification of what it is to know God. If to walk in the way of God is to emulate His mercy, and if to cleave to God is to engage in the varying thoughts and traditions of the Sages, then there is one aspect of rabbinic interpretation and investigation that touches on direct understanding of God. If one wants to truly understand God, He who spoke and the world came into being, one should study aggadah. To engage in the struggle of the study of specifically aggadic material – the theological ponderings and reflections couched in contrast and dialectic – is to know God and truly cling to his ways. The implication here is that to fulfill the first command of the biblical verse – to walk in His ways – requires the knowledge of aggadic reflection. That is, to emulate God’s mercy would require one to ask the question of what divine mercy means and how it can be emulated. Obviously one must cleave to the Sages, though that itself is wrought with contrast, a waging of battles. This stress on learning and connecting with the Sages builds up to this conclusion: it is through the study of the rabbinic enterprise of aggadah that knowledge of God obtained.

Understanding the finale of this midrash in the context of the entire passage illumines for us the triggers that drew Heschel to this text and fleshes out the strength of his argument.

Aggadah is a theological battleground, regarded by the Sages (or at least the composers or redactors of this text) to be of utmost importance. This midrashic text is also typical of the source material that Heschel makes use of in formulating his arguments throughout TMS. Often Heschel

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quotes only the most pertinent line or detail from a passage (and other times he makes only reference to pertinent passages in his voluminous footnotes69) while cognizant of and dependant on the weight of the text in its entirety. TMS will often string such quotes together, creating a mosaic, so to speak, which combine textual statements and themes into a cogent picture of thought and reflection. The text discussed above is an example of how Heschel backs up his claim as to the importance of aggadah. From ‘within’ the world of the Sages, aggadah is the true struggle to know God. From ‘without’, aggadah is essential if we wish to accurately portray the intellectual and spiritual thought-space in which the Sages exegised and lived. The text discussed above concludes with a normative and prescriptive statement. If we do as we should, that is to say, walk with and cleave to God through the Sages and their intellectual struggles, then so too will God do as He should – thus finally tying in the end of the verse in question.

As part of this literary mosaic, Heschel quotes later, amoraic, sources in order to not only support his argument but also demonstrate its historic continuity. For instance, Heschel quotes the Midrash Tehillim70, which states in the name of Rabbi Joshua Ben Levi71 that he spurned those who didn't engage in aggadah, “‘Because they give no heed to the works of the LORD, nor to the operation of His hands.’(Ps. 28:5) ‘The works of the Lord’ refers to aggadoth.72”

69 Sadly, Heschel’s footnotes are severely truncated in the English translation by Gordon Tucker, (Heschel and Tucker, Heavenly Torah. whose translation is more a liberal interpretation of TMS then a true translation. It appears to be aimed at being acceptable from the pulpit of a contemporary Conservative synagogue rather than an attempt to capture the breadth and nuance of Heschel. See also G. Haber, “Lost in Translation: Abraham Joshua Heschel’s ‘Heavenly Torah’--A Review Essay,” Modern Judaism 29, no. 3 (September 22, 2009): 405–27, doi:10.1093/mj/kjp012. 70 An amoraic midrashic compendium to Psalms which originates in Israel, as does the vast majority of amoraic midrash. 71 A third century amora of the Land of Israel and a student of a student of one of Rabbi Aqiva’s most noteworthy students, Rabbi Meir. 72 Midrash Tehillim, 28:8 53

Here, again, we see the emphasis on aggadah as relating to heavenly works, concerned with those things, which ‘stand at the height of the world.’ This amoraic text quoted is from the

Land of Israel. This is significant because for Heschel the historical waxing and waning attitudes towards aggadah require interpretation. Heschel notes a division in respective attitudes towards aggadah between the academies in Israel and those in Babylon, something that is widely recognised in rabbinic scholarship73, as the beginning of a historical cyclical trend where aggadah (for Heschel synonymous with theology) becomes underemphasised and subsequently reinvigorated by many of the important Jewish thinkers in the history of Jewish thought when theology sunk to a stage of critical atrophy. Amongst the Amoraim, Babylonian attitudes towards aggadah deviated from those in Israel, placing halakha higher on their hierarchy. While aggadah continued to flourish as a literary genre in Israel, it ceased to be a focus in Babylon. Although at least a third of the Babylonian Talmud is aggadic, the vast majority is derivative of earlier material from Israel and there are a number of pejorative statements regarding aggadah recorded in the name of a number of Babylonian amoraic figures. Conversely, attitudes towards aggadah were far more positive in the earlier , produced by the same Amoraim who continued to produce a wide variety of midrashic, largely aggadic works. Heschel examines various attitudes expressed in the two Talmudim in developing this historical contrast.74 Heschel quotes an early-amoraic midrash, Lamentations Rabbah, which states the following:

73 See Avigdor Shinʾan, The World of the Aggadah, Broadcast University Series (Tel-Aviv: MOD Books, 1990). 74 Possibly, this was due to continued harsh socioeconomic conditions in Israel during the 4th century and onwards. As life continued to be very difficult there was a shift in aggadah in which it began to manifest at times only as comfort for a distressed nation. Both Heschel and later Shinan make this argument. However, the historic catalyst for this change is less important, for my purpose here, then the reality that it did indeed change. 54

Text Three (Lamentations Rabbah 2:5)

Rabbi Isaac says: 'It used to be that all the Torah was one, and they [the people] used to

seek words of mishnah and talmud. However, now that the Torah is not whole, they seek

words of Miqraʾ and of aggadah.' Rabbi Levi says: ' It used to be that sufficient sustenance

could be found, and people lusted to hear mishnah, halakhah, and talmud. Now that

sufficient sustenance is not to be found, and all the more that the people are sick from

enslavement, they seek to hear words of blessings and comfort.'75

Heschel describes the manner in which the role of aggadah began to shift into a mere opiate of the masses of sorts, at least according to some. Heschel presents this through a typical dialectic juxtaposition of sources. In tannaitic works, aggadah was likened to wine, however, by the third or fourth generation of Amoraim, we see that, for those who still defended aggadah, it became akin to water – a bare essential rather than enrichment.76 This shift in attitude from aggadah being a lofty intellectual pursuit to one aimed at comforting the people raised the ire of some of the rigorous halakhic exegetes of Babylonia, specifically in the academy of Pumbeditha77.

Heschel then traces how the two different approaches to halakhah between the two Talmudim developed, informed by differing attitudes towards aggadah. For instance, various sages of the

Jerusalem Talmud defined the Torah as song, something that engages the heart and is applied

75 Eikha Rabbah, 2:5. Pesiqta De-Rav Kahana, 12:3. 76 See b. Ḥagigah, 14a; j. Horiyoth, 3:48c 77 Pumpeditha was ancient city near modern-day Fallujah that had a sizeable rabbinic academy starting in the late third century. Together with the academy in Surah, the scholarship produced what ultimately became the Babylonian Talmud. 55

with joy and emotionality. In contrast, Rabba, an amora of Pumbeditha, scorned this opinion, stating that King David was punished specifically for equating Torah with song. Midrashim composed in Israel state the opposite view and do indeed compare Torah to song - not a burden but a pleasure - based on the verse in Psalms, 'Thy statutes have been my songs' (Ps. 119:54) The

Babylonian Talmud says the opposite, “Miṣwoth are not for pleasure, but are as a yoke upon the neck!”78 The Amoraim of Israel stress that miṣwoth require qawanah, (I translate the term as mindfulness, and it refers to having the appropriate intention) while the Amoraim of Babylon state that they do not. The central divide, according to Heschel, resulted from changing attitudes towards aggadah (i.e. theological matter) in contrast to halakhah. Consider the explanation of the biblical verse: ‘If there arise a matter too hard for thee in judgment...’ (Deuteronomy 17:8) The

Jerusalem Talmud explains, “matter – this is aggadah”79 whereas the Babylonian Talmud explains, “matter – this is halakhah.”80

The Amoraim of Israel stressed song, aggadah, and theological deliberation such as Ma'aseh

Hamerkava81. The Sages of Babylonia, on the other hand, stressed intricate halakhic discussion82.

Heschel goes on to demonstrate that this disagreement was the source of some animosity between the two camps, as it were. Heschel describes this tension with many examples from a wide range of Amoraic material. Yet, this tension did not cement into a fully-fledged world view until the geʾonim (the rabbis of Babylonia in the time after the final redaction of the Talmud through the medieval era, c.589-1038 CE), who vied strongly for the supremacy of the

78 b. Rosh Hashanah, 28a 79 y. Sanhedrin, 1:30a 80 b. Sanhedrin 87a 81 Discussions concerning the teachings related to the vision Ezekiel when he sees God enthroned on his chariot. This is often understood to refer to a school of talmudic mysticism.

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Babylonian Talmud, a work that already paid less attention to aggadah then any other rabbinic work, as authoritative. The implication of this, argues Heschel, was a profound shift in Jewish thought, which relegated aggadah to a corner and established a dangerous tendency to ignore aggadah. Amongst the geʾonim, there were those who were frankly embarrassed by aggadah in general, especially when the literal meaning of a aggadic parables ran contrary to the strict

Aristotelian rationalism that began to dominate Jewish thought. For the likes of the eminent

Sa‘adiah Gaʾon, for example, aggadah also became particularly problematic as it had become an object of scorn amongst Karaites, a Jewish sect which denied the validity of the rabbinic tradition. Heschel discusses various opinions, such as that of Sa‘adiah Gaʾon, who argued, therefore, that we “do not rely on aggadoth.”83 Hai Gaʾon84 adds further explanation, stating that aggadah is based not on specific tradition but reflects the exegetical temperament of the individual.85 This is not an accurate assertion as we find that a great deal of stated aggadic material is drawn from very early sources with at least an equal pedigree to halakhic statements.

Nonetheless, Hai Gaʾon held the view that aggadah has no direct bearing on action. (This is incorrect. Much of aggadah is prescriptive as we have seen. The difference is that it is not a binding, normative code as halakhah is.) This attitude towards aggadah implies that aggadah is virtually irrelevant, or, at least of significantly diminished importance. Heschel bemoans this development in the treatment of aggadah and argues that while he respects that it developed from

83 Heschel supports this historic claim by making use of newly available sources of geonic material and new scholarship. See Benjamin Manasseh Lewin, Otsar Ha- (The Treasury of the Geonim) (Haifa, 1928), 91. 84 Hai son of Sherira (939-1038) or Hai Gaʾon was a prominent gaʾon based out of Pumbeditha Hai Gaʾon was a conservative figure who, while learned, discouraged the general study of philosophy, even where it was thought to lead to greater awareness of God. See Yitzhak Dov Gilat, “Isaac Nappaḥa,” ed. Michael Berenbaum and Fred Skolnik, Encyclopaedia Judaica (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), Gale Virtual Reference Library. 85 Lewin, Otsar Ha-Geonim (The Treasury of the Geonim), 59. 57

the pressures of the time, it nevertheless became akin to a major principle of Torah86, so to speak, that one can simply delight in aggadoth which please and off-handedly reject those which are not pleasing with minimal assessment.

Heschel uses this historic analysis to make a conceptual bridge between the rabbinic era and the medieval era, as evidenced by the attitudes expressed by some prominent geonic figures.

When engagement with theology atrophies, the result tends to be a historical revolution, of sorts, in the arena of religious thought. There have always been those, states Heschel, who cried out throughout Jewish history not to abandon engagement with essential religious ideas and problems, over and above pilpul in halakhah87. Heschel presents a wide range of medieval and early-modern examples of this historical phenomenon, with the pendulum swinging back and forwards in some communities. Maimonides, with his distinctive rationalistic approach, thought that aggadah contained the deepest philosophic truths.88 For Maimonides, one who engages only in pilpul is likened to one who approaches a great palace but cannot find the front door and blindly wanders the grounds aimlessly.89 It was not only rationalists like Maimonides who re- emphasised a need for theology, but also kabbalists such as Baḥya Ibn Paquda.90 In the Early

Modern era, the Tov (c.1698-1760), the charismatic founder of Hasidism also reacted strongly to a contemporaneous over-emphasis on halakhah and pilpul to the detriment of the spiritual needs of the community.

86 This is an ironic reference to a rabbinic expression, which usually relates to the essential quality or idea that is attributed by different sages as the central principle of Torah itself. 87 These are long and protracted casuistic debates on the fine points of Jewish Law. 88 In order to accord with his strict Aristotelian rationalism, many aggadoth require an interpretive lens. There is a certain irony that straightforward aggadic passages, which, for example, are clearly comfortable with anthropomorphism, require an almost esoteric lens in order to be properly understood within Maimonides’ thought. 89 Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, 3:LI 90 An eleventh-century neo-platonic ethicist, author of Ḥovoth Levavot – Duties of the Heart. 58

Although these developments differ widely in theological viewpoints (e.g. Maimonidean rationalists vs. Medieval Kabbalah), Heschel argues throughout TMS that the roots of these developments are to be found in the writings of Ḥazal and the tensions to be found there.

Heschel’s essential claim in this regard is that the aggadah of the Sages continued to have a lasting influence on future generations, particularly when a renewed theological or philosophical energy arose to counter an overly narrow focus on law. What is more, there is theological continuity between these historical eras of Jewish thought. (This will be examined at length in

Chapter Three). Even if some negative views exist with respect to aggadah, that is, in and of itself, a theological, I daresay aggadic, position amongst many others. Within the exegetical legacy of the Sages, aggadah is part of the very fabric of Jewish literacy even if it was underemphasized by a handful of Babylonian Amoraim. In the world of Ḥazal, aggadah is as integral to Torah as halakhah. As Heschel quotes to us, reiterating his point at the end of the

Introduction to TMS:

As the small rain upon the tender grass and as the showers upon the herb, My doctrine

shall drop as the rain (Deut 32:2)

My doctrine shall drop as the rain: Just as rain falls on trees and infuses them with the

particular flavor (of their fruit)—the grapevine according to its flavor, the olive tree

according to its flavor, the fig tree according to its flavor—so also words of Torah are all

the same, yet they comprise Scripture, Mishnah, Talmud, Halakah, and Haggadah.9192

91 Sifre Devarim, pisqa 306. Louis Finkelstein, ed., Sifre on Deuteronomy (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1969), 339.Hammer, Sifre, 306. 92 See also Steven D. Fraade in From Tradition to Commentary: Torah and Its Interpretation in the Midrash Sifre to Deuteronomy. Fraade’s translation of this text is based on better manuscripts than Hammer’s translation of the Finkelstein edition and removes the word “talmud”. Fraade appraises this text as one component of a thematically unified three-part cluster, which interprets the biblical verse. In the first (Hammer’s translation of which is quoted 59

The different genres of rabbinic discourse – aggadah and halakha – constitute the varied and abundant produce, all of which stems from a single, life-giving source. If we, the students of the rabbinic exegetical texts and legacy, wish our interpretation of the Sages to accord with what the

Sages actually thought, than we cannot ignore or trivialize the aggadic material.

Heschel argues implicitly that it is in fact geonic reactionism that runs counter to the actual rabbinic worldview, which was unafraid of non-normative and odd opinion. Heschel makes this argument by stating that the editors of the Talmud did not intend to compose a definitive book of laws or received principles like the Shulḥan Arukh.93 On the contrary, argues

Heschel, we find that the codifiers did not worry about including opinions which are baseless or rejected, and did not establish halakhic rulings only. The purpose of rabbinic juxtaposition of viewpoints, whether accepted as normative practice or not, was clearly not intended to be understood as a defined legal code. Instead, it is a preservation and presentation of contrasting themes, ideas, opinions, and traditions. So too, aggadoth of all sorts, controversial and innocuous

above), Fraade notes that the “different branches of Torah discourse are one, deriving from a single source.” The second interpretation describes the showers as nourishing grasses of diverse hues – in this case, the metaphor of the showers still refers to “words of Torah” but is comprised not of different modes of rabbinic discourse (as we find in the first text) but of different types of Sages. Fraade notes that this “suggests an equation between the sages in their variety and words of Torah in their variety, all of which are sustained by the same divine source, all of which are life giving.” The last midrashic interpretation asserts that: Just as rain cannot be anticipated or, we might say, its qualities cannot be known until it actually comes, so too the sage cannot be known until he teaches. The variety of what he teaches is the same as that of the branches of Torah discourse that we encountered in the first interpretation…This becomes even more significant when we try to apply the commentary’s interpretation back to the biblical image: if Moses hopes that his words will penetrate the people as rain does the herbage, the commentary suggests not only an equation of those penetrating words with rabbinic teachings but with rabbinic sages as Torah teachers…In each of the three examples a threefold division is adduced: between three types of oral Torah, between three types of sages, and between three types of teachings of sages, all of which, like the rain, are one. Steven D. Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary: Torah and Its Interpretation in the Midrash Sifre to Deuteronomy (SUNY Press, 1991), 96–98. 93 A widely accepted work of codified Jewish law (literally meaning The Set Table), composed by Joseph Karo and printed in the 1550s. 60

alike, were placed side by side.94 Aggadah was an equally important subject matter to the Sages as halakhah, and, argues Heschel, naturally should be subject to analysis with the same rigour as halakhic material. The flow of halakhic pilpul is not necessarily a received tradition either, but, often a matter of applied exegesis95. Heschel insists that aggadic discussion can vary in quality and calibre as much as halakhic discussion. Just as one should not refute the totality of halakhah as a system based on seemingly bizarre and silly halakhoth, so too one should not reject aggadah.

If a specific aggadic text or theme is problematic to rationalist worldview if taken literally, that should not disqualify aggadah from being viewed as a valid intellectual and spiritual pursuit.

Heschel argues that halakha, at times, is equally prone to be bizarre. For instance, Heschel cites a halakhic discussion regarding a two-headed person, concerning whom the Talmud asks, “Upon which head would he place his phylacteries?”96 Instead, Heschel argues that the Sages themselves “distinguished between the praiseworthy and the absurd in the realm of aggadah.”97

Aggadah constituted an intellectual and spiritual passion of the Sages as much as halakha. Some of the Sages were experts in one while others excelled in the other, or both.98

94 See Fraade, “Rabbinic Polysemy And Pluralism Revisited: Between Praxis And Thematization.” 95 Even if a given pilpul is striving to validate an existing tradition, the pilpul in and of itself is not part of that tradition. 96 b. Menahot, 69b. A defender of such talmudic casuistry might very well reply with some vehemence that with regards to such conversations it is the legal themes and considerations brought out by such a debate that are important for learning, not the specific legal case itself. By understanding the logic of the arguments, solid foundations of halakhic jurisprudence are developed which are themselves applicable to real-world legal dilemmas. I would argue, however, that this is exactly Heschel’s point. The same ‘fleshing out’ of larger themes is directly applicable to the aggadic material as well. If the Sages saw aggadah as a variety of flora from the same life-giving source (Torah), then the same approach must be taken with the aggadic material as with the halakhic. 97 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:35. 98 Just as the second interpretation found in the Sifre Devarim would argue – the different herbage refers to the different types of sages flourishing from the divine sustenance of Torah. See note 90 above. 61

Aggadah, with its varied perspectives on God, Torah, and life, allow us to analyse the mindset or system of thought for a given Sage (or sages) and illumine as well the outlook from which his halakhic arguments are based. Thus, perspectives in aggadah give rise to many perspectives in halakhah. Heschel’s argument essentially boils down to this: aggadah and halakha are not monolithic categories but instead operate as inextricably linked aspects of the same religious genre and method.99

Heschel’s claims about the importance of aggadah have strong textual support and throughout TMS many examples of halakhic reasoning based on aggadic principles are to be found; Volume III focuses on the issue at great length. It also seems intuitive that a system of law requires a theory (or theories) of jurisprudence and normativity. There may be competing conceptions of law, but theoretic considerations naturally go into legal decision-making. Thus, a rounded understanding of halakhah cannot ever be achieved without a theoretical framework.

Interpreting the halakhic methodologies of a given Sage would require an understanding of his broader approach to the nature of miṣwoth and of Torah: the content of aggadah. Heschel’s assertions concerning aggadah may be summed up as follows: aggadah represents serious theological viewpoints that were as much part of the intellectual and spiritual exegetical endeavour as halakhah was.

99 Rabbi Yitzḥaq (Yitzḥaq bar Nappaḥa), a third-century amora of Israel, mentioned above in Text Five, “was renowned both as a halakhist and an aggadist, and the following Aesopian story is told. Once Ammi and Assi were sitting before him. One of them asked him to expound a halakhah and the other an aggadah. "He commenced an aggadah but was prevented by the one, and when he commenced a halakhah he was prevented by the other. He said to them: This may be compared to a man who has two wives, one young and one old. The young one used to pluck out the white hairs to make him appear young and the old one his black ones, to make him appear old. He thus became completely bald, as q. in b. Bava Qamma 60b. Translation and quote from Gilat, “Isaac Nappaḥa.” 62

The strength of this claim can be proved, if indeed we can find textual support for it. If consistent theological perspectives can be teased out of this massive body of texts, then Heschel's claims about aggadah are supported. Heschel makes a convincing case that the aggadah reflects not only theological concepts, but offers a glimpse into the religio-phenomenological mindset of the interpreters whom we are studying - a viewpoint which has been accepted widely in recent scholarship. What is truly profound about TMS, however, is the manner by which this notion of aggadah is applied. Heschel ascribes this understanding of aggadah, and how it is to be studied, to the two interpretive schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael respectively. TMS is concerned with cataloguing their differing aggadic views and showing how they play out over a broad range of topics. Heschel examines rabbinic literature with the tools of philology and philosophy alike, constructing a picture of cohesive theological viewpoints, the historical influence of which is enormous. It therefore adds a great deal of perspective, not only for our understanding of Ḥazal but also for future generations of Jewish thought. This is the gravity of TMS and why it needs to be taken seriously.

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1.3 ‘Eternal Paradigms’: Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael

And so we come to the central claim of TMS. Heschel takes a look at the two exegetical schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael, as established by Hoffman and Epstein, and takes it much further. Heschel argues that differing terminologies and contrasting aggadic viewpoints demonstrate clearly distinguished modes of understanding Torah. This ties into an interconnected matrix of other philosophical and theological viewpoints developed over the course of TMS.

Heschel refers to Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael as eternal paradigms, (Heb. Avoth Haʿolam, literally fathers of the world).100 The word for father, in rabbinic Hebrew, (Heb. Av, Pl. avoth.) often refers to a central category that gives birth, so to speak, to various permutations and derivations. It is with these connotations of the term that Heschel intentionally interprets and employs the term. The two figures are not only the establishers of two noted exegetical methods and schools. Rather, their specific outlooks (or that of their schools) on a diverse array of subjects sets the stage for many subsequent debates and struggles in the realm of Jewish

Thought.

The contrast between these two perspectives continued and was drawn down through the

generations of Israel establishing a fixed method and form from whence every Sage drew

upon, either knowingly or not knowingly from the path of Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael.

Sometimes, aspects of the two are mixed together, yet it is possible to connect the essence

100 Heschel is making use of a talmudic description of Aqiva and Ishmael found in j. Shekalim, 3:47b Tucker translates the expression literally (fathers of the world) but notes, that: [T]here is an important ambiguity here, of which Heschel is undoubtedly taking advantage. Olam can mean “world,” but another, more primary meaning, is “eternity”. Actually, there is a second ambiguity here, and that is avot…can also have the more abstract meaning of “progenitor” or “paradigm”. Thus, avot haʿolam can also mean “eternal paradigms,” which is, of course, exactly how Heschel means to interpret the significance of these two Rabbis and their modes of thought. Heschel and Tucker, Heavenly Torah, 8 note [32]. 64

of many divisions and debates in the generations that followed to the established thought

of these two respective eternal paradigms...Every viewpoint [of Jewish thought through the

ages merely] discards a form and takes another based on the particular generation and [his

or her] influences.101

This claim constitutes the central claim of TMS, and its subsequent chapters are structured thematically; they establish the perspectives of the two schools on a wide range of theological issues, and inform the reader with regard to how these tensions influenced subsequent generations. As discussed above, Heschel's approach to the writings of Ḥazal was not limited to historical-criticism or to philology alone, but utilised a broader thematic methodology. Heschel’s phenomenological approach is to ask what a textual interpretation tells us about the intellectual and spiritual mindset of the interpreter. Heschel describes in his introduction the general dispositions and beliefs of both Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva; the subsequent chapters demonstrate their application.

Rabbi Ishmael is described as calm, measured, and logical. He preached submissiveness to the Romans and opposed revolution. Ishmael was fastidious, sensitive in thought, and easy- going. Ishmael advocated courteousness to all - even the young - and greeted all people with joy.

Nonetheless, he was disturbed by ugliness and exhibited an otherwise uncharacteristically vehement animosity towards Christianity.102 Heschel points us to the distinctive Ishmaelian

101 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:ix. 102 Paraphrasing from Ibid., i:xxxix. Heschel, as a counter-point, uses this character trait in order to highlight the complexity of the typically pacific temperament of Rabbi Ishmael. Unfortunately, this is precisely the kind of material that Tucker removes from his translation. The result is a blander and more politically correct presentation of rabbinic figures. 65

principle that “The Torah speaks in human language.” This expression has strong rationalistic implications centred on the fact that it represents a stated assumption about the nature of Torah.

Presented in “human language”, it becomes analysable according to the general conventions of human language, e.g. syntax, metaphor, hyperbole, turns of phrase, etc. The phrase is often used to get around sticky issues of anthropomorphism and other issues of concern for a rationalist temperament. When taken into account with other rationalistic statements and sentiments, we can induce a great deal about the exegetical character of Rabbi Ishmael, and his philosophical approaches to a wide range of theological issues and dilemmata. The statement also had lasting impact on the views of the Medieval rationalists, and the philosophical systems that they developed.

Despite the influence of Ishmaelian trends, however, it was the method of Aqiva that tended to dominate; it captivated minds and even drew students of Rabbi Ishmael to the Aqivan manner of thinking.103 In stark contrast to the rest of TMS, the Introduction contains only minimal citation; each theme briefly described is only a cursory prologue to what constitutes at least one chapter in its own right later on throughout TMS. These chapters, in turn, are heavily sourced in rabbinic proof-texts, and some of the themes that TMS elaborates on will be examined in Chapter Two of this work. Suffice it to say, for now, Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva, the

103 It is interesting to note that, while there is a specific sub-chapter for Rabbi Ishmael, there is not one for Rabbi Aqiva. There is ample description of both figures' respective attitudes in the subsequent chapter describing two essentially divergent approaches to the biblical text. The reason for not having a dedicated sub-chapter to the biography of Rabbi Aqiva, I believe, is because one of Heschel's motives is to demonstrate that Ishmael represents the opposite pole of Jewish thought, which is often overshadowed and forgotten by Rabbi Aqiva's methodology, which became the dominant approach in Jewish thought in general. This appears to be a commonly accepted position given that we rarely see the specific exegetical method of Rabbi Ishmael beyond the distinctively Ishmaelian midrashic works or statements. Judah the Prince followed the method of Rabbi Aqiva in codifying the mishnah, and Rabbi Ishmael barely appears in it, reflecting, I would argue, a conscious redactional decision. 66

eternal paradigmatic thinkers, and their disagreements touch on the core of those things that stand at the height of the world. It is not that these approaches appeared suddenly in their generation; rather, Rabbis Ishmael and Aqiva were inheritors of two strands of Jewish thought present in earlier generations, and gave them cohesive form. Rabbi Ishmael espoused intellectual modesty, clarity, and was not given to flights of fancy. He advocated taking a moderate and pragmatic approach and preferred a grounded interpretation of textual difficulties in Biblical verse. Ishmael directed his intellect towards the clear and specific, and those things that are plainly given to common sense and reason. Ishmael desired to interpret Biblical text by stripping it of obscure or excessive metaphor, and analysing it through the lens of a world-affirming orientation. Ishmael was insistent on interpretation that neither strayed far from literal meaning

(usually) nor failed to appropriately describe God in the dignified manner that he felt befits Him.

In fact, what one finds when perusing aggadic material is that Ishmael prefers a simple understanding that is literal unless the verse itself contains overly fantastical or anthropomorphic content, in which case Ishmael will often assert a figurative or rationalistic rendering of the verse’s interpretation.

Rabbi Aqiva, on the other hand, took delight in exegesis that departs from the literal and delves into the wondrous and metaphoric. Aqiva was comfortable with free and unrestrained exegesis, and was given to extremes in both thought and deed. Aqiva desired to reveal the deepest secrets of Torah and had the soul of a poet with a gaze constantly extended upwards, never satisfied with plain meaning. The text of the bible was, for Aqiva, a thin veneer over infinite depth in meaning.

To illustrate Heschel's argument, I shall present a few of his examples. Consider the

Biblical verse which states, “And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with

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all thy soul, and with all thy might.” (Deut 6:5) For Rabbi Aqiva, as we saw in my Introduction

((Sifre D. Pisqa 32)), the phrase 'with all your soul' implies that unless you die a martyr there is a commandment you have not yet fulfilled. For Rabbi Ishmael this was preposterous because, in typical rabbinic intertextuality, there is another verse which states, “therefore choose life, that thou mayest live”. (Deut. 30:19) As the argument goes, we are therefore commanded to live and not to die. For Rabbi Aqiva, the meaning of 'you shall choose life' refers to the World to Come rather than simply life as it is. Rabbi Ishmael, on the other hand, tended to focus on terrestrial concerns104. These are sort of aggadic viewpoints that Heschel argues (convincingly in my opinion) create a nexus of correlated philosophical outlooks that are distinctive and contrast clearly. One is given to extremes and one is restrained. One is given to the otherworldly and one is world affirming. One is focused on the World to Come and one is focused on this life.

Let us take another example: according to Rabbi Aqiva, God is partnered with Israel not in thought alone but in feeling - “when Israel is in exile the Shekhinah is in exile with them.”

This is a famous statement from which, amongst others, Heschel attributes a theological understanding of a God constantly present and existing in an emotionally dynamic relationship with Israel. God is supremely immanent in the lives and actions of Israel. God is a partner in what happens to Israel and God is thus in need or desirous of a positive state of affairs. There is a reciprocity and correspondence between this realm and the realm of the Godly. (As we shall see, this view has strong correspondence with later developments in Kabbalah, see Chapter Three.) In contrast, Rabbi Ishmael scoffed at such perspectives, asking incredulously whether God is in

104For example, Rabbi Ishmael makes pronouncements and rulings which emphasize the centrality of family, marriage, and learning a profession, as opposed to exclusively spiritual concerns. See JT Pe’ah 3, JT 46B, PT Qiddushin 19B. 68

need of others. Rabbi Ishmael would often ask, “Can such a thing be said?”, when presented with overt anthropomorphisms in the Bible. The role of the interpreter, in his view, is to preserve a dignified and, more or less, rational approach to discussing God.

Such contrasting notions of the divine are also deeply intertwined with varying approaches to the nature of Torah itself and the manner in which it can reasonably be interpreted.

For Rabbi Aqiva, God is present immanently, but Torah is transcendent. Nothing is superfluous and every word and utterance corresponds to a transcendent reality, thus fair game for exegesis.

In stark contrast to Ishmael’s view of a Torah using human language, a well known view of

Rabbi Aqiva is that every stylised flourish on the letters, every eth105, every aph106, and every verb doubled with the infinitive absolute107 corresponds to some higher truth that merely needs to be revealed. For Rabbi Ishmael, on the other hand, God is transcendent, but it is Torah, which is immanent, written in human language, in human style, for a human audience and in a human context.

Consider the following text, which Heschel quotes, that explicitly highlights this differing approach to the text of the Torah. I present an expanded interpretation of this famous text in order to highlight the way Heschel would make use of the text in developing his theological typology. The following is from an early amoraic midrash, Bereishith Rabbah (Genesis Rabbah) on the opening verse of the Pentateuch.

“In the beginning God created [eth] the heaven and [we-eth] the earth.” (Gen 1:1)

105 A non-translatable Hebrew particle which marks the definite object governed by a transitive verb. 106 A conjunction, which translates roughly as also, even, or not even. he hath surely guarded –שמור שמר .The infinitive absolute functions in syntax with the conjugated verb. E.g 107 rather than He guarded. While for Rabbi Ishmael this is only a stylistic stress, for Rabbi Aqiva, the extra word in the form of the infinitive can be interpreted separately as imparting new information. 69

Text Four (Bereishith Rabbah 1:1)

[1] Eth the Heavens Rabbi Ishmael asked Rabbi Aqiva: 'Since you studied under Naḥum

of Gamzo108 for 22 years, [and he formulated the principle that] akhim and raqqim come

to exclude something, while ethim and gammim come to include something, then judge for

me this verse [i.e. interpret it for me based on your method], for [if these ethim were not

included] one could say from the verse that even the Heaven and the Earth are deities.'

[2] He [Rabbi Aqiva] said to him, ‘ “For it is no vain thing for you” (Deut. 32:47), and if

it is vain, it is from you, that you do not know how to interpret text! However, 'eth the

heavens' comes to include the sun and the moon, the stars and the planets. 'Eth the earth'

comes to include trees and grasses and the .'109

In [1], we have a recorded discussion between Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva. Rabbi Ishmael understands the particle eth as operating within its grammatical place. The word cannot be

108 Naḥum of Gamzo was a 2nd generation tanna of the first century and was one of Rabbi Aqival’s primary teachers. He is known for teaching Aqiva the general exegetical method of inclusion and exclusion, where textual features come to include or exclude some principle or idea. In contrast, Ishmael’s teacher, Neḥuniah ben Haqanna, taught Ishmael the exegetical method of general and specific categories. 109 Gen. Rab, 1:1. Heschel's reading of this text reflects the critical edition and commentary of the Theodor-Albeck edition of Bereshith Rabbah. Efraim Urbach, in his treatment of this discussion (Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 184.), confuses who is saying what. Urbach attributes Aqiva's retort to Rabbi Ishmael, that if it seems vain to him, it must be from him, and believes this to have been stated by Rabbi Ishmael. Although this would be an easy mistake to make from a naïve reading, it demonstrates a lack of attention to critical commentary and does not fit with the method of Rabbi Ishmael. It is Rabbi Aqiva who uses eth to include something, not Rabbi Ishmael. See Chanoch Albeck and J Theodor, eds., Midrash Rabbah : Critical Edition with Notes and Commentary (Jerusalem: Wahrmann, 1965), 12. n.7. 70

understood as superfluous (and thus a valid source of additional exegesis) because it is syntactically necessary and, without it, the verse would ambiguously cease to delineate between the object and subject of creation. This kind of ambiguity, in the Ishmaelian method, does not befit the Torah or his concept that the Torah makes appropriate use of human linguistic convention. Rabbi Ishmael’s critique of the Aqivan method of using ethim as sources of additional exegesis operates essentially as a reductio as absurdum. One can paraphrase Rabbi

Ishmael’s argument as follows:

P1) The Aqivan method asserts that ethim and gammim must come to include something (while akhim and raqqim come to exclude something) as these words would otherwise be superfluous.

P2) Without the eth in the verse (Gen. 1:1), the verse could be interpreted as stating, “In the beginning, God, Heaven, and Earth created...”

Conclusion: The Aqivan method results in theological absurdity.

The Aqivan method, according to Ishmael’s critique, results in an obviously untenable result for rabbinic and therefore ethim cannot be viewed as universally superfluous and thus are not always (if ever) fair game for exegesis. Both schools operate on the assumption that there are no redundancies in Miqraʾ, and that the seemingly superfluous is fair game for exegesis. The difference, sharply contrasted in this story, is what counts as superfluous. It is clear that from the

Ishmaelian perspective, the use of words such as eth or raq to respectively include or exclude something additional to the literal text is unacceptable if these words already serve a clear linguistic purpose.

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In section [2], Rabbi Aqiva responds to Rabbi Ishmael with a verse from Deuteronomy.

When Moses made his final address to the Children of Israel shortly before his death, he exhorts the people saying to them,

“Set your heart unto all the words wherewith I testify against you this day; that ye may charge your children therewith to observe to do all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life, and through this thing ye shall prolong your days upon the land, whither ye go over the Jordan to possess it.” (Deut. 32:46-47).

Rabbi Aqiva dismisses Rabbi Ishmael’s argument by playing on the wording of the Hebrew verse regarding the Torah, ‘For it is no vain thing for you.’ The Hebrew ‘for you’ is expressed as

mem in Hebrew can also be understood as ”מ“ lit. from you. The prepositional letter – מִ כֶּם causative. Rabbi Aqiva is using Rabbi Ishmael’s own grammatical approach to the text to insult him and essentially states: “The Torah is no empty thing. If it is found to be empty, then that is on your account.” For Rabbi Aqiva, the most mundane textual feature touches on an infinite depth of meaning below the surface, rendering such features of the text as meaningful in a manner that is radically different than simply human linguistic features. Aqiva is more concerned with establishing that, on the very first day of creation, the celestial entities and the grasses and the Garden of Eden were created, even though they had not yet come to be placed accordingly on the earthly plane.110 If the ethim are found to be empty grammatical markers, then, in the opinion of Rabbi Aqiva, this is the intellectual failing of the exegete, and not a limitation in the text.

110 Urbach connects this position of Aqiva as mirroring a disagreement between Hillel and . However, it seems far more likely to me to be connected to what the midrash states further on (1:14), that the celestial hosts were created on the fourth day and put into place on the fourth day. This, perhaps, hints at the Aqivan notion that there is 72

The rabbinic text quoted above is a very well-known formula and is an oft-quoted example in rabbinic scholarship concerning the two schools. There are also a number of similar texts, especially in Genesis Rabbah. The two differing exegetical techniques are well known.

What I hope to have demonstrated above is how TMS explores the interplay of such texts within a different paradigm of scholarly analysis. Heschel explores the theological implications of these texts in light of the divide between the two Schools. The scope of conversation is far broader and a typology of contrasting comprehensive theological viewpoints within the oral tradition emerges. The above approaches to the language of Torah and its interpretation are, respectively, implicit contrasting theological perspectives concerning Torah. Rabbi Ishmael sees the Torah text as semantically and syntactically operating on a human level; the surface meaning was intended for a human audience and should be approached with human logic and wisdom, such as the Thirteen Principles of Rabbi Ishmael.111 For Rabbi Aqiva, linguistic features such as eth cannot merely operate on a human level and instead they must allude to a deeper meaning of a text. For him, the surface meaning is the palest spectre of the transcendent truths to which it alludes. Indeed, both saw the very nature of Torah differently. For Ishmael, Torah is a work of literature; that is to say, it is intelligible through human faculties like any other linguistic expression. The Torah was written for human readers using human conventions of language. For

Aqiva, the text is otherworldly, inviting an expansive interpretation. While it was asked, in the interpretive method of Ishmael, why we need a text if we can infer the contents from logic,112 it

a supernal source above for everything that is Below. Thus, the moon and stars, and grasses and the trees had their heavenly counterparts created first, before being transposed onto the terrestrial plane. 111 These are a series of rules of interpretation found in the introduction of Sifra and appear to be an expansion of the Seven Rules of Hillel. For a short breakdown of these rules, see Jacobs and Derovan, “Hermeneutics.” 112 See MSY Nezikin 14; Sifre 26 73

was asked in the school of Rabbi Aqiva how one can possibly force logical reasoning (in the manner of a fortiori inference) on the text at all. One can refute the logic, so to speak, but not the text itself.113

Thus, the differences between Ishmael and Aqiva are aggadically relevant. The conversation presented in the text above is certainly not concerned with the technicalities of deriving law from the text. Instead, it is concerned with how to interpret the text of Torah pertaining to creation. More generally, these two differences in understanding and approaching the text of Torah imply two different understandings of Torah and its nature. The central claim of

TMS is that if we take the sum total of aggadic viewpoints that contrast between Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva respectively, then, two contrasting philosophies, in dialogue with one another, emerge as a framework through which we can interpret rabbinic theology in general. These two sides of an ongoing dialectic between the two schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva can, respectively, be shown to be antecedents for theological perspectives and arguments in subsequent generations.

Implicit within these two paths in exegesis are two vastly different approaches to various quandaries of religion. Theodicy, for instance, is understood in drastically different ways. As I discussed in my Introduction, Rabbi Aqiva saw suffering as a blessing through which God allows for even greater reward for the righteous in the World to Come, thus offering an explanation as to why the wicked appear to flourish while the righteous suffer. God is always merciful and thus the wicked get all their goods in this realm, while, in a sort of karmic balance,

113 See Sifra Beḥuqotai 113b 74

the righteous are granted extra reward for the suffering in the present. Indeed, according to this thought, one should be concerned if life is too easy! One should not question nor complain, but accept what happens with equanimity, for all is from the mercy of God. Indeed, according to what Heschel categorizes as an Aqivan midrash, Moshe was punished for directing his anger at

God.

For Rabbi Aqiva, this temporal world is to be viewed in a derogatory manner, its nature corrupt. This view seems to have gnostic overtones and even the promises of reward in this world as uttered in the Bible are necessarily metaphoric. How could it be otherwise, according to

Heschel's read of Rabbi Aqiva, if the core of life is in the World to Come? Heschel contrasts this with Rabbi Ishmael, who was world-affirming. Derekh Eretz – the way of everyday life was of immediate concern to Rabbi Ishmael and according to his thought one should not desist from the needs and matters of normal existence. The problem of the righteous who suffer has no easy answer. In contrast to the midrash mentioned above, the Ishmaelian school explains Moses' statement “Who is like unto Thee, O LORD, among the mighty?’ (Ex. 15:11) as stating the question, “Who is like thee, who sees in the disgrace of his children and is silent?!”114 For Rabbi

Ishmael suffering is a perplexing problem that distressed even Moses. Ishmael describes the fact that at times the judgement of God rages on the world. Yet, this does not solve the problem for the righteous. If the Bible is to be interpreted in a manner consistent with its literal meaning, should not the righteous then be reaping the rewards promised? Heschel presents Rabbi Ishmael's

114 MI, Beshalaḥ. Pisqa 8 H. S. Horovitz and Israel Rabin, eds., Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael Cum Variis Lectionibus et Adnotationibus (Heb) (J. Kauffmann, 1931), 142. See n.8 therein. This citation is a prime example of the problematic presentation in some of Heschel’s arguments as referenced in note 45 above. The statement is itself unattributed and one could easily think that the argument hinges solely on the source text being the MI. However, the context of the entire passage fits squarely into the Heschel’s typology. What’s more, Horovitz notes that this viewpoint is lacking in the typically more expansive MSY. 75

interpretation of Moses' desire to see the glory of God after successfully pleading for Israel to be spared annihilation after the sin of the Golden Calf. This is explained not as a desire to witness a physical vision (which accords well with his overall attitude towards God's intangible transcendence), but to understand God's perspective and the secret of suffering. Moses desired to merit seeing things from God's intellectual viewpoint in order to understand this intractable problem.

1.4 Conclusion

Heschel paints for us a portrait of these two theological tensions by piling up a weight of aggadic evidence, each chapter contiguous with the others as a whole. Heschel presents a wide array of theological viewpoints and questions including the nature of the Shekhinah, the purpose of mitzvoth, the role and nature of humanity, the human relationship to God (and itself), the extent of , and contrasting views of revelation. TMS attempts to establish a diverse range of sweeping theological tensions and problems. The work makes an elaborate comparison utilising many aggadic pronouncements or interpretations of both Rabbi Aqiva and

Rabbi Ishmael in order to build a systematic picture of both theological modalities. After establishing the historic views of these figures and their schools, Heschel creates a typology through which later rabbinic statements can be seen to accord with one School or the next. If, in the first place, aggadic material belonging to each School respectively does exhibit two distinctive methods of exegesis, I argue that there is absolutely no reason to assume that we cannot induce a cohesive worldview based on that. The sheer volume of material that Heschel utilises for this project is staggering in scope and difficult to ignore. Heschel painstakingly builds a weight of information - the product of decades of study – and successfully uncovers the theological and philosophic perspectives at play within the personalities in the texts he studied.

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Heschel, in essence, attempts to reveal how the characters of Rabbi Ishmael and Aqiva experienced the text of the Torah in order to interpret broadly the texts that were ultimately produced, containing their lived hermeneutic experience. Although each topic requires its own textual examination, I argue that the premises of Heschel’s read of the Two Schools are sound. In the following chapter, I will demonstrate that a wide range of the typologies that Heschel develops throughout TMS strongly apply even over a relatively small volume of text.

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Chapter Two: Heschel and the Mekhiltoth ― A Comparative Analysis

2.1 The Mekhiltoth: Two Schools on the Same Biblical Text

In this chapter, I will present evidence for the strength of TMS as an interpretive framework for rabbinic literature. This is by no means an exhaustive comparison, yet the results support many of Heschel’s claims. A comparison is made between two texts, the Mekhilta De-

Rabbi Ishmael (MI), and the reconstructed Mekhilta De-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai (MSY). Both of these are works of Tannaitic midrash, which constitute running commentaries on the text of

Exodus. The scholarly consensus of classifying the MI as belonging to the School of Rabbi

Ishmael is not due merely to its name but because its redaction predominantly emphasises Rabbi

Ishmael and his students, as well as their exegetical methods and language. The MSY, on the other hand, is attributed to the School of Rabbi Aqiva and his students, exhibiting that School’s exegetical language and methods. The MSY, amongst other monikers, received its name due to the fact that the opening pisqa (lemma of text) is stated in the name of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, a prominent student of Rabbi Aqiva.

The latter midrashic work has an interesting history. It appears to have been known to the geʾonim and is cited by some Medieval rabbis.115 By the fourteenth century, however, this work

115 Most notably of those who cite the MSY is Naḥmanides (1194-1270), Rabbi Moshe ben Naḥman Girondi, know by the acronym Ramban. Naḥmanides was a prominent Catalan Spanish rabbinic thinker. Of note, Naḥmanides strongly disagreed with a number of the rationalist views of both Maimonides and Ibn Ezra on theological and philosophical grounds, though he respected both figures as well. It is telling that MSY would have appealed to a kabbalistically and mystically inclined philosopher such as Naḥmanides, who engaged in his own exposition on the Torah that contains many aggadic and mystical elements. Maimonides, as we see in the Guide for the Perplexed, endeavoured to reduce the miracles in the Bible to natural phenomena and denied that, in general, individual providence was possible. Nature, stemming as it does from God, is perfect. As such, any breaking of the natural order would be in contradiction to the nature of God. In contrast, Naḥmanides was emphatic that “No man can share in the Torah of our teacher Moses unless he believes that all our affairs, whether they concern masses or individuals, are miraculously controlled, and that nothing can be attributed to nature or the ‘order of the world’.” See Chavel Ber Chavel, trans., Ramban: Commentary on the Torah (New York: Shilo Publishing House, 1971), Gen. 18:8. Compare to Fred Rosner, trans., Moses Maimonides’ Treatise on Resurrection (Northvale, N.J.: Jason Arsonson Inc., 1997), 27. For a well-rounded yet brief introduction to some of the nuance of Naḥmanides’ thought, 78

was lost. In the rush to publish manuscripts at the outset of the printing press, many manuscript traditions and even entire texts, which did not achieve publication, disappeared. During the flowering of modern rabbinic scholarship, however, a concerted effort was made to reconstruct this work based on citations and good philological analysis of existing anthologies. The first to attempt a partial reconstruction was Meir (Ish Shalom) Friedmann (1831-1908), an Austro-

Hungarian Jewish scholar and teacher of Solomon Schechter. Later, Israel Lewi (1841-1917) expanded this work and postulated that the Midrash Ha-Gadol, an eclectic Yemenite anthology, contained large portions incorporated from the MSY when it was an extant and discrete textual entity. Continuing in the footsteps of Friedmann and Lewi, Hoffman created the first comprehensive reconstruction. This 1905 version was based, in part, on seven pages of manuscript fragments from the Cairo Geniza, which was still in its nascent stages of being expertly mined for valuable texts that had been elsewhere lost or had only limited textual witnesses. J.N. Epstein, who gathered newly available manuscript fragments from the Genizah and other important repositories, undertook the next major reconstructive work on the MSY.

(Epstein himself uncovered fifty manuscript folios of the work from a collection in Leningrad.)

This material ultimately came to constitute some seventy-five percent of the completed reconstruction, which was finished and published by Epstein’s student, Ezra Melamed. The

Epstein/Melamed version (1955)116 is now the most current edition available. While more

as well as sources for further reading, see Joseph Kaplan, Tovia Preschel, and Israel Moses Ta-Shma, “Naḥmanides,” ed. Michael Berenbaum and Fred Skolnik, Encyclopaedia Judaica (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), Gale Virtual Reference Library. Another medieval thinker who often quotes the MSY is Rabbi Todros ben Joseph Abulafia (1225-1285), who composed mystical commentaries on aggadah. 116 Jakob Nahum Epstein and Ezra Ziyyon Melammed, eds., Mekhilta D’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai: Fragmenta in Geniza cairensi reperta-digessit apparatu critíco, notis, praefatione instruxit. (Hierosolymis: American academy for Jewish research, 1955). 79

reliable than the Hoffman edition (more direct primary witnesses), the two are actually very close in content. Although the Epstein/Melamed edition supplanted Hoffman’s, it also vindicated it as an accurate and reliable work of rabbinic scholarship.117 This point is important because

Heschel quotes a great amount of material from the MSY, relying on the Epstein/Melamed edition.

In contrast to the MI, the MSY predominately exhibits the rabbinic personalities and exegetical methods associated with Rabbi Aqiva, his colleagues, and his students. It would therefore be germane to compare some aspect of the two respective midrashic works in order to test if Heschel’s thesis is supported. A critical aspect of Heschel’s claims is that the two schools treat aggadic material the same way as halakhic material - that is to say, that aggadic material bears the same distinctive characteristics of the “two Schools” as the halakhic material does. This is in sharp contrast to the scholarship which prevailed in Heschel’s time, and, to a lesser extent, continues to do so. Consider the following summary of tannaitic aggadah from a Menaḥem

Kahana:

The major differences described… between [tannaitic midrash] belonging to the school of R. Ishmael and

those from the school of R. Aqiva find marked expression in the halakhic material that forms the core of this

literature. The differences, however, between the midrashim from the two schools are considerably narrower

in their aggadic passages, and the latter apparently originate in shared early material. The two parallel

midrashim frequently contain aggadic expositions of extremely similar order, content, and style.

Notwithstanding this, the differences between the two midrashim clearly indicate that these are two different

redactions of early material, and not a division resulting from copying by different scribes. The two midrashic

schools often differ in their specific interpretations of expressions and words, they sometimes adopt differing

117 Paraphrasing from Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, xvii. 80

approaches to a certain biblical passage, and more comprehensive differences of opinion between the two are

not unknown.

Despite the high degree of similarity in the aggadic material in the midrashim of both schools, most scholars

have sought to apply to this material as well the accepted division of midrashim into the schools of R. Ishmael

and R. Aqiva. Although various signs supporting such a division appear at times, clear-cut differences

between the schools in hermeneutical methods, exegetical terms, and names of rabbis are usually to be found

only in the halakhic portions of the midrashim, and are hardly discernible in the aggadic sections.

Accordingly, the common aggadic material of [tannaitic midrash] was quite probably not produced in the

schools of R. Ishmael or of R. Aqiva, but it is highly plausible that during the course of the appending of this

material to the various [tannaitic midrash], the later redactors of the two schools occasionally left their mark

118 on this material, as well.

In the comments above, we see a fairly skeptical view, though not outright opposition to, the kind of comprehensive schema Heschel proposes. Clear-cut differences between the two

Schools, however, are to be found in the aggadic material, despite Kahana’s assertions that these are absent. What is more, the exegetical differences in method correspond to Heschel’s schematization of the two Schools. While it is true that a large amount of aggadic material is paralleled in both schools, there is a large amount of material that is not, and the differences are both meaningful and significant.119 I chose to focus within the section called Ba-Ḥodesh (in the

118 Menaḥem I. Kahana, “Midreshei Halakhah,” ed. Michael Berenbaum and Fred Skolnik, Encyclopaedia Judaica (Keter Publishing House, 2007), 199–200. 119 Much of the scholarship that critiques categorical differences between the two schools pertaining to aggadah consists of two kinds of arguments: A) Examples of instances where terminological use in aggadic portions thought to be generally belonging to the school of Rabbi Ishmael (such as the first third of Sifre D.) are actually employing the terminological language of Rabbi Aqiva. B) Aggadic material quoted in the name of Rabbi Ishmael and his students can be found mirrored in parallel material 81

month), which covers Exodus, chapters 19-20. An important reason for choosing this segment of

Exodus in the two Mekhiltoth is because of the content of this Biblical narrative in which Moses is told to prepare the people and then proceeds to ascend onto Sinai in order to receive the Torah and instruct the Children of Israel. This miraculous revelatory event is rich in aggadic content and this text would therefore contain many of the essential themes of Heschel’s thesis, such as miracles, revelation, and prophecy. Based on the comparison of these two segments, as well as ancillary texts,120 Ultimately, this analysis finds Heschel’s central themes to be well-supported.

There appears to be substantive exegetical philosophies operating in dialectic between the schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael, which reflect differing philosophical dispositions towards the text of the Torah itself. Many of the divides that TMS schematizes between these two schools are brought into focus through the examination of the texts of this comparison.121 These findings

associated with Rabbi Aqiva. I find this argumentation weak. At the most, “A” demonstrates that when we describe a codified work, or section of a work, as “belonging” to one school or another, that this speaks to a general trend and not a rigid designation. These works are not strictly divided along sectarian lines, and in good rabbinic fashion they all include non-normative opinions from the viewpoint of the redactor. We classify them based on overall redactional choices such as the rabbis who predominate and the exegetical language that is used. For “B” arguments, the examples provided are often of fairly neutral theological content and generally conform to standard rabbinic views. This is only a valid critique if we assume that these schools produced this literature in isolation from one another and were engaged only in producing new exegesis without older material. However, this fails to describe the reality of the rabbinic world, where a wide range of previous material was passed on. All this means, then, is that the two schools often transmitted the same, older material, but formulated them through their respective exegetical methods (thus the differing terminology). More importantly, there are far too many theologically divergent views on a range of topics recorded, according to the different schools as Heschel maintains, to assume from such theologically neutral material that the aggadic material collapses into one school or another or that they cannot yield comprehensive differences between the schools. 120 TMS, structured for the most part thematically, cites a wide range of material in terms of breadth and era. In conducting the research for this comparison, I often began with tracing the sources that Heschel uses and subjecting them to analysis. The majority of the time, Heschel’s cited text supported his claim directly and strengthened his schematization overall. However, at times the full strength of these citations came from seeing the cited text within its greater context. This often led to further study, on my part, of these texts. 121 As it turned out, the comparison did not produce much discussion on the topic of prophecy as I had hoped, a significant discussion topic within TMS in general. 82

are presented below over a number of subchapter sections, representing the weight of evidence obtained from this analysis.

2.2 Differences in Literary Style

The two Mekhiltoth differ noticeably in terms of the rabbis named and the exegetical language used, as per the usual distinctions between the Schools of Rabbis Ishmael and Aqiva. In terms of aggadic content, there is also a floweriness of language and a penchant for verbosity in

MSY that contrasts noticeably with the more terse MI, which exhibits a straightforward, almost blunt, use of language. Both works apply rabbinic intertextuality, where the disparate texts of the

Hebrew Bible form a sacred and interconnecting whole. Yet, when the MI applies typical midrashic method, it is usually comparing the same word or phrase from one verse to another to prove rather straightforward and plain features of commonality. Such intertextual exercises in the

MSY, on the other hand, are often marked by freer, less reserved association. The relative sameness between the verses in their own contexts is less important, and the flow is more open, leading to a more poetic style of writing than that found in the MI.

Compare the following two excerpts on the following verse from Exodus (19:3)

“And Moses went up unto God, and the LORD called unto him out of the mountain, saying: 'Thus shalt thou say to the House of Jacob, and tell the children of Israel”

The following is from the MI:

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Text Five (MI, Baḥodesh 2)

[1] And Moses went up unto God. That was on the second day. And the Lord called

unto him, etc. This tells that the call always preceded the address. Thus. In the holy

tongue. “Thus,” in this order. “Thus,” in this manner. “Thus,” no more, no less.

[2] Shalt thou say to the House Of Jacob. That is, the women. And tell the Sons of

Israel. That is, the men. Another Interpretation: Thus shalt thou say to the House of

Jacob—because of the merit of Jacob. And tell the sons of Israel—because of the

merit of Israel.

[3] Another Interpretation: Thus Shalt Thou Say to the House of Jacob. Tell the

women the main things in a mild tone. And Tell the Sons of Israel. And be strict

with them.122

Consider this parallel portion from the MSY:

122 MI, Baḥodesh, 2. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 208. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, II:296–297. All English translations are from the Lauterbach edition. The Horovitz and Rabin Hebrew edition is cited for reference purposes. The bracketed numbering and breakdown is my own. 84

Text Six (MSY, Baḥodesh 49:1)

[1] And Moses went up to God [and] the Lord called to him from the mountain,

saying, ‘Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob and declare to the Children of

Israel’) (Exod. 19:3) This was the second day. One might think that he went up

without the permission of the Almighty. Scripture states, [however,] “Then He

said to Moses, ‘Come up to the Lord’” (Exod. 24:1). And Scripture says, “The

Lord said to Moses, ‘Come up to Me on the mountain’” (Exod. 24:12). This

teaches that he only went up with the permission of the Almighty.

[2] And how does one know from Scripture [that this was also the case] after

[God used the command] “call”? Scripture states, “The Lord called to him from

the mountain, saying” (Exod. 19:3). And how does one know from Scripture

[that this was also the case when God used the command] “Moses, Moses”?

Scripture says here “call” and Scripture says “call” at the burning bush. Just as

there [God said,] “Moses, Moses,” likewise here [God said,] “Moses, Moses.”

Just as there Moses says, “Here I am!” likewise here Moses says, “Here I am!”

“Thus” (Exod. 19:3): In the holy language. “Thus” (Exod. 19:3): In this

manner. “Thus” (Exod. 19:3): In this order. “Thus” (Exod. 19:3):[According to

these rulings]. “Thus” (Exod. 19:3): Like these chapters. “Thus” (Exod. 19:3):

Don’t add [to it] or subtract [from it].

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[3] “Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob” (Exod. 19:3): Everything is due

to the merit of Jacob. “...and declare to the Children of Israel” (Exod. 19:3):

Everything is due to the merit of Israel. Another interpretation: “Thus shall you

say to the house of Jacob ” (Exod. 19:3): His name, at first, was Jacob. Now he

deserves to take the great name Israel. As it says in Scripture, “... for you have

striven with God” (Gen. 32:29).123

These two parallel sections have a great deal in common, yet a close examination reveals some striking differences. The style of the section from MSY is, in terms of literary structure, far more willing to flow between verses with only a lateral connection of a shared word. This flowing from one verse to another, typical of the MSY, imbues the text with a more poetic, almost lyrical style than the MI, which is terser and arrives at its conclusion rapidly.124 In both texts, the issue

123 MSY, Baḥodesh, 49:1. Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 137–138. Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 215–216. All translations of the MSY are from the Nelson translation, which uses the Epstein-Melamed Hebrew edition. 124 It is worth mentioning that neither of these texts is attributed to a specific sage or sages. The material quoted in each either reflects an insertion of the redactor or earlier unattributed material being quoted. Either way, such material is assumed, generally, to represent the exegetical school associated with the work (or section of the work thought to correspond to the school in question) if the exegetical methods and language correspond. I found that when, in the MI for example, aggadic material is quoted in the name of Rabbi Aqiva or his students, that the style and content changes in accordance with Heschel’s claims. For instance, the MI immediately follows our text quoted above with an explanation of the following verse in Exodus, which states:

[Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto Myself.” (Ex. 19:4)] Ye Have Seen. What I tell you is not received by tradition. I do not have to send documents to you.—I do not have to present witnesses to you, but you yourselves have seen what I have done to the Egyptians. Notice of 86

being grappled with is that the literal verse would apparently imply that Moses ascended Sinai before being formally summoned. The MI’s response is simply that the inclusion of And the Lord

Called unto Him following the phrase And Moses went up unto God allows us to logically assume that any time in scripture that describes a summoning it is antecedent to the responding action, regardless of the order of words. This is a logical assertion well-known in the philosophy

how many offences—of idolatry, incestuous practices and murder—they had in the past been guilty before Me. Yet, I punished them only on your account. And How I Bore You on Eagles’ wings. R. Eliezer says: This refers to the day of Rameses. For they were all gathered and brought to Rameses within a little while. And I Brought You unto Myself. That is, before Mount Sinai. R. Akiba says: It refers to the day of the giving of the Law. For the Israelites were startled, and moved backward twelve miles and then again returning moved forward twelve miles— twenty-four miles at each commandment. And I Brought You unto Myself. To the Temple. Another Interpretation: And How I Bore You on Eagles’ Wings. How is the eagle distinguished from all other birds? All the other birds carry their young between their feet, being afraid of other birds flying higher above them. The eagle, however, is afraid only of men who might shoot at him. He, therefore, prefers that the arrows lodge in him rather than in his children. To give a parable: A man was going on the road with his son walking in front of him. If robbers, who might seek to capture the son, come from in front, he takes him from before himself and puts him behind himself. If a wolf comes from behind, he takes his son from behind and puts him in front. If robbers come from in front and wolves from behind, he takes the son and puts him upon his shoulders. As it is said: “And in the wilderness, where thou hast seen how that the Lord thy God bore thee, as a man doth bear his son” (Deut. 1.31).

What we see here is interesting. The first, unattributed statement emphasizes that Egypt was not punished even for the strictest of affronts to God, rather, it was for Israel’s sake. In the second statement, which is attributed to Rabbi

Aqiva, the interpretation emphasizes the miraculous and interprets broadly, with a love of expansive and hyperbolic elaboration. When Israel recoiled in fear at Mount Sinai, they stepped back a full twelve miles and then came forward a full twelve miles. (This notion is expanded even further in the parallel passage in the MSY.) In contrast the unattributed “another opinion” – a dialectical device demonstrating contrasting views – concludes the passage with a metaphor which seeks to rationalize the poetic language of being carried on eagles’ wings as a metaphor for divine protection. Just as the eagle protects its children in ways no other bird does, so too does God protect Israel.

While the Ishmaelian method seeks to interpret hyperbolic language as metaphor, Akiva seeks to aggrandize even relatively mundane.

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of language, when we find two propositional statements combined it is only a stylistic convention that the syntactical ordering implies chronological ordering, such as “The old king died and a new monarch was crowned.” This is not logically necessary, however. This fluidity as

אין מוקדם ,to chronological order in the Bible is a concept that is well known in rabbinic exegesis

There is no ‘earlier’ and ‘later’ in scripture). This exegetical device is employed) ואין מאוחר בתורה to explain interpretive difficulties within the Biblical text, such that the Biblical text is to be interpreted as not being written in chronological order. Relevant to our interest here, this is an exegetical device that is exclusive to the School of Rabbi Ishmael. The clause is a foundation of logical interpretation, based on the assumption that content informs literary form, and that not all verses and chapters are listed in chronological order.125 Granted, for Rabbi Ishmael, the Torah speaks in human language, and is to be interpreted based on human conventions of language.

Yet, when necessary, logic can be applied to solve many of the problematic or confusing

125 The MI, Shirata 7, gives a long list of examples of this exegetical approach, which Heschel quotes amongst other citations. The text reads as follows:

The Enemy Said. (Ex.15:9) This really was the beginning of the section. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “And it came to pass on the eighth day, that Moses called,” etc. (Lev. 9.1). This really was the beginning of the section. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “In the year that king Uzziah died,” etc. (Isa. 6.1). This really was the beginning of the book. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “Son of man, stand upon thy feet” (Ezek. 2.1)—Some say: It is: “Son of man put forth a riddle” (ibid. 17.2).— This really was the beginning of the book. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem” (Jer. 2.2). This really was the beginning of the book. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “Israel was a luxuriant vine” (Hos. 10.1). This really was the beginning of the book. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. A similar case is: “I, Koheleth, have been king over Israel in Jerusalem” (Eccl. 1.12). This really was the beginning of the book. Why then was it written here? Because no strict order as to “earlier” and “later” is observed in the Torah. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, I:203.

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sequences of events in the Torah by aligning the chronological flow of Torah in a manner consistent with the content of each section,126 rather than its sequential order. In contrast, Rabbi

Aqiva rejects the concept of ain muqdam we-ain meuḥar ba-torah. Instead, Rabbi Aqiva chooses to interpret insights from semukhim – i.e. textual relationships that are based on the proximity of one section to another even when on the surface of things there is no straightforward connection.127 These differing exegetical approaches to the Torah are, for Heschel, aspects of larger philosophical viewpoints concerning the nature of the Torah. Since for Rabbi Ishmael, the

Torah speaks in human language, it is readily analysable through human conventions and logical powers. For Rabbi Aqiva, on the other hand, the Torah is a transcendent entity; the surface meaning is a shallow veneer of the infinite depth below to which the literal meaning is but the signpost. Every graphical feature is a glimpse into the infinite otherworldly nature of Torah.

Thus, Heschel insists, the very notion that one can ‘pick-and-choose’ and assert that specific sections of the Torah are not in order contravenes the idea that Torah is a “lovely vessel through which the world was created”,128 that “the Torah of God is pure” (Ps.18: 4). As Heschel characterises the Aqivan position:

126 The term ‘section’, here refers to the open or closed arrangements in the traditional , and not the chapter/verse system that was later adopted from Christian sources. 127 For example, The Sifre Bamidbar (Sifre to Numbers) states, “Rabbi Aqiva says: We interpret the intersection of every section which is connected to another.” Sifre N., Balaq 131. 128 I will take this opportunity to quote a larger section of text than Heschel does. This phrase comes from m. Avot. A larger sample reads: Rabbi Ishmael says: Be compliant to authority (lit. ‘easy to the head), be pleasant to youth (lit. black- hairedness), and receive everyone with joy. Rabbi Aqiva says: Laughter and frivolity (lit. ‘light-headedness’) accustom one to sexual immorality, Tradition is a safety fence for the Torah, tithes are a safety fence for wealth, vows are a safety fence for self- restraint, a safety fence for wisdom is silence. He [Rabbi Aqiva] used to say: Beloved is Man who is created in [His] image, even more beloved is that it was made known to him that he (Man, humanity) was created in His image, as it is said, “for in the image of 89

Who gave permission to flesh and blood to subject the Torah to examination and say, ‘this section was written not according to its place?!’ Could it possibly enter your mind that the Torah, pure in purpose and completeness, is not ordered appropriately?129

In contrast, the MSY does not employ ain muqdam we-ain meuḥar ba-torah. Instead, in

[1] the MSY employs a latticework of intertextual comparisons. The intension and implicature of a word occurring in one verse is extended to connote identical or similar meaning in a different biblical verse where the same word occurs. It is a playful interplay that explains one verse through similar wording in another, employing what is known as a gezeirah shawa. This exegetical device derives an interpretation of one verse from the same word found elsewhere. I should note that both the schools of Rabbi Aqiva and that of Rabbi Ishmael respectively employ the gezeirah shawa, however, the latter applies it far more conservatively. Rabbi Aqiva, on the other hand, is far more liberal with his use of the device.130 Here we see the differing exegetical

God made He man. “(Gen. 9:6) Beloved is Israel who are called ‘children to the Omnipresent’, even more beloved is that it was made known to them that they are called ‘children to the Omnipresent’, as it is said, “Ye are the children of the LORD your God.” (Deut. 14:1) Beloved is Israel for they were given a lovely vessel through which the world was created, even more beloved is it was given to them and for this purpose the world was created, as it is said, “For I give you good doctrine; forsake ye not my teaching (lit. Torah).” (Prov. 4:2) m. Avot, 3:13-14 – Translation by the author. We see here a number of pertinent ideas. One is the simple contrast of the pacific and calm Ishmael to the rather intense Aqiva. The juxtaposition of their two views in the Hebrew text contains a humorous play on words that show the two to be in dialectic opposition. While Ishmael advocates qal laRosh – compliance to authority (lit. light or easygoing to the Head) as a virtue, Aqiva sees the almost identically worded qaluth rosh – frivolity (lit. light- headeness) as the gateway to promiscuity. Whether this reflects an actual historical conversation or a redactional choice, it demonstrates a deeply held view that these two figures occupied two positions in a well-established rabbinic dialectic, hence the playful manner in which the two are shown to be at odds. This transcends the bounds of this individual text and is certainly not constrained to halakhah alone. The text continues with another saying of Rabbi Aqiva, which includes his statement about Torah. Rather than a document presented in human terms, it is the very mechanism of creation and the very purpose of creation as well! To borrow the language of Aristotle, for Rabbi Aqiva Torah is both the efficient and final cause of Creation. This stands in contrast to Rabbi Ishmael, for whom Torah is a created, contingent document that is within time and Creation, not the source of it. 129 Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), I:200. 130See Epstein, Introductions to Tannaitic Literature (Heb), 522. 90

approaches being applied to aggadah, as Heschel argues they do. It seems reasonable to conclude that differing attitudes towards the question of how Torah is to be properly interpreted is the logical consequence of divergent understandings of what Torah is (ontologically) as that would define how the text itself is to be engaged with on a comprehensive and philosophical level. Here, the MSY exhibits just such a differing attitude towards aggadic material. Rather than an implicit logical assertion that things do not necessarily happen in the order in which they are written, we are taken on a journey through the text via loosely connected words and imagery. An index of word usage is instead provided, based on other times that Moses was summoned. Moses only ascended Sinai with permission and was summoned by God and this can be derived from other verses employing the same words. Likewise, in the MI [2], the interpretation of thus is that it is an emphatic term, used indexically, referring to the exact language of the entire passage. The teachings were transmitted, according to the MI, exactly as it is written, in Hebrew, no more, and no less, to the nation at Sinai. This is a rather straightforward and literal interpretation as to why the word “thus” appears in the verse. In the MSY, however, we see a great deal more expansion on the term, which comes to include the manner in which the teachings were expressed and the order (an implicit denial of Ishmaelian willingness to play with chronology). The MSY also asserts that the very textual blocking of the text, the chapters, is part of the explicit revelation, referring to the open and closed segments of the Torah text.131 The connections created through interplay of Biblical verses in the MSY draws a more poetic imagining of the revelatory event.

131 These “open” and “closed” segments of the Torah script, whether or not the redactors had the same tradition as the Masoretic text, are seen as being part of the essential and explicit revelation. This accords well with what we know of the Aqivan approach to the Torah. The graphical features are of otherworldly source and contain, in and of themselves, hints and a depth of meaning that transcends the surface paramaters of the text. The MI asserts no such position. 91

Moses’ encounter on the mountain involved all the poetic gravitas and humility as Moses’ first encounter with the divine at the burning bush. Both of these midrashic texts may very well be drawing on identical older material sources (e.g. Moses ascended with permission and was told verbatim what to say regarding the ). Nonetheless, see very different approaches to deriving those traditions from the biblical text itself. These differing approaches reflect correspondingly differing understandings of the Torah itself, expressing the modes of exegesis they both respectively employ.

There is more at play here as well. Let us move to the second part of the biblical verse,

“Thus shalt thou say to the House of Jacob, and tell the children of Israel”

In [3], there is an answer to an implicit question posed by the Biblical text. Biblical poetry and rhetoric is often expressed through parallelism, where (usually) a synonym is used to emphasise the meaning or imagery in an antecedent verse. This poses a challenge to the rabbinic mind; to what extent should this apparent redundancy be justified? To the rabbinic exegetical imagination, the language of the biblical verse here might be taken to mean that the revelation at

Sinai was to be passed on to two groups: the House of Jacob, and the Children of Israel. To whom, then, shall the Ten Commandments be given? What do these two groups refer to? In the

MI, the first answer proposed is that the House of Jacob refers to the women while the Children of Israel refers to the men. This solution is not based on esoteric reasons. There is ambiguity in the Hebrew plural, because when it is referring to a mixed group of males and females, the masculine noun or verb is used. Thus, children could be understood as just the men, making the

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House of Jacob a necessary referent to the women. This, of course, operates on the basic rabbinic assumption that there are no superfluous expressions in scripture, a notion which Rabbi Aqiva takes to extremes, as mentioned above, but still one that the school of Rabbi Ishmael accepts when not applied to stylistic or grammatically necessary redundancies or superfluous words. A possible explanation is that the rabbinic text is afraid that one might use such ambiguity to exclude one gender or another from the requirement to observe the miṣwoth. Therefore, the apparent redundancy is interpreted in order to prevent such an interpretation. Alternatively, the term house might be understood to refer to women due to the domestic gender roles traditionally assigned to them.

Both the MI and the MSY have two alternate solutions to the parallelistic dilemma of this verse. In the MI and in the MSY, the two recipient groups, the House of Jacob and the Children of Israel, are understood to trace the merit of receiving the revelation at Sinai to the merit of

Jacob and the merit of Israel independently. What is not clear in either text, and especially in the

MI, is whether “Israel” refers to the nation or to the patriarch. The MI returns to divisions along the lines of gender and offers an additional explanation relating not to content or merit but to the manner in which the material is to be given. The Law must be taught strictly to the men, ostensibly due to a greater trend towards obstinacy, while the women must be taught gently.132

The MSY, in contrast, offers a final explanation, which returns to and expands the theme that this relates to patriarchical merit. The MSY interprets the parallelism as meaning that the merit

132 We see throughout the rabbinic corpus relating to the trials and tribulations of the desert experience, that the men were perpetually more drawn to rebellious acts. For instance, while the men are explicitly blamed for their part in the sin of the Golden Calf, the women were blameless. 93

of receiving the Torah is due to Jacob, who strove with an angel, and the merit of the same man,

Israel, after he succeeded; this is the merit in which the with his offspring is made.

Here the term “Israel” is both the individual and the nation because while the revelation is due to the merit of Jacob who became Israel, it is only now, at the moment of revelation, that Jacob deserves the name Israel. Although the merit of Jacob’s striving is seen by both the MI and the

MSY in explaining the merit of the Nation of Israel, his assumption of the name Israel in the

MSY as an individual appears to be contingent on his descendants receiving the Torah at Sinai.

At the very least, even this discrepancy demonstrates a significantly more poetic and expansive approach to the same text. Even if we assume that both rabbinic works are drawing on similar or even identical older traditions, the approach to the text differs in significant and revealing ways.

These differences help to support Heschel’s overall thematization of the two schools.

2.3 The Shekhinah

During the course of my comparison, a significant difference between the MI and MSY regarding the treatment of the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, was noted. A substantial element of Heschel’s typology between the schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva concerns this topic and it ties into two larger and differing conceptions of God. Not surprisingly then, the

often ,(שכינה) conception of the Shekhinah is a significant theme in TMS. The Shekhinah translated as the “Divine Presence”, appears occasionally in the Written Torah yet appears very

,(שכנ) often in rabbinic literature. The word is etymologically connected to the trilateral root which translates to dwell, to reside, to inhabit, to be inhabited, to serve as a dwelling place. The extent to which the Shekhinah, and the Divine in general, is understood in either metaphorical or, in contrast, anthropomorphic terms varies widely throughout rabbinic literature. In academic

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literature, the interpretation of the Shekhinah’s meaning and role in rabbinic literature is typified by the account of Ephraim Urbach. Urbach does an excellent job illustrating some of the complexities surrounding various understandings of the Shekhinah, stemming from biblical mythology and extending into rabbinic and extra-rabbinic understandings and usages of the term.

Urbach also does an excellent job contextualizing the various approaches to the Shekhinah within the backdrop of the Greco-Roman and Early Christian sectarian philosophies that interacted with rabbinic thought. For instance, Urbach correctly notes the tension between theophanic descriptions of God and His Shekhinah, as well as the monotheistic reticence to such anthropomorphism. Yet, Urbach makes the sweeping statement that, in rabbinic literature, the

Shekhinah is a mere epithet for God. The notion of the Shekhinah as a separate, created entity is, according to Urbach, only a later Medieval rationalist development. Maimonides, for instance, saw the Shekhinah as a “created light” representing the “Glory of the Lord” in an obvious attempt to avoid postulating a divine hypostasis. Urbach traces Maimonides’ account of the

Shekhinah to the way in which it is employed by in his 1st century Aramaic exegetical translation of the Torah. Onkelos shied away from translating anthropomorphic verses literally and often used the Shekhinah as an intermediary in place God Himself, so to speak.133

Shekhinah, remarks Urbach, “does not mean the place where the Deity is to be found, that is, the

Dwelling Place, but his manifest and hidden Presence.”134 Yet, argues Urbach, in Tannaitic

133 Onkelos nearly always avoids anthropomorphic descriptions of God acting changing, or emoting with reference His Word or perhaps a better translation, Logos. Anyone familiar with this – ”ממרה“ not to the Diety but to His fascinating exegetical translation of the Bible would be familiar with Onkelos’ use of Shekhina to represent the nearness of God without treading into the dangerous ground of personification. Urbach quotes a number of examples, such as the following biblical verse (Exodus 34:6), “And the Lord passed by before him” which Onkelos renders, “And the Lord caused his Shekhinah to pass before him.” 134 Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 42. Urbach is quoting from , “Kabbalistische Konzeption Der Schechina,” Eranos-Jahrbuch, 1953. 95

literature there is no trace of the idea that the Shekhinah is a separated light and at best the

Shekhinah operates as a manifestation of God and his nearness to humanity while avoiding hypostasy within the rabbinic world, which Urbach characterises as espousing a

“supramythological and supranatural conception of the Deity.” Thus in Urbach’s estimation, the

Shekhinah is identical with God: immaterial and located omnipresently. Urbach interprets rabbinic statements that describe the Shekhinah as being located temporally or spatially, or acting as a physical agent, in purely homiletical terms. The Shekhinah is neither hypostasis nor a separate entity, according to Urbach, and aims only to express God’s nearness without answering questions of quiddity.

While Urbach’s account notes some of the tensions contained within the notion of the

Shekhinah, he emphasises the more rationalistic interpretations while understanding the more anthropomorphic accounts metaphorically. This, in essence, forces all aggadic statements regarding the Shekhinah to be in accord one with the other. Urbach does not distinguish between the individual rabbinic personalities expressing what are certainly diverse views and he treats the rabbinic compendium as expressing a more or less unified view. With all due respect to a scholar of Urbach’s repute, this appears an attempt to force the rabbinic sources to voice only the ideas with which a modern traditionalist would feel comfortable. The truth of the matter is that the rabbinic compendia are, as mentioned above, polysemic and varied in opinion and approach.

Especially pertinent here is the fact that statements and ideas which tend to be more anthropomorphic are often explicitly stated in the name of Rabbi Aqiva and his students.

Correspondingly, statements and ideas that tend to be more rationalistic (or transcendental approaches to the concept of God) are to be found in the name of Rabbi Ishmael and his students.

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More specific and nuanced attempts to grapple with the theistic problems inherent to the concept of the Shekhinah are identified by Urbach to be Medieval developments, divorced from a rabbinic Judaism that sought to avoid the problem rather than address it. This too is an historical perspective which TMS effectively contradicts, an issue addressed in more detail in chapter

Three.

The key point is that, in the schema of TMS, Rabbi Ishmael and his School play down the role of the Shekhinah, while Rabbi Aqiva and his school are drawn to it and willing to describe it in highly anthropomorphic terms. Heschel’s claims about the two approaches to the Shekhinah are manifestly observable through a simple comparison of the two mekhiltoth.135 Let us look at a few examples.

“And when they were departed from Rephidim, and were come to the wilderness of Sinai, they encamped in the wilderness; and there Israel encamped before the mount.” (Ex.19: 12)

Text Seven (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh 1)

wayyiḥan). Wherever it says: “And they – ויחן) .And There Israel Encamped [1]

journeyed,” “and they encamped,” it indicates that they were journeying with

dissension and that they were encamping with dissension. But here it says: “And

135 This is also the case in passages within the MI material that quotes views of Rabbi Aqiva, his teacher, and his students. The MSY, on the other hand, rarely mentions Ishmael and his students.) Truth be told, there is enough textual evidence to validate Heschel’s claims within the MI alone given how many juxtapositions of attributed and contrasting views it contains. 97

there Israel encamped” (wayyiḥan), indicating that they all agreed and were of one

mind.

[2] There. Telling, that He said to them: Too much time are you spending there.

And so we do find that they stayed there twelve months less ten days.

[3[Before the Mount. On the east side of the mount. Wherever you find the

expression “before” (neged) it means on the side that is towards the east.136

In [1], the text of the MI is responding to the use of the singular third person form of the waw- consecutive verb to camp (wayyiḥan), as opposed to the normally used plural form (wayyaḥanu).

Thus, since the subject ‘Israel’ is referred through the single third-person form of the verb, one can conclude that Israel was of one mind and united rather than the normal dissent and sectarianism that constitutes a major feature of the biblical narrative. Moving on to [3], we see a very simple statement that Israel was facing east. Compare this with the MSY, which, while filling in the blanks somewhat as to why this is even said, adds something very different.

136 MI, Baḥodesh,1. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 206. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 295. 98

Text Eight (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 48:5)

“Israel encamped there in front of the mountain” (Exod. 19:2): He said to them,

“Even though you are travelling from north to south and from south to north, you

should always turn your face to the east.” And thus Scripture states concerning

God’s presence, “... and sprinkle it with his finger over the cover on the east side”

(Lev. 16:14). This teaches that [God’s presence faces eastward].137

What we see here is fascinating. Both the MI and MSY are interested in the direction that Israel was facing and the fact that they faced eastwards (as this runs contrary to most of the journeys of the Israelites, who were largely going north and south until this point). The MI understands the

opposite as implying that it was eastwards. In contrast, the MSY connects the verse – נגד word with a seemingly unrelated verse from Leviticus regarding the sprinkling of blood as part of the cultic practice in the Tabernacle. This sprinkling was on the east side, such that the priest was facing westwards, the abode of the Shekhinah. It is for this reason that the commandment was to sprinkle the blood on the east side, so that it faces west. It was important for Israel to turn from their northward and southward travels to face the Divine Presence, the abode of which is in the west. This touches on themes that Heschel works extensively into his thematization; Rabbi

Aqiva, with his immanentist view of the Divine, delighted in describing God in highly relational

137 Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 137. Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 215. I have amended the ending of Nelson’s translation. Nelson translates the phrase as, “God’s presence is to the east.” However, this is an error. The line in the Hebrew is “pene hashekhinah lamizraḥ - the shekhinah faces eastwards.” If the Shekhinah faces eastwards, then it is in the West not the East. 99

and anthropomorphic terms. This includes many discussions relating to the emotional relationship, which he sees as existing reciprocally between God and Israel.138 Amongst the material Heschel brings to make this claim is a famous discussion of the MI, which, in the style of Rabbi Aqiva and his companions, has a lengthy exposition of how the Shekhinah suffers the fate of Israel in their various exilic suffering.139 Another example of the kind of text Heschel uses

138 The chapter on the Shekhina in TMS entitled Torath HaShekhinah – Teachings Concerning the Shekhinah, vol. 1, chap. 5, is worth a read. 139 The text of which goes as follows:

“And it came to pass at the end of four hundred and thirty years, even the selfsame day it came to pass, that all the host of the LORD went out from the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 12:51)

The hosts of the Lord are the ministering angels. And so you find that whenever Israel is enslaved the Shekinah, as it were, is enslaved with them, as it is said: “And they saw the God of Israel; and there was under His feet,” But after they were redeemed what does it say? “And the like of the very heaven for clearness” (Ex. 24.10). And it also says: “In all their affliction He was afflicted” (Isa. 63.10). So far I know only that He shares in the affliction of the community. How about the affliction of the individual? Scripture says: “He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble” (Ps. 91.15). It also says: “And Joseph’s master took him,” etc. (Gen. 39.20). And what does it say then? “But the Lord was with Joseph” (ibid., 39.21). And thus it says: “From before Thy people, whom Thou didst redeem to Thee out of Egypt, the nation and its God” 4a (II Sam. 7.23). R. Eliezer says: An idol crossed the sea with Israel, as it is said: “And a rival passed through the sea” (Zech. 10.11). And which idol was it? The idol of Micah. R. Akiba says: Were it not expressly written in Scripture, it would be impossible to say it. Israel said to God: Thou hadst redeemed Thyself, as though one could conceive such a thing. Likewise you find that whithersoever Israel was exiled, the Shekinah, as it were, went into exile with them. When they went into exile to Egypt, the Shekinah went into exile with them, as it is said: “I exiled Myself unto the house of thy fathers when they were in Egypt” (I Sam. 2.27). When they were exiled to Babylon, the Shekinah went into exile with them, as it is said: “For your sake I ordered Myself to go to Babylon” (Isa. 43.14). When they were exiled to Elam, the Shekinah went into exile with them, as it is said: “I will set My throne in Elam” (Jer. 49.38). When they were exiled to , the Shekinah went into exile with them, as it is said: “Who is this that cometh from Edom,” etc. (Isa. 63.1). And when they return in the future, the Shekinah, as it were, will return with them, as it is said: “That then the Lord thy God will return with thy captivity” (Deut. 30.3). Note that it does not say: “The Lord will bring back” (weheshiv), etc., but it says: “He will return” (we-shav). And it is also said: “With me from Lebanon, my bride” (Cant. 4.8). Was she really coming from Lebanon? Was she not rather going up to Lebanon? What then does Scripture mean by saying: “With me from Lebanon”? Merely this: You and I, as it were, were exiled from Lebanon; you and I will go up to Lebanon.

MI, Pisḥa, 14. Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 51–52. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 78–79. Heschel only quotes a small section of the above text, and as is typical of his writing in TMS, it is within the larger context and text that must be examined. The full weight of Heschel’s argument, therefore, depends both on knowledge of the sources quoted as well as sensitivity to the sort of issues Heschel is drawn to. Note also that the difference between God himself and his Shekhinah is significantly blurred in this text. 100

is a quote from the MSY, in which God experiences what Israel experiences.140 Heschel’s thematization of the two Schools and their understanding of the Shekhinah is richly sourced from a variety of texts and speaks to a number of aspects of contrasting conceptions of the divine.

Rabbi Aqiva favours describing the Shekhinah/God and describes its/His interaction with Israel anthropomorphically. This view contrasts notably with that of Rabbi Ishmael, who dismisses the notion that the Shekhinah exists in time and space, and prefers to deal with the Shekhinah (and

God’s worldly actions more generally) in a manner, which metaphorically interprets anthropomorphism.141

The above text is quoted in the MI in the name of Rabbi Aqiva and his students and certainly emphasises an immanentist understanding of the Divine that is at home with anthropomorphic description. A similar text is to be or “as it were” is markedly absent in the rendering of the כביכול found in the MSY. Of significance, the expression text in the MSY and this may reflect a conscious editorial decision on the part of the redactors. One can easily imagine that the redactor of the MI was uncomfortable with such blatant anthropomorphic descriptions of God and the Divine presence. 140 The text mentioned, part of a substantial discussion about ʿAmaleq, goes as follows:

“And Moses built an altar and named it Adonai-nissi” (Exod. 17:15): R. Joshua says, “Moses called it nissi [my ]. “He said to them, ‘God performed this miracle for you on my behalf!’ ” R. Eliezer the Modiite says, “God called it ‘My miracle’ because whenever the Israelites are situated in a miracle, it is as if it is a miracle before Him. [When] they are situated in distress, it is as if it is distressing before Him. [When] they are situated in joy, it is joyful before Him.

MSY, 65:15. Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 126. Nelson, Mekhilta de- Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 194–195.

141 As one textual support, Heschel mentions in a footnote a passage from the Babylonian Talmud. On closer examination, this passage explicitly demonstrates the dichotomy between Rabbi Ishmael and Aqiva about the nature of the Shekhina. According Rabbi Aqiva, carrion, graveyards, and tanyards, while needing to be placed outside a town, should not be placed on the west side. While Heschel does not himself elaborate on this passage, it has direct relevance for our purposes here. It goes as follows:

The question was asked: How are we to understand R. Akiba's ruling? [Does he mean to say that] IT [a tanyard] MAY BE PLACED ON ANY SIDE, namely, be set close to the city, EXCEPT ON THE WEST, where also it may be set, but only at a distance of fifty cubits? Or IT MAY BE PLACED ON ANY SIDE . . . PROVIDING IT IS KEPT FIFTY CUBITS AWAY, EXCEPT ON THE WEST, where it must not be placed at all? — Come and hear: R. Akiba says: [A tanyard] may 101

be set on any side at a distance of fifty cubits, save on the west side, where it must not be placed at all, because it is a constant abode.

Said Raba to R. Nahman: A constant abode of what?…what it means is that it is the constant abode of the Shechinah. For so said Joshua b. Levi: Let us be grateful to our ancestors for showing us the place of prayer, as it is written, And the host of heaven worshippeth thee. (Nehem. IX. 6) R. Aha bar Jacob strongly demurred to this [interpretation]. Perhaps, he said, [the sun and moon bow down to the east], like a servant who has received a gratuity from his master and retires backwards, bowing as he goes. This [indeed] is a difficulty. R. Oshaia expressed the opinion that the Shechinah is in every place. For R. Oshaia said: What is the meaning of the verse, Thou art the Lord, even thou alone; thou hast made heaven, the heaven of heavens, etc.? (Nehem. IX. 6) Thy messengers are not like the messengers of flesh and blood. Messengers of flesh and blood report themselves [after performing their office] to the place from which they have been sent, but thy messengers report themselves to the place to which they are sent, as it says. Canst thou send forth lightnings that they may go and say to thee, here we are. (Job XXXVIII. 35) It does not say, ‘that they may come and say,’ but ‘that they may go and say,’ which shows that the Shechinah is in all places. R. Ishmael also held that the Shechinah is in all places, since R. Ishmael taught: From where do we know that the Shechinah is in all places?— Because it says. And behold, the angel that talked with me went forth, and another angel went out to meet him. (Zech. II,7) It does not say, ‘went out after him,’ but went out to meet him.’ This shows that the Shechinah is in all places. R. Shesheth also held that the Shechinah is in all places, because [when desiring to pray] he used to say to his attendant: Set me facing any way except the east. And this was not because the Shechinah is not there, but because the Minim prescribe turning to the east. R. Abbahu, however, said that the Shechinah is in the west; for so said R. Abbahu: What is the meaning of ‘Uryah’ [Persian for evening, in reference to sundown]? It is equivalent to avir Yah [air of God].

b. Bava Batra, 25a. Isadore Epstein, trans., Soncino Talmud, vol. Baba Bathra (Bloch Publishing Company, 1981), 25a.

There is a fair bit to unpack from this passage. It is clear that there is a divergence of traditions being mentioned here. Rabbi Aqiva understands the Shekhinah to be locatable in time and space, and that usually that place is in the west. Therefore, a town should not place anything odorous or offensive in that direction. The notion reinforces the requirement that when one stands in prayer one should face towards the Temple. The Holy of Holies stood in the west end of the Temple, and from the perspective of Babylon, Jerusalem, stood to the west as well, reinforcing the idea that the Shekhinah dwells in that direction. Of course we see too that Rabbi Ishmael and his student Oshaia did not worry about the direction of the Shekhinah because it is a concept that is more rarefied, more abstract, and argued from a metaphoric interpretation of natural forces and their interactions with their Creator. The Shekhinah dwells in all places, not in specific ones. This is also an excellent example of how aggadic considerations become part of halakhic decision-making, a source of meta-halakhic reasoning as Heschel claims. It also demonstrates an ongoing contrast of the two theological camps into the amoraic era, further bolstering Heschel’s historical assertion that the divide between the two Schools had a major impact on the theological deliberations of subsequent generations. 102

2.4 A Terrestrial Lens and a Heavenly Lens

In addition to differing approaches to the Shekhinah, there are also differing approaches towards anthropomorphism in relation to the Divine in general. Consider the following text based on Exodus 19:8:

“And all the people answered together, and said: 'All that the LORD hath spoken we will do.' And Moses reported the words of the people unto the LORD.”

Text Nine (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh 2):

And Moses reported the words of the people unto the Lord. And was there any need

for Moses to report? Scripture merely wishes you to learn proper manners from

Moses. He did not say: Since He who sent me knows anyhow, there is no need for

me to report back. Another Interpretation: It was to give Moses a reward for every

going up and for every coming down.142

This is a relatively straightforward question, and it is answered in manner very much in the spirit of the Heschelian framing of the Ishmaelian mindset. Why would God need Moses to report back to him, as if he would not know the words of the people? Avoiding any limit on God’s knowledge, the MI informs us that the verse teaches us a human lesson of propriety, using human paradigms of interrelation to teach the appropriate way to go about one’s emissarial role –

142 MI, Baḥodesh, 2. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 210. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 299. 103

an idealised glimpse of human interaction. The lesson is fundamentally from a human perspective, what Heschel would call a terrestrial lens. Let us compare this now with the following text:

Text Ten (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 49:5):

[1]“Then Moses reported ...” (Exod. 19:9): And just what had the Holy One, blessed

be He, said to Moses that he should report to Israel? And what had Israel said to

Moses that he should report before God? “Behold Scripture states, ‘You shall set

bounds for the people round about, saying ...’ (Exod. 19:12).”—The words of R.

Yosi b. R. Judah.

[2] Rabbi [Judah the Prince] says: He [i.e., Moses] told them the rewards [they

would receive] if they obeyed [the word of God]. However, how does one know

from Scripture that he told them all the punishments if they didn’t obey? Scripture

states, “Moses went and repeated to the people all the commands of the Lord and

all the rules. And all the people answered with one voice” (Exod. 24:3). “This

teaches that whether it be the voice of an important or unimportant person, they are

all equal before God.

[3] Another interpretation: “Then Moses reported ...” (Exod. 19:9): And just what

had Israel said to Moses that he should report before God? And what had the Holy

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One, blessed be He, said to Moses that he should report to Israel? They said, “We

want to hear [it] from our king! For it’s not the same to hear from the mouth of the

governor as it is to hear from the mouth of the king!” The Holy One, blessed be He,

said to him, “I’ll give them what they asked for.” [As it says in Scripture,] “ ... in

order that the people may hear when I speak with you” (Exod. 19:9). They said to

him, “We want to see our king! For it’s not the same to both hear and see as it is to

hear but not see!” The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him, “I’ll give them what

they requested.” [As it says in Scripture,] “... for on the third day the Lord will come

down, in the sight of all the people” (Exod. 19:11). And in the time to come, Israel

will see the [shekhinah] eye to eye. As it says in Scripture, “For they will see eye

to eye” (Isa. 52:8). And Scripture says, “This is the Lord, in whom we trusted” (Isa.

25:9).143

143 MSY, Baḥodesh, 49:5. Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 140. Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 220–222. The first part of this text, which I did not quote above, is interesting in its own right. It too stresses a reciprocal interaction with God and other aspects of Heschel’s Aqivan framework. The first part of the text goes as follows:

“All the people answered as one, saying, ‘All that the Lord has spoken we will do!’ And Moses brought back the people’s words to the Lord” (Exod. 19:8) They did not answer hypocritically, nor did they take counsel with one another. Rather, they joined together as one saying, “All that the Lord has spoken we will do!” (Exod. 19:8): [They said,] “We accept [it] upon us!” “And Moses brought back the people’s words to the Lord” (Exod. 19:8): This is the third day. Another interpretation: “And Moses brought back” (Exod. 19:8): This was to give Moses [the opportunity] for a reward for each and every time he went up and for each and every time he went down. Another interpretation: “And Moses brought back the people’s words to the Lord” (Exod. 19:8): Scripture comes to teach you good manners. Even if someone who sends a messenger hears [the reply] to his commission, he should still require him to bring back his reply. “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘I will come to you in a thick cloud, in order that the people may hear when I speak with you and so trust you ever after’” (Exod. 19:9): The word “cloud” means only a very thick one. As it says in Scripture, “...and a dense cloud upon the mountain” (Exod. 19:1). R. Yosi ha-Galili says, “Moses was sanctified in the cloud for seven (days). As it says in Scripture, “... and the cloud hid him for six days. On the seventh day He called to Moses from the midst of the cloud” (Exod. 24:16). This was after the divine speech, and the beginning of the 40 days. 105

In this interpretation of the verse, there is no avoiding anthropomorphism whatsoever. Rather than a lesson on how human beings should conduct themselves amongst one another, it contains a lesson about the human relationship with God, and even explores this issue from God’s perspective. It is what Heschel calls the heavenly or transcendent lens. Torah is transcendent and

God is utterly immanent. In [1] there is no uncertainty as to why Moses had to report back to the

Lord. Instead, the question concerns the reciprocity of two-way communications, just as if it were between two people. If Moses reported back to God, the question goes, what was God’s original message to Israel to which they were responding? The solution is to be found in the commandment to set boundaries so that the Nation should not approach Sinai and die.

This theme of reciprocity is continued in [2], where Rabbi (that is, Judah the Prince, one of the most noted student in the Aqivan tradition who studied under a number of Aqiva’s students) derives from this reporting back and forward between God and the People who responded with unity that all are equal before God, whether high or low. What we see in this is an outright description of God responding to the report that Moses brought back, responding to

R. Aqiva says, “... and the cloud hid him for six days (Exod. 24:16): On the first day of the month, He called Moses to purify him. “On the seventh day He called to Moses from the midst of the cloud” (Exod. 24:16): This was after the divine speech, and the beginning of the forty days. “... in order that the people may hear when I speak with you” (Exod. 19:9) R. Judah says, “The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moses, “Behold, I’ll say something to you, and you will reply to Me, and then I’ll reply and agree with your words.” Scripture does not say, “that the Lord commanded,” but “that the Lord had commanded him” (Exod. 19:7). [God said,] “Whoever hears from your mouth is like hearing from the mouth of the Holy One. And not [only] from your mouth, but also from the mouths of the elders who will come after you, as well as from the mouths of the prophets.” Thus is it said, “... and so trust you ever after” (Exod. 19:9). 106

the desire of his people to see him.144 The people insist on seeing the king himself, to which the king declares that he shall indeed deliver! The Shekhinah is described as something that would become visible, a tangible experience of God. This element of interaction between God and humanity is central to Heschel’s depiction of the Aqivan school, and it appears many times, in various modes, throughout the MSY in ways that it does not in the MI except in a more limited fashion in the name of Rabbi Aqiva and his students, or in the context of other attributed Aqivan statements. For instance, a parallel to this idea of wanting to see the king does appear later in the

MI, but it is quoted in the name of Rabbi Aqiva’s student, Rabbi Eleazar Ben Perata, and there is no mention of the Shekhinah or an actual seeing eye to eye. The language of the MI, even where quoting an Aqivan view, is more subdued and conservative.

We have seen through the texts above that there is much support to be found within the compared texts (and indeed within the MI alone) that while the Aqivan view tends towards an immanentist approach to the divine, the Ishmaelian is more reserved and transcendent. The flip side of this schema is the converse attitudes towards the nature of Torah; the Aqivan view frames

Torah as an otherworldly projection of the godly manifesting through physical textual features, which are only the surface of infinite meaning. The Ishmaelian view, in contrast, sees Torah as an immanent and rationally accessible document. TMS does not provide a simple argument for this being the case, rather, it builds this approach through a number of the unique features of each School’s respective methods. For instance, the extent to which the text yields support for

144 The idea that Israel engages with God is extended to the treatment of the Ten Commandments as well. The MSY asserts that striking one’s parents is akin to striking God, as both parents and God are partners in creation. The MI does not have this claim. 107

the various legal traditions marks a significant divergence between the two Schools as to the nature of Torah. We have already seen how radically different the two Schools are in regard to the extent to which the text of Miqraʾ can be exegized. The origin of the Torah itself seems to be a matter of debate in corresponding fashion, however. According to Heschel, the Ishmaelian view holds that the Torah was given on earth, on the physical Mount Sinai. For Rabbi Aqiva, however, Moses’ ascent up the mountain was an ascent into heaven itself from whence the Torah originates. This theme, explored at length in TMS, was found to manifest in my comparison. I will now present two texts from the MI and compare it to a third text from the MSY. The first and last of the following three texts centre on Exodus 19:20, while the middle text is an exegesis of an ancillary verse in Exodus 20:18.

“The Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on top of the mountain, and the Lord called

Moses to the top of the mountain and Moses went up” (Exod. 19:20)

Text Eleven (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 4)

[1] And the Lord Came Down upon Mount Sinai. I might understand this to mean

upon the entire mountain, but it says: “To the top of the mount.” One might think

that the Glory actually descended from heaven and was transferred to mount Sinai,

but Scripture says: “That I have talked with you from heaven” (Ex. 20.18). Scripture

thus teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, bent down the lower heavens and

the upper heavens of heaven, lowering them to the top of the mountain, and thus

the Glory descended. He spread them upon Mount Sinai as a man who spreads the

mattress upon the bed and speaks from the mattress. For it is said: “As when fire

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kindleth the brushwood, and the fire causeth the waters to boil,” etc. (Isa. 64.1).

Likewise it says: “When Thou didst tremendous things” (ibid., v. 2).

[2] R. Jose says: Behold, it says: “The heavens are the heavens of the Lord, but the

earth hath He given to the children of men” (Ps. 115.16). Neither Moses nor Elijah

ever went up to heaven, nor did the Glory ever come down to earth. Scripture merely

teaches that God said to Moses: Behold, I am going to call you through the top of

the mount and you will come up, as it is said: “And the Lord called Moses to the

top of the mount” (v. 20)145

Text Twelve (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 9)

“And the LORD said unto Moses: Thus thou shalt say unto the children of Israel: Ye yourselves have seen that I have talked with you from heaven.” (Exod. 20:18)

[1] That I Have Talked with You from Heaven. One passage says: “That I have talked with

you from heaven,” and another passage says: “And the LORD came down upon mount

Sinai, to the top of the mount; and the LORD called Moses to the top of the mount; and

Moses went up. ” (Ex. 19:20). How can both these passages be maintained? The matter is

decided by the third passage: “Out of heaven He made thee to hear His voice, that He might

instruct thee; and upon earth He made thee to see His great fire” (Deut. 4.36). —These

are the words of R. Ishmael.

145 Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 216–17.Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 2:309–310. 109

[2] R. Akiba says: Scripture teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, lowered the upper

heavens of heaven down to the top of the mountain and thus actually still spoke to them

from the heavens. And thus it says: “He bowed the heavens also, and came down; and thick

darkness was under His feet” (Ps. 18.10).

[3] Rabbi says: And the Lord Came Down upon Mount Sinai, etc. I might understand this

literally, but you must reason: If the sun, one of the many servants of servants, remains in

its place and yet is effective beyond its place, how much the more the glory of Him by

whose word the world came into being146

Text Thirteen (MSY, 51:2)

[1] “The Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on top of the mountain” (Ex. 19:20)

One might think that He literally came down! Scripture states, [however,] “... that I spoke

to you from the very heavens” (Exod. 20:19)

146 MI, Baḥodesh, 9. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 238–239. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 2:343–344.

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[2] One might think that, literally, He did not come down. Scripture states, [however,] “The

Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on top of the mountain” (Exod. 19:20).

[3] Say this: The highest heavens were split and permission was given to the fire to

illuminate the water. And thus Scripture states, “As when fire kindles brushwood, and fire

makes water boil”(Isa. 64:1). He came down and spread out the [heavenly] heights and

stood on the top of Mount Sinai. Why does Scripture state, “... that I spoke to you from the

very heavens” (Exod. 20:19)? These are the heavens that were on Mount Sinai.

[4] R. Yosi says, “Moses never went up to the [heavenly] heights, and God’s presence did

not come down onto Mount Sinai. “And thus Scripture states, ‘The heavens belong to the

Lord, but the earth He gave over to man’ (Ps. 115:16). “Rather, this teaches that God said

to Moses, ‘Behold, I shall call out to you from the top of the mountain, and you will come

up!’ “As it says in Scripture, ‘... and the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain and

Moses went up’ (Exod. 19:20).”147

Text Eleven is definitively concerned with the inherent anthropomorphism of the biblical verse. In [1], the concern of the MI is whether God actually descended upon Mount Sinai. Even

147 Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 144–145. Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 232–233. 111

Glory or Honour” which appears, in – כבוד“ the question is tempered is with use of the word contradistinction to Urbach, to be separate from God himself to some extent. Based on this verse, the midrash argues, one might argue that the Glory descended. A verse from the following chapter in Exodus counters that notion, however, with the assertion that God spoke to Moses from heaven. The Glory descended by means of a divine act where the lower and even the upper echelons of heaven are bent down to rest upon the top of Mount Sinai as a mattress rests upon a bed. The verse cited from Isaiah is interesting, the full text of which reads, “As when fire kindleth the brush-wood, and the fire causeth the waters to boil; to make Thy name known to Thine adversaries, that the nations might tremble at Thy presence, When Thou didst tremendous things which we looked not for--Oh that Thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might quake at

Thy presence!” (Isa. 64:1-2) A causal chain is referenced in which God sets into motion the acts that highlighted His reality. This was not, in and of itself, a hypostatic revelation. Likewise, God set into motion a physical transformation in which Heaven was “bent” such that God was peripherally close, but not present, at the top of Mount Sinai in order to converse with Moses through a chain of events that were set in motion. The mattress interacts with the bed and rests upon it, but it is not the case that one who speaks from the mattress is physically present on the bed frame itself. The dividing line between heaven and earth thinned but did not dissipate. This theme of utter separation between the transcendent God and the earthly plane is reinforced and cemented with Rabbi Jose’s statement in [2]. Since the heavens are the heavens of the Lords but the earth hath He given to children of men, Rabbi Jose insists that neither Moses nor Elijah ever actually ascended to heaven, nor did the Glory ever descend. The whole notion of the original verse, that God descended upon the mountain, is mere metaphor for the manner in which Moses was summoned to ascend the mountain, not that God actually descended or that Moses ascended

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to heaven. Thus, the anthropomorphic description of God’s descent to the top of Mount Sinai was really guidance for where in time and space Moses was to ascend rather then a description of

God’s movements.

The Ishmaelian exegetical attitude that resists anthropomorphism is further elaborated in

Text Twelve. Here we have a clear dichotomy between Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva concerning this topic. In [1], Rabbi Ishmael seeks to reconcile two conflicting verses in light of a third, applying one of the thirteen exegetical principles attributed to his School. The contradiction surrounds whether or not God descended to Sinai or, instead, spoke to Moses from heaven. The contradiction is resolved by a third verse from Deuteronomy that would imply that

God caused Moses to hear on earth what He uttered in heaven, much in line with what we see saw in Text Twelve. The ontological boundary between the realm of God and the realm of humanity is maintained. God’s transcendence is emphasized while avoiding anthropomorphism.

God’s descent was nothing more than his voice emanating from his heavenly abode. In [2], we see attributed to Rabbi Aqiva the view that God lowered the heavens to the very top of Mount

Sinai. Here, the idea of God bending the heavens – likely older aggadic material cited by both schools – was a cosmic upheaval where the veil between Heaven and Earth blurred and was ultimately pierced rather than maintained. The verse cited from Psalms imply in this context that

God indeed spoke the words of revelation from heaven, but came down to Earth to do it (as opposed to his Glory descending in Text Eleven). God lowered the heavens and made them manifest on the top of Mount Sinai and was simultaneously in heaven and atop the mountain.

Therefore, Moses not only ascended the mountain, but also ascended to Heaven itself in order to receive the Torah.

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This of course fits perfectly with Heschel’s view of Aqiva as espousing an immanentist account of God and a transcendentalist account of Torah. In [3], Rabbi tentatively tries to temper

Aqiva’s radical position somewhat, perhaps reflecting an interesting redactional choice in the

MI. The conceptual division between the viewpoints of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael, however, remains in dialectical contrast.

Text Thirteen from the MSY appears to reflect a differing internal redactional tension concerning the question of God’s descent to Sinai. Neither Ishmael nor Aqiva are mentioned by name, but their voices seem to float in the background. We are presented first with two utterly contradictory statements. In [1], we have a textual refutation of the idea that God literally descended. Yet in the following sentence, [2], we see the opposite: a refutation of the idea that

God literally did not descend. God did not literally descend and God literally did descend.

Nevertheless, this text asserts that there is no contradiction whatsoever. Again we see the idea in

[3] that God bent the heavens downwards to the top of Sinai. Again, as in Text Twelve, the verse from Isaiah is cited. The MSY employs this verse to derive the opposite conclusion, however.

Rather than a causal chain that emphasises the remoteness of God – the fire kindling the brushwood which in turn boils the water – we see the opposite. In the MSY, the two entities which are mutually exclusive – fire and water – were given permission to overlap, the fire illuminating the water. Instead of the verse emphasising the separation between heaven and earth, it instead explains that that gulf was traversed through divine edict. The metaphor of the mattress resting upon the bed frame is also glaringly absent. God was able to speak from heaven and yet descend to Sinai because the top of Sinai was also heaven. In [4] we see the opinion of

Rabbi Yose appear just as it did as in Text Twelve. Yet, unlike in the MI, here this view of

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maintained separation between heaven and earth appears to be the dissenting opinion within the context of the other, unattributed material.

A disagreement as to whether Moses ascended to heaven to receive the Torah is quite significant. Consider what we know about the differences in exegetical techniques: Ishmael grounds the language of the Torah in the conventions of human language while Aqiva spurns such limits and sees even graphical features, not to mention the surface meaning, as gateways into deeper meaning. Combined with two contrasting views concerning the origin and nature of

Torah – one earthly and one heavenly – we begin to see a theological framework emerge that accords with Heschel’s schema and has explanatory power for future generations of Jewish thought. More texts, which definitively ascribe to Aqiva the view that Moses ascended to heaven, will be presented in Chapter Three.

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2.5 Miracles Aggrandized, Miracles Diminished

We have already seen how our comparison yields differing views of God and the

Shekhinah. Textual evidence that independently supports Heschel’s categorisation of another major distinction between Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael concerning their differing attitudes towards miracles was also noted during my analysis. Rabbi Aquiva embellishes and aggrandizes the miracles of the Biblical text, emphasising their role and the extent to which they defy the natural order. Rabbi Ishmael, conversely, tends to be much more staid, interpreting miraculous statements through reason. Indeed, the comparative study indicates that the MI typically goes out of its way to minimise the seemingly miraculous or far-fetched through allegorical interpretations. The MI will, at times, present miraculous interpretations, but always in the name of Rabbi Aqiva, or one of his students or teachers. On the other hand, the MSY devotes a great deal of text to the describing the full extent of the miraculous, aggrandizing what appears as miraculous in Scripture and even what does not appear so.148 Consider the following biblical verse found near the conclusion of the Ten Commandments:

148 While the MSY goes on at length to stress the miraculous, the MI, instead, focuses at length on the evils of idol worship. This also helps support a claim of Heschel’s. While Rabbi Aqiva saw the quintessential commandment of the Torah as “Love thy neighbour as thyself”(Sifra, Kedoshim, 4:13), according to Heschel, the quintessential commandment according to Rabbi Ishmael is the negative commandment prohibiting idol worship – something equal to the “Torah in its entirety.” Throughout the first tractate within the MI, a constant refrain is the theme of idol worship as a central negative concept. Surpassing and attacking this vice consistently plays a role in the interpretation of the narrative within Egypt. 116

“And all the people [saw] the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the voice of the horn, and the mountain smoking; and when the people saw it, they trembled, and stood afar off.” (Ex. 20:14)

Text Fourteen (MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 9)

[1] And all the people saw the thunderings. They saw what was visible and heard

what was audible.—These are the words of R. Ishmael. R. Akiba says: They saw

and heard that which was visible. They saw the fiery word coming out from the

mouth of the Almighty as it was struck upon the tablets, as it is said: “The voice of

the Lord hewed out flames of fire” (Ps. 29.7).

[2] And All the People Saw the Thunderings and the Lightnings, the thundering of

thunders upon thunders and the lightning of lightnings upon lightnings. But how

many thunderings were there and how many lightnings were there? It is simply this:

They were heard by each man according to his capacity, as it is said: “The voice of

the Lord was heard according to the strength” (Ps. 29.4).149

Now let us compare this to the text, from the MSY, which differs in substantial ways.

Text Fifteen (MSY, Ba-Ḥodesh 56:2)

[1]“... the thunder and lightning” (Exod. 20:15): Normally it is impossible to see

thunder, but here “(all the people witnessed) the thunder and the lightning” (Exod.

149 MI, Baḥodesh, 9. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 235–236. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, II:343–344. 117

20:15) Just as they saw the lightning, so too did they see the thunder! “And when

(the people) saw” (Exod. 20:15): What did they see? They saw the glory of God.

[2] R. Eliezer says, “How does one know from Scripture that a female slave by the

sea saw that which the greatest of prophets did not see? “Scripture states, ‘And when

(the people) saw’ (Exod. 20:15). “What did they see? They saw the glory of

God.”150

In [1] in the MI text, Rabbi Ishmael interprets the verse rationally. The people saw what was visible and heard what was audible. In contrast, the Aqivan view is that the verse is to be taken literally and that Israel, as a group, had a synesthetic experience of hearing lightning and seeing thunder, so great was the revelation. Yet, in the MI, Aqiva’s view is merely a contrasting one, and the section concludes with a fairly rationalistic interpretation, that each person perceived the revelation of the Torah according to her faculty. Thus revelatory experience was mediated through mundane humane intellect.151

In contrast, the MSY does not quote the Ishmaelian view at all, and delights in a magnification of the elements of the event. In [1], again we see the Aqivan view that the people synesthetically saw thunder and heard lightning. Additionally, the people saw the very glory of

150 MSY, Baḥodesh, 56:2. Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 154–155. Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 253. 151 It may not be fully accurate to say mundane. If the Torah was given in human language then there must be a sacred purpose, in the Ishmaelian view, to human cognition. 118

God. This is repeated in [2] where the lowest rung of Israelite society experienced an intensity of revelation that none of the prophets to come later could approach. God’s presence was immediate; the revelation of the Torah was, for one and all, a glimpse into the deepest levels of reality. Not even the greatest prophet to come would see what the simplest person saw at Sinai.

2.6 Conclusion

As has been shown, there is a great deal of support for many of Heschel’s claims about the schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael.152 In literary style alone, Rabbi Aqiva’s school appears to represent the maximalist understanding of Torah, one that exhibits an expansive exegetical imagination that sees otherworldly wonder in every aspect of Miqraʾ. There is a clear tendency to take pleasure in the marvel of the miraculous, and this attitude permeates the living text in poetic and imaginative ways. There is an open willingness to describe God in imminent terms, an awesome being who can be directly affected and interacted with, and who responds in kind with his beloved people. The Shekhinah is involved in the affairs of the world, its home is in the West and it suffers the travails of Israel. In contrast we see a reserved conservatism for how text is interpreted in the school of Rabbi Ishmael. Rather than a long series of playful intertextual exegesis, we see logic and deliberate hermeneutic principles prevail. Rather than interpreting the words of scripture as vessels of wonder, we see the consistent application of the Ishmaelian notion that the Torah speaks in human language. God gave human beings cognitive faculties and the Torah is commensurate with that faculty; by its very nature the Torah is accessible through human reasoning and should be approached as such. An active attempt is made by the Ishmaelian

152 Certainly, such has been shown based on this comparison of texts as well as a few other sources. 119

School to see the text of Torah with the rational temperance that Heschel describes. The

Shekhinah is not present in a spatial sense. It is everywhere in its eternality, or at the very least attention is not drawn to it.

There is, without question, a great amount of parallel aggadic material quoted in both the

MSY and the MI. The argument, however, that no substantive differences can be found within the aggadic literature between the two Schools can be discounted. Even if specific problems are to be found within the details of Heschel’s schema, there are nonetheless significant tensions that manifest between materials quoted in the tradition of one School versus the other. Even where we find parallel material quoted, such material is very often either expressed in or juxtaposed to other material that is more directly in the style of the School to which the text is attributed. There are, in fact, strong differences between the two schools in aggadic character. This in and of itself has widespread implications for our understanding of the Sages. There are methodological differences in how aggadah is dealt with between the schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael.

There are substantial theological implications inherent in such different approaches to text. The result of this study is that Heschel’s overarching thesis has merit and by consequence we need to pay a lot more attention to TMS. Naturally, each and every theological topic surveyed in TMS through Heschel’s typology of Aqivan and Ishmaelian perspectives requires analysis. However, based on this initial exploration there appears to be a great deal of strength to Heschel’s interpretive framework. Rabbinic theology exhibits two definable trends indentified through the topology of the Aqivan and Ishmaelian philosophical disposition. Although more work needs to be done, we need to retool our understanding of the Jewish History of Ideas. Heschel’s historical

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claim, that these two paradigms of rabbinic thought permeate Jewish history is the topic of next chapter.

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Chapter Three: Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael Through the Ages

3.1 The Historical Argument of TMS

In the previous chapter, it was shown that Heschel’s theological schematization of rabbinic theology has a great deal of textual support. This chapter addresses Heschel’s historical claim: that the eternal paradigms of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael inform the theological dilemmata which have engaged Jewish thought through the centuries. This chapter will continue to present aggadic material that highlights the textual validity of the theological thematizations that TMS presents in Heschel’s dialectic typology of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael and their respective

Schools. I will link these to post-rabbinic parallels in the Medieval era in order to show the influence and application of specific rabbinic trends, corresponding to the distinct midrashic

Schools of Aqiva and Ishmael, in later works. I caution, however, that Heschel's claim need not be taken as an absolute historical claim; after all, Heschel himself asserts that the intellectual struggles and quandaries in each generation are unique to their respective contexts, and that the tensions found in Ḥazal go through transformations based on contemporaneous psychological and socio-historical context. I do not believe that Heschel is insisting on a comprehensive and reductive historical model that can be used to interpret every debate in Jewish history. Heschel was far too informed and sensitive to the contours of the Jewish History of Ideas to make such a sweeping claim. In short, TMS is not making a claim of historical essentialism. Instead, I assert that TMS is intended to be a meta-history – one which sees the tensions of these eternal paradigms play out, in a general sense, throughout the unfolding of history. Heschel saw medieval movements of Jewish philosophy as natural evolutions out of specific trends in the

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earlier rabbinic works, i.e. the contrast in worldview between Rabbi Aqiva and Rabbi Ishmael.

This claim of Heschel’s’ was integral to TMS and stood in marked contrast to the majority of scholarship in Heschel’s time, which largely saw the arrival of medieval rationalism or Kabbalah as emergent entities with no solid congruity with classic rabbinic sources beyond picking and choosing the odd theme to adopt whilst rejecting the rest. While there are numerous examples, to my mind, of the Aqivan/Ishmaelian divide playing out over the centuries of Jewish theological debate, I focus on Medieval rationalism qua Maimonides and Kabbalah qua the Zohar. These texts are monumental in both scope and impact on subsequent generations and permutations of

Jewish thought. If clear parallels of these texts adapting, interpreting, and thus reapplying their earlier rabbinic precedents (i.e. The Schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael), then there is a strong argument to be made for the historical claims of TMS.

The classical scholarly perspective which dominated the 1960’s and continues today, is best characterised by Efraim Urbach. As mentioned, Urbach’s work The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs contains much of the same source material and topics as TMS but tends to make sweeping generalizations (largely in the interest of apologetics) which pay little attention to who is saying what. The Sages reads like a box of index cards on any given topic, without any sort of interpretive framework, for which, Urbach insists, there is none to be found. Urbach characterizes the trends in rabbinic literature as follows:

The signification of these concepts is not defined or discussed in detail in the sources, and no attempt has been made to relate them or to reveal their common elements. Such attempts on our part are likely to show contradictions between the conclusions drawn from one set of ideas and those derived from another. It is just this lack of consistency and system that provided subsequent generations with a great measure of freedom in defining the principles of faith. The teachings of the Sages were accepted by them as a source of the highest authority, challenged by none, but the freedom allowed in the interpretation of its truths opened up multifaceted possibilities. The philosophers of the Middle Ages, the Cabbalists, and the Hasidim all based themselves on Rabbinic dicta in expounding their systems... Since their respective systems were of primary

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importance to these thinkers, the original meaning of the words of the Sages was dimmed and even set aside, especially as their modes of expression and literary form made them a tree of many boughs and branches, on which extraneous ideas could easily be appended.153

In Urbach's view, there are no systematic aggadic systems and therefore later thinkers merely took what they would from a chaotic jumble and left the rest, so to speak. The flaw in Urbach’s reasoning is that a lack of a cogent and concrete delineation of theological perspectives does not logically exclude the likely possibility that there are nonetheless subtle and definable theological systems at play. Furthermore, the historical read of later interpreters as simply moulding an unconnecting jumble of rabbinic adages into a self-satisfying theological structure is both simplistic and unsatisfying. This is especially the case given the abiding reverence for the works of Ḥazal that Geonic and Medieval rabbinic leaders had passionately and consistently held to over the centuries. Even the least philosophically or theologically inclined scholar amongst the famed Jewish religious figures of the past had an abiding knowledge of and connection to the

Rabbinic corpus. It seems far more likely that since, on the face of things, the Rabbinic compendia contain a wide variety of theological musings and temperaments (what Urbach would refers to as a lack of consistency) that later individuals emphasised the teachings and viewpoints that spoke to their own respective theological dispositions. The more theologically inclined the individual, the more aggadic teachings would have a powerful hold on his (or her) imagination.

(These teachings, as we have shown, are divided broadly between the Two Schools.)

Maimonides, for instance, held the view that aggadah contained the deepest philosophic insights, even where a naïve reading was, in his view, clearly unacceptable on rationalistic grounds. The

Zohar equally, if in radically different ways, held the earlier midrashic material in deep esteem.

153 Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 4. 124

Historically, there appears to be a conscious engagement with the aggadic tradition even where some aspects are disregarded or reinterpreted. This engagement with earlier material is demonstrably based on far more discerning reads of trends in the aggadic tradition than Urbach allows. Reuven Kimelman very aptly contrasts Heschel to Urbach as follows:

To underscore the continuity of this understanding from biblical to rabbinic to kabbalistic thinking, Heschel states:

[Kimelman quoting TMS:] In the phrase, “we need each other” is embedded in the concept of Israel’s power to diminish or enhance God’s might. This opinion, which served as a cornerstone of kabbalistic teaching, is already alluded to in a homily in Sifre D. (319): “You neglected the Rock that begot you” (Deut. 32:18). The word teshi (“neglected”) can be understood in relation to the word teshishut (“feebleness”), whence the interpretation “You weaken the power of the One above. . . .” This approach achieved its classic formulation in the mouth of R. Judah b. Simon, an amora of the third to fourth generation of Eretz Israel: “As long as the righteous comply with the Divine will they augment the Power above, as it says ‘And now, I pray Thee, let the strength of the Lord be enhanced’ (Num. 14:17). But if not, then, as it were, ‘You enfeebled the Rock that begot you’ (Deut. 32:18).” Similarly: “As long as Israel complies with the Divine will they augment the Power above, as it says: ‘In God we shall make [create] power’ (Ps. 60:14); and if not, as it were, say, “and they [i.e., Israel] are gone without strength before the pursuer” (Lam. 1:6). According to the Zohar (2:33a), this idea is intimated in the verse “Give power to God” (Ps. 68:35).154

…The midrashim cited by Heschel above also appear juxtaposed in Ephraim Urbach’s classic monograph The Sages. Urbach, who until his death in 1991 was Israel’s preeminent scholar of classical Jewish sources, cites many of the same texts that undergird Heschel’s reading, but from a very different standpoint. With regard to the comment in Sifre Deuteronomy quoted above by Heschel, Urbach writes, rather apologetically:

This dictum is directed against oversimplified faith. The non-manifestation of God’s power is not indicative of the absence of that power, and one must not come to God with the complaint “where is Thy power?” but there is a nexus between the revelation of this power and the actions of human beings.155

Elsewhere, Urbach writes in a manner reminiscent of Heschel without, however, the linkage to Kabbalah:

[Kimelman quoting The Sages:] Evil deeds and transgressions can banish the shekhinah, as it were, from the world. In the view of the Sages, the ethical and religious conduct of man determines both the manifestation of God’s presence in this world and the revelation of his power and might.156

154 Tucker and Heschel, Heavenly Torah, 113. Kimelman does not cite these excerpts in his review. 155 Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 96. 156 Ibid. 125

Perceiving a chasm between rabbinic and kabbalistic thought, neither Schechter nor Urbach could see what for Heschel was obvious, namely, that with regard to the divine–human relationship Kabbalah represents a “more specific” statement of the rabbinic perspective.157

I quote Kimelman’s citations of TMS, The Sages, and his own comments because it highlights precisely the essential divide between TMS and its contemporaneous work and marks the important contrast between the kind of project Heschel was engaged in that of his contemporaries. The Aqivan texts that Kimelman quotes from TMS is typical of Heschel’s style of connecting rabbinic ideas as antecedents in the history of Jewish Thought. Here, the Aqivan approach to an immanent divine, which dynamically interacts with Israel – affecting and being affected by the acts of human beings – is shown to extend from the Tannaitic origin into more nuanced expressions through the unfolding of the history of Jewish thought. I argue here, as well, that Maimonidean rationalism represents a “more specific” statement of the rabbinic perspective as well.

The contrast that Kimelman makes between Heschel and Urbach emphasises the relevance and importance of Heschel’s thesis to our understanding of the development of Jewish theological trends. Rather than a subsidiary theological “junkyard” from which certain phrases and ideas can be gutted and installed into a new theological project, the features of rabbinic thought have direct impact on future theological trends. TMS argues that the legacy of the

Schools of Rabbis Ishmael and Aqiva are constituent parts of the formative post-biblical texts of

Judaism and directly influenced the post-rabbinic era.158 I argue in this chapter that the direct

157 Kimelman, “The Theology of Abraham Joshua Heschel,” 36,37. 158 Heschel does not make this argument in an explicit, linear manner. Instead, on each chapter dealing with one theological theme or another (presented dialectically between both schools) Heschel includes medieval and early- 126

influence of the schools of Rabbis Aqiva and Ishmael upon later generations is demonstrable through a reflective analysis of various themes contiguous between the rabbinic era and the medieval schools of thought, which themselves continue to exert great influence on contemporary theological debate. It is not the case (contrary to Urbach) that new theological projects are fine-tuned with the occasional cosmetic introduction of a rabbinic adage. To the contrary, Jewish thinkers did more than simply make substantive use of the material produced by

Ḥazal. Instead, it is more accurate to say that they would all have considered themselves to live within the exegetical world of Ḥazal – utterly defined by and through the world of rabbinic

Judaism. The question should instead be: which Ḥazal? Which aspects or trends are individual thinkers or movements emphasizing? There appears to be a conscious engagement with the aggadic tradition even where some aspects are disregarded or reinterpreted, just as the two schools themselves reinterpreted even older material according to their respective exegetical character. Evidence of the conscious application of the specific theological themes (highlighted in the previous chapters) and the use of the interpretive frameworks that either of the Two

Schools employed stands as evidence for Heschel’s historical claims. Maimonides applies

Ishmaelian themes and exegetical techniques. The Zohar does the same with respect to the school of Rabbi Aqiva. Some clear examples of these persistent themes are presented below.

modern discussions that show how the theological conversation continued. The strictly defined periodizations that scholars are often attached to are convenient for generalized discussions but in real life there are few hard divisions separating one day (or one year) from the next. 127

3.2 God and Torah: Two Views

The previous two chapters have articulated how TMS develops a matrix defining the interplay between two concepts of Torah and its ontological nature concomitant with two distinct attitudes towards the Divine. The terrestrial lens and the transcendent lens through which Torah is interpreted within the two schools is the basic starting point from which an array of theological tensions are shown to be interconnected according to the dichotomous schematization of the Two

Schools. The Aqivan position is characterised as one which views Torah as a transcendent document delivered by an immanent and hypostatic God, in dynamic mutable relationship with

Israel. Moses ascended to heaven and encountered God, who brought heaven into earth to impart the wondrous Torah. The graphical and literal features of this text are all signposts to ever-deeper meaning. The Ishmaelian view, in contrast, understands Torah to be a far more human document in its nature while God is conversely more removed, abstract and transcendent.

Moses never ascended to heaven and God never descended. Torah is presented to human beings as befits human intellect – a rationally accessible document manifesting through human language and thus interpretable through the worldly conventions of language and reason. Ishmael’s voice in aggadic discussions is often a staid and cautious interpretation of the text amidst a cacophony of voices, which, unless they are Ishmael’s students, are often highly imaginative, hyperbolic, and at times theophanic. Ishmael’s voice is subtler and harder to distinguish; yet often we find that where the literal meaning of the text would imply something his exegetical temperament deemed inappropriate it elicits a response I deem rationalistic. This schema, most evident in the halakhic midrashim, nonetheless manifests itself clearly throughout the rabbinic corpus.

Virtually every single place where Rabbi Ishmael’s opinion is stated alongside Rabbi Aqiva

(which itself happens most of the time that Rabbi Ishmael is mentioned at all in works not of his

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school) their respective opinions stand in sharp contrast. This contrast manifests itself across the

genres of aggadah and halakha, as well as the actual works spanning the chronological

progression of the rabbinic corpus159. I have, until this point, largely focused on the dichotomy

between the two exegetes as exhibited in the tannaitic midrashim. However, these themes

noticeably extend outwards.

An essential quandary for rabbinic Judaism is the extent to which Miqraʾ can be used in

support for the oral tradition. Heschel argues that the question depends on how Torah is viewed

theologically in terms of its nature. I take two intersecting themes surrounding the ontological

status of Torah and the dichotomy of rational accounts of the Divine in contrast to esoteric ones

and argue that Heschel does succeed in connecting them to an ongoing theological debate.

Consider the following text, cited by Heschel in TMS, which I will first unpack and then discuss

Heschel’s use of it.

Text Sixteen (Tosefta Ḥagigah 1:9)

[1] The annulment of vows hovers in the air and has no scriptural support; however, a Sage

annuls according to his wisdom. The laws of the Sabbath, the festival offering, and the

misuse of Temple property are as mountains suspended by a hair. Miqraʾ is limited while

the halakhoth are many and have no scriptural support.

159 This includes quasi-rabbinic texts with a late or uncertain editorial or redactional history. Especially as pertains to Aqivan views, these get repeated and aggrandized from earlier sources. As text such as the Tanḥuma is replete with the kind of Aqivan perspectives, tied directly to Aqiva and his students, that TMS articulates. In fact, TMS quotes the Tanḥuman often, though I have restricted my own research, for the most part, to the classical halakhic midrashim. However, it is no weakness to Heschel’s arguments if he backs up a claim with the Tanḥuma. Either it represents authentic views of the Sages or it represents a later historical reflection of the themes. If the latter is the case, it speaks to the strength of the historical claims of TMS and the corresponding influence of what was seen as an Aqivan view, regardless of a given statement’s historicity. 129

[2] Based on this, Rabbi Joshua says: tongs are made with tongs. From whence was the

first tong made? It must have been created.

[3] The laws of Temple worship, pure and impure, forbidden sexual relations, and

ʿarakhin), theערכין ) furthermore the consecrating of one’s personal value to the Temple

ḥaremin), and the consecration of animals - חרמין) donation of capital to God via a priest

heqdeshoth) – for these Miqraʾ is many and the -הקדשות ) and produce to the Temple

midrash and laws are many and they have scriptural support. Rabbi Yosi B. Ḥanan says:

These are the eight principle professions of Torah, the body of the halakhoth.160

This is a famous rabbinic encapsulation of the generally accepted notion of Oral Torah.

The view stated in [1] regards laws that specifically do not appear to have direct scriptural support and are matter of tradition, a mountain suspended by a hair. The complex rules of the

Sabbath within the rabbinic tradition, for example, are based solely on a bare handful of biblical verses, yet it constitutes a substantial body of law. In [2], we are presented with an even more obscure statement than the one above it. Rabbi Joshua asserts something akin to the Aristotelian cosmological argument for a First Cause.161 Since it is necessary to have a tool (i.e. a pair of tongs) in which to grasp a piece of metal while forging it into a pair of tongs implies an infinite regression of tongs forged. Therefore, Rabbi Joshua concludes, the first pair of tongs was created. Minimally, this would seem to imply that the regress of the Tradition ends with its

160 T. Ḥagigah 1:11 Translation is the author’s. 161 See Heschel and Tucker, Heavenly Torah, 51, Translator’s note 10. 130

creative source. [3] Seems to be a reiteration of the same sentiment as [1] but from the opposite direction. Despite the laws stated in [1] which have no scriptural support, there are many categories of halakha that do have a great deal of textual support in addition to the many and varied halakhoth and midrashim. Furthermore, in the opinion of Rabbi Yose, these laws constitute the principle project of Torah study.

In his Introduction to TMS, Heschel only makes passing reference to this text. Without offering any formal argumentation, Heschel seems to view the statement in [2] by Rabbi Joshua, one of the main teachers of Rabbi Aqiva, as the dissenting view. There are those in the tradition, generally, who disagree with the metaphor of the mountain suspended by a hair and see all halakhoth to emanate from Torah, a complete and total entity that is more than a literary document. Rabbi Joshua, then, seems to represent the opinion that all the miṣwoth, and perhaps even all things, originate in Torah.162 Heschel asserts that it is not until Rabbi Aqiva, for whom the metaphor of the mountain suspended by a string would be more distasteful still, that this idea is solidified and maximally manifested.163 Heschel asserts that Rabbi Aqiva, instead, made “all

162 Heschel makes no formal analysis of this text and you have to follow the supporting texts that he cites to understand his argument. Heschel tersely states that there are dissenting views and cites the talmudic discussion of a nearly identical version of this text in the Mishnah. There, we can see that Rabbi Joshua was indeed offering the dissenting opinion with his vague statement about tongs. All bodies of halakha have support in Torah. The relevant text goes as follows: R. Eliezer said: They have something to rest on, for it is said: When one shall clearly utter [a vow] (Lev. 27:2), when one shall clearly utter [a vow] (Num. 6:2): one [intimates] an utterance to bind, and the other an utterance to dissolve. R. Joshua said: They have something to rest on, for it is said: Wherefore I swore in My wrath. (Ps. 95:11) I swore in My wrath, but I retracted. R. Isaac said: They have something to rest on, for it is said: Whosoever is of a willing heart. (Ex. 35:5) Ḥanania, son of the brother of R. Joshua, said: They have something to rest on, for it is said: I have sworn, and I have confirmed it, to observe Thy righteous ordinances. (Ps. 99:106) Rab Judah said that Samuel said: Had I been there I should have said to them: My [Scriptural proof] is better than yours, for it is said: He shall not break his word. (Num. 30:3) ‘He’ may not break it, but others may dissolve it for him… Isadore Epstein, trans., Soncino Talmud, vol. Shabbat (Bloch Publishing Company, 1981), 10a. 163 Heschel makes reference to a vague story in which Rabbi Aqiva is chanced upon by some of his colleagues as he is digging out a mountain and flinging the rocks into the Jordan River. 131

of Torah into rings” and cites the Avot of Rabbi Nathan in a footnote. The text to which his citation pertains reads as follows:

[1] …Rabbi Judah the Prince was accounting the praises of the sages , Rabbi

Aqiva, Rabbi Eleazar B. Azariah, Rabbi Yoḥanan B. Nuri, and Rabbi Yose the Galilean.

[2] He called Rabbi Tarfon a mound of stones, and there are those who say a mound of nuts

– when someone goes and takes one of them they all knock around and fall upon each

other. Rabbi Tarfon is similar: When a student of a Sage would approach him and say,

‘teach me’, he would bring forward Miqraʾ, mishnah, midrash, halakhoth, and aggadoth.

When the student would depart, he would do so full of blessing and goodness.

[3] He called Rabbi Aqiva a treasure trove of knowledge164. To what is Rabbi Aqiva

compared? To a labourer who takes his box and goes outside. He finds wheat and places

in the box. He finds barely and he places it in the box. Spelt – and he places it in the box.

Lentils – and he places it in the box. When he enters his home, he separates the wheat, the

barley, the beans, and the lentils. So too did Rabbi Aqiva – and he made all of the Torah

into rings and rings…165

In this text, the context is the domain of Torah study, just as it was in Text Sixteen. Here, Rabbi

Aqiva is depicted as gathering them all, separating them out, and uniting them all together again.

בלום ,means literally means full, closed and comprehensive. The Hebrew expression here בלוםThe Hebrew word 164 .means something akin to a walking encyclopaedia ,אוצר 165 ʾAbot R. Nat. Nusḥʾa 1: 18:1. S. Schechter, ed., Aboth de-Rabbi Nathan (Heb) (Vilna, 1887), 67. Translation is the author’s. 132

Heschel sees this as the essential exegetical project of Rabbi Aqiva, for whom all of Torah is complete, whole, and interconnected.

Heschel’s read of Avot of Rabbi Nathan is likely a more liberal and poetic one than its obscure surface meaning would imply (it might be argued that the rings simply refer to domains of Torah.) Yet, the interconnected nature of rings and rings, while not supported independently by the text, is borne out by what we know in general about the exegetical attitude of Rabbi

Aqiva. When these themes are combined with the other intersecting attitudes related to Torah, a decisive image of Rabbi Aqiva emerges. Every aspect of the Miqraʾ is a gateway into halakhic and non-halakhic truths. Unlike Rabbi Ishmael, who puts forward an interpretation method based on logic and language, Aqiva’s approach is marked by unrestrained and maximalist tendencies, as was discussed extensively in Chapter One.166 Furthermore, we see this Aqivan tendency explicitly referred to in later rabbinic works. Consider the following text, which, touching on what was discussed in Chapter Two, assumes that Moses ascended to heaven in solid Aqivan tradition. More than that, it reveals a great deal about the traditions surrounding the exegetical force of character that Rabbi Aqiva represents within the Talmud.

Text Seventeen (Babylonian Talmud, Menaḥoth 29b)

[1] Rab Judah said in the name of Rab, When Moses ascended on high he found the

Holy One, blessed be He, engaged in affixing coronets to the letters. Said Moses,

‘Lord of the Universe, Who stays Thy hand?’ He answered, ‘There will arise a man,

166 Heschel refers to a vague story (ARN, A 6) in which Rabbi Aqiva is compared to someone chipping out rocks from the mountainside. When asked what he is about, Aqiva responds that he is uprooting the mountain and throwing it into the Jordan. Rabbi Aqiva’s teachers retorted that Aqiva would be unable to accomplish such a feat, yet Aqiva pried loose a large boulder by teasing and levering it, stating, “This is now your place.” This story is taken by Heschel to illustrate Aqiva’s approach to Torah (the mountain), which can be completely reconfigured. 133

at the end of many generations, Akiba b. Joseph by name, who will expound upon

each tittle heaps and heaps of laws’.

[2] ‘Lord of the Universe’, said Moses; ‘permit me to see him’. He replied, ‘Turn

thee round’. Moses went and sat down behind eight rows [and listened to the

discourses upon the law]. Not being able to follow their arguments he was ill at

ease, but when they came to a certain subject and the disciples said to the master

‘Whence do you know it?’ and the latter replied ‘It is a law given unto Moses at

Sinai’ he was comforted.

[3] Thereupon he returned to the Holy One, blessed be He, and said, ‘Lord of the

Universe, Thou hast such a man and Thou givest the Torah by me!’ He replied, ‘Be

silent, for such is My decree’. Then said Moses, ‘Lord of the Universe, Thou hast

shown me his Torah, show me his reward’. ‘Turn thee round’, said He; and Moses

turned round and saw them weighing out his flesh at the market-stalls. ‘Lord of the

Universe’, cried Moses, ‘such Torah, and such a reward!’ He replied, ‘Be silent, for

such is My decree’167168

There is a great deal to unpack here. Combining both intellectual honesty and hubris with regard to the nature of the Mosaic revelation, Moses received the Torah but was not aware of all that he received, yet Rabbi Aqiva was able to reveal what Moses was not! In what Heschel

167 Epstein, Soncino Talmud, 1981, Menahoth: 29b. 168 It is a well-established Aqivan idea that suffering is a blessing and serves the ultimate purpose of earning merit for the World to Come. It is therefore fitting that in this Aqivan aggadic passage that Moses would be silenced from questioning God’s judgement. 134

categorises as a distinctive exegetical position of Rabbi Aqiva, Moses did indeed ascend to

Heaven (as was discussed in the preceding chapter) and perceived an immediate visual theophany in which God is affixing the crowns and tittles upon the very letters so that Rabbi

Aqiva will be able to decipher in order to exegise and source the halakhah in the living Torah. It was not even for Moses’ understanding that these things were given but for a future Rabbi to interpret. In [2], Moses desires to see this remarkable future individual and God accedes to his wish and places Moses such that he can observe a future lesson delivered by Rabbi Aqiva.

Despite being the very prophet who experienced the highest revelation of the Divine amongst all the prophets of Israel, Moses could not follow the discussion. A student asks his teacher, Rabbi

Aqiva, whence he knows the law in question, to which Rabbi Aqiva responds that it was a law given to Moses. Moses is thus comforted to know that he was given something that one day

Aqiva would be able to decipher despite the fact that he himself could not!169 The Torah contains more than the prophet who received it could ascertain, though Rabbi Aqiva could.

169 This is a radical statement entrenching the idea that all laws can be found rooted in the text of Torah. This is an Aqivan view and one deeply rooted in his sense of what Torah represents. Heschel does an excellent job giving clear historic reflections of this substantial difference between Rabbi Aqiva’s school and that of Rabbi Ishmael. Very often, we see Rabbi Ishmael and his students reflecting on a law and mentioning that there is no proof for it in the Torah. Instead, it is a matter of tradition for which we can formulate a memory-assisting reference to a verse. The verse is not a proof, but helps the student remember such a law. Taking an example virtually at random, regarding the Paschal lamb the verse states: “and ye shall keep it unto the fourteenth day of the same month; and the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill it at dusk.” (Ex. 12:6) To which the MI states the following: Rabbi says: Behold it says: “There thou shalt sacrifice the offering at even.” [(Deut. 16:6)] I might take this literally, i. e. in the evening. But Scripture goes on to say: “at the [season] that thou camest forth out of Egypt.” When did Israel go forth out of Egypt? After the sixth hour of the day.15 And so it says: “And it came to pass the selfsame day that the Lord did bring the Children of Israel out of the Land of Egypt” (Ex. 12.51). R. Nathan says: Whence can we prove that “dusk” here means from the time after the sixth hour of the day? Although there is no direct proof for it, there is at least a suggestion of it in the passage: “for the day declineth, for the shadows of the evening are stretched out” (Jer. 6.4). The received oral law is that the Paschal lamb is to be slaughtered beginning six hours into the halakhic day, as opposed to the literal verse at even. (The days and nights both being divided into twelve equal parts that lengthen 135

Beyond underscoring the maximalist approach of Rabbi Aqiva in terms of what can be inferred from the biblical verse, Text Seventeen also continues to highlight the tension that was

and shorten corresponding with the amoung of daylight. Thus, “from the sixth hour’ means from the halfway point (noon) until the evening time. Rabbi Judah (an Aqivan) insists that the law has a direct scriptural source and quotes the verse from Deuteronomy. season, rather than time. However, Rabbi Judah is insisting that we can derive this-מועד This verse actually states law from this word. In marked contrast, Rabbi Nathan, student of Rabbi Ishmael, insists that there is no textual rememberence) from a verse in Jeremiah. This verse, of course, cannot-זכר proof, merely a suggestion (literally prove the law, but its description of evening not as a fixed point but a stretch of time, is a useful device for the student to remember this specific oral tradition. This difference, if examined theologically and historically is significant, and Heshel does an excellent job developing this historical theme. (See Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), 1:20–23; Heschel and Tucker, Heavenly Torah, 61–64.The use of this device, referred to as an asmakhta, has resulted in heated debates about how it should be understood in the rabbinic compendia. Maimonides, in the Ishmaelian tradition, saw these asmakhta as merely pedagogic devices used to enhance memory of the law or tradition; it is not the case that these are actually hinted at in the Torah. I have added here, a text not quoted by Heschel, to elucidate my point. Maimonides states: When we [i.e., the Rabbis of the Talmud] said that sheʿurin are “halakhah to Moses from Sinai,” we objected and said: How can you say about them that they are halakhah to Moses from Sinai, for measurements do have an indication (ishāra) in a verse, in the dictum “a land of wheat and barley . . .” (Deut 8:8)? The answer to this is that it is indeed a “halakhah to Moses from Sinai,” and it has no essence (lit. root) that can be extrapolated through qiyās, nor is there any indication (ishāra) for it in all of the Torah, but the verse was used only for support (isnād) as a sort of sign (siman) so that it would be retained and remembered, but that is not the intent (gharaḍ ) of the Book (i.e., Scripture), and this is the meaning of their [i.e., the Rabbis’] dictum “the verse is merely an asmakhta” wherever they said this. Introduction to the Mishnah, Shailat ed., 337–338 (Ar.); 39–40 (Heb.). English translation and citation quoted from Mordechai Z. Cohen, Opening the Gates of Interpretation: Maimonides’ in Light of His Geonic-Andalusian Heritage and Muslim Milieu (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 278.

A number of famous medieval rabbis in the rationalist tradition such as Menaḥem Ha-Meiri (1249-1310) of Catalan agree with this Maimonidean approach. In contrast, Rabbi Yom Tov Ishbilli, (1250-1330) of Seville who – following in the tradition of the theological counterpart to Maimonides, Naḥmanides (1194-1270), – argued that: Anything that has an asmakhta from the biblical verse, the Holy One, Blessed Be He is directly commenting that it is fitting to do so... and this is a clear and true matter. This is not like the words of interpreters who understand asmakhta as merely a sign appended by the Sages, and that the Torah did not intend it so. Heaven forbid! The matter should be settled and one should not say this, for it is the thought of heresy. The Torah comments on these matters and imparts an obligation to the Sages to establish it, if they so desire...Therefore you find the Sages giving in every place, proof or mention, or asmakhta to things from the Torah, for they are not innovating something from themselves. The entire oral Torah is hinted at in the written Torah, for it is whole, and Heaven forbid that it be lacking anything. (Innovations of the Ritba (Heb), gloss on B. Rosh Hashanah 16a. Translation is the author’s.)

Here again, in contrast to the Ishmaelian reserved attitude towards the limits of homily and exegesis, we see the expansive and inclusive exegesis of Rabbi Aqiva reflected. This is interwoven with the theological perspective that Torah is a single, whole entity, perfect and complete without defect. The playful or creative interpretations of the Sages refer, in fact, to the hidden and infinite depth that lies below the surface of the simple biblical text. We also find this idea restated in the Zohar, which states emphatically that, “There is nothing, not even the smallest, which is not mentioned in the Torah.” (Zohar, Pinḥas 221:1) 136

discussed in Chapter Two. Moses did indeed, in the Aqivan tradition, ascend to heaven in order to receive the Torah. Torah’s ontological nature is, therefore, one rooted in the heavenly.

Furthermore, God is experienced and perceived, in contrast to the transcendent Torah, in unabashedly anthropomorphic and hypostatic terms. This is by no means an isolated text either, and there are many similar examples, which contain the same theme: Moses ascended to receive

Torah in heaven and had direct contact with the Divine in a theophanic experience of an anthropomorphically described God.

3.3 Rabbi Aqiva: Mysticism and the Mysteries of the Torah

In addition to an affinity for anthropomorphic descriptions of God and a perceiving eye within the Torah, there are rabbinic texts that associate Rabbi Aqiva with an esoteric, even mystical view of Torah as well. (This seems to make sense given Rabbi Aqiva’s overall attitude towards the nature of Torah.) Though it is far beyond the focus of this project to comprehensively discuss during the Rabbinic Era, a brief introduction ensues.

During this era, a mystical tradition was present involving some, but not all, of the Tannaim.

This tradition continued well into the Geonic and Medieval periods and largely concerned itself with the interpretations of Ezekiel and Isaiah pertaining to the vision of the Divine chariot/throne. (Specifically, the visionary experiences described primarily in Ezekiel 1:4-26 and to a lesser extent Isaiah 6). Referred to as Merkavah Mysticism, the study or contemplation of these verses within this mystical tradition is referenced in rabbinic literature under the moniker

to ride.) The – ר-כ-ב Maʾaseh Ha-Merkavah – the Works of the Chariot. (The root word being practice centred on visionary ascents through various levels and tests to ultimately arrive at the

Throne of Glory and perceive the godhead. Many anthropomorphic discussions of various

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visions of God are tied into this tradition and it manifests in non-rabbinic texts (known as

Hekhaloth literature) dating from the early-rabbinic period and again continuing into the gaonic and medieval eras. Although pseudepigraphic,170 it should come as no surprise that Rabbi Aqiva plays a central role in these works, in addition to rabbinic discussions about the Merkavah.171

However, there are rabbinic sources where this tradition is discussed.172 For example in the

170 Ironically, Rabbi Ishmael plays a significant role in a handful of these texts as the one who initiated Rabbi Aqiva into the practice. However, these texts absurdly (or perhaps brilliantly) take the sage who would be least amenable to these teachings and make him the voice piece of esoteric lore. This includes one of the most bizarre and extreme of these works, the Shiʿur Qomah – which delves into the measurements of the Divine Body – and is attributed to Rabbi Ishmael. Whether or not statements attributed to Rabbi Aqiva are historically true, they, in contrast, are completely in line with various rabbinic statements about the practice, in addition to Rabbi Aqiva’s general outlook. 171 Concerning this mystical tradition, Scholem writes: We have seen that the God of the Merkaba mystics is the Holy King who emerges from unknown words and descends “through 955 heavens” to the throne of Glory. The mystery of this God in His aspect of Creator of the universe is one of the exalted subjects of esoteric knowledge which are revealed to the soul of the mystic in its ecstatic ascent…That the mystic in his rapture even succeeded in penetrating beyond the sphere of angels is suggested in a passage which speaks of “God who is beyond the sight of His creatures and hidden to the angels who serve Him, but who has revealed himself to Rabbi Aqiva in the vision of the Merkaba.” (Scholem is quoting Heikhaloth Zuṭarti, Ms. Oxford 1531f. 45b) Scholem adds the following statement, which is both illuminating and highly pertinent to our topic: It is this revelation, at once strange and forbidding, which we encounter in the most paradoxical of all these tracts, the onc which is known under the name of Shiʿur Qomah, literally translated, “Measure of the Body” (i.e. the body of God). From the very beginning, this frank and almost provocative anthropomorphism of the Shiʿur Qomah aroused the bitterest antagonism among all Jewish circles which held aloof from mysticism. Conversely, all the later mystics and Kabbalists came to regard its dark and obscure language as a symbol of profound and penetrating spiritual vision. The antagonism was mutual, for it is in this attitude towards anthropomorphism that Jewish rational theology and Jewish mysticism have parted company. Gershom Gerhard Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, Schocken Paperbacks, SB5 (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), 63.

172 An excellent accounting of the various scholarly viewpoints on the Hekhalot literature, as well as detailed conceptual and historical analysis, is to be found in Elliot R Wolfson, Through a Speculum That Shines: Vision and Imagination in Medieval Jewish Mysticism (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1994), chap. Three: Visionary Ascent and Enthronment in the Hekhalot Literature. Introducing this literature, Wolfson states: …I will reflect on the role of the vision of God in what is generally accepted to be the earliest form of Jewish mysticism, the Merkavah (chariot) or Hekhalot (palace) speculation. There is still no consensus on the part of scholars as to the precise historical or sociological background of the material that comprises the main corpus of this literature. Although the authorites mention in the relevant compositions are all of tannaitic origin, it is generally assumed that these attributions are pseudepigraphic and thus do not reflect accurately any historical situation. It is thus from a purely literary and conceptual vantage point that we are able to speak of a distinct body known as sifrut ha-hekhalot, the Hekhalot literature. This title has been chosen because in the relevant texts the mystic is said to pass through the seven heavenly palaces or halls (hekhalot) in order to reach the throne of glory (kisseʾ ha-kavod) or chariot (merkava). While the precise nature of the description 138

Talmudim, there is a great deal of embellishment and discussion surrounding the following text from the Tosefta, which describes the laws of discussing this topic. Consider the following text.

Text Eighteen (Tosefta, Ḥagigah, 2:1-2)

[1] It is forbidden to expound upon the forbidden sexual relationships before three,

but it may be expounded before two. The Works of Creation [are not to be

expounded] before two, but it may be expounded before one. The Works of the

Chariot are not to be expounded [even] before one unless the [individual] is a Sage,

and understands from his own knowledge.

[2] A story: Once Rabbi Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai was riding on a donkey and Rabbi

Eleazar B. ʿArakh was leading his donkey behind him. He [Rabbi Eleazar B.

ʿArakh] said to him: ‘Teach me a chapter of the Works of the Chariot’.

He [Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai] said to him, ‘Have I not said that the Works of the Chariot

are not studied even before one, unless that person is a Sage who understands from

his own knowledge? The way is yet before us, so speak of it [to me].’

[3] Rabbi Eleazar B. ʿArakh began and expounded on the Works of the Chariot.

Rabbi Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai dismounted from the donkey and wrapped himself in

his cloak and the two sat by a rock under an olive tree and [Rabbi Eleazar B. ʿArakh]

lectured before him.

of the journey through the heavenly chambers varies from text to text, it is this structure that allows one to speak of a common literary heritage. Ibid., 74. 139

[Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai] stood and kissed him and said: ‘Blessed is the Lord, the God of Israel who has given to Abraham our father [one such as this] who knows how to understand and to expound in the Glory of his Father in heaven. There are those who expound well, but do not fulfil. There are those who fulfil well, but do not expound well. Eleazar B. ʿArakh expounds well and fulfils well. Fortunate are you,

Abraham our father, that Eleazar B. ʿArakh has descended from your loins – for he knows how to understand and to expound the Glory of his Father in Heaven’.

[4] Rabbi Yose in the name of Rabbi Judah says: ‘Rabbi Joshua lectured [on the

Works of the Chariot] before Rabbi Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai. Rabbi Aqiva lectured before Rabbi Joshua. Ḥananiya B. Ḥakhinʾai lectured before Rabbi Aqiva.

[5] Four Entered Pardes, Ben ʿAzzai, Ben Zoma, Aḥer, and Rabbi Akiva.

One peeked and died, one peeked and was damaged, one peeked and chopped down the plants (became a heretic?), and one ascended in peace and descended in peace.

[6] Ben ʿAzzai peeked and died, regarding him Scripture says, 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.' (Psalms 116:15) Ben Zoma peeked and was damaged, regarding him Scripture says, 'Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it.' (Proverbs 26:15) Elisha peeked and chopped down the plants, regarding him Scripture says, 'Suffer not thy mouth to bring thy flesh into guilt...' ( 5:5) Rabbi Aqiva ascended in peace and descended in peace, regarding him Scripture says, ‘Draw me, we will run

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after thee; the king hath brought me into his chambers; we will be glad and rejoice

in thee, we will find thy love more fragrant than wine! sincerely do they love thee.'

( 1:4)

[7] To what can this be compared? To a king who has an orchard, above which he

built an upper-chamber. What is a person to do? He may look, but he must not allow

his eyes to linger. To what else can this be compared? – To a trail which passes

between two paths, one of fire and one of snow. Stray one way and one gets burned

by the fire, stray the other, and one gets burned by the snow. What then should a

person do? He may go down the middle provided that he strays neither here nor

there.

The above text, comprising two pericopes in the current printing of the Tosefta, is the focal point of a great deal of discussion, historically and presently. The Jerusalem and the

Babylonian Talmudim both quote this text and elaborate on it a great deal.173 Likewise, the topics of the Works of Creation (dealing with the nature of the creative acts in Genesis 1-2) and the Works of the Chariot are discussed at great length by Geonic and Medieval figures with a very wide range of opinion as to the content of these studies.174 A plethora of academic analysis,

173 J. Ḥagigah 2:77b. B. Ḥagigah 14b-15b. 174 While Saʿadiah Gaʾon expresses skepticism about the veracity of the Shiʿur Qomah (being himself an Aristotelian rationalist), Maimonides regarded the work as an outright forgery in addition to being heretical. Tellingly, Maimonides interprets the Works of the Chariot (as referenced in the rabbinic literature) not as esoteric knowledge and mystical vision, but of metaphysics. The laws surrounding its secrecy are such, he explains, because true metaphysics can easily be misunderstood by the ignorant masses. The Works of Creation, the lesser of the two dangerous fields of study, refers to physics i.e. Aristotelian cosmology.

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too, surrounds this enigmatic movement of Talmudic mysticism. What is fairly certain is that there was a guarded tradition of mystical or esoteric lore that dates back to the early rabbinic period and extended well into the Geonic period and into the Medieval era in one form or another.175 Not much in the way of rabbinic source-texts exist which describe the inner workings of this movement, which should come as no surprise given the fact that publicly expounding on it, at least in the view of its practitioners, was forbidden. Tellingly, within the rabbinic sources that do discuss the topic, Rabbi Aqiva plays a central role in all of the rabbinic discussions while

Rabbi Ishmael plays no role at all. The practitioners of this visionary ascent engaged in a practice that guided the acolyte through a hazardous journey with the aim of gazing upon the Glory; the path laid out through esoteric interpretation of the relevant verses. Those who practiced it viewed

175 In general, the gaonic era appears to bear very similar tensions and breadth of opinion about many of the themes discussed in this chapter. Simcha Assaf, in detailed study on the gaonic period, traces some of the methodological and theological differences between the schools of Sura and Pumbeditha. According to Assaf, the students at Pumbeditha excelled at in-depth logical debate concerning halakhic matters, while the students of Sura were acknowledged experts in mishnah and scripture. According to Assaf:

In Sura, they engaged a great deal in midrashic interpretation of scripture, and sought to find for everything a source in scripture. The question of 'where in Torah can we find the proof of this?' was regularly in the mouths of the sages of sura. The scholars of Pumbeditha recognised that the scholars of Sura were far more skilled at midrash, and even aggadah connected to scripture, greater even than halakha, flourished in Sura to a far greater extent than in Pumbeditha. Simha Assaf, Teḳufat Ha-Geʼonim Ṿe-Sifrutah. ([Jerusalem : s.n., 1955), 65.

In Sura, Assaf notes, there was a strong mystical element and a focus on the esoteric. There were even halakhic teachings coming out of Sura that were justified through esoteric reasoning and even, at times, far-fetched superstition, in marked contrast to the more rational approach of Pumbeditha. Based on the writings of , Asaff asserts that there is reason to think that the academy of Sura had a bent towards various esoteric texts extant at the time. Additionally, remarks Assaf, the academy took a key role in the polemic battles against the Karaites, who denied the validity of the oral tradition.

This dynamic described by Assaf mirrors Heschel’s schematization in TMS. Sura, drawn to the esoteric and keen on finding a definitive source for the oral tradition within the written text through midrash (especially aggadic midrash), seems to fit well with the theological and interpretive temperament of Rabbi Aqiva. In contrast, the logical, in depth- dialectic of Pumbeditha, which was more grounded and focused on practical matters and disdained esotericism, fits the exegetical mindset of Rabbi Ishmael. I do not make the claim that these two centres of learning were definitively and consciously falling within the interpretive camps of Rabbis Akiva and Ishmael, specifically, but they do exhibit the respective interpretive attitudes of the two tannaitic schools. 142

as mortally perilous to body and soul even to discuss these interpretations without significant precaution. In [1], we are presented with a halakhic statement defining the restrictions on the public expounding of three dangerous topics, each more restrictive than the last. The text begins with the least restricted and presumably dangerous of the three: the forbidden sexual relationships listed in Leviticus 18. The expounding of these taboo sexual acts (theʾarayoth) is forbidden before more than two students, presumably because of its sexual nature.176 The Works of Creation177 is a successively more serious topic and can only be taught to one student individually. The Works of the Chariot, in [2], however, requires a potential disciple of this most dangerous topic to be a learned and pious individual beforehand. Beyond that, the novice must have come into some awareness of the topic through his own contemplation (or intuition) before it can even be discussed. This leads to [3], which recounts details (much embellished in later talmudic renditions with miraculous portents, cosmic events, and celestial assent) of the initiation of Rabbi Eleazar b. ʿArakh in front of his master, Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai.178 The latter achieved highly in the eyes of the latter, both expounding and fulfilling the Glory of God. The text then moves to [4] where we are presented with a lineage of students who achieved this level of awareness and lectured, student before master, from Rabbi Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai and Rabbi

Joshua, through Rabbi Aqiva and his student, Ḥananiah.

176 In contrast, Rabbi Ishmael did not agree that there were any teachings that are forbidden. While silent on maʿaseh ha-merkava, there is indeed an Ishmaelian section of Sifra, which interprets the ʿarayoth. See Epstein, Introductions to Tannaitic Literature (Heb), 640. Additionally, in the Jerusalem Talmud on the above text is clear that Rabbi Ishmael had no problem discussing the ʿarayoth and the Works of Creation. Rabbi Ishmael is nowhere to be found in the ensuing discussions concerning the Works of the Chariot.

177 This refers to the study of the inner workings of the creative speech-act through which the world came to exist and is centred on the text of Genesis 1-2. 178 Often understood to be the first tanna proper, Yoḥanan B. Zakkʾai established a centre of learning in on the eve of the destruction of the second Temple. 143

[1]-[5] of the text cite above constitutes the first mishnah of the chapter. Having established the strict rules surrounding the teachings of these subjects, the second mishnah ([4]-

[7]) of the chapter is beyond the scope of this project to unpack properly. The passage is a discussion of four sages who entered Pardes. Likely a word of Persian origin, the meaning in

Hebrew is typically understood as orchard or garden, though in this context it is also understood as or perhaps even gnosis.179 In [5], we are told the names of the four sages and what befell them. One died, one was damaged, one chopped down the plants, and only one amongst them ascended and descended in peace, underscoring both the danger and the greatness of the sage.

In [6], we are given midrashic exposition on each respective fate. Ben ʿAzzai peeked, presumably at the Glory of God, and he died the death of a saint, alluded to by the verse in

Psalms. Ben Zoma, in contrast, peeked and became mentally aberrant. Ben Zoma, known to have gone too far in his esoteric studies180, saw too much. As the verse alludes, he ate too much and vomited out his insight. Elisha, referred to as Aḥer (the other one) in the synoptic parallels, peeked and chopped down the plants, a euphemism for apostasy, for which Aḥer is notorious in the Talmud. Only Rabbi Aqiva of the four achieved this close ecstatic state with the Divine, alluded to by the verse from Song of Songs. Calling to God to draw him in, Rabbi Aqiva was brought into his inner chamber in an erotic embrace.

In [7], we are presented with enigmatic advice pertaining to how to survive the danger of this ascent, being caught between fire and ice. The middle-path is advocated, and one must not

179 Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 52 and endnote 45 (Lecture II) . 180 See b. Ḥagigah 14b. 144

stray. Clearly, Rabbi Aqiva had the stature to keep to that advice and to have this experience; he ascended, he experienced, he descended – all in peace. Aqiva and his school represent a spiritual lineage of exegetical learning, one that was esoteric in bent and saw the Torah as utterly transcended while God is utterly present. In the above text, it is Rabbi Aqiva who occupies the central position in this story (again much elaborated in the Talmudim). It seems reasonable, then, as Heschel claims, that Aqiva’s exegetical method and stature as an esoteric master would be both interconnected and directly linked to later historical developments in Jewish esotericism.

To some extant, the views of Gershom Scholem constitute a contrasting view. Scholem pioneered the academic study of Jewish mysticism and Kabbalah, essentially reclaiming them from the hands of 19th century modernist detractors who would have preferred that their memory be blotted out of Jewish history. Scholem paved the way for a serious inquiry into the meaning and historical context of the textual legacy that these complex and varied traditions represent. To this day, Scholem’s viewpoint, whether accepted or rejected, is the first to be mentioned when describing the current state of research; Scholem’s work virtually defines the field. His view, though never unambiguously stated, was that Jewish mysticism represents a divergent break from classical “Talmudic” Judaism. Scholem saw religious history as progressing from the mythical – where and humanity engaged in a world where heaven and earth were closely linked – through to the classical, where God becomes abstracted and separated by an insurmountable gulf:

The second period which knows no real mysticism is the creative epoch in which the

emergence, the break-through of religion occurs... [f]or in its classical form, religion

signifies the creation of a cast abyss, conceived as absolute, between God, the infinite and

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transcendental Being, and Man, the finite creature. For this reason alone, the rise of

institutional religion, which is also the classical stage in the history of religion, is more

widely removed than any other period from mysticism and all it implies.181

For Scholem, true mysticism is a later development, which sought to bridge the gap through a revival of the mythical in a post-dual religious consciousness. Although this is characteristic of a dated theoretical lens that sees the historical developments of religion as linear progression, many of the underlying assumptions continue to spill into the academic study of Jewish mysticism to the present day.

It is beyond the scope of this study to ascertain whether or not rabbinic mysticism constitutes true mysticism, and one does not wish to become too ensnared in defining mysticism itself. Many of the elements thought to be unique to medieval developments in Jewish esoteric thought, however, can indeed be found within the aggadic material. Specifically, I refer to such aspects of aggadic midrash as literary style as well as the approach to Torah, both in terms of its ontological nature and its concomitant exegesis. Scholem concedes this point only as far as to say that the imaginative world of aggadah provided inspiration for later mystics and kabbalists.

Scholem’s point, though stated with more nuance (and more ambiguity in meaning), more or less mirrors Urbach’s quote above. Scholem, however, does argue that the success of medieval

Kabbalah is rooted in the “spiritual heritage of rabbinical Judaism”;182 aggadah constituted a continuous and living spiritual legacy for the Kabbalist in a way it never could for the rationalist

181 Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 7. Scholem does happen to describe the Merkavah as a mystical ascent, so his actual view on rabbinic mysticism is hard to ascertain. 182 Ibid., 23. 146

philosopher, “a wonderful mirror of spontaneous religious life and feeling during the rabbinical period of Judaism.”183 Scholem, who was neither a Talmudist nor an expert in rabbinics, failed to trace in any substantive way the very real theological precedents that informed the later kabbalists in their own creative engagement with Torah (though granted, this was not his project either). Scholem did succeed in pioneering modern scholarship of Kabbalah and Jewish mysticism and creating a renaissance of interest in its study.) Heschel, I argue, held that the specific theological outlooks associated with Aqiva and his students constitute operational elements of exegesis within material that Scholem thought to be novel innovations of medieval esotericism. Scholem’s own words about the mystic view of Torah are closely connected to the overall Aqivan view of Torah’s essential nature that Heschel establishes. Scholem states:

From the Therapeutae, whose doctrine was described by Philo of Alexandria, to the latest Hasid, are at one

in giving a mystical interpretation to the Torah; the Torah is to them a living organism animated by a secret

life which streams and pulsates below the crust of its literal meaning; every one of the innumerable strata of

this hidden region corresponds to a new and profound meaning of the Torah. The Torah, in other words, does

not consist merely of chapters, phrases, and words; rather, is it to be regarded as the living incarnation of the

divine wisdom which eternally sends out new rays of light. It is not merely the historical law of the Chosen

People, although it is that too; it is rather the cosmic law of the Universe, as God's wisdom conceived it. Each

configuration of letters in it, whether it makes sense in human speech or not, symbolizes some aspect of the

God's creative power which is active in the universe. And just as the thoughts of God, in contrast to those of

man, are of infinite profundity, so also no single interpretation of the Torah in human language is capable of

taking in the whole of its meaning...Kabbalism is distinguished by an attitude towards language which is

quite unusually positive. Kabbalists who differ in almost everything else are at one in regarding language as

something more precious than an inadequate instrument for contact between human beings. To them Hebrew,

183 Ibid., 30. 147

the holy tongue, is not simply a means of expressing certain thoughts, born out of a certain convention and

having a purely conventional character, in accordance with the theory of language dominant in the Middle

Ages. Language in its purest form, that is, Hebrew according to the Kabbalists, reflects the fundamental

spiritual nature of the world; in other words, it has mystical value.

What should be obvious is that this other-worldly view of Torah is such that its very nature transcends Torah’s literal and earthly manifestation; Torah is a dynamic and vital link to the Living God, and its words are spiritually potent and cosmically descriptive. This accords perfectly with what Heschel argues (and the texts support) is the exegetical and theological legacy of Rabbi Aqiva and his school. Rabbi Aqiva, who saw infinite meaning within every feature of the Hebrew text, be it a function of grammar, style or the crowns on the letters, could very well be understood as the forbearer of such a view of Torah. Beyond Rabbi Aqiva’s well- known approach to text, we have statements within the aggadah (some of which have been presented) that emphasize this view of Torah that Scholem sees as novel to the Medieval mystical and kabbalistic movements.

Contemporary scholarship since Scholem has definitively demonstrated the extent to which this esoteric and highly anthropomorphic tradition was an integral part of rabbinic writing and some have even gone so far as to say that rabbinic literature is specifically corporealist. It was Heschel, scholar of Jewish mysticism as well as rabbinic literature, however, who tied these texts into the specific exegetical school of Rabbi Aqiva, well in advance of contemporary research into this topic. Elliot Wolfson, in Through a Speculum That Shines, makes a thorough examination of Biblical, Jewish apocalyptic, and rabbinic sources that convey an immanent, theophanic, and corporeal understanding of the Divine. Of interest for our purposes here,

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Wolfson articulates an argument, with a number of varied rabbinic sources, which demonstrate that there was indeed a strong tendency in rabbinic literature to visualize God in iconic form as part of a mystical tradition. This rabbinic viewpoint, in turn, “provided the grist for the mill of subsequent interpreters”. Furthermore, in drawing on many of the same rabbinic texts that

Heschel used in TMS, as well as some used in the above comparative analysis (primarily in

Chapter Two), Wolfson connects the theophanic nature of the Sinaitic tradition according to

Rabbi Aqiva to the overall visionary approaches to God in the rabbinic academies. Concerning theophanic and visionary trends within the rabbinic corpus, Wolfson says,

In claiming that at Sinai the Israelites actively sought a vision of God, of the divine glory, these rabbis were

following the lead of Rabbi Aqiva, as may be gathered from several of the statements of the latter as well as

from those attributed to some of his other students, most notably . Some scholars even claimed

that Aqiva’s teaching regarding the vision of the glory at Sinai must be understood in the context of the

Jewish esoteric tradition concerning the appearance of the bodily form of God on the chariot-throne. That is,

Aqiva’s understanding of the Sinaitic events reflects the mystical tradition concerning the visual appearance

of God – referred to by the technical expression kavod – on the chariot. While this may indeed be the case, it

is necessary to bear in mind that these affirmation of the visions of God at Sinai are, at least in part, midrashic

elaborations of biblical statements that do emphasize that the Israelites saw God at Sinai. One might even

venture to say that the esoteric tradition itself has been fostered by the same theophanic statements in the

Bible, especially the narrative in Exod. 14:10. Which affirms a vision of God sitting on his throne in

connection with the Sinaitic revelation.184

With a more nuanced understanding of the permutations of Jewish mystical thought, Wolfson establishes that Aqiva is indeed a foundational exegete of theophanic experience of God that may

184 Wolfson, Through a Speculum That Shines, 48–49; also see footnotes ad loc. 149

very well be the origin of the esoteric tradition which is thematically interconnected with the

Sinaitic revelation and the desire to see God as was touched upon in Chapter Two.185 Wolfson

185 The ascent to see the Throne of Glory ties in with the theme that Moses ascended to heaven, which becomes almost a topos in later rabbinic works. This ties in with the schematization of Rabbi Aqiva in TMS. Heschel devotes an entire chapter to the dichotomous theme pertaining to whether Moses ascended to heaven or not. (Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), vol. II. Chap. 2. “ʿAliyath Moshe Le–Marom”. pg. 33–57. Especially see pg. 51-52) Heschel makes an excellent if somewhat convoluted argument, concerning Rabbi Ishmael’s theological temperament with regard to Moses’ ascent or anthropomorphic corporealism/theophany. There are a number of aggadic traditions that deal with Moses’ death, often in connection to his presumed ascent to Heaven at Sinai. These traditions, likewise, state that Moses, rather than dying on Mount Nebo, ascended to heaven in the fashion of Elijah and Enoch. Additionally, there are connected aggadic passages that understand God Himself to have buried Moses. In contrast to these opinions, Rabbi Ishmael emphatically states that Moses buried himself, thus implicitly, but strongly, denying both a transcendental bodily ascent as well as God’s immanent and corporeal descent. Connecting with both the theme that Moses ascended to Heaven and with the Hekhaloth literature/school, there is a text, cited by Heschel, that describes Moses ascending to heaven and encountering hostile angels. These celestial beings do not think that the Earth is a fitting place for such a heavenly thing as the Torah, and Moses must debate with them at God’s bidding. It is worth noting two things:

1. This text is given in the name of Rabbi , a student of who himself was a student of Rabbi Judah, in turn a student of Rabbi Aqiva’s student, Rabbi Meir. (Heschel describes Ben Levi’s aggadic attitude as Aqivan, and this seems to bear out in the aggadic material attributed to him)

2. A common theme in the Hekhaloth literature is the dangerous route to the Throne of Glory in which one must navigate deadly and hostile angels. This text seems to mirror that idea. The text goes as follows:

R. Joshua b. Levi also said: When Moses ascended on high, the ministering angels spake before the Holy One, blessed be He, ‘Sovereign of the Universe! What business has one born of woman amongst us?’

‘He has come to receive the Torah,’ answered He to them.

Said they to Him, ‘That secret treasure, which has been hidden by Thee for nine hundred and seventy-four generations before the world was created. Thou desirest to give to flesh and blood! What is man, that thou art mindful of him, And the son of man, that thou visitest him? O Lord our God, How excellent is thy name in all the earth! Who hast set thy glory [the Torah] upon the Heavens!’

‘Return them an answer,’ bade the Holy One, blessed be He, to Moses.

‘Sovereign of the Universe’ replied he, ‘I fear lest they consume me with the [fiery] breath of their mouths.’ ‘Hold on to the Throne of Glory,’ said He to him, ‘and return them an answer,’ as it is said, “He maketh him to hold on to the face of his throne, And spreadeth [Parshez] his cloud over him,” (Job 26:9) whereon R. Nahman observed: This teaches that the Almighty [Shaddai] spread [Pirash] the lustre [Ziw] of His Shekhinah and cast it as a protection over him.

He [then] spake before Him: Sovereign of the Universe! The Torah, which Thou givest me, what is written therein? “I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the Land of Egypt.” (Ex. 20:2) Said he to them [the angels], ‘Did ye go down to Egypt; were ye enslaved to Pharaoh: why then should the Torah be yours? Again, What is written therein? “Thou shalt have none other gods” (Ex. 20:3): do ye dwell among peoples that engage in idol worship? Again what is written therein? “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Ex. 20:8): do ye then perform work, that ye need to rest? Again what is written therein? “Thou shalt not take 150

convincingly demonstrates the manifestation of these themes within a breadth of rabbinic texts that span the timeline of the Rabbinic Era.

I will go one step further and argue that the specific exegetical mindset and concomitant exegetical techniques of Rabbi Aqiva and his school are manifestly present in the Zohar. Recall that the key historical claim of TMS is its theological thematization of the two schools as paradigms expressed through the permutations of Jewish thought throughout the unfolding of history. Despite their novelty and contexts, later generations are deeply rooted in the precedents of these two dialectically contrasting viewpoints. The Zohar, a profoundly influential work of

Jewish esotericism, would seem to reflect a view of Torah and the divine that mirrors significant midrashic antecedents stemming from the School of Rabbi Aqiva. More than that, there are demonstrable applications of the exegetical techniques that are part of Rabbi Aqiva’s interpretive approach. What is of note concerning the Zohar is the extent to which it attempts to absorb and integrate older mystical or esoteric teachings as part of its focus. Stylistically, the best-known and singularly largest section of the Zohar is composed as a midrashic running commentary on the Torah, and this is no accident. Although not true midrash, the Zohar follows the genre

[tissa] [the name ... in vain] (Ex. 20:7): is there any business [massa] dealings among you? Again what is written therein, “Honour thy father and thy mother” (Ex. 20:12); have ye fathers and mothers? Again what is written therein? “Thou shall not murder. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou Shall not steal” (Ex. 20:13- 15); is there jealousy among you; is the Evil Tempter among you?

Straightway they conceded [right] to the Holy One, blessed be He, for it is said, “O LORD, our Lord, how glorious is Thy name in all the earth!” (Ps. 8:10) whereas ‘Who has set thy glory upon the heavens’ is not written. Immediately each one was moved to love him [Moses] and transmitted something to him, for it is said, “Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast taken spoils [the Torah]; Thou hast received gifts on account of man” (Ps. 68:19); Thou hast received gifts on account of man: as a recompense for their calling thee man [] thou didst receive gifts. The Angel of Death too confided his secret to him, for it is said, “and he put on the incense, and made atonement for the people” (Num. 26:47-48); and it is said. “and he stood between the dead and the living, etc.” Had he not told it to him, whence had he known it? B. Shabbat 89a. Epstein, Soncino Talmud, 1981, Shabbat:89a. 151

specific literary form of classical midrash with consistency and fidelity to such a high degree that

I have heard it described as “better midrash than the Midrash.” The Zohar absorbs a great deal of classical midrashic material and interweaves it with its new theosophic material, centred around the teachings of Rabbi Simeon Bar Yoḥai and his companions. The pseudepigraphic attribution of the work to Bar Yoḥai is, again, not mere incidence. Rabbi Simeon, a noted student of Rabbi

Aqiva’s, is already established in the works of Ḥazal proper as a figure given to extremes, was world-denying, and worked miracles. In the Zohar, Bar Yoḥai becomes the bearer of the Aqivan lore and the most important master of the esoteric teachings that draws heavily on the Aqivan precedents of the transcendent Torah and immanent God paradigm. Shortly after its revelation by

Rabbi Moses DeLeón (1250-1305), the Zohar became the central Medieval work of Jewish esotericism, subsequently relegating all other such traditions to an obscure patchwork of largely ignored manuscripts, few of which ever received significant publication. The Zohar had tremendous impact on Jewish thought and also provided the theosophic language and framework of the movements which followed in its path. ,186 in turn, spread to almost every corner of the Diaspora, by and large displacing Maimonidean rationalism throughout the

Middle East with its own system deeply wrapped up in the Zohar’s theosophic system. The movement spread like wildfire through Europe as well, and provided the building blocks for the development of Hasidism, which in and of itself constituted a radical game changer in the history of Jewish ideas. The Zohar, therefore, provides an excellent test of the Aqivan side of the

186 Referring to the system of Rabbi (1534-1572), based out of Safed in the Gallilee within Ottomon- controlled Israel. Early in his life, Luria discovered the Zohar, which had been only recently published in his youth. 152

historical claim of TMS. In literary style and exegetical approach, there is an obvious integration and assimilation of specifically Aqivan approaches.

I will present here an example of how the Zohar was composed with keen sensitivity and familiarity with Aqivan classical midrash. Consider the following two texts:

Text Nineteen (MSY, DeSanya, 1:1)

“Now Moses was keeping the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the farthest end of the wilderness, and came to the mountain of God, unto Horeb. And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.” (Ex. 3:1-2)

[1] R. Shimon b. Yoḥai says, “Why did the Holy One, Blessed be He, appear from the highest heavens and speak with Moses from within the bush? Because just as this bush was the thorniest of all the trees in the world, in that any bird that entered into it could not manage to exit without tearing itself limb from limb, likewise was the slavery of Israel in Egypt the most oppressive slavery in the world. “[Moreover, so oppressive was Egypt that] no male or female slave ever left

Egypt a free person, except for Hagar. As it says in Scripture, ‘And Pharaoh put men in charge of him, (and they sent him off with his wife and all that he possessed)’ (Gen. 12:20)

[2] “And how does one know from Scripture that the slavery of Israel was more oppressive than any slavery in the world? As it says in Scripture, ‘And the Lord said, “I have marked well the plight of my people (in Egypt, and have heeded their outcry on account of their taskmasters)” ’

(Exod. 3:7). “And why does Scripture state ‘I have seen’ twice? Because after [the Egyptian taskmasters] drowned their sons in water, they would then embed them [into the walls of a]

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building. “They told a parable: To what is the matter alike? It is like one who took a staff and struck two people with it, such that the two of them received a wound from the blow of the staff.

Likewise was the slavery of Israel in Egypt the most oppressive slavery in the world. And this was abundantly clear to God. Thus it is stated in Scripture, ‘Yes I am mindful of their sufferings’ (Exod.

3:7).”

[3] R. Eliezer says, “Why did the Holy One, blessed be He, appear from the highest heavens and speak with him from within the bush? Because just as this bush is the lowliest of all the trees in the world, likewise had Israel descended to the lowest level. And the Holy One, Blessed be He, descended with them and redeemed them. As it says in Scripture, ‘I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians’ (Exod. 3:8).”

[4] R. Joshua says, “Why did the Holy One, blessed be He, appear from the highest heavens and speak with Moses from within the bush? Because when Israel went down to Egypt, [the

Shekhinah]187 went down with them. As it says in Scripture, ‘I Myself will go down with you (to

Egypt) ...’ (Gen. 46:4). “When they left [Egypt], the Shekhinah was revealed with them. As it says in Scripture, ‘... and I Myself will also bring you back’ (Gen. 46:4). “[When] they went down to the [Reed] Sea, the Shekhinah was with them. As it says in Scripture, ‘The Angel of God (which had been going ahead of the Israelite army) moved (and went behind them)’ (Exod. 14:19).

“[When] they came to the wilderness [of Sinai], the Shekhinah was with them. As it says in

Shekhinah – which Nelson translates as God’s presence. However, I seek here to –שכינה ,The Hebrew text reads 187 preserve the word without translating it, as any expression used would be, necessarily, interpretive. I do, however, attach the definite article, which is absent in the Hebrew. 154

Scripture, ‘... and in the wilderness, where thou hast seen how that the LORD thy God bore thee, as a man doth bear his son, in all the way that ye went, until ye came unto this place.) ...’ (Deut.

1:31).”

[5] R. Ḥiyya and R. Judah say, “Come and observe the love of He who Spoke and the World Came into Being! In that whenever Israel is situated in suffering, there is [also] anguish before Him. As it says in Scripture, ‘In all their afflictions, He was afflicted’ (Isa. 63:9). “From this I only know

[that God suffered along with] the suffering of the [entire] community. How does one know from

Scripture [that the same holds true for] the suffering of the individual? The verse states, ‘He shall call to me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble’ (Ps. 91:15). And thus Scripture states, ‘Whoever touches you (touches the pupil of his eye)’ (Zech. 2:12).”

[6] R. Judah says, “The verse does not employ a waw rather a yud. This teaches that whosoever harms a person from Israel, it is as if he does harm before He who spoke and the world came into being. And whenever Israel dwells at ease, the Holy One, blessed be He, dwells at ease with them in joy. And thus Scripture states, ‘... that I might see the prosperity of your chosen ones’ (Ps.

106:5).”188

188 Epstein and Melammed, Mekhilta d’Rabbi Simʿon b. Jochai (Heb), 1–2; Nelson, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai, 2–4. 155

Text Twenty (Zohar, Exodus, 1-2)

“Now these are the names of the sons of Israel, who came into Egypt with Jacob; every man came with his household” (Ex. 1:1)

[1] Rabbi Simeon says: For one who is accustomed to bearing suffering, even if it should

come suddenly he is able to bear his yoke and does not worry. However, for one who is

not accustomed to accustomed to suffering such that all his days are full of delights and

pleasures, when suffering does come it is complete suffering and he needs to weep.

[2] So too with Israel, when they went down to Egypt they were accustomed to suffering,

since [beginning with] all the days of the righteous Abraham [they] were in [a state of]

suffering. Because of this, they were able to bear the exile appropriately. However, the

Babylonian exile was a complete suffering such that the Higher Ones and the Lower Ones

[alike] cried because of it.

[3] The Higher Ones – as it is written: “Behold, their valiant ones cry without; (the

ambassadors of peace weep bitterly)”(Is. 33:7)189

The Lower Ones – as it is written: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, (yea, we

wept, when we remembered Zion.)” (Ps. 137:1)

All of them cried during the Babylonian Exile. For what reason was this? Because they

were accustomed to the pleasures of kings, as it written: “The precious sons of Zion,

189 The Zohar clearly takes the valiant ones to refer to angelic or celestial entities. 156

(comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter!)” (Lam. 4:2)

[4] (As we have learned) Rabbi Isaac says, “For the mountains will I take up a weeping and wailing, (and for the pastures of the wilderness a lamentation, because they are burned up, so that none passeth through. And they hear not the voice of the cattle; both the fowl of the heavens and the beast are fled, and gone.)” (Jer. 9:10) Why was this written? These

“mountains” are the highest in the world. To whom does this refer? To “the precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine Gold.” However, now they have descended into the Babylonian

Exile, and the yoke is upon their necks with their hands tied behind them. When they came into the Babylonian Exile, they thought that they no longer had any eternal continuity as the Holy One, Blessed be He had abandoned them and would no longer watch over them forever.

[5] We have also learned: Rabbi Simeon says: In that moment the Holy One, Blessed be

He called to his entire entourage and all the holy chariots and all His hosts and His servants and all the hosts of heaven and said to them, ‘What are you doing here? Why are my beloved children in the Babylonian Exile while you are here? Arise and descend, all of you, and I shall be with you!’ This is what is meant as it is written, “(Thus saith the LORD, your

Redeemer, The Holy One of IsraelJ For your sake I have sent to Babylon, (and I will bring down all of them as fugitives, even the Chaldeans, in the ships of their shouting.)” (Jer.

43:14) This is the Holy One, Blessed be He. “I will bring down all of them as fugitives” –

This refers to the celestial chariots and camps.

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[6] When they descended to Babylon, the heavens were opened and the spirit of holy

prophecy rested upon Ezekiel, who saw all that he saw and he said to Israel, ‘Behold, your

lord is here, as well as all the hosts of heaven and the chariots. They have come to dwell

amongst you.’

They did not believe him until he was required to reveal to them all that he saw. And I

beheld thusly, and I beheld thusly. If he revealed overmuch, all that which he revealed was

necessary. Since Israel saw this, they rejoiced; and when they heard the words from the

mouth of Ezekiel, they did not worry about their exile at all. Thus they knew that the Holy

One, Blessed be He, had not abandoned them and all that [Ezekiel] revealed, he revealed

with permission.

[7] We have learned: In every place where Israel is exiled, there the Shekhinah is exiled

with them. Regarding the Egyptian Exile, what is written? “Now these are the names of the

sons of Israel”. Since the verse states, “sons of Israel” Why was it necessary for the verse

to state “with Jacob”? The verse need only have said “the sons of Israel who came with

him?” However, the verse “Now these are the names of the sons of Israel” refers to the

celestial chariots and camps, which, united with the Shekhinah, descended with Jacob into

the Egyptian Exile.190

190 Sefer Ha-Zohar ʿAl Ḥamishah Ḥomshe Torah: MeHa-Tanna Ha-Eloqi Rabbi Shimʿon Ben Yoḥai z"l., vol. 7 Shemoth-Beshalaḥ (Jerusalem, 1975), 7–9. All translations of the Zohar into English are by the author. 158

In our first text, we have the opening two lemmas of the MSY, which begins with the Burning

Bush.191 What should be immediately obvious is the mirroring not only of themes but even literary construction. In the opening text, the MSY receives its namesake with [1], where Rabbi

Simeon offers the first explanation for why God appeared to Moses from within a thorny desert bush. In this case, it was to teach that the slavery in Egypt was the most oppressive in the world such that, once made a slave, no person ever left Egypt free. The only exception is Hagar,

Sarah’s handmaiden and later Abraham’s concubine. The prooftext is the verse that describes

Abraham’s departure from Egypt after narrowly avoiding having his wife married off to the

Pharaoh. Since the verse states that Abraham was sent off with all that he possessed, then we can conclude that Hagar was returned with him. Likewise, in [2], Israel’s slavery was more oppressive than any other, interpreted from the doubling of language192 in the verse. God was deeply aware of the suffering of his people, which went deeper than the literal text; not only were the male children thrown to the Nile, but their bodies were then used to fill the mortar between slabs of stone. In [3], a different lesson is interpreted from God’s appearance in the bush: Israel had utterly descended to the lowest spiritual place.193 Israel’s salvation from Egypt was all the more miraculous since the Israelites had descended into the lowest place in the abyss, and thus were in need of rescue.

191 As it happens, the MSY begins its exegesis of Exodus at a much earlier point than the MI and includes a great deal more narrative material rather than beginning with the first commandment: the sanctification of the New Moon. 192 This doubling here is the use of the infinitive absolute, a common feature of biblical prose and serves to increase the intensity of the verb. It is often translated as, for example, I shall surely do X, rather than simply, I will do X, where X is the conjugated verb in combination with the full infinitive. Rabbi Aqiva is noted within the rabbinic tradition for treating such linguistic conventions as extra features of the text and thus readily available for interpretation or to prove an existing tradition. In contrast, Rabbi Ishmael rejected such liberal exegesis of the text for The Torah Speaks in Human Language and as such, these forms are merely linguistic convention. ritual impurity. A similar aggadic tradition, likely sharing the same original -טומאה This probably refers to 193 ;See Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer, 48 .טומאה tradition, is that in Egypt Israel descended to the fourteen-ninth, lowest level of Leviticus Rabbah, 32:5 159

In [4], yet another interpretation of God’s appearance in the Burning Bush is presented in the text in the name of Aqiva’s teacher, as well as his master of esoteric lore, Rabbi Joshua.

Based on the verse depicting God’s conversation with Abraham, Rabbi Joshua concludes that obviously God descended to Egypt with Israel and brought them out again. The Shekhinah was present in the descent and the ascent, at the Sea of Reeds and in the wilderness, just as a loving father carries his child through danger.

God’s anthropomorphised love and nearness brings the conversation to [5], where God’s love is such that he shares in the suffering of Israel as a whole, as well as individuals. The statement, made by Aqiva’s student, Judah, and his student the Amora Ḥiyya, touches on a central claim of TMS. The Aqivan School viewed God in dynamic emotional relationship with

Israel. God suffers Israel’s fate, is weakened by their misdeeds, and strengthened by their piety.

God himself was afflicted in the national suffering described in Isaiah and is present with the individual in his time of trouble. As Rabbi Judah explains in [6], the verse from Zechariah reads

my eye.194 When someone harms a Child of Israel, God is also – עיני his eye, rather – עינו not harmed. When Israel is content, so too is God. When Israel rejoices, God rejoices.

When we compare the above text to the Zohar, a number of things are immediately clear.

No doubt, this text of the MSY was a direct influence on the Zohar, as it mirrors the MSY in literary form as well as content (albeit characterised with some distinctly Zoharic language and

194 It is clear that Rabbi Judah’s text of Zechariah differed from the current masoretic reading, which does indeed a – תיקון סופרים This likely reflects an ammendation of the text, ostensibly by the Masorites, known as a .עינו read scribal correction. See Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 196–197 and N.1 ad loc. There, in the MI, Rabbi Judah’s statement is fleshed out in more detail and other such scribal ammendments are referenced. Likely, the text was amended in order to avoid exactly the kind of anthropmorphism that Rabbi Judah is stressing, demonstrating the tensions that exist within the Tradition concerning such topics. 160

concepts). Yet, even these concepts are rooted in the earlier rabbinic material. In [1], we have a reference to the decidedly Aqivan theodicy - that is, suffering is precious and should be suffered in joy because it demonstrates God’s love and earns merit for the World to Come. Yet, for one unaccustomed to suffering, adds Rabbi Simeon, it is a complete suffering and he must express his grief, rather than bear it in joy. Then, in [2], an intentional response to the MSY appears to surface in the Zohar. In the former, Egypt was considered the very worst kind of enslavement.

The latter does not necessarily contradict this statement but, in light of the idea of complete suffering from [1], asserts that in this respect the Babylonian Exile was worse. The suffering in

Egypt was borne appropriately since from Abraham through to the generations in Egypt, the

Israelite experience was, according to the Zohar, typified by suffering. Yet, in Babylon, the suffering was complete; Israel was no longer accustomed to such hardship and as such, Israel and their heavenly counterparts cried. The prooftext presented in [3] is a wordplay similar in style to that which we saw in the MSY. The Higher Ones are known to cry and the verse from Isaiah is

is an obscure term, which, in rabbinic – אראל – presented as proof. The world for valiant ones writing, refers to some kind of celestial being, or angel. The biblical parallelism helps to

is more often than not employed to –מלאך – reinforce this notion. The term for ambassador mean angel. An Aqivan style correspondence is established; just as Israel wept by the rivers of

Babylon, so too did the various celestial hosts weep. This emotional reciprocity is highlighted in

[4], where the weeping is explained to have been rooted in feeling abandoned by God upon the descent into Babylon.

In response to Israel’s profound despair, adds Rabbi Simeon in [5], God rebuked his heavenly entourage (including his holy chariots – an obvious reference to and assimilation of elements of the Merkavah) for remaining in Heaven and orders them all to descend to

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Babylonian to be with Israel. What is more, God himself declares that He will be present. This presence, manifested through the descent of God and his celestial entourage, results in Ezekiel’s profound prophetic view of the Divine as discussed in [5].195 Ezekiel was compelled to reveal overmuch, in order that his visionary experience be believed and thus the people were comforted in the knowledge that God was still present with them in the exile. We then come to the final point of this text, in [7]. Everywhere that Israel is exiled, the Shekhinah is present with them.

The Zohar, here, returns to the original verse (Ex. 1:1) in order to prove midrashically the themes it had already elaborated. In what is solid Aqivan style of exegesis, the sons of Israel who came

is redundant, as it need only have stated, the sons of Israel who came with him (את יעקב) with him

(Israel). The extra phrase, therefore, teaches us that the sons of Israel refers to the celestial hosts which, along with God, descended alongside Jacob’s descendants into the exile.

This opening text of the Zohar to the first verse of Exodus is clearly modelled on the very first text in the MSY. The parallels are not unique to these texts alone, as the Zohar is typified by an acute awareness of earlier midrashic and esoteric precedents, which it absorbs, restates, interprets, and assimilates into its own system.196 In terms of literary style and theological

195 The opening lemma, not represented here, actually begins with an affirmation of Ezekiel’s vision of the Chariot as a necessary revelation of secret lore. The rest of the text serves to reinforce this statement. 196 For example, consider the Zohar’s interpretation of the following verse, for which I have excerpted various parts from 159 A-B:

“The secret things belong unto the LORD our God; but the things that are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law.” (Deut. 29:28)

Rabbi Yehuda was travelling with Rabbi Abba. Rabbi Yehuda asked Rabbi Abba saying: 'I have but one thing to ask. Given that the Holy One, Blessed-Be-He, knew that Adam would sin before him and he would decree upon him death, why was he created at all? For the Torah was written two thousand years before the world was created...[The Torah is replete with commandments and narratives regarding death and mentioning death.] What does the Holy one, Blessed-Be-He desire from humanity in This World? For even if one toils in Torah day and night, he dies. And if one toils not, he dies. Aside from the difference between them in the World to Come, both paths result in the same mortal conclusion, “[All things come alike to all; there is one 162

event to the righteous and to the wicked; to the good and to the clean and to the unclean; to him that sacrificeth and to him that sacrificeth not] as is the good, just as the sinner.” (Eccl. 9:2)’

Rabbi Abba said: ‘With regard to the ways of He who formed you, and to the decrees of He who formed you, what business do you have to toil in them? Regarding those things that you have permission to know and understand, you may ask. [However] those things for which you do not have permission to know, it is said, “Do not let your mouth cause your flesh to sin.” (Eccl. 5:5) The ways of the Holy-One-Blessed-be-He and His mysteries are utmost high secrets, concealed and hidden. We are not to ask [about them].’

Rabbi Yehuda said: Is it not then the case that the Torah in its entirety is hidden and concealed, as it is his utmost high and holy name?! [Thus] one who toils in the Torah toils in his Holy Name. And if this is so, is it not the case that one is not to ask about nor investigate in [the Torah] at all?!

Rabbi Abba replied: ‘The Torah is, in its entirety, hidden and revealed, His Holy Name is hidden and revealed, as it is said, “The Hidden Things belong to the Lord our God, and the Revealed things belong to us and our children.” The Revealed Things are for us – that we have permission to ask, to investigate, and to meditate upon them and to know them. However, the Hidden things belong to the Lord our God – They belong to Him and and to Him are they revealed, for who is able to know and to apprehend His hidden knowledge, and all the more so to ask?!’

Come and see: there is no permission to worldly inhabitants to speak words of the hidden and to explain them, excepting those [words] from the Holy Light Rabbi Simeon, for the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He acceded [permission] through him. And because his generation was distinguished above and below, thus [these] things were said openly through him. Furthermore, there shall not be a generation such as this one that he (Rabbi Simeon) resided in, until the coming of the messianic era.

Thus, the idea of the Hidden is demarcated as a domain that, while dangerous, may be accessed, but only Rabbi Simeon, i.e. The Zohar, has the authority and, perhaps exclusively, the knowledge, to publicly teach it. The sole source of esoteric teaching that can safely be relied upon is Rabbi Simeon, lest one desire to let his mouth cause his flesh to sin. This verse is a subtle assimilation and explication of the Four who Entered Pardes and its surrounding material. Both deal with esotericism and the inherent dangers in engaging with it. Broadly speaking, they all relate specifically to the theme of revealing (or beholding) the hidden and the limits involved. It is no accident that the Zohar, in Rabbi Abba's warning to Rabbi Yehuda, quotes the exact same verse cited for Elisha, that he allowed his mouth to cause his flesh to sin. The Zohar, though not making any direct reference to the earlier text, is consciously absorbing and reinterpreting the Four Who Entered Pardes and its greater context, particularly explaining what happened to Elisha. There are grave dangers in revealing the hidden and engaging in the hidden things, most especially when one is not connected to the only permissible and trustworthy source of such teachings, Rabbi Simeon Bar Yoḥai. Rabbi Aqiva, his teacher, alone of the four who ascended, descended in peace. Even the literary motif of two sages travelling and engaging in a discussion of esoteric lore, is exactly the same motif found in the story immediately preceding the Four Who Entered Pardes in all three versions. I would venture to answer Rabbi Yehuda's original question through a more general understanding of the Zohar. In the theosophic system of the Zohar (drawing from earlier Aqivan precendents, one's engagement with the Torah profoundly influences and affects the Divine reality in its unfolding into the human realm. Therefore, a life engaged in Torah in this life is radically different in this world than one that is not so engaged. One's very relationship to the cosmos, and the cosmos to him or her, is drastically altered, perhaps to the very point that human mortality is irrelevant given the scope of human potential to act upon the Divine and vice-versa.

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themes, it is clear that the Zohar takes as a given the Aqivan approach to Torah and its concomitant approach to exegesis. The Zohar even makes consistent and explicit use of the

Aqivan interpretive method, combined with its approach to the ontology of Torah. This method is then applied not only to Torah interpretation but to liturgy and Jewish practice as well. Even when the Zohar is engaged in explicating and interpreting its new kabbalistic system, Aqivan precedents occupy a central role in its internal methodology. Consider the following additional text from the Zohar:

Text Twenty-one (Zohar, Terumah)

[1] Just as They are joined together Above in “One”, so too is She (malkhuth – shekhinah)

joined together Below in the Secret of “One” in order that She be amongst them Above –

this One corresponding to that One. The Holy One, Blessed be He is One Above and does

not sit on his Throne of Glory until She too is made in the secret of “One” as They are, in

order to One in One. And this, we have already established, is the secret of “The Lord is

One and His Name is One”. (Zech. 14:9)197

[2] The secret of the Sabbath: She is the Sabbath when she is joined together in the secret

of One – that He shall cause to rest upon her the secret that He is One. When the prayers

197 The full verse reads: And the LORD shall be King over all the earth; in that day shall the LORD be One, and His name one. Clearly, the Zohar interprets in that day as referring to the Sabbath and makes an analogy. (Of note, the rabbinic and the subsequent zoharic world view create an analogy between the Sabbath and the messianic era, both ontologically as well as in the experiential essence of the day.) The Lord refers to the lower sephiroth (The small face) while His name refers to Malkhuth, the Shekhinah. When Sabbath eve falls, the two unite in a unification of the immanent and transcendent aspects of God. 164

ascend on the Sabbath198 the Holy Throne of Glory is joined together in the secret of One

and it is prepared that the Holy King above shall cause to rest upon Her.

[3] When the Sabbath approaches, She is joined together and [therefore] separated from

the Other Side, and all judgements are removed from Her whilst She remains in unity with

the Holy Light and She is crowned with many crowns to the Holy King. And all powers of

wrath and masters of judgement flee from before Her, and there is no other power in all of

the worlds, except for Her.

[4] And her face shines in the Higher Light and she is crowned below by the Holy Nation,

and all of them are crowned with new souls. Then is the beginning of the prayer [in order

to] bless Her with Joy and with shining faces and to say, “Bless (eth) God the Blessed”.

Eth God, precisely, for that (eth) is the entranceway to begin to bless Her199.

[5] And it is forbidden for the Holy Nation to begin to bless Her with the verse of

judgement, that is, “But He, being full of compassion…”200, for She is already separated

from the secret of the Other Side, and all masters of judgement are separated from Her.

One who arouses judgement below causes it to be aroused Above. Thus, the Holy Throne

is not able be crowned in the Holy Crown when those masters of judgement are aroused

198 That is, the evening prayer of Friday night. 199 Literally, to begin/open to Her in blessing. 200 The weekday evening prayers formally begin with the verse “But He, being full of compassion, forgiveth iniquity, and destroyeth not; yea, many a time doth He turn His anger away, and doth not stir up all His wrath.” (Ps. 78:38). However, on the Sabbath this verse is not recited and the Zohar is explaining why. 165

from Below. They were separated and had gone, all of them, to hide themselves in the holes

of the Dust of the Great Depths. [But now that judgement has been aroused below], they

all return to serve in their places, and thus the Holy Place, which desires rest, is distanced

by them.

[6] And do not say that this happened on its own, since there is not arousal Above until

Israel arouses Below, as we have established. As it is written, “…at the full moon for our

feast-day.”201 Feast Day is not written, rather, Our feast-day. Therefore, it is forbidden for

the Holy Nation [to arouse Judgement], rather all of them need to be in a state of great

desire and love in order that they should arouse blessings Above and Below together.

[7] “Bless (eth) the Lord, the Blessed” – specifically Eth, as we have said. This (eth) is the

Sabbath (malkhuth), which brings in the Sabbath.

“Blessed is the Lord, the Blessed for ever and ever” – This is the wellspring of blessings

from the living source, and the place from whence it flows provides all nourishing drinks

in order to provide water for all. And because it is the Source, in the Sign of the Covenant

the flowing source of the well. And – ”המבורך - the Small Face), they call it, “The Blessed)

since it arrives there, behold it is certain that the well is filled, for its waters never cease for

all eternity.

201 The full text reads, “Blow the horn at the new moon, at the full moon for our feast-day.” (Ps. 81:4) The Zohar is emphasizing that the sanctity of the festival is aroused, so to speak, above through the actions of Israel’s sanctification of the day Below. 166

[8] It for this reasons that we do not say, “Blessed eth is the Lord, the Blessed”, rather we

say, “Blessed is the Lord, the Blessed.” For if the flowing from the source Above were not

to arrive there, the well would not be filled at all.

Why is it, “the Blessed”? – Because it .”המבורך - And therefore, we add, “the Blessed

completes and provides nourishing water forever and ever.

Forever and ever – This is the Sabbath (malkhuth), which brings in the Sabbath. And it is

Since the .”מבורך - we who bring the blessings in the place that is called “the Blessed

blessings arrive there, all of them are the aspect of forever and ever. Therefore, it is this

that we mean when we say, “Blessed is the Lord, the Blessed.” Until this point, the

blessings arrive from the Higher Realm, and they all continue forever and ever to be

blessed, nourished, and complete as is fitting – filled from all sides.202

We see here numerous complex themes that are fairly typical of the Zohar, but are unfortunately not within the scope of this project to explicate entirely. The Zohar contains an immensely complex theosophic system through which godliness emanates from the transcendent Deus

Abscondis through numerous permutations and manifestations through to the immanent

Shekhinah, which constitutes the utterly immanent presence of God within creation. In [1], the

Zohar begins to establish the radical change that comes during the Sabbath. They – the sephiroth

– are united Above with She (malkhuth) below. A correspondence is created between the One

Transcendent God in His various aspects and the immanent presence of God such that they are in

202 Sefer Ha-Zohar ʿAl Ḥamishah Ḥomshe Torah: MeHa-Tanna Ha-Eloqi Rabbi Shimʿon Ben Yoḥai z"l., vol. 9: Terumah - Pequde (Jerusalem, 1975), 60–62. 167

utter, perfect relation, each to the other [2]. The Shekhinah, ostensibly in exile for the six other days of the week, is (to some extent) rejoined to her source in the transcendent God on the

Sabbath [3]. Subsequently, all aspects of negativity (understood to be those things which are barriers to the full realization of the Shekhinah’s presence) are driven away. This change is not transcendently realized, but comes about because and through the reciprocal relationship between Israel Below and the realm Above. As we see in [2], it is when the Sabbath prayers of

Israel ascend that the Throne of Glory is joined in this unity, and the Holy King is united with the

Shekhinah, which resides amongst Israel. In [4], the Shekhinah is crowned by Israel and Israel is crowned with new souls.203

This crowning, coming about as it does through prayer, is tied into the ontologically independent power of the particle, eth. In order to understand this text, it is important to know something about the structure of Jewish prayer. The morning and evening prayers are, when a prayer quorum is present, preceded by a call to prayer by the ḥazzan, who recites, “Bless-ye eth

God the Blessed.” This others respond, “Blessed is God, the Blessed forever.” In the call to prayer, the ḥazzan uses the imperative plural of the root to bless, beseeching the masses to bless

God the Blessed, with eth indicating the object of this imperative, i.e. God the Blessed. Blessed here is the participle of the passive-intensive form of the root. However, in the community’s response, the first instance of Blessed is the passive form of the regular verb while the second is again the passive-intensive form. As such, the Zohar views each version of Blessed in the communal responses as having distinct referents. In [4], the Zohar explains, concerning the first verse, that the eth is operating not simply as a linguistic connector between the object and the

203 This is drawing on a rabbinic tradition that Israelites are furnished with a new or extra soul on the Sabbath. 168

subject of the imperative to bless, but as a reference to the Shekhinah as She is. It is for this reason that in [5] we are told why the weekday preface to prayer, which calls on God’s mercy, is skipped. On the Sabbath, the Shekhinah is already separated from judgement and wrath.

Arousing judgement Below through a call for God to forgive is to be avoided, because it arouses judgement Above. Thus, Israel Below is not to mention or to arouse judgment since this will prevent the Holy Throne from being crowned [5] and, instead, we must be in a state of great joy and desire so that blessings are aroused both Below and Above [as in 6].

We then come to a further explication in [7] of the role of the particle as it relates to this theophanic process. Eth refers to the Sabbath, synonymous with the aspect of God’s rule on earth (the Shekhinah), which brings in the Sabbath. Thus, we are specifically blessing the

Shekhinah and arousing blessings in both realms. The liturgical response, Blessed is the Lord, the Blessed, forever and ever, therefore refers to the source of blessings from its supernal and eternal source. The Blessed is the flowing source of this supernal wellspring. It is for this reason that in the liturgical response, the particle eth is absent. The supernal source of blessing, God the

refers to the – the small face (i.e. the lower, emotional sephiroth) that ,מבורך - Blessed constitutes the source of these blessings. In turn, God the Blessed sustains the eternal wellspring, which is identified as the Shekhinah. Fed by the eternal transcendent God through the concatenation of divine emanation, the Shekhinah bubbles into the physical realm. However, it is human action which enables this aspect of godly emanation to flow in the first place as the union of the source of water to the well is consummated through prayer, and only then does this abundance gain the aspect of forever and ever. Human action provides the pipeline to connect

God’s presence into the realm of the material.

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The above texts of the Zohar are obscure and difficult to understand in their entirety by those not deeply trained in the esoteric metaphor and cosmological system of Zoharic Kabbalah.

Yet, what should be clear is the manner in which the Zohar is obviously indebted to, and borrows heavily from, Aqivan midrashic technique, style, and themes. The view of text such that even grammatically necessary linguistic devices, such as the particle eth, refer to another layer of meaning is a decidedly Aqivan interpretive device. What is more, the theological viewpoints implied by this approach and, in other instances, are explicitly stated by Rabbi Aqiva and his students, are assumed and applied to a newer historical manifestation of Jewish thought. The text of Torah (which here expansively extends even to the liturgy) is no simple manifestation of language; the most basic grammatical features belie a transcendent and powerful meaning that hovers on the surface of the literal word. Furthermore, the notion that there is a divine counterpart or parallel in heaven corresponding to the earthly is an expanded notion of Aqivan origin. The dynamic relationship between human action and the cosmic reality of the higher realms is another such theme. It is not only the case that the Shekhinah is in exile alongside

Israel, but Israel’s actions can directly affect God back. One might argue, as Scholem did, that this is merely the old aggadic material providing inspiration for latter masters of esoteric wisdom. What we have seen, however, appears to be a conscious application of midrashic precedent. This is not simply a picking and choosing of various rabbinic ideas piecemeal and assimilating them into a new system. Instead, what we see is a cohesive theological viewpoint being developed, knowingly and intentionally, into more sophisticated expressions, which draw and expand on the earlier material. The Zohar itself became, within a few centuries, the definitive work of Jewish Kabbalah and provided the theosophic categories which were, in turn, absorbed and interpreted into other highly influential movements and works. To a very large

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degree, the religious hermeneutic that sees God as immanent, Torah as transcendent, and is characterised by a mystical bend has indeed been refracted through the ages.

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3.4 Ishmael the Rationalist

The extent to which the Aqivan tradition has informed later developments in Jewish esotericism and Kabbalah is well-attested in scholarly literature and the research presented in this project. Furthermore, the greater interconnected theological outlook of this School has been, in my opinion, successfully demonstrated to hold true through a number of central themes. To some degree, articulating the permutations of the Aqivan view, as Heschel frames it, is easier than articulating those of Rabbi Ishmael, whose approach is decidedly more subtle and reserved.

Elliot Wolfson, for example, makes a clear connection between Aqiva, the Talmudic esoteric figure who understood God in visual - even corporeal - terms, and the subsequent rabbinic and medieval permutations of this view. Indeed, in the past twenty years there has been a rebirth of analyzing rabbinic theology based on the preponderance of Aqivan corporealism. This occupation is largely an academic backlash to a tendency to view Jewish theology of the past either as unstructured (à la Schechter) or completely through the lens of Medieval rationalism, which has had (and continues to have) a profound effect on future permutations of Jewish thought. Even the Zohar, it should be noted, took careful notice of Maimonidean considerations

(and the rational philosophic tradition in general), even while rejecting Maimonides’ solutions.

Maimonides is, of course, the quintessential Jewish rationalist who sought to reconcile Biblical cosmogony and literal anthropomorphism with various, largely Greek, concepts of perfection and eternality and within the prevailing Aristotelian cosmological model of the universe.204 One

204 Maimonides was by no means the first to integrate Judaism with Greek philosophy, though his project was arguably the most influential. Saʾadiah Gaʿon, perhaps the most well known Jewish thinkers of the gaonic era, composed Kitāb ul-ʾamānāt wal-iʿtiqādāt (Arabic, completed in 933 CE) that was later translated by Ibn Tibbon in Hebrew in the 12th century under the title Emunoth we-Deʾoth (Beleifs and Opinions). This was one of the first comprehensive attempt to integrate Jerusalem with Athens, so to speak. Before him we have the likes of Philo of Alexandria and the exegetical translation of Onkelos of the into Aramaic. Both of which represent a 172

of the lasting effects of Maimonides’ theology and outlook, however, was that a wide spectrum of Jews continued to view rabbinic Judaism through his lens. As Wolfson notes,205 this led to the likes of Jose Faur to declare that, “For the Hebrews the highest form of truth is perceived at the auditory level…Verbal representation of God, even in anthropomorphic terms, is common both to Scripture and to the rabbis. What was offensive to the Hebrew was ‘to see’ God; that is, to express his reality at the visual level.”206

As we have seen, this is a problematic statement as there are strong tendencies within the rabbinic corpus that specifically emphasise visual experience of God. Granted, the tendency to see rabbinic Judaism through the Maimonidean lens, as described above, dominated 19th century scholarship but has more recently led to a backlash: a reaction formation resulting in equally obtuse perspectives on rabbinic theology. Alon Goshen Gottstein in The Body as Image of God in Rabbinic Literature207 proclaims in the opening sentence of his paper that “the liberation of rabbinic theology from the reigns of medieval theology is still underway. Gottstein begins with what appears to be a (false) suggestion that Arthur Marmorstein was responsible for the scholarly dichotomy of the Two Schools. Marmorstein, who published The Old Rabbinic Doctrine of

God208 in 1937, articulated a view that deemed Rabbi Ishmael an allegorist and Rabbi Aqiva a literalist. This view, focused narrowly as it was on anthropomorphism, saw Ishmael as espousing

conscious attempt to rationally interpret the Jewish tradition in accord with various Greek concepts of reason and perfection. Maimonides lauds Onkelos’ translation and expands on some of his approaches. Onkelos’ use of the memre or word of God as a created intermediary of God’s has parallels with the logos theology present in the . 205 Wolfson, Through a Speculum That Shines, 13. See Wolfson’s footnotes ad. Loc. 206 Jose Faur, Golden Doves With Silver Dots: Semiotics and Textuality in Rabbinic Tradition (Bloomington: Indiana Univ Pr, 1986), 29–30. 207 “The Body as Image of God in Rabbinic Literature,” The Harvard Theological Review 87, no. 2 (April 1, 1994): 171–95, doi:10.2307/1510120. 208 Arthur Marmorstein, The Old Rabbinic Doctrine of God, Vol. 2:Essays in Anthropomorphism (London: Oxford University Press, 1937). 173

an allegorical view of the Biblical text while Rabbi Aqiva held literally to the text. This work, cited on occasion by Heschel in TMS, is not nearly as broad in scope as Heschel’s own work.

The terms allegorical and literalist in The Old Rabbinic Doctrine are anachronistic in light of the bigger picture; Rabbi Aqiva hastened to aggrandise elements of the text in order to derive a vastly larger scope of interpretation, while it was Ishmael who was far more reserved and limited the text to what it rationally could support. Yet, in terms of anthropomorphism specifically,

Marmorstein’s work is an excellent summary of how the various sources contrast in this regard.

As mentioned, Gottstein seems to suggest that Marmorstein was the originator of the very idea that there were two Schools. Gottstein then accuses Marmorstein of having confused hermeneutics with theology, though he never actually forms a reasonable argument for this.

Instead, Gottstein rejects Marmorstein’s thesis in its entirety and states, unequivocally, that the rabbis believed, as a whole, in a God with a form. Gottstein understands this “fact” as being so obvious that it need not be addressed further. Gottstein states, “My point may be appreciated better if it is borne in mind that in all of rabbinic literature there is not a single statement that categorically denies that God has body or form.”209 Gottstein offers no real argument to this effect and goes so far as to reference TMS to demonstrate that “it seems that Heschel is aware of the possibility that fire may pose a possible solution to the problem of anthropomorphism.”210

Gottstein goes on to present an assortment of sources dealing with the divine form and image in rabbinic literature. These are valid and fascinating sources and Gottstein’s analysis of these sources is interesting. The problem is, though, that each and every one of these anthropomorphic

209 Gottstein, “The Body as Image of God in Rabbinic Literature,” 172. 210 Ibid., 172 N. 3 Ad. Loc. 174

and corporeal sources originate from Rabbi Aqiva and his students. The source in TMS, to which

Gottstein refers, is in fact not about fire as constituting God’s form; rather, it is a discussion about how fire is used to describe the representation of Torah and God’s voice alike in rabbinic literature. What this underscores is that, in the attempt to (rightly) return to a more accurate understanding of the rabbinic theological worldview, some have painted as broadly and with as little nuance as the viewpoint being refuted. One cannot simply ignore the numerous occasions where Rabbi Ishmael and his students go out of their way so as not to articulate an overly anthropomorphic or corporealist description of God. The fact that, as Gottstein claims, there is no explicit denial of corporeality is hardly a strong argument in and of itself. Ḥazal rarely made blanket axioms of truth in this manner. There is no apparent reason why aggadic attempts to allegorize the Biblical literal meaning away from the anthropomorphic should not constitute a valid negation of Gottstein’s statement.

There is not, to my mind, a single instance where a genuine text of Ḥazal has Rabbi

Ishmael, or even his students, advocate a corporealist viewpoint that is not a pseudepigraphic insertion of Hekhaloth material.211 The following is a perfect example of the marked contrast that the textual editors were making in this regard:

“And the LORD spoke unto Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying: 'This month shall be unto you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you.” (Ex. 12:1-2)

(MI, Ba-Ḥodesh, 1.) This New Moon Shall be unto You. R. Ishmael says: Moses showed the new moon to Israel

and said unto them: In this manner shall ye in coming generations observe the new moon

211 See note 214. 175

and fix the beginning of the month by it. R. Akiba says: This is one of the three things

which were difficult for Moses to understand and all of which God pointed out to him with

His finger. So also you interpret: “And these are they which are unclean unto you” (Lev.

11.29). So also you interpret: “And this is the work of the candlestick” (Num. 8.4). Some

say, Moses found it also hard to understand the ritual slaughtering, for it is said: “Now this

is what thou shalt do upon the altar”1 (Ex. 29.38). R. Simon the son of Yoḥai says: Is it not

a fact that all the words which He spoke to Moses He spoke only in the daytime; the new

moon, of course, He showed him at nighttime. How then could He, while speaking with

him at daytime, show him the new moon, at nighttime? R. Eliezer says: He spoke with him

at daytime near nightfall, and then showed him the new moon right after nightfall.212

Rabbi Ishmael’s interpretation of the verse understands the indexical this to refer to the teachings, which Moses was commanded to demonstrate to children of Israel. The other opinions stated here belong, in their entirety, to the school of Rabbi Aqiva. These operate on the premise that this means that God himself showed Moses what he intended with his own finger. This highly anthropomorphic and corporealist perspective stands in complete contrast with Rabbi

Ishmael’s opinion.

Azzan Yadin, who wrote a rich analysis on the topic of Ishmaelian midrash, takes the same position concerning the two differing attitudes towards God. Yadin writes:

The central argument of Heschel's Theology of Ancient Judaism is that Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva

represent opposing theological views. Rabbi Aqiva emphasizes God's proximity and similarity to mankind

212 Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 6. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 11. 176

and Israel, while Rabbi Ishmael represents God as transcendent. These differences are reflected in a wide

range of issues, among them sacrifice, prophecy, and the possibility of speaking about God, and while

Heschel's work has been criticized for various shortcomings, there is no question that rabbinic literature

represents these two rabbinic figures as engaged in theological debate. Here, too, the heuristic association of

the Tanna Rabbi Ishmael with the Mekhilta and the Sifre Numbers is illuminating, and the hermeneutics of

the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim can be seen as elements of a broadly understood transcendent theology. But

surely, one could protest, Scripture is the word of God and so analysis of Scripture does provide access to

God. This dissent holds much common sense appeal, but the matter is not so clear when it comes to the Rabbi

Ishmael midrashim. For one thing, the tendency to distance God from revelation is attested elsewhere in the

Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, most clearly in the two derashot that employ the middah "Two Verses Contradict,

a Third Resolves." As discussed in Chapter 5, Sifre to Numbers 7:89 suggests that a voice descended into the

Tent of Meeting to speak with Moses, not God, and the Mekhilta to Exodus 20:18 argues that the Israelites

did not hear the Decalogue from God's mouth, but from God's great fire manifest on the earth. It is worth

noting that the midrashic argument and its conclusion-the medium and the message are mutually enforcing.

The derashot teach God's transcendence, the same transcendence that makes direct communication

213 impossible and requires that HA-KATUV provide the reader with instruction.

A great strength of TMS is precisely the nuance it teases out within the rabbinic world of thought and interpretation. It avoids generalising statements about what constitutes “valid” rabbinic thought and seeks to anchor most tensions within the two paradigms that manifest within the rabbinic corpus. It is precisely for this reason that TMS has such explanatory power in examining early rabbinic theology and its descendents. The fact that Maimonidean rationalism defined the lens through which rabbinic Judaism was understood for so many scholars and

213 Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 138–139. Regretfully, I came upon this rich work on rabbinic exegesis rather late in my research and, as such, I was unable to incorporate more of his research into my own. 177

theologians alike speaks to the impact that his system had throughout the centuries since

Maimonides lived.214 Yet, it is problematic to assume that Maimonides had no guidance from rabbinic precedents just as it would be fallacious to assume the same of Medieval developments in Kabbalah. By no means did Maimonides strive to disarm rabbinic discourse. Rather,

Maimonides’ aim was quite the opposite; he desired to entrench the notion of the rabbinic tradition as an unbroken chain, from teacher to student, from Moses onward. In his introduction to Mishneh Torah, Rambam iterates not only his solidly Aristotelian cosmology but also the history of the Oral Tradition as he saw it. Mishnah, for Maimonides, was synonymous with the

Oral Tradition. The goal, then, of his comprehensive halakhic work was to establish some of the basic philosophical principles of Torah and Nature (as he saw it) and then to furbish a complete

214 A point of interest is the extent to which Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith are, by and large, accepted on face value and assumed by a majority of orthodox Jews to the extent that some scholars have defined heresy in Judaism as anything which runs contrary to these principles. The irony is that the principles themselves are very much rooted in Maimonides’ own rational philosophy while the day-to-day folk-religion of your average observant Jew is not. An excellent book on the topic is Marc B. Marc B. Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles Reappraised, The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization (Oxford ; Portland, Or: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004). Shapiro takes Maimonides’ Principles and shows historically valid source (religiously speaking), which run contrary to the Principles. Shapiro demonstrates that while Maimondies’ Principles constitute a system of dogma, they are not the system of Jewish dogma in a definitive and overriding sense. Shapiro’s chapter, The Incorporeality of God, does an excellent job of demonstrating that this principle was and is by no means universally accepted. However, drawing heavily as Shapiro does from Gottstein, Shapiro overstates his claim and asserts that even Rabbi Ishmael accepted some kind of corporeal aspect to God. Shapiro quotes sources (some informed by Meir Bar-Ilan, “The Hand of God: A Chapter in Rabbinic Anthropomorphism,” in 1040-1990: Hommage à Ephraim E. Urbach : Congrès Européen des études juives, ed. Gabrielle Sed- Rajna (Paris: Cerf, 1993), 321–35.) that, while they would appear to demonstrate Rabbi Ishmael advocating assuredly anthropomorphic views, are works that are either late or otherwise compositionally problematic. These include Midrash Ha-Gadol, Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer, Tanḥuma, and Pesiqta of Rab Kahana. These texts are obviously, and recognized to be, Hekhalot material that made its way into the late composition or editing of these texts. They do not conform to Rabbi Ishmael’s distinctive technical application of the interpretation of verses and fly in the face of known Ishmaelian views. As was typical of the Merkava/Hekhalot schools, as well as later developments in Jewish esotericism, material was more often than not attributed pseudopigraphically. Humorously, this tendency would often likely be to the dismay of the person in whose name a given teaching is recited. For instance, Rabbi , who denied that Moses or Elijah ascended to Heaven and also that God descended, becomes the voicepeice of the deepest esoteric and anthropomorphic teachings in the Zohar. 178

encapsulation of Jewish Law such that more of one’s study time could be put towards the highest aim and the teleos of rabbinic Judaism – philosophical contemplation of the Divine.

Much of Maimonides’ Guide focuses on language. For Maimonides, it would be the crudest form of ignorant folk religion that, for example, thought that God could actually be described with positive attributes. The Bible, and subsequently the Sages, must therefore only have been speaking allegorically when they appeared to actually posit such views. As radical a position as this is, especially in light of some of the rabbinic theological viewpoints we have seen, it is nonetheless by no means a departure from rabbinic Judaism proper. Suffice it to say, the world of the rabbis mattered to Maimonides a great deal, else he would not have gone through such great lengths to properly inform his reader about that world, including a massive halakhic work and frequent philosophical analysis of rabbinic adages. The exegetical imagination of Ḥazal certainly mattered to Maimonides, and we would be amiss not to look for the rationalistic precedents from within that world which informed his own project.

There is much in the exegetical tradition of Rabbi Ishmael that is in line with

Maimonides’ philosophy. As we have seen in chapter two, Rabbi Aqiva tended to take miraculous events and gives an even more miraculous interpretation. In contrast, Rabbi Ishmael attempted to minimize the extent of the miraculous and sought to interpret fanciful language in the Biblical text allegorically. Maimonides is well known to have espoused such a view about miracles himself, albeit in a far more fleshed out and philosophically nuanced manner. For

Maimonides, miracles, in the sense of a permanent change to the laws of nature, are impossible.

These laws emanate from God’s own perfection, and to break them would be for God to go against his own nature and essence. In general, Maimonides is uncomfortable with miracles even where he allows for them. Consider the following text from The Guide:

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Text Twenty-two (Guide for the Perplexed, II: XXIX)

[1] Let us now consider the words of Joel (iii. 3-5): "And I will show wonders in the heavens

and in the earth, blood and fire, and pillars of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness,

and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come. And it shall

come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered, for in

Mount Zion and in Jerusalem shall be deliverance," etc. I refer them to the defeat of

Sennacherib near Jerusalem; but they may be taken as an account of the defeat of Gog and

Magog near Jerusalem in the days of the Messiah, if this appears preferable, although

nothing is mentioned in this passage but great slaughter, destruction, fire, and the

diminution of the light of the two luminaries. You may perhaps object: How can the day

of the fall of Sennacherib, according to our explanation, be called "the great and the terrible

day of the Lord?" But you must know that a day of great salvation or of great distress is

called "the great and terrible day of the Lord." Thus, Joel (ii. 11) says of the day on which

the locusts came over the land, "For the day of the Lord is great and terrible, and who can

abide it?"

[2] Our opinion, in support of which we have quoted these passages, is clearly established,

namely, that no prophet or sage has ever announced the destruction of the Universe, or a

change of its present condition, or a permanent change of any of its properties. When our

Sages say, "The world remains six thousand years, and one thousand years it will be waste,"

they do not mean a complete cessation of existing things; the phrase "one thousand years

it will be waste" distinctly shows that time will continue: besides, this is the individual

opinion of one Rabbi, and in accordance with one particular theory. But on the other hand

the words, "There is nothing new under the sun" (Eccles. 1. 9), in the sense that no new

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creation takes place in any way and under any circumstances, express the general opinion of our Sages, and include a principle which every one of the doctors of the Mishnah and the Talmud recognises and makes use of in his arguments. Even those who understand the words "new heavens and a new earth" in their literal sense hold that the heavens, which will in future be formed, have already been created and are in existence, and that for this reason the present tense "remain" is used, and not the future "will remain." They support their view by citing the text, "There is nothing new under the sun" (Eccles. i. 9), in the sense that no new creation takes place in any way and under any circumstances, express the general opinion of our Sages, and include a principle which every one of the doctors of the Mishnah and the Talmud recognises and makes use of in his arguments. Even those who understand the words "new heavens and a new earth" in their literal sense hold that the heavens, which will in future be formed, have already been created and are in existence, and that for this reason the present tense "remain" is used, and not the future "will remain."

They support their view by citing the text; "There is nothing new under the sun." Do not imagine that this is opposed to our opinion. They mean, perhaps, to say that the natural laws, by which the promised future condition of Israel will be effected, have been in existence since the days of the Creation, and in that they are perfectly correct. When I, however, said that no prophet ever announced "a permanent change of any of its properties," I intended to except miracles. For although the rod was turned into a serpent, the water into blood, the pure and noble hand into a leprous one, without the existence of any natural cause that could effect these or similar phenomena, these changes were not permanent, they have not become a physical property. On the contrary, the Universe since continues its regular course. This is my opinion; this should be our belief. Our Sages,

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however, said very strange things as regards miracles: they are found in Bereshit Rabba, and in Midrash Koheleth, namely, that the miracles are to some extent also natural: for they say, when God created the Universe with its present physical properties, He made it part of these properties, that they should produce certain miracles at certain times, and the sign of a prophet consisted in the fact that God told him to declare when a certain thing will take place, but the thing itself was effected according to the fixed laws of Nature. If this is really the meaning of the passage referred to, it testifies to the greatness of the author, and shows that he held it to be impossible that there should be a change in the laws of Nature, or a change in the will of God [as regards the physical properties of things] after they have once been established. He therefore assumes, e.g., that God gave the waters the property of joining together, and of flowing in a downward direction, and of separating only at the time when the Egyptians were drowned, and only in a particular place. I have already pointed out to you the source of this passage, and it only tends to oppose the hypothesis of a new creation.

[3] It is said there: R. Jonathan said, God made an agreement with the sea that it should divide before the Israelites: thus it is said, "And the sea returned to its strength when the morning appeared" (Exod. xiv. 27). R. Jeremiah, son of Elazar, said: Not only with the sea, but with all that has been created in the six days of the beginning [was the agreement made]: this is referred to in the words, "I, even my hands have stretched out the heavens, and all their host have I commanded" (Isa. xlv. 12); i.e., I have commanded the sea to divide, the fire not to hurt Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, the lions not to harm Daniel, and the fish to spit out Jonah. The same is the case with the rest of the miracles.

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[4] We have thus clearly stated and explained our opinion, that we agree with Aristotle in

one half of his theory. For we believe that this Universe remains perpetually with the same

properties with which the Creator has endowed it, and that none of these will ever be

changed except by way of miracle in some individual instances, although the Creator has

the power to change the whole Universe, to annihilate it, or to remove any of its properties.

The Universe, had, however, a beginning and commencement, for when nothing was as yet

in existence except God, His wisdom decreed that the Universe be brought into existence

at a certain time, that it should not be annihilated or changed as regards any of its properties,

except in some instances; some of these are known to us, whilst others belong to the future,

and are therefore unknown to us. This is our opinion and the basis of our religion.215

In [1], Maimonides struggles with a verse in Joel that would imply miraculous events that would constitute a permanent change in Nature, and are therefore highly problematic. His first impulse is to interpret the verse as an allegorical reference to an event that has already transpired, the defeat of Sennacherib. Given the prophetic nature of Joel’s statement, however, Maimonides is reluctantly willing to concede that this may be a reference to the messianic era, though he notes that the passage only seems to describe destruction. In [2], Maimonides asserts that the

Prophets and the Sages alike never articulated any kind of permanent change in the universe.

Where this seems contradicted, it need not be interpreted as an actual permanent change, and

215 The Guide for the Perplexed, trans. Michael Friedlander, 2d ed., rev. throughout. (Dover Publications Inc., 1961), 209–211. 183

even this statement is of one Rabbi and can be disregarded; it represents a different (and in

Maimonides’ view, inferior) “theory”. The Ecclesiastical statement that there is nothing new under the sun is taken by Maimonides to capture the general feeling of the rabbis who, philosophers in his own image, reject the notion that permanent change to natural law is even possible. Even according to the opinions that postulate such permanent change, those Sages see that change as already built into natural law from the time of creation. This of course leads

Maimonides to the problematic topic of miracles, which he allows as an exception but only in a limited form. Biblical miracles, such as Moses’ staff turning into a serpent, were only temporary changes and as such are aberrations in the eternal perfection of Nature. Even in these cases, however, Maimonides is drawn to midrashic statements in the literature that imply that miracles themselves are, to varying degrees, natural and thus fully in line with his opposition to new creations. God created Nature as a perfect and eternal entity, but built into this system various changes designed to occur at the correct moment in time, but which are nonetheless part of this fixed system.

Maimonides supports this claim with a reference in [3] to a statement by , which states that God made an agreement with the Sea at the moment of its creation to split at the determined time of Israel’s departure. This statement is reinforced by the Amora, Rabbi

Jeremiah b. Eleazar, who stated that all miracles were formulated as part of the ‘terms’ of creation. This source, found in Genesis Rabbah (5:5)216 is surrounded by far more miraculous interpretations of the verse, “And God said: 'Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear.' And it was so.” (Gen. 1:9). As it happens,

216 Albeck and Theodor, Midrash Bereshit Rabbah, 35. 184

Rabbi Jonathan held interpretive views that tend towards the naturalistic in general. For example, he held the view, contrary to many other rabbinic opinions, that eclipses and other such astronomical events do not portend anything and can be disregarded as a superstition of the .217 As should come as no surprise, Rabbi Jonathan is a noted student of none other than

Rabbi Ishmael. Drawing on specific trends in the rabbinic corpus (i.e. what Heschel traces as the

Ishmaelian theological trend), Maimonides creates an interpretive system of the Bible and Sages alike which is integrated with his Aristotelian rationalism, as we see in [4]. Nature is permanent and unchanging (though it was likely brought into existence at a set time contrary to Aristotle) and this constitutes “the basis of our religion.”

The parallels between Maimonidean rationalism and Ishmaelian precedents are best compared through a common interpretive approach that is sensitive to the aesthetic and rational character of what can be deemed appropriate language. Whether in describing God or miracles,

217 The text, found in the MI, reads as follows: “And the LORD spoke unto Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying: 'This month shall be unto you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you.” (Ex. 12:1-2)

Shall Be unto You. Adam did not reckon by it. You say, “unto you” means that Adam did not reckon by it; perhaps this only means, unto you, and not unto the Gentiles, is this commanded. When it says: “It shall be the first month of the year to you,” behold, there it tells you that it is commanded only to you and not to the Gentiles. Hence the expression: “unto you” used here must aim to teach you that Adam did not reckon by it. We thus learn that Israel reckons by the moon and that the Gentiles reckon by the sun. — And the Israelites are not content with merely reckoning by the moon, but once every thirty days they lift up their eyes to their Father in heaven. — And so when the sun is eclipsed, it is a bad omen for the Gentiles since they reckon by the sun, and when the moon is eclipsed it is a bad omen for the “enemies of Israel” since they reckon by the moon. R. Meir says: If the sun is eclipsed in the east, it is a bad omen for the inhabitants of the East; if in the west, it is a bad omen for the inhabitants of the west. R. Josiah says: If the planets are eclipsed in the east, it is a bad omen for the inhabitants of the east; if in the west, it is a bad omen for the inhabitants of the west. R. Jonathan says: All these signs may be left to the Gentiles, for thus it is said: “Thus saith the Lord: Learn not the way of the nations, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven, for the nations are dismayed at them” (Jer. 10.2). MI, Baḥodesh, 1. Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 7. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 12–14. This text is part of a larger segment, some of which was quoted above in footnote #212. 185

or as language pertains to the interpretation of laws and text in general, such interpretation must be in accord with reason. Much of Heschel's discussions about Rabbi Ishmael touch on the question of what would be appropriate for the text of Torah to be saying, with said appropriateness defined by how well it conforms to the rational value of clarity and defensible conceptions of the Divine. A plain and unobscure rendering of the text is preferred, without embellishment and with conscious reservations. The obvious exception is where the text is problematic for the overall theological integrity of the interpretation. For Maimonides, this takes on a second-order aspect, as the Sages themselves need to be interpreted in this manner, as we saw in the text above. In short, exegesis that does not conform to a sense of appropriate language, then, is not carried out. Eliezer Segal argues that, for Maimonides, exegesis that strays from the obvious logical meaning is a poetic conceit of sorts.218 Maimonides, argues Segal, neither accepted rabbinic homily that deviated from the simple meaning of the text naively, nor did he ascribe disdainfully that understanding of the simple meaning to the Sages. Maimonides saw himself as part of third group who could see these homilies as being added layers of rhetoric.

These extra layers are to be expected, since, just as a wise author uses metaphor and riddle in order to convey a hidden truth, all the more so do the Sages add levels of interpretation which hide profound inner meaning. Segal goes on to argue that this was an apologetic of sorts, defending the Sages against the shifting attitude, which had, in the Arabic world, become rather ill disposed to rhetoric. Maimonides is saying that the literary value of such interpretation needs to be understood. Yet this of course implies that underneath the literary value of expansive

218 Eliezer Segal, “Midrash and Literature: Some Medieval Views,” Prooftexts, no. 11 (1991): 57–65. 186

exegesis, there is conviction that biblical texts ordinarily have only one real meaning, .219

Anyone who claims to produce more is playing clever literary tricks, which may in themselves be admirable, but they are not doing exegesis.”220 Unlike those who accepted a multitude of meanings, the rationalist Maimonides saw things differently: “The purpose of the text is to convey its message (literal or allegorical) as clearly and unambiguously as possible. A text that is susceptible to a multiplicity of interpretations is a confusing muddle, and reflects poorly on its author.”221 Even though the Sages appeared to find such extra meaning in the text, that phenomenon speaks to clever rhetoric of the homilist rather than a reflection of a defect in the text itself. Maimonides, then, is very consciously dealing with material that fails to represent the ideal of rational , while influenced, I argue, by aspects of the tradition that conform better to his intellectual and theological disposition. This attitude towards logical readings of the text correlates with Rabbi Ishmael's interpretive approach to the language of Torah, as presented by Heschel. In fact, Maimonides makes use of the concept that the Torah speaks in human language to present exactly such rational and clear-minded interpretations of the biblical text.

Consider the following selections from the MI:

Text Twenty-three (MI, Pisḥa, 7)

“For I will go through the land of Egypt in that night, and will smite all the first-born in the

land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments:

I am the LORD. And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are; and

219 The term peshat literally means the simple meaning of the text. However, what is meant by its usage varied widely and it is thus ambiguous and anachronistic in its traditional usage. Given that Judaism tends not towards biblical literalism, often neither the rationalist nor the mystic nor the homilist means the literal meaning of a phrase or verse. The term can, therefore, have a different meaning based on who is using it. 220 Segal, “Midrash and Literature: Some Medieval Views,” 60. 221 Ibid., 62. 187

when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and there shall no plague be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 12:12-13)

[1] For I Will Go Through the Land of Egypt. R. Judah says: Like a king who passes from one place to another.

Another interpretation. I shall put My wrath and My terror in Egypt. For the word ’ebrah means only anger, as in the passage: “He sent forth upon them the fierceness of His anger, wrath and indignation and trouble” (Ps. 78.49). And it also says: “That day is a day of wrath” (Zeph.

1.15). And it also says: “Behold the day of the Lord cometh, cruel, and full of wrath and fierce anger” (Isa. 13.9)…

[2] And the Blood Shall Be to You for a Token. A sign to you and not to Me, a sign to you and not to others.

And When I See the Blood. R. Ishmael used to say: Is not everything revealed before Him, as it is said: “He knoweth what is in the darkness and the light dwelleth with Him” (Dan. 2.22)? And it also says: “Even the darkness is not too dark for Thee,” etc. (Ps. 139.12). What then is the purport of the words: “And when I see the blood”? It is only this: As a reward for your performing this duty I shall reveal Myself and protect you, as it is said: “And I will pass over you.” Passing over merely means protecting, as it is said: “As birds hovering, so will the Lord of Hosts protect Jerusalem; He will deliver it, as He protecteth it, He will rescue it, as He passeth over” (Isa. 31.5)…

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[3] I Will Pass Over You. R. Josiah says: Do not read ufasaḥti but ufas‘ati (I will step over).

God skipped over the houses of His children in Egypt, as it is said: “Hark! my beloved! behold,

He cometh leaping upon the mountains,” and it continues: “Behold, He standeth behind our

wall,” etc. (Cant. 2.8–9).

R. Jonathan says: “I will pass over you.” This means, you alone will I protect but I will not

protect Egyptians. Suppose an Egyptian was in the house of an Israelite. I might understand

that he also would be saved on account of the Israelite. Therefore it says: “I will pass over you,”

you alone will I protect, but I will not protect Egyptians. Suppose an Israelite was in the house

of an Egyptian. I might understand that he would also be smitten because of the Egyptian. But

it says: “And there shall no plague be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of

Egypt.”…

In the above selection of text, we can plainly see a sensitive attention to language in order to derive a more rationally palatable interpretation, at least on the part of Rabbi Ishmael and his students. In [1], we are presented first with the view of Rabbi Judah, who interprets the biblical

we-ʿavarti – I will go through”, the waw-consecutive perfect –וְעָבַרְ תִּי “ ,verse literally: God says

to pass in the first person. Rabbi Judah takes this at face value; God will –עבר tense of the verb go through Egypt just as a king passes from one place to another.222 The contrary view, which

222 Consider as well, the following text, which further highlights this anthropomorphic tendency of the Aqivan school: “The Lord Is a Man of War, the Lord Is His Name.” (Ex. 15:3) MI, Shirata 4 [1]R. Judah says: This is a verse replete with meaning, being illustrated by many passages. It tells that He appeared to them with all the implements of war. He appeared to them like a mighty hero girded with a sword, 189

as it is said: “Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O mighty one” (Ps. 45.4). He appeared to them like a horseman, as it is said: “And He rode upon a cherub, and did fly” (Ps. 18.11). He appeared to them in a coat of mail and helmet, as it is said: “And He put on righteousness as a coat of mail, and a helmet of salvation upon His head” (Isa. 59.17). He appeared to them with a spear, as it is said: “At the shining of Thy glittering spear” (Hab. 3.11). And it also says: “Draw out also the spear and battle-axe,” etc. (Ps. 35.3). He appeared to them with bow and arrows, as it is said: “Thy bow is made quite bare,” etc. (Hab. 3.9). And it also says: “And He sent out arrows, and scattered them,” etc. (II Sam. 22.15). He appeared to them with shield and buckler, as it is said: “His truth is a shield and a buckler,” etc. (Ps. 91.4). And it also says: “Take hold of shield and buckler,” etc. (ibid. 35.2).

[2] I might understand that He has need of any of these measures, it therefore says: “The Lord is His name.”— With His name does He fight and has no need of any of these measures. If so, why need Scripture specify every single one of them? Merely to tell that when Israel is in need of them, God fights their battles for them. And woe unto the nations of the world! What do they hear with their own ears! Behold, He by whose word the world came into being, will fight against them.

[3] The Lord Is a Man of War, the Lord Is His Name. Why is this said? For this reason: At the sea He appeared to them as a mighty hero doing battle, as it is said: “The Lord is a man of war.” At Sinai He appeared to them as an old man full of mercy. It is said: “And they saw the God of Israel” (Ex. 24.10), etc. And of the time after they had been redeemed what does it say? “And the like of the very heaven for clearness” (ibid.). Again it says: “I beheld till thrones were placed, and one that was ancient of days did sit” (Dan. 7.9). And it also says: “A fiery stream issued,” etc. (ibid. v. 10). Scripture, therefore, would not let the nations of the world have an excuse for saying that there are two Powers, but declares: “The Lord is a man of war, the Lord is His name.” He, it is, who was in Egypt and He who was at the sea. It is He who was in the past and He who will be in the future. It is He who is in this world and He who will be in the world to come, as it is said: “See now that I, even I, am He,” etc. (Deut. 32.39). And it also says: “Who hath wrought and done it? He that called the generations from the beginning. I, the Lord, who am the first, and with the last am the same” (Isa. 41.4). There may be a hero in a country who is fully equipped with all the implements of warfare, but possesses neither strength nor courage, nor the knowledge of the tactics and the order of warfare. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but He has strength, courage and knowledge of the tactics and the order of warfare, as it is said: “For the battle is the Lord’s and He will give you into our hand” (I Sam. 17.47). And it is written: “A Psalm of David. Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who traineth my hands for war, and my fingers for battle” (Ps. 144.1). There may be a hero in a country, but the strength which he has at the age of forty is not like that which he has at sixty; nor is the strength which he has at sixty the same as at seventy but, as he goes on, his strength becomes diminished. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but “I the Lord change not” (Mal. 3.6). There may be a mighty hero in a country, who, when wrapped in zeal and courage goes on to strike in his anger even his father and his mother and his near relative. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but, “The Lord is a man of war, the Lord is His name.” “The Lord is a man of war,” in that He fights against the Egyptians. “The Lord is His name,” in that He has mercy over his creatures, as it is said: “The Lord, the Lord, God, merciful and gracious,” etc. (Ex. 34.6). There may be a mighty hero in a country, but once the arrow leaves his hand he is unable to make it come back, since it is gone out of his hand. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but when Israel fails to do the will of God, a decree, as it were, issues forth from before Him, as it is said: “If I whet My glittering sword,” etc. (Deut. 32.41). But when Israel repents, He immediately makes it come back, as it is said: “And My hand takes hold on judgment” (ibid.). Now, I might understand that He makes it turn back void, but Scripture says: “I will render vengeance to My enemies” (ibid.). And upon whom does He turn it? Upon the nations of the world, as it is said: “And will recompense them that hate Me” (ibid.). When a king of flesh and blood prepares to go out to war and the provinces close to him come and ask their needs of him, they are told: The king is troubled now, he is preparing to go to war. When he returns victorious, you come then and ask your needs of him. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but: “The Lord is a man of war,” in that He fights against the Egyptians; “the Lord is His name,” in that He hears 190

can safely be presumed to be the Ishmaelian view, interprets out the anthropomorphism by

shares an identical consonantal– עברה – changing the vowelization. One of the words for wrath

Thus, what God actually declares is that he will be sending .עבר ,root with the verb in the verse

the petitions of all those who come into the world, as it is said: “O Thou that hearest prayer, unto Thee doth all flesh come” (Ps. 65.3). A king of flesh and blood engages in war and is not able to feed his armies nor to supply them with their other provisions. He by whose word the world came into being, however, is not so, but “The Lord is a man of war,” in that He fights against the Egyptians, “the Lord is His name,” in that He sustains and provides for all His creatures, as it is said: “To Him who divided the Red Sea in sunder,” etc. (Ps. 136.13), and following it is written: “Who giveth food to all flesh” (ibid. v. 25).

[4]The Lord Is a Man of War. Is it possible to say so? Has it not been said: “Do not I fill heaven and earth? Saith the Lord” (Jer. 23.24). And it is written: “And one called unto another, and said: Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts; (the whole earth is full of His glory). (Isa. 6.3). And it also says: “and, behold, the glory of the God of Israel came (from the way of the east; and His voice was like the sound of many waters; and the earth did shine with His glory.)” (Ezek. 43.2). What then does Scripture mean by saying: “The Lord is a man of war?” Merely this: Because of My love for you and because of your holiness I sanctify My name by you. And in this sense it also says: “Though I am God and not a man, yet I, the Holy One, am in the midst of thee” (Hos. 11.9), I sanctify My name by you.

[5]The Lord Is His Name. With His name does He fight and does not need any of those measures of war. And so David said: “Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a javelin; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts” (I Sam. 17.45). And it is written: “Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; but we will make mention of the name of the Lord our God” (Ps. 20.8). And of Asa it also says: “And Asa cried unto the LORD his God, (and said: 'LORD, there is none beside Thee to help, between the mighty and him that hath no strength; help us, O LORD our God; for we rely on Thee, and in Thy name are we come against this multitude. Thou art the LORD our God; let not man prevail against Thee.',)” etc. (II Chron. 14.10). Horovitz and Rabin, Mechilta d’Rabbi Ismael (Heb), 129–131. Lauterbach, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 188–191.

[1]-[3] represent a plethora of textual evidence for the very themes, which Heschel characterises as Aqivan. In [1] we have an extension of the text above. Again, Rabbi Judah reiterates that God manifested himself in all sorts of warrior visages to Israel. [2] stands in marked contrast to [5] – God does not need these attributes, but the verse reiterates His name in order to reinforce that God fights for Israel. In [3] the text then moves to reiterate the other various visages and personalities, which God presents to Israel. However, unlike the human forms to which he is compared, God can represent various, even contradictory, moods and attributes at once, he never weakens, and is always in complete control. Heschel, who cites some of this text, argues that [4] and [5] represent the Ishmaelian view – a reasonable assumption given that it is otherwise unattributed material from the MI and it stands in contrast to the Aqivan opinions cited. Furthermore, if taken as a whole in the context of other Ishmaelian views, this does seem a defensible position to take. [4]-[5] represents a complete rejection of the kind of anthropomorphic and corporealist views represented by the Aqivan, Rabbi Judah. Instead, the verse “The Lord is a Man of War” represents an allegorical use of language, given that God’s glory fills the world. The use of the term man, then, is used to teach that God’s name is sanctified by Israel. God’s presence in the midst of thee, refers not to a literal presence but, again, to the fact that God’s name is sanctified amongst Israel. In [5], we see the complete retooling of the notion of God’s name presented by [2]. The very concept of God’s name is that it stands in total difference to human constructs. Rather than fighting a war with weapons, David fought in the name of God. Trusting in human artefacts is the way of some, but not the way of the Psalmist. For Asa, only God can be called upon by the strong and weak alike. 191

amongst the Egyptians his wrath. While not the philosophically pure concept of God that

Maimonides advocates – that is, one devoid of all change and therefore emotion – it certainly provides a starting point for rationalistic interpretation. God sends his wrath from his place of constancy, rather than moving about as a person would. Likewise, in [2], the placing of the blood on the lintels and doorposts is obviously not for God’s sake, rather as a symbol of observing

God’s command. This idea is further reinforced in [3], where Rabbi Ishmael is, characteristically, bothered by God’s seeing the blood. Is not God omniscient? Rather, Rabbi

Ishmael’s interpretation is that the reward for fulfilling God’s commandment with the paschal lamb was that God protected the inhabitants of the homes who complied with it. This is tied to the verb to pass over, which is interpreted solely in terms of protection and not actual movement.

being employed asפסח The prooftext provided, a verse from Isaiah, shows the exact same verb parallelistically synonymous with protection.

In [3], Rabbi Ishmael’s students, Rabbis Josiah and Jonathan, offer different interpretations of God’s passing over based on language. Rabbi Josiah states that the verse

”ח“ That is, interchanging the .”ופסעתי“ but instead should read ”ופסחתי“ should not be read as

and thus rendering the word to mean step over. In essence, this refers to God ”ע“ with an skipping the Israelite homes whilst doling out the Death of the Firstborn to the Egyptians. Rabbi

Jonathan assumes directly Rabbi Ishmael’s figurative position, namely that we are taking about

Divine protection rather than physical motion. Similarly to Rabbi Josiah, Rabbi Jonathan sees the verse as underscoring that the Israelites alone will receive protection, adding that where an

Egyptian was to be present in an Israelite home, the former would be protected but the latter would still be smitten.

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What we see is an Ishmaelian approach to text, which applies sensitivity to the use of language in the interpretation of Torah – a document of human language – and how it ought to be interpreted. One can sense that strong inclination that fundamentally believes that any interpretation needs to be in balanced accord with the overall dignity of both the text as a whole and, even more importantly, with respect to the Divine. When we compare this approach to exegesis to Maimonides, it is clear that he applies a rationalist technique drawing on exactly such precedents. For Maimonides, it is crucial that one understand that words, when applied to God, do not carry the same semantic value or implicature as their literal meaning would convey if the referent were a worldly object. Maimonides in, The Guide, spends a great deal of time (in fact the vast majority of Part I) dealing with specific words in order to impart their true meaning in the context of the mosaic religion. Anything implying locomotion or change with respect to God must be interpreted solely allegorically. Where the text cannot mean anything other than a specific manifestation of God (e.g. the Shekhinah), it is interpreted as a created entity, rather than

God Himself. 223 It is, for Maimonides, precisely the dignity of the Divine and its utter

223 Maimonides writes: The Hebrew shakan, as is well known, signifies "to dwell," as, "And he was dwelling (shoken) in the plains of Mamre" (Gen. xiv. 13); "And it came to pass, when Israel dwelt (bishekon)" (Gen. xxxv. 22). This is the most common meaning of the word. But "dwelling in a place" consists in the continued stay in a place, general or special; when a living being dwells long in a place, we say that it stays in that place, although it unquestionably moves about in it, comp. "And he was staying in the plains of Mamre" (Gen. xiv. 13), and, "And it came to pass, when Israel stayed" (Gen. xxxv 22).

The term was next applied metaphorically to inanimate objects, i.e., to everything which has settled and remains fixed on one object, although the object on which the thing remains is not a place, and the thing itself is not a living being; for instance, "Let a cloud dwell upon it [the day]" (Job iii. 5); there is no doubt that the cloud is not a living being, and that the day is not a corporeal thing, but a division of time.

In this sense, the term is employed in reference to God, that is to say, to denote the continuance of His Divine Presence (Shekhinah) or of His Providence in some place where the Divine Presence manifested itself constantly, or in some object which was constantly protected by Providence. Comp. "And the glory of the Lord abode" (Exod. xxiv. 16); "And I will dwell among the children of Israel" (Exod. xxix. 45); "And for the goodwill of him that dwelt in the bush" (Deut. xxxiii. 16). Whenever the term is applied to the Almighty, it 193

transcendence, coupled with the human character of the text of Torah, which allows for his specific allegorization of philosophically dubious language as a rendering of peshat as he saw it.

Consider the following text.

Text Twenty-four (Guide for the Perplexed, XXVI)

[1] You, no doubt, know the Talmudical saying, which includes in itself all the various

kinds of interpretation connected with our subject. It runs thus:

"The Torah speaks according to the language of man," that is to say, expressions, which

can easily be comprehended and understood by all, are applied to the Creator. Hence the

description of God by attributes implying corporeality, in order to express His existence:

because the multitude of people do not easily conceive existence unless in connection with

a body, and that which is not a body nor connected with a body has for them no existence.

Whatever we regard as a state of perfection is likewise attributed to God, as expressing that

He is perfect in every respect, and that no imperfection or deficiency whatever is found in

Him. But there is not attributed to God anything which the multitude consider a defect or

want; thus He is never represented as eating, drinking, sleeping, being ill, using violence,

and the like.

[2] Whatever, on the other hand, is commonly regarded as a state of perfection is attributed

to Him, although it is only a state of perfection in relation to ourselves; for in relation to

must be taken consistently with the context in the sense either as referring to the Presence of His Shekhinah (i.e., of His light that was created for the purpose) in a certain place, or of the continuance of His Providence protecting a certain object. Maimonides, The Guide for the Perplexed, chap. XXV, p.34. 194

God, what we consider to be a state of perfection is in truth the highest degree of imperfection. If, however, men were to think that those human perfections were absent in

God, they would consider Him as imperfect.

[3] You are aware that locomotion is one of the distinguishing characteristics of living beings, and is indispensable for them in their progress towards perfection. As they require food and drink to supply animal waste, so they require locomotion, in order to approach that which is good for them and in harmony with their nature, and to escape from what is injurious and contrary to their nature. It makes, in fact, no difference whether we ascribe to God eating and drinking or locomotion; but according to human modes of expression, that is to say, according to common notions, eating and drinking would be an imperfection in God, while motion would not, in spite of the fact that the necessity of locomotion is the result of some want. Furthermore, it has been clearly proved, that everything which moves is corporeal and divisible; it will be shown below that God is incorporeal and that He can have no locomotion; nor can rest be ascribed to Him; for rest can only be applied to that which also moves. All expressions, however, which imply the various modes of movement in living beings, are employed with regard to God in the manner we have described and in the same way as life is ascribed to Him: although motion is an accident pertaining to living beings, and there is no doubt that, without corporeality, expressions like the following could not be imagined: "to descend, to ascend, to walk, to place, to stand, to surround, to sit, to dwell, to depart, to enter, to pass, etc.

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[4] It would have been superfluous thus to dilate on this subject, were it not for the mass

of the people, who are accustomed to such ideas. It has been necessary to expatiate on the

subject, as we have attempted, for the benefit of those who are anxious to acquire

perfection, to remove from them such notions as have grown up with them from the days

of youth.224

In [1], we have Maimonides making explicit reference to a specifically Ishmaelian concept to later apply it in an Ishmaelian fashion. The Torah, expressed through the human construct of language, makes use of typical anthropomorphic expressions in order to be readily conveyed to its audience. Maimonides makes this concept his own by asserting a reason for why the Torah was expressed in this manner, and this itself is a very anthropocentric concept with reference to Torah. God is described in human terms in order to reinforce His existence, since your typical oaf cannot conceive of existence without a body. While some kinds of imperfections are literally attributed to God in order to reinforce existence, more common forms of imperfection are not to be found. Therefore, God is never represented to be “eating, drinking, etc.”225 In [2], we have an even more radical statement. Based on the concept that the Torah speaks in human language, the Torah still uses imperfect language about God, though only such

224 Ibid., 34–35. 225 Of course, this begs the question about sacrifices, especially given that the biblical verses describe the sacrifices as a pleasing smell to God. Maimonides views sacrifice as having no inherent purpose in and of itself; they are void of any real significance to God’s plan. Those who delve too much into the intricacies of why so many of this or that animal for such or such a sacrifice are “lacking in sense.” God commanded sacrifices only because that was the form of worship that the people knew. By diverting the people to worship of God through the familiar modalities of service, the people could be brought to reject idol worship in all its forms. See Ibid., 321–328. Maimonides makes use of the prohibition against idol worship as an explanation for a variety of biblical cultic practices. This in itself has some precedent in the Ishmaelian School. See Heschel, Theology of Ancient Judaism (Heb), chap. 1:3 Qorbanoth (Sacrifices). 196

that it would appear to imply perfection to the ignoramus, who might otherwise think God imperfect. This elitist approach is given a concrete example in [3]. Certainly, the Bible describes

God as moving about, acting, descending, etc. Maimonides argues, however, that while locomotion is crucial to human striving toward perfection in order to satisfy bodily necessities, it is precisely for this reason that locomotion is imperfect. Locomotion describes a lack, and all things that move are corporeal and divisible entities. Such terms, when applied to God, have a completely different meaning than their literal face value. It is only because Torah is expressed through the human convention of language that such terms are even applied at all. As we see in

[4], Maimonides holds these views to be so obvious that it should be unnecessary to write it out.

Maimonides is, nevertheless, conceding to what he sees as mass ignorance.

While Maimonides’ philosophy is decidedly his own, again we see clear echoes of an interpretive approach which preceded him. If Torah was imparted through the framework of human language, then human reason is the appropriate tool to understand it. We do not find

Maimonides tacking on extraneous or superfluous ideas to the meaning of text, though he is by no means a literalist. Instead, the language must be interpreted in such a way that it befits the dignity of the text. It is, in a manner of speaking, a sort of reflective equilibrium where the meaning of text is balanced with conscious reference to the overall theological view, which the exegete takes to be the essence of the text to begin with. This surely has Ishmaelian overtones.

As Azzan Yadin argues:

“The need to be both the same as and other than Scripture may be conceived in terms of the tension between

authority and relevance. The authority of the commentary lies in its fidelity to Scripture, but the claim to

relevance implicit in its very composition means that the commentary cannot be "only" Scripture. Even the

rallying cry sola Scriptura is not itself Scripture. This tension animates the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, and is

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the key to the complex relations between HA-KATUV (the literal text) and the interpreter. The Mekhilta and

the Sifre Numbers (like all rabbinic midrash) openly acknowledge their otherness from Scripture by

portraying the interpreter as an active participant in the midrashic process. But at the same time, the Rabbi

Ishmael midrashim (and this is not true of all rabbinic midrash) inscribe the interpreter within a dense web

of scripturally determined practices…These midrashim present Scripture as the authority that determines

what verses are to be interpreted as well as the legitimate interpretive techniques to be applied, producing a

hermeneutic of submission by which the midrashic reader – and legal midrash itself – is ultimately

incorporated into Scripture…

Finally, consider midrash as a religious ideal. According to the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, the role of the

interpreter is to listen attentively to the teachings of Scripture, learn its (interpretive) ways, and adopt them:

'just as HA-KATUV specifies [and draws analogy, employs kelal uferaṭ, and so forth].... If midrash is, in

fact, a religious ideal, then the model presented by the Mekhilta and the Sifre Numbers denies the ideal of

imitatio Dei – not possible with a transcendent God – and replaces it with imitatio Scripturae. The religious

ideal is not to cleave to the middot (the attributes) of God, but to learn and then apply the middot of Scripture.

As Rabbi Ishmael says: dibberah Torah leshon benei 'adam, "Torah spoke the language of man." It is only

Torah that speaks the language of man; the language of God is radically, categorically, unattainable.226

Yadin highlights the notion that within the Ishmaelian midrashic exegetical tradition - the

Thirteen Principles through which the Torah is to be Interpreted, the trademark of the Ishmaelian tradition – the path to observing Torah is found. God is transcendent and inscrutable. The Godly document is not composed in Godly language – else, how could it be understood at all? It presents itself in human language for human rational faculties to interpret. For Maimonides, too, the Torah is rationally accessible and employs conventional language. God, in contrast, is utterly

226 Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 138, 141. 198

indescribable through language of any kind. For Rabbi Ishmael and his students, the rationally appropriate interpretation of Scripture – midrash – was the religious ideal. Maimondeanism, in turn, viewed philosophical contemplation of the divine through pure and rational intellect as the goal. Yet, in order to do so, Maimonides had to approach midrash itself in this rational manner.

Thus, midrash is also interpreted though a philosophical framework which defines what is to be interpreted and what constitutes legitimate interpretation. This second-order exegesis of

Maimonides clearly mirrors its intellectual precedents in the Ishmaelian worldview.

3.5 Conclusion

This interpretive framework that placed a rational approach to God’s ontology as the authoritative determinant of appropriate exegesis was by no means universally accepted.

Maimonides advocated a strict adherence to the non-corporeality of God - such that belief in divine attributes at all is a heretical denial of God and tantamount to idol worship. As Marc

Shapiro notes, there were varying reactions to this position ranging from nuanced tempering of

Maimonides’ harsh claims to equally harsh and reactionary statements. The struggle with this aspect, amongst others, of Maimonides’ philosophy, was not only a contemporaneous occurrence but also continued well into the modern era. Even today, there are not a few people in traditionalist circles who paradoxically both revere Maimonides but would be horrified if presented with some of his ardently rational theology. Nonetheless, an interesting parallel can be drawn from a contemporaneous response to Maimonides. Just as Rabbi Aqiva scoffed at Rabbi’s

Ishmael’s view that the Torah speaks in the language of man, so too did Rabbi Moses ben

Hasdai Taku (11th century tosafist from Bohemia), who furiously writes, “Is it at all proper for a

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believer in the Torah to say that the Torah speaks in the language of man?”227 Given

Maimonides’ outright condemnation of anyone holding a naïve view of biblical anthropomorphism, this reaction against beliefs that clearly manifest in the rabbinic corpus is understandable. What is most interesting is that it is the same theological debate repeating over and over again. The lasting legacy of the rabbinic dynamic interplay of the Two Schools does indeed lend itself, upon careful analysis, as the starting point for theological tensions to reoccur, albeit in new forms and permutations, throughout the generations. These varying views of Torah, and the corresponding views regarding how it should rightfully be interpreted, continuously re- appear as contrasts to one another as Jewish history plays out. Each debate is new – and yet, all traditionalist Judaism is defined by the rabbinic tradition and its lasting legacy. There is nothing new under the sun.

227 Quoting from Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology, 55. See note 52 Ad. loc. 200

Chapter Four: Epilogue

TMS is an important contribution to our understanding of Jewish Thought. Working within the model of the Two Schools, Heschel picked up the individual strands that, taken as a composite, create the woof and warp of two distinct theological perspectives. Many of the individual themes developed through TMS as constituent elements of both respective schools’ outlooks have subsequently been reinforced by scholarship. Later scholars have contributed more focused and specific research that verifies Heschel’s original claims (i.e. Wolfson, Yadin, etc.). It was nonetheless Heschel who tied all of these observations of rabbninic theology together into one massive accounting of rabbinic thought. There are, indeed, two textual traditions and they are distinct, contrasting, and theologically divergent. Rabbi Aqiva, with his view of Torah animated by otherworldly language and life, was a mystic who held that God is ever-present;

Torah is a wellspring connected to its infinite source. Rabbi Ishmael, on the other hand, saw logical, reasoned principles as the correct way to interpret a text that is presented in rational human language; God is transcendent and exegesis needs to be in line with that fact.

This dichotomy applies to a far more vast range of important topics in Jewish thought than what could be covered in this project. There are many significant topics in TMS, and only a handful covered in detail here, as the focus was restricted to the critical and foundational topics upon which the schema stands. For future research, it is important that each and every topic be assessed for accuracy and reliability. It may also be the case that topics not directly discussed by

Heschel in TMS can be teased out of the rabbinic corpus through Heschel’s interpretive matrix.

To this end, I assert that this project enhances the reliability of using TMS as an interpretive model for rabbinic texts. It is also clear that Heschel’s historical claims hold significant weight.

There are decided traces within later permutations of Jewish Thought of the exegetical approach

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and underlying philosophical outlooks that define these two respective schools. Given the extent to which Tannaitic material permeates the Talmudim, it is fair to say that these two Fathers of the World – eternal paradigms – constitute a significant aspect (as text and as tradition) of the substantive aggregate of the Sages and their varying views. Given what has been established here, therefore, I assert that with more research this schematization can be utilized as an interpretive method for a wide range of classic Jewish thought – both within the rabbinic corpus and the body of Jewish Thought that followed for centuries thereafter. At the very least, TMS substantially enriches our understanding of the theology of the Sages and deepens our awareness of the complexity and sophistication of rabbinic exegesis. This exegetical world through which the Sages operated had profound impact on subsequent scholars who held that world in the highest regard. Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva, representing two distinct approaches to God,

Torah, and life, have left a lasting impact on the divergent views of Torah, as reflected through the mirror of the generations.

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