Parashat Vayishlach (5761)

With God's help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath of Parashat Vayishlach, 5761

Scholarship, Tradition, and Begging the Question

Toward the end of the portion, the Torah describes the descendants of Esau. Among other things, it lists

by name eight kings who reigned in Edom before any king reigned over the Israelites (chapter 36, verse

31).

Some scholars identify these kings with kings known to have reigned in the period after

Israel entered the land, before they appointed a king for themselves, and perhaps even a little later

(an identification disputed among Torah commentators). Since the Torah would have no way of knowing who the kings were who reigned

after it was written, most of them conclude that the Torah was not written at the time we attribute to Mount

Sinai, but was edited later. Some claim that this took place during the First Temple period, and there are

those who go so far as to place it even at the beginning of the Second Temple period. Tradition, by contrast, tells us that the Torah

was written even before the creation of the world. It was the "blueprint" at which the Holy One, blessed be He, looked when He created the

world: "He looked into the Torah and created the world."[1]

The scholarly argument appears, at first glance, decisive. How can one claim that the Torah was written at a time when

those kings of whom it speaks had not yet been born?

A similar consideration arises in the dating of the Book of Isaiah, an issue that is of course less central from the standpoint of

tradition. The claim is that there were two Isaiahs, with the second active after the first. One of the arguments in favor of

this view is that the Book of Isaiah refers to King Cyrus, a king who lived after the time in which Isaiah

himself lived according to tradition.

An important point in these considerations is that they are based on a certain foundational assumption: scholarship assumes

that it is impossible to know what the future holds. Tradition, by contrast, relates to the prophet as

a person endowed with the capacity to know what will happen in the future, and therefore there is nothing surprising in Isaiah's knowing about

King Cyrus, and certainly there is nothing surprising in the Torah's knowing about the kings who reigned in Edom after

it was given to the Israelites.

The situation is as follows: there is a dispute between the traditional approach and the scholarly approach as to whether

the future can be foreseen, and from this follows an additional dispute regarding the dating of various events

described in Scripture, including the very formation of Scripture.

When a dispute is being conducted about tradition, it is legitimate to argue that it is implausible that there is an ability to foresee

the future; however, it is entirely illegitimate to argue that tradition cannot possibly be historically accurate

because the Torah describes future events. If one indeed believes in tradition, there is no

refutation in the fact that the Torah describes future events. One cannot claim that there is evidence for the scholarly approach

from the descriptions of the future in Scripture, for this very point lies at the root of the dispute.

Contrary to what one might perhaps think, this "scientific" conclusion is not free of prejudices and unwarranted assumptions.

Each side has its own foundational assumptions on which it relies. This is similar to the "proof"

common in the yeshiva world that every Jew is obligated to wear a hat. The proof is that it says

"And Abraham went," and it is obvious that a Jew like him did not go about without a hat on his head.

Therefore, it is proven that everyone must go with a hat on his head. This phenomenon is called "begging the question." You do not arrive

at the conclusion; rather, you place it at the foundation of your argument. It is not the conclusion of the argument but an assumption that it

presupposes.

A common example, though a more sophisticated one, of begging the question of this kind is the problem known

in philosophy as the "paradox of omnipotence": can God create a stone so heavy that He Himself

cannot lift it? If He cannot create it, then He is not omnipotent; and if

He can create it, then there exists a stone that God cannot lift, and thus again He is not

omnipotent.

Here too, as noted, there is a kind of begging the question, though a subtler one. In order to attack

some position, we must assume its premises and show that they lead to a contradiction. Clearly it is pointless

to assume our own premises in order to show such a contradiction, for then we would be guilty precisely of begging

the question. In the present context, for the sake of the discussion, we assume that there exists an omnipotent being, and then we

attack that assumption by claiming that it necessarily leads to a paradox. But if we are indeed assuming

for the sake of the argument that there is a being that is omnipotent, then there is no stone in existence that He cannot lift,

for if there were, He would not be omnipotent. If so, according to the assumptions we are examining, it is not possible at all

to speak of a stone that He cannot lift, and therefore the question whether He can create such a stone is

meaningless. It is similar to the question whether God can create a round triangle. The question is

meaningless, and therefore the answer to it is neither yes nor no. The answer should be: when

you explain to me the terms you are using in your question, I will try to answer it. The same applies

in the context of the paradox of omnipotence. The question whether God can create such a stone tacitly assumes

that such a stone exists, or at least that the concept of it is well-defined. In trying to prove the claim that God

is not omnipotent, we have in fact tacitly assumed that very claim. That is begging the question.

Have a peaceful Sabbath

It may be deposited for reverent disposal in any synagogue or religious academy. Comments and responses are welcome.

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[1] It is interesting to note in this context that precisely these verses, seemingly unremarkable, receive the most intensive treatment

in the teachings of the Ari, where they are understood as describing the emanational unfolding of the World of Chaos

(a designation for the reality that existed before the creation of the world familiar to us). Precisely these verses constitute

more than any other verse the "blueprint" that preceded the world.

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