THE RELEVANCE OF THE BIBLE IN THE EDUCATION OF OUR TIME.
A SECULAR GAZE ON THE BIBLICAL NARRATIVE.
Dr. Wolfensohn teaches Political Science at the University of Haifa and directs the Oren Institute in Tel Aviv.
Ben-Gurion was right, Leibowitz was wrong.
In one of his public appearances, Professor Leibowitz expressed the view that the Bible (Tanakh) is holy in his eyes because that is what the Sages taught. What the Oral Law (Tora che baal Peh) decreed remains the basis of his conception of the Bible.
Set against this position is that of David Ben-Gurion, who held that, in spite of all the regard he had for the culture of Israel and for all the spiritual creations of Judaism across the generations, the basis of Judaism remained nonetheless the Bible (“the Bible shines by its own light”…) and that, consequently, there was no necessity to rely on other books. From this point of view, there is no doubt for me that it is Ben-Gurion who is right and not Leibowitz.
The Bible reflects a reality different from the one set forth by the (traditional) Sages. For the latter did not have at their disposal the extra-biblical archaeological and historical sources that confirm or invalidate certain of the biblical statements and narratives. For example, the tomb of Mesha, king of Moab, a passage that introduces a modern interpretation within the biblical narrative concerning the war of the three regional powers — Israel, Judah, and Edom — against little Moab, which nonetheless succeeded in repelling its assailants; or again the testimony written in the Palace of Sennacherib, which asserts that he did not conquer Jerusalem but “kept Hezekiah, king of Judah, like a bird in his cage.” A confirmation of the account of this siege appears, moreover, in The Book of Kings and in Isaiah. And there are other examples.
One can say with certainty that we know today about the Bible, about its events and about its epoch, more than the Sages of the Second Temple period could know, deprived as they were of the modern instruments of research that are at our disposal.
And yet Leibowitz is right in that certain foundations of the culture of biblical Israel came to maturity (a maturity and an intellectual and fundamental development) in the Second Temple period. For example, the institution of the Sanhedrin, which was set up at that time, as is written in the Sanhedrin tractate of the Talmud (and this, concerning what is said in the Numbers portion of the Pentateuch (11, 16–18)1): “Gather me seventy men from among the elders of the people and its magistrates; then they shall bear with you the burden of the people, and you shall no longer bear it alone.” This is a collective leadership, in place of the power of one alone; or else the principles “do not lean, in a dispute, toward the majority, so as to pervert the right” (Exodus 23, 2), or again: “judge your fellow with impartiality” (Leviticus 19, 17) “you shall bring the proofs concerning your neighbor,” all of which were interpreted by the Sages as references to democratic decisions of the majority, but also to the maintenance of the minority’s right to criticize power.
A striking feature of the Second Temple period: religious pluralism.
And yet at the height of the Second Temple period, as concerns Jewish culture, it is the fact of ideological pluralism, of freedom of conscience and of religious pluralism — all of them elements characteristic of this period. In addition to the multiplicity of communities that are mentioned in the writings (in the Mishnah and the Gemara), we also have at our disposal historical testimonies from two personalities of this epoch: Yedidiah (Philo) of Alexandria, who lived before the destruction of the Second Temple (from the years 20 or 25 before the beginning of the Christian era, and until 50 years after), and Joseph son of Mattathias (Flavius), who lived at the time of the Great Revolt (in A.D. 70).
A comparison between these two historian-witnesses of their epoch yields the following results as concerns Jewish pluralism in the Second Temple period:
There were, in that time, five “parties” or “ideologies” (not counting smaller movements):
The Pharisees, who, in the Sanhedrin, were in the opposition until the time of Alexander Jannaeus, and who, thanks to a political “revolt,” succeeded in obtaining the majority in the time of Queen Shelom-Tsion, when their delegate, Shimon ben Shettah, was elected to the office of president of the Sanhedrin. After a certain time, this party split into two tendencies: the tendency of Hillel (Bet Hillel) and the tendency of Shammai (Bet Shammai).
The Sadducees, who were in power until the time of Alexander Jannaeus, and who afterward passed into the opposition in the time of Queen Shelom-Tsion.
The Essenes, who had left political life and had opted for a collective life in community in the region of the Dead Sea (according to certain interpretations, they were close to the Sadducees, and, to protest against the victory of the Pharisees, would then have withdrawn from public life).
The Aherim (from Aher, meaning the Other in Hebrew), a name given to Elisha Ben Abuya and to his disciples, who were secularists, atheists (“who rejected the fundamentals”).
The Christians (disciples of Jesus of Nazareth).
These five currents of thought were separated on the plane of religious thought: the Pharisees believed in the immortality of the soul (the persistence of the soul after death), in the existence of the “world to come” (a world where souls find themselves after death), in Providence (God knows everything of man’s acts and thoughts). They believed in “the ledger that is open and the hand that inscribes therein” the merits and demerits of each, and in reward and punishment by heaven (“the world to come”). The Sadducees rejected the whole of the four principles above. The Essenes, for their part, believed in these four principles. As for the Aherim, they rejected all four. The Christians, finally, believed in these principles and believe in them still today.
The first secular Jew2.
The most interesting figure in all these currents was, of course, that of Elisha Ben Abuya (“Aher”), the most remarkable secular Jew of all that ancient epoch. He is spoken of in laudatory terms in the Mishnah, without any particular reservation. In the Talmud, it is recounted how he became secular: he saw the corpse of Hutzpit the Interpreter (secretary of the Sanhedrin and redactor of its decrees, who had been killed by the Romans), lying in the refuse, while a pig was devouring its tongue. It was then that he cried out: “this tongue that uttered pearls, behold it is now the prey of pigs!” “At once, he went out and sinned,” that is to say, he transgressed against the kingdom of heaven, and denied God. And so that “the truth might also be visible” — he had the habit of demonstrating his unbelief by riding on horseback during the Sabbath down the great street of Tiberias (a street comparable to Mea-Shearim or Bnei-Brak in our day). No one cried out to him “shabess, shabess,” and no one threw stones at him. On the contrary: Rabbi Meir, his disciple, who was religious, and who composed 80% of the laws (Halakhot) written in the Mishnah, would run behind him on foot, covered in the dust raised by the horse’s hooves, and would listen to the teaching of the Torah (Jewish law and Hebrew right) from his mouth. When he was asked why he studied with this secularist-unbeliever, Rabbi Meir would answer: “He is like this pomegranate: eat its inside, and throw away its rind.” It is also recounted in the Talmud that, when Rabbi Meir was asked what he would do after his death, upon his arrival in the world to come (“Olam Haba”), he replied: “First of all, I will go to inquire after the state of my Rabbi and master, Elisha Ben Abuya (”Aher”), then I will go to inquire after the state of my father.” This is to say to what point the religious Jew Rabbi Meir respected the secular Jew Elisha Ben Abuya (“Aher”). The Sadducees, like Aher, as has been said, rejected the four religious beliefs mentioned above (the immortality of the soul, the world to come, Providence, and the principle of reward and punishment). However, they did not reject the existence of a supreme God, who did not meddle in the affairs of the world He had created… They relied on what was written in the Bible (Tanakh), in which there is no assertion concerning the world to come or the immortality of the soul.
The religious position of the Bible.
We have thus seen that, in the Bible, one finds no indications in favor of the belief in the existence of a world to come, nor in the immortality of the soul. Nor does one find any promises of reward or chastisement after death. They concern only this world here. (see in the Ten Commandments: “Honor your father and your mother so that your days may be prolonged upon the earth” — Exodus 20, 12 —; and in the negative mode: “But if you disdain my laws… I will raise up against you frightful scourges, and you shall be struck down before your enemies… and you shall exhaust yourselves in vain efforts, and your land shall refuse its tribute, and its trees shall refuse their fruits…” — Leviticus 26, 15, 20, 17 — The whole threat concerns the lands, without any allusion to a life after death…).
The secular position of the Bible
However, the Bible does not express only a religious view; numerous secular views are also found there, and that, on important subjects. It is precisely these latter views that impose themselves.
In the first place, the description of the creation is evolutionist (at once cosmological and Darwinian): first the big bang that is all light, the photons, then the first element of chemistry (hydrogen — water), the earth entirely covered with water, until the continents (dry land) form. At the beginning, life appears in the sea, then the reptiles develop, parallel to the development of plants on land; and finally, “on the sixth day,” the mammals and man (following Darwin’s “product of the species,” that is to say, as a product of the same series of events). On the other hand, Judaism expresses a skepticism as concerns questions of religion:
Abraham (in the dream of “the covenant between the pieces,” Genesis 15, 2–3, 7) doubts and asks: “What would you give me, since I go childless, and the adopted son of my house, Eliezer, is a Damascene?… you have given me no posterity, and the child of my house shall be my heir….. how shall I know that I am its possessor?…”
And under the effect of his fear for the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham utters words of disavowal, of reproach toward His creation, His justice, and perhaps His pretension, but not against the very existence of God (Genesis 18, 23–25): “Would you annihilate at one stroke the innocent with the guilty! Far be it from you to act thus! Shall He who judges all the earth be an iniquitous judge!” (In truth, this resembles the protest of the secular Jew “Aher,” Elisha Ben Abuya, against the death of Hutzpit the Interpreter…)
Job makes heard even more vivid words, going so far as explicit rejection: “It all comes to the same: so I say that the just and the wicked, He makes them perish alike………… If it is not He, then who would it be?” (9, 22–24). Which amounts to saying that if God is not responsible for evil, perhaps He does not exist at all?…
The summit of heresy appears in the rhetorical question that ends the book of Jonah (4, 10): “And God said: ‘What! you have concern for this gourd-plant, which cost you no toil, which you did not make grow, which a single night saw born, which a single night saw perish: and I would not spare Nineveh, that great city in which live more than a hundred and twenty thousand human beings, incapable of distinguishing their right hand from their left, and a considerable cattle?’”
The end of the text in a question mark calls for an answer. Let us try to guess Jonah’s answer: “Good day, God! Suddenly you have remembered that you were such a great humanist! Where were you at the time of the Flood! Were there not then destroyed ‘more than a hundred and twenty thousand men.. and numerous animals’? And where were you at the time of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah? Were there not down there tender nurslings who had not had the time to sin, and numerous animals? And suddenly, on the subject of Nineveh, you have become so merciful!!!!” Jonah’s silence (and the end of the book in a question mark) — are, of course, the terrible answer to this rhetorical question. The sequel is found in the pessimistic vision of the book of Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) (9, 2, 5–6): “One and the same lot awaits the just and the wicked, the good and pure man and the impure;… the man of good is like the sinner.” “The living at least know that they will die, whereas the dead know nothing; for them, no more reward, for even their memory is effaced. Their love, their hatred, their jealousy, all has vanished; they no longer have henceforth any part in what happens under the sun.” Which amounts to saying: there is no justice, there is neither reward nor punishment, there is no life after death…
The secularity of Moses our master.
Moses, our master, was he religious or secular? At first glance, here is an anti-historical question, since Moses speaks in the name of God, and since it is written concerning him: “But there has not arisen again in Israel a prophet such as Moses, with whom the Lord had communicated face to face.” (Deuteronomy 34, 11). However, this verse establishes first that all the prophets did not know God “face to face,” that is to say that they were not envoys of God, who would have held conversations with them and put words into their mouth (the prophetic expression “Thus has God spoken” empties itself of its meaning when it is explicitly stated that, apart from Moses, there was not a single prophet “who knew God face to face”… This expression becomes a rhetorical-poetic figure of style, without real basis.)
Secondly, in order to know what the expression “who knew God face to face” means, it is fitting to explain:
who is God
what does “to know God” mean?
Moses himself, in his biography, which is found in the book of Exodus, answers correctly (in a modern-secular style) these two questions at the same time:
- “And God said to Moses: I will be that which I will be; and he said: thus shall you speak to the children of Israel: I will be that which I will be has sent me to you.” (literal translation) (Exodus 3, 14). What does “I will be,” the being in the future (that is to say: the eternal), mean? What is the sense of “that which I will be”? It is impossible to know in advance the future in its details; the essential thing is that the cosmos is a being that evolves. Here is a modern secular-scientific approach, which any religious explanation can only deform, by leading the writings astray from their simple and clear sense in the Hebrew language.
“The Guide for the Perplexed”: a secular-scientific exegesis by Maimonides.
- As for the second question: what does “to know God” mean? let us note: “And he (Moses) said ‘Reveal to me then your glory.’ He answered: It is all my goodness that I wish to unfold before your sight, and, with you present, I will name by its true name the Eternal; and you shall see me from behind; my face cannot be seen” (Exodus 33, 18–19).
One of the greatest secular thinkers of Judaism, Maimonides, whose book “The Guide for the Perplexed” is filled with modern secular-scientific truths, and whose modernity Professor Aharon Katsir already underscored in his book “The precursor of the scientific revolution,” Am Oved, 1971), Maimonides, then, expresses in The Guide for the Perplexed a negative opinion, not only on the cult of sacrifices, but also on religious prayers. Maimonides comments in a secular-scientific manner on the following verses: man knows nothing about the existence of God, but can have a knowledge of the existence of natural realities, which bear witness to the development of the cosmos (cosmos = the Being = God) but post-factum, “after me” (that is to say, after the creation), and not a priori (“my face,” before the future appears). Only the past is given to us, which can be studied scientifically; from the past we can deduce what the laws of nature are (= laws of the cosmos = laws of the existent = laws of “I will be that which I will be” = laws of divinity), but we must not interrogate the future, which has not yet taken place. (For all the rest, we can make extrapolations: look at the future on the basis of the experience of the past.)
Moses (like Elisha Ben Abuya, Aher, at the time of the Bar-Kochba revolt), not only was right in his secularity, but he also demonstrates, clearly, the rightness of his thought, that is to say that he is concerned that “the truth be visible,” and like Maimonides in The Guide for the Perplexed, he sows within a book that is regarded as a religious book (because of a political use of religion), secular thoughts and anti-religious proofs; I shall content myself with a few particularly visible examples.
Moses does not rely on miracles.
- Alongside the account evoking the pillar of cloud and the pillar of fire, which are, so to speak, the divine presence during the journey of the Children of Israel in the desert, Moses turns to his political “scout” (in the same chapter) and shows that he does not rely on signs come from heaven: “And Moses said to Hobab, son of Reuel the Midianite, and father-in-law of Moses: ‘We are setting out for the land of which God has said: ’it is that one that I give you’; come with us and we shall make you happy… He answered him: ‘I will not go, on the contrary it is to my country, to the place of my birth, that I wish to go’; and Moses resumed: ‘Do not leave us, I pray you, for you know the places where we encamp in this desert, and you will serve us as a guide…’” (Numbers 10, 29–32).
It emerges clearly from the cited extract that Moses does not rely on the miracle, but, as a realist leader, relies on his political “guide,” son of the desert, who serves him as an expert…
In the episode of the golden calf, it becomes clear that the people of Israel itself connected the exodus from Egypt, not to miracles (contrary to what is said in the Haggadah of Pesach, religious and later: “not by an angel, not by a seraph”), but to the personal and human conduct of Moses himself (Exodus 32, 1): “And the people, seeing that Moses delayed in coming down from the mountain, gathered around Aaron and said to him: Moses, the man who brought us out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him”…
It is in this spirit too that the Torah ends (Deuteronomy 34, 12): “And of all the mighty hand and all the events that Moses accomplished in the eyes of all Israel.” This is why, on account of all the secular significance of this verse, which ends the book of Deuteronomy and the whole Torah, Maimonides called his great juridical book: The Mighty Hand.
The whole Bible is saturated with secular-scientific-humanist statements:
the status of woman: Eve is the dominant figure and the one responsible for knowledge (“the tree of knowledge”); Adah and Tsillah are the women judges of Lamech, who confesses the murder of a man; Miriam is the beloved leader of the people (and also represents the principal opposition to Moses); the five daughters of Zelophehad receive an equal share (like the male children) of the inheritance; Abraham receives the following order: “listen to the voice of Sarah your wife,” and Rebecca does not marry Isaac so long as she has not been consulted: “let us call the young girl and ask her opinion.” Deborah is the leader of the revolt against Sisera, and Jabin.
Democratic foundations:
The council of the 70 Elders: “They will help you bear the burden of the people, and you shall not bear it alone.”
The choice of leaders by the people: “take wise and learned men, known throughout your tribes, and I will set them at your head.” (Deuteronomy 1, 13)
Decision by the majority: “you shall follow the opinion of the majority,” and other identical principles…
Space is too short to mention all the traditional, humanist, and secular values that one finds in the Bible; the elements above have been gathered to serve as an introduction to a truthful, secular, and modern approach to Judaism, in the light of the Bible. □
(Translated from Hebrew by Izio Rosenman)