Korach (5765)

From the book Mida Tova: Articles on the Hermeneutical Principles by Rabbi Michael Avraham. Translated from Hebrew using gpt-5.4 (reasoning_effort=high, batch API).

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With God’s help

Midah Tovah — Friday eve of Parashat Korach, 5766

Questions

1. The dispute between Maimonides and Nahmanides regarding the nature of drash (interpretive rabbinic reading) and peshat (plain-sense meaning).
2. Are there verses that are to be interpreted only as parable?
3. Is one permitted to kill a thief who comes to steal during the day?
4. How many interpretations can a given text have?
5. Can the laws of nature change?
6. Why is the verse “Fathers shall not be put to death for sons” interpreted in Chronicles according to its plain sense?
7. Is drash the true peshat?
8. Are there situations in which even the peshat interpretation is not literal?
9. Does the dictum that halakha (Jewish law) “bypasses Scripture” mean that there is a contradiction between halakha and peshat?

The Hermeneutical Principle: Parable

A. Summary of Last Week’s Article

In last week’s article we dealt with the relationship between peshat and drash. This week we will continue to examine different aspects of that relationship.

Our conclusion last week was that when there is a conflict between the literal meaning and reasoned judgment, we can ask ourselves two different questions:

1. What is the best interpretation of the verse, both in terms of content and reasoning, and in terms of the wording itself?
2. Does the formulation before us fit the interpretation we arrived at in answer to the previous question? In other words: could the Torah not have formulated the matter in language better suited to that interpretation?

We saw that from these considerations it follows that the verse under discussion has at least two different interpretations: the optimal one and the literal one. The optimal interpretation will be the midrashic (rabbinic interpretive) interpretation, and the literal one will be the peshat interpretation.

We also noted that midrashic interpretation is not based on the hermeneutical principles themselves, but on ordinary human reasoning, which takes into account the wording and the conceptual considerations and arrives at a proper balance. Drash by means of the hermeneutical principles does not create interpretations of verses; rather, it extracts halakhot (legal rulings) from them in a way that relies on various textual hints.

We saw that the principle of “two verses that contradict one another” is exceptional in this respect. In the end, we connected the first method—the creation of alternative interpretations—to this hermeneutical principle, which, as we saw, was developed in the academies of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael, and apparently had not yet been explicitly formulated by Hillel the Elder.

This expansion of the principle of “two verses that contradict one another” underlies the guidance of the Hazon Ish and the Beit Yosef that we cited in the article on Parashat Shelach a year ago: the optimal interpretation is not supposed to consider only verbal factors, but also other considerations, such as reasoning and parallel sources.

Nahmanides as well—whose comments on inadvertent idolatry were the motivation for this discussion—was apparently trying to do something similar: to reconcile peshat and drash, and to create an optimal interpretation.

B. The Relationship Between Peshat and Drash — Part Two

Introduction

In this section we will begin with another interesting example of the relationship between the peshat and the drash of a verse, and we will examine the positions of several medieval authorities on the issue of peshat and drash, especially in relation to our discussion.

The Law of the Burglar Who Tunnels In

In Parashat Mishpatim, the Torah introduces a novel law regarding a thief who comes by tunnel at night to steal from another man’s house (Exodus 22:1–2):

“If the thief is found breaking in, and he is struck and dies, there is no bloodguilt for him. If the sun has risen upon him, there is bloodguilt for him; he shall surely make restitution; if he has nothing, he shall be sold for his theft.”

The Gemara explains that such a thief presumably plans to kill the homeowner if he defends his property, and therefore he is treated as a pursuer, whom anyone may kill.

What, then, is the meaning of the distinction the Gemara makes between “breaking in,” in which case there is no bloodguilt for killing him, and “the sun has risen,” in which case there is bloodguilt, that is, it is forbidden to kill him? The baraita (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 72a–b) explains as follows:

“The Rabbis taught: ‘There is no bloodguilt for him’—if the sun has risen upon him. Does the sun rise only upon him? Rather: if the matter is as clear to you as the sun that he has no peaceful intentions toward you, kill him; if not, do not kill him. Another baraita taught: ‘If the sun has risen upon him, there is bloodguilt for him.’ Does the sun rise only upon him? Rather: if it is as clear to you as the sun that he is at peace with you, do not kill him; if not, kill him. One anonymous teaching contradicts another anonymous teaching! No difficulty: here it speaks of a father coming against a son; there it speaks of a son coming against a father. Rav said: Anyone who comes against me by tunneling in, I would kill him, except for Rav Hanina bar Sheila. Why? If you say because he is righteous—yet he is coming by tunneling in! Rather, because I know him: he would have compassion on me like a father for a son.”

That is, the terms “tunneling in” and “the sun has risen” are interpreted here metaphorically. The rising of the sun is an expression for clarity of the situation. Thus, it is forbidden to kill the thief if it is clear to the homeowner that he does not intend to kill him. When the thief is the homeowner’s father, there is a presumption that he would not kill him, and therefore some indication in the opposite direction is needed in order to permit killing him.

The Dispute Between Maimonides and Raavad About Theft by Day

This law is codified by Maimonides in chapter 9 of Mishneh Torah, Laws of Theft:

8. “This applies equally to one who comes by tunnel and to a thief found within a person’s roof, courtyard, or enclosure, whether by day or by night. Why then does Scripture speak of tunneling in? Because most thieves come by tunnel at night.”

10. “If it is clear to the homeowner that this thief came against him and will not kill him, and came only for money, it is forbidden to kill him; and if he kills him, he is guilty of bloodshed, as it says, ‘If the sun has risen upon him’—if the matter is as clear to you as the sun that he is at peace with you, do not kill him. Therefore, if a father comes by tunnel against his son, he is not killed, for it is certain that he will not kill him; but if a son comes against his father, he is killed.”

Following the Gemara, Maimonides does not distinguish between day and night. The only question is whether there is near certainty that the thief will kill the homeowner or not.

Raavad, however, writes in his glosses there (on halakha 8):

“I cannot refrain from writing my opinion. It seems to me that although the Sages expounded ‘if the sun has risen upon him’ metaphorically—if the matter is as clear to you as the sun that he did not come on a matter of life and death, etc.—nevertheless a verse never departs from its plain sense. By day one is not permitted to kill him, for a thief does not come by day except to snatch and flee immediately; he does not remain to steal a large amount of money and stand against the owner to kill him. Rather, the nighttime thief, knowing that the homeowner is in the house, comes either to kill or to be killed. But a daytime thief assumes that the homeowner is not at home, and it is merely a snatching theft. By my life, any discerning person needs no more than this.”

Raavad argues that although the Gemara’s midrashic interpretation is correct, “a verse never departs from its plain sense.” He therefore adds a further ruling: by day the homeowner is not permitted to kill the thief; this permission was stated only regarding the night.

He also adds an explanation for this interpretation, grounding it in the fact that during the day people are ordinarily at work and not at home. Therefore the thief comes to steal and flee, not to kill. At night, by contrast, people are in their homes, and therefore a thief who comes at night is presumably prepared to kill the homeowner as well.

Analyzing the Dispute in the Terms of the Previous Article

At first glance, we are dealing here with a dilemma between the literal reading and the peshat reading of the passage of the burglar who tunnels in. The baraita raises the difficulty: how can the verse be understood as saying that the sun rises upon the thief himself, rather than upon someone else? The literal reading is difficult, and therefore the baraita proposes a midrashic interpretation, by way of metaphor.

As we saw last week, in such a situation we look for the optimal interpretation in terms of both reason and wording. That is exactly what the baraita did. Maimonides is satisfied with the optimal interpretation at which the baraita arrived, and he rules accordingly.

Raavad, however, is not satisfied with that interpretation alone, for he also asks the second question: could the Torah not have written more clearly if its intent was the clarity of the situation rather than daytime in the literal sense? Why, then, does the Torah formulate itself in so confusing a way?

As we saw, this question forces us to recognize that the literal interpretation also has a place, and that it is precisely the peshat of the passage. Raavad even goes a step further and rules the literal interpretation as halakha, alongside the midrashic one.

Maimonides’ Approach

Why does Maimonides not recognize the existence of the peshat interpretation? Does he not ask himself the second question?

It would seem that Maimonides is proceeding here in accordance with his general approach, according to which every verse has only one correct interpretation, and no more. On this view, if the baraita’s interpretation is the optimal one, then that is the verse’s one and only correct interpretation. For Maimonides, this will not count as drash but as peshat.

What is the source of this Maimonidean position? It appears in his comments on the second root of Sefer HaMitzvot, where he writes:

“Their ignorance went still further than this. When they found a drash on a verse, from which some act must be performed or some matter excluded—and all such cases are unquestionably rabbinic—they counted them among the commandments, even though the plain sense of the verse does not indicate any of those matters. Yet the Sages, peace be upon them, gave us a principle, namely their saying, ‘A verse never departs from its plain sense’ (Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 11b, 24a; Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 63a), and the fact that the Talmud everywhere asks: ‘What is the verse itself speaking about?’ whenever they find a verse from which many matters are learned by way of explanation and proof.”

Maimonides states that everything derived by way of drash is rabbinic, and only a peshat interpretation is of Torah origin. In his view, this is precisely what the Sages meant when they said, “A verse never departs from its plain sense,” or when they asked, “What is the verse itself speaking about?”

That is, according to him, every verse has only one correct interpretation—“what the verse itself is speaking about”—and the derashot are extensions that do not constitute interpretation of the verse itself. As we have seen more than once, even the derashot produced by the hermeneutical principles are understood by Maimonides as extensions of what is said in the Torah, not as disclosure of something already contained within it. If so, drash that creates alternative interpretations to the peshat interpretation cannot stand alongside the peshat. If it is the optimal interpretation, then it is the peshat, and also the only correct interpretation of the verses in question.

The Definition of Peshat and Drash According to Maimonides

Accordingly, it is no surprise that Maimonides adopts the baraita’s interpretation of the rising sun and the tunneling burglar, and ignores the literal interpretation. According to Maimonides, the baraita offers the optimal interpretation, and therefore this is the peshat of the verses.

It is clear that the law learned in the baraita is, according to Maimonides, a Torah law; hence it indeed counts for him as peshat. Derashot, by contrast, are rabbinic laws.

Thus, Maimonides does not accept the scheme we proposed regarding the relation between peshat and drash. For him, the optimal interpretation is the peshat, whereas other interpretations are not genuine interpretations of what is found in the text, but extensions of it. Therefore these are derashot, and their status is like that of rabbinic law.

Nahmanides’ Approach

Nahmanides in fact attacks Maimonides precisely on this point, writing in his glosses to the second root:

“Heaven forbid that among all the midrashim concerning the commandments there should be any in which the verse departs from its plain sense. Rather, all are included in the language of the text, even though they expand it by means of inclusive readings…”

“For the Torah of the Lord is perfect; there is in it no extra or missing letter. All were written with wisdom, and they did not find any fundamental midrash concerning the commandments that removes the verse from its plain sense, except for the exposition of ‘And the firstborn whom she bears’ (Deuteronomy 25), as they mentioned in tractate Yevamot (Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 24a)…”

“And so too, wherever they expounded matters of parable and rhetorical figure, they believed that both are true: the inner and the outer…”

“This is their intention wherever this expression is mentioned in the Talmud—not, God forbid, that they intended to uproot verbal analogies, inclusive readings, and the rest of the derashot. In this vein they said in the third chapter of Ketubot (Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 38b), when they cited Rabbi Akiva concerning a young woman who had been betrothed and then divorced, that she receives the fine; and in the Mishnah it says, ‘the fine goes to her,’ whereas in a baraita it says, ‘the fine goes to her father.’ They asked: Granted, according to Rabbi Akiva in the Mishnah, no verbal analogy comes and removes the verse entirely from its plain sense; but according to Rabbi Akiva in the baraita, does the verbal analogy come and remove the verse entirely from its plain sense? And it answers: ‘Read it as if it said: who is not betrothed,’ etc. Their intention is only that the verse should not be removed entirely from its plain sense. This is what they mean by saying, ‘A verse never departs from its plain sense.’ They did not say: a verse means only its plain sense. Rather, we have its midrash together with its plain sense, and it departs from neither of them; the text can bear them all, and both are true.”

Nahmanides argues against Maimonides that there is no need to assume that a biblical text has only one true interpretation. Peshat and drash are both true—inner and outer. And when the Talmud says, “A verse never departs from its plain sense,” the intention is that a midrashic interpretation of Scripture cannot stray entirely from the intention of the literal wording.

In effect, Nahmanides is here returning to the same position we discussed above: an optimal interpretation should take into account both rational considerations and verbal considerations. Together with the optimal interpretation, which is the drash, there also stands a literal interpretation, which is the peshat. As we saw above, this is also the position of Raavad in his gloss to the laws of the burglar who tunnels in.

It follows that, with regard to inadvertent idolatry, Nahmanides is not trying to replace the peshat interpretation, but to create a midrashic interpretation that will not be detached from the wording of the text. That is his consistent method here. Alongside that interpretation, the literal interpretation can also stand as the peshat.

“Fathers Shall Not Be Put to Death for Sons”

Another example that can be assigned to this mechanism is an apparent contradiction between the Sages’ drash based on a verse in the Torah and what we find in the book of Chronicles.

The verse in Deuteronomy 24:16 says:

“Fathers shall not be put to death for sons, and sons shall not be put to death for fathers; each man shall be put to death for his own sin.”

The literal plain sense of the verse is that it is forbidden to execute children for the sins of their fathers, and vice versa. Yet the Sages expound this verse differently (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 27b):

“For the Rabbis taught: ‘Fathers shall not be put to death for sons’—what does this teach? If it comes to teach that fathers are not put to death for the sin of sons, and sons not for the sin of fathers, that has already been stated: ‘Each man shall be put to death for his own sin.’ Rather, ‘fathers shall not be put to death for sons’ means: not on the testimony of sons; and ‘sons shall not be put to death for fathers’ means: not on the testimony of fathers.”

That is, the Gemara rejects the possibility of interpreting the verse according to its literal plain sense, and learns from it the disqualification of relatives as witnesses. Here the difficulty underlying this midrashic interpretation is not one of reason but of redundancy, since the rule that one does not execute a person for another’s sin is already written elsewhere in the Torah.

Yet we find in Second Chronicles 25:1–4:

“Amaziah was twenty-five years old when he began to reign, and he reigned twenty-nine years in Jerusalem. His mother’s name was Jehoaddan of Jerusalem. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, though not with a whole heart. And when the kingdom was firmly established in his hand, he slew his servants who had struck down the king his father. But their children he did not kill, as it is written in the Torah, in the book of Moses, which the Lord commanded, saying: ‘Fathers shall not die for sons, and sons shall not die for fathers; rather, each man shall die for his own sin.’”

At first glance, this is a frontal contradiction between the Sages’ drash and an explicit verse in Chronicles.

The matter becomes very clear in light of our proposal. In view of the difficulty, the optimal interpretation is the one proposed by the baraita in Sanhedrin: that the Torah intends to teach us the disqualification of witnesses who are related to the litigant. But here too the second question arises: could the Torah not have written this in a manner better suited to that meaning? The answer is clearly yes. The wording is not suited to the meaning the Sages assign to it. That indicates that the literal interpretation is also a valid one, and it is the peshat that stands alongside the optimal interpretation, which is the drash.¹

Further Implications of the Dispute Between Maimonides and Raavad

A similar disagreement between Maimonides and Raavad appears in Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings 12:1.²

“Do not let it enter your mind that in the days of the Messiah anything of the world’s ordinary way will cease, or that there will be any new thing in the work of creation. Rather, the world will follow its normal course. And what is said in Isaiah, ‘The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid,’ is a parable and an enigma. Its meaning is that Israel will dwell securely with the wicked among the nations of the world, who are likened to a wolf and a leopard, as it says, ‘A wolf of the desert shall ravage them, a leopard watches over their cities.’ They will all return to the true faith, and they will neither rob nor destroy. Rather, they will eat what is permitted in tranquility together with Israel, as it says, ‘And the lion shall eat straw like the ox.’ And so too all such matters concerning the Messiah are parables; in the days of the messianic king everyone will know to what each parable referred and what it alluded to.”

Maimonides rules that the scriptural descriptions of the messianic age are merely parables, and that there will be no deviation from nature. Raavad, by contrast, disagrees and maintains that the words are to be taken literally:

“But does not the Torah say: ‘And I will remove evil beasts from the land’?”

Here too we have a case in which the literal description encounters a difficulty—this time a rational one. How can the laws of nature change within a natural world? Maimonides proposes an optimal interpretation that solves that difficulty: the passage is a parable. It should be noted that, according to Maimonides, this is the correct interpretation, that is, the peshat, not the drash. The peshat of these verses is that they are pure parable.

Raavad, however, again asks the opposite question: why would the Torah formulate things in such a confusing way? He therefore argues that although the parable is correct,³ the literal interpretation is also correct.

His proof against Maimonides also requires explanation. He brings proof from the verse, “And I will remove evil beasts from the land.” But what should prevent Maimonides from interpreting that verse too non-literally, as a parable? What does Raavad see in this proof that is not already present in the verses Maimonides himself discusses? Indeed, the author of Migdal Oz and the Radbaz, ad loc., explain Maimonides in exactly that way.

The author of Margaliyot HaYam (on Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 72a, sec. 28) argues that Raavad held that even Maimonides—who is willing to interpret verses in the Prophets as pure parable—must agree that verses of the Torah are necessarily interpreted according to their plain sense as well. The basis for this is one of the thirty-two hermeneutical principles of Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yose the Galilean. The twenty-sixth principle there is:

“Parable—you find in the Prophets and the Writings that they spoke in parables. In what case is this said? In the prophetic books. But in matters of Torah and commandment you cannot interpret them in the language of parable, except for three things…”

It seems that Raavad misread Maimonides’ view. For according to Maimonides, the interpretation of these verses as parable is peshat, not drash—as Raavad understood it. See there in Margaliyot HaYam, where he brings evidence that Maimonides indeed interpreted even passages of the Torah in the language of hyperbole, parable, and rhetorical figure.

The Discussion of Henshke and Rabbi Witman in HaMa’ayan on Peshat and Drash

We have already mentioned in the past—see, for example, the article on Parashat Masei, 5765, and elsewhere—the articles by David Henshke in HaMa’ayan (5737–5738), and the response article by Rabbi Witman (ibid., 5738), which deal with the relation between peshat and drash.

Henshke argues that the Talmudic expression “a verse never departs from its plain sense” (see Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 63a and parallels) is accepted as halakha by all the decisors; see there in the first article, notes 2–3. In Torah Shelemah (vol. 17, supplements, no. 22) there is a whole list of sources in which medieval authorities interpret Scripture not in accordance with the Sages’ midrashim; see also Henshke there, note 5. He explains that they are apparently relying on this principle; see also Encyclopedia Talmudit, entry “A verse never departs from its plain sense.”

Henshke argues, at the end of subsection A of the introduction to his first article, against those who maintain that for the Sages the drash is itself the true peshat: if so, how can one say that a verse never departs from its plain sense, when the drash itself is the peshat?

According to our approach, there is no difficulty here at all. We have already seen Nahmanides’ comments, interpreting this expression as a guideline for shaping drash so that it will not be detached from the biblical wording. If so, the rule “a verse never departs from its plain sense” functions as guidance for the formation of the midrashic interpretation, but alongside it there also exists the peshat interpretation. Both are interpretations of Scripture, and, as we have seen, it is specifically the midrashic interpretation that is the optimal one.

Rabbi Witman, in his article, criticizes Henshke and argues that the definition of peshat is not merely conformity to the literal layer; it must also take into account logical and conceptual considerations. Therefore, what he calls “drash” is in fact nothing other than peshat according to the Sages. In effect, this is a return to what we saw above from the Hazon Ish and the Beit Yosef. Rabbi Witman’s article contains quite a few examples—especially in chapter 3—showing that an interpretation that takes reason into account, even if it departs from a purely literal reading, would be considered by us the simple peshat of the text, not a midrashic interpretation.

According to our approach, Rabbi Witman does not really mean peshat but the optimal interpretation. And indeed Rabbi Witman is right in saying that drash is the optimal interpretation of the biblical wording in light of the full set of considerations—language and reason—and not the literal reading. But Henshke is right against him in insisting that, in addition and alongside this interpretation, there is also a literal interpretation. Otherwise it is unclear why the Torah chose to formulate things in a way that does not fit the optimal interpretation; something like this is in fact argued by Henshke at the beginning of his first article there. This literal interpretation is the peshat, and it exists alongside the drash.⁴

The conclusion that emerges here as well is that peshat is indeed the interpretation that fits the verbal considerations, but it is not the optimal interpretation of Scripture. That is precisely our point.

The Dispute Among Commentators About the Meaning of Drash

In light of our discussion, it emerges that the dispute among the commentators with which Henshke opens his article—some of whom treat drash as the peshat interpretation (HaKetav VehaKabbalah, Malbim, and others), while others see drash as an interpretation that does not aspire to the plain sense of Scripture but stands alongside the peshat interpretation (especially the Vilna Gaon)—is to a large extent a pseudo-dispute.

The midrashic interpretation is the optimal interpretation of Scripture, but it takes into account rational considerations as well, and not only style and wording. On the other hand, one cannot ignore the fact that the wording of the Torah does not suit that interpretation—at least not optimally, in light of question 2 above. The conclusion, therefore, is that there is another interpretation standing alongside it, namely the interpretation that arises from the literal wording. That is the peshat.

The disagreement thus remains, at most, on the semantic plane: may one call the optimal interpretation “peshat,” or is it “drash”? We already noted above that the medieval authorities themselves seem to have disagreed on this point.

“What Does the Verse Mean in Its Plain Sense?”

There are cases in which the Sages themselves refer to a certain interpretation as one that does not fit the plain sense of Scripture, and therefore they search for the peshat interpretation.⁵ For example, in Jacob our father’s blessing to Judah there appears the verse:

“His eyes are red with wine, and his teeth white with milk.”

The Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 111b expounds the verse as follows:

“Lest you say there is no taste in it [in the wine of the vines of the Land of Israel], Scripture says: ‘His eyes are red with wine’—every palate that tastes it says, ‘More, more!’ Lest you say it is good for the young but not for the old, Scripture says: ‘and his teeth white with milk’—do not read ‘white of teeth,’ but ‘white of years.’”

This is the drash of the verse. Afterward, the Gemara asks what the peshat of the verse is, and explains:

“What, then, is the plain sense of the verse speaking about? When Rav Dimi came [he traveled often from the Land of Israel to Babylonia and back], he said: The congregation of Israel said before the Holy One, blessed be He: Master of the universe, smile upon me with Your eyes, for that is sweeter to me than wine [Rashi: Smile to me with Your eyes; it is better to me than wine when You show me a bright and laughing face], and show me Your teeth, for that is sweeter than milk [this too is an expression of laughter, for when one laughs his teeth are seen].”

“This supports Rabbi Yohanan, for Rabbi Yohanan said: Better is one who makes his fellow’s teeth white [that is, shows him a smiling face] than one who gives him milk to drink, as it is said: ‘and his teeth white with milk.’ Do not read ‘white of teeth’ but ‘whitening of teeth.’”

The commentators have already asked: why does the Gemara, which is seeking the peshat of the verse, offer an interpretation so obviously midrashic in character? What kind of “peshat” is this? In what way is it different from the Gemara’s previous interpretation, which is called “drash”?

The author of Torah Temimah, ad loc. (and likewise Maharsha, Hiddushei Aggadot, ad loc.), explains that here the distinction between peshat and drash concerns the words, not the overall meaning of the verse. The first interpretation, the midrashic one, twists the words. The second, the peshat interpretation, explains the words in their more straightforward sense.⁶

It is not clear why, according to Torah Temimah, the Gemara’s interpretation here should count as peshat on the level of the words, since it too contains a “do not read…” that alters the wording of the text. In general, his explanation seems strained in terms of the Gemara’s intent.

We should note that a similar structure appears in three other places in the Babylonian Talmud. Regarding the verse in Exodus 27, “The length of the courtyard shall be a hundred cubits, and the breadth fifty by fifty,” the Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 23b asks: “What is the plain sense of the verse speaking about?” and answers: Place the Tabernacle along the edge of the fifty, so that there will be fifty cubits before it and twenty cubits on each side.

Likewise, regarding the verse in Deuteronomy 13, “If your brother, the son of your mother, entices you,” the Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 80b asks: “What is the plain sense of the verse speaking about?” and answers: It is stating the lesser case as well as the greater. It need not say this of a paternal brother, who may hate him because he reduces his inheritance and therefore give him evil advice. Rather, even with a maternal brother, who does not hate him, one might have said that he would listen to him; therefore Scripture teaches us otherwise.

And likewise regarding the verse in Psalms 36, “Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains; Your judgments are a great deep.” The Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Arakhin 8b asks: “What is the plain sense of the verse speaking about?” The amoraim disagree there whether the meaning is that, were it not for His righteousness which is like mountains, who could withstand His judgments, which are a great deep; or rather that His righteousness is like mountains because His judgments are a great deep. See there regarding the precise point of their disagreement.

A Possible Explanation: Non-Literal Peshat

What is common to these three cases, as well as the earlier one, is that there is some problem with the simple, literal reading—the “peshat,” apparently—of the verse. Sometimes the problem is conceptual, as in the case of “Your righteousness…,” where there is apparently a contradiction between the two halves of the verse, or in the case of “If your brother entices you,” where it is unclear why the verse speaks specifically of a maternal brother and not a paternal brother, as explained there in the Gemara. Sometimes the words of the verse are themselves unclear, or at least their connection to one another, as in the case of “The length of the courtyard…”

In all these cases the Gemara tries to clarify what the “peshat” of the verse is. In all of them, the apparent peshat—the literal reading—is unsatisfactory, and therefore the Gemara assumes that it is not in fact the true peshat of the verse. There are cases in which the Gemara finds a real peshat, close to what we would call the plain sense of Scripture, and it is indeed satisfactory. That is the case in the last three examples. But in the first case—and in the two sources cited from Torah Temimah in footnote ⁶—it is difficult to regard the interpretation proposed by the Gemara as a peshat interpretation. On the other hand, in these cases it is not clear whether the verse has any truly literal meaning at all.

We cannot discuss all these cases in detail here, but in all of them we find an optimal interpretation that is not literal. The problem is that the Gemara calls this interpretation “the plain sense of the verse,” whereas according to our approach it is the drash. It may be that when we fail to find a fitting literal interpretation, the consideration we described above—the two questions—leads us to conclude that this verse indeed has two interpretations. Usually, we find a literal interpretation alongside the optimal interpretation; then the optimal interpretation is drash and the literal one is peshat. Here, however, we do not find any reasonable literal interpretation at all. If so, there are two interpretations, neither of which is literal. In such a case, the decision as to which is drash and which is peshat is no longer sharp and clear, and the considerations are specific to the case. We may note that there is no principled significance to this.

Halakha That “Bypasses Scripture”

Another example of a similar attitude on the part of the Sages appears in Sifrei, section 122, as well as in the Jerusalem Talmud, Kiddushin 1:2, and the Babylonian Talmud, Sotah 16a: “In three places halakha bypasses Scripture.”⁷ Three examples are brought there in which the halakha interprets Scripture in a way that does not suit its plain sense.

Rabbi Witman shows in his article there that, according to that tannaitic midrash, it is not even clear that a contradiction is involved at all. But even according to the Babylonian Talmud, which understands this as a contradiction between the accepted interpretation and the plain sense of Scripture, the Sages mean to say that halakha departs not only from the plain sense of Scripture but also from its drash. That is, the halakhic interpretation cannot be reconciled either with the peshat or with the drash. The conclusion is that both of those are reasonable interpretations of Scripture, but the accepted interpretation fits neither of them. He brings several proofs for this as well from the language of the medieval authorities ad loc., and I cannot elaborate here.

For our purposes, this is another example of the fact that the Sages regarded both peshat and drash as interpretations of the biblical wording, as explained above. These exceptional cases are apparently the result of a special halakha le-Moshe mi-Sinai (a law given to Moses at Sinai without explicit scriptural basis). Of course, from the considerations we have raised, it follows that we should seek two additional kinds of interpretation alongside the accepted one: drash and peshat. And both of those remain in place.

Footnotes