Reflections on Studying Tanakh – Summary and Clarifications (Column 135)

Hello Rabbi,
I wanted to ask what the rabbi thinks about studying the Tanakh in relation to prayer. After all, half of our liturgy is Psalms, and there are quite a few references to events from the Tanakh (the most classic ones, of course, are the Exodus from Egypt and the creation of the world, but there are others too). Prayer is supposed to be speaking to the Holy One, blessed be He, and understanding what one is saying is part of the very definition of speech, as opposed to mere recitation. And I think most of us do not understand quite a few of the words and their meaning, even on the plain level. The rabbi mentioned that meaningless mumbling is not Torah, but perhaps in the right way this could actually prevent someone from mumbling meaningless things.

So apparently I too need to summarize my updated position (I too was not fully understood).
First of all, I am not presenting any position, only an anti-position (whether because that has always been my way, or because I do not have a clear position, or because I do not want to write it). Within that framework, I did not claim that there are sacred facts, only discussed the possibility that such things exist.
I argued that your basic assumptions lead to a serious difficulty, and you insist on holding onto all of them even though they are not necessary. You can conclude that the stories were not given by God (after all, you do not believe that the entire Torah is from Heaven anyway), you can conclude that there are sacred facts, you can conclude that the Torah study we were commanded in is not only an intellectual activity (and it seems that this is what you are now doing in the “secondly” in your summary; and if so, then everything falls into place nicely—you prefer a certain kind of study and therefore engage in it, while others like something else that is also within the commandment to study Torah and therefore engage in that; the previous post began by expressing astonishment at those who study Tanakh, and now the amazing and innovative fact has been revealed that most people are interested in things different from what interests you [truth be told, I had already had a few indications of that]), and perhaps one can draw still other conclusions.
As for sacred facts, I argued that the idea that God wants us to know sacred facts is no more absurd than your other ideas about His will. Someone who holds dry Leibowitzian positions about the will of God (though very different from Leibowitz’s own) should not be surprised when the boomerang comes back at him. If taking a lulav helps God in some way, maybe studying the kings of Edom helps Him too. It seems to me that in every other commandment you refuse to look for external utilities—commandments are never commandments of moral acts—so here too I would expect that. After all, God does not need to command us to learn what He wants us to do, because if we want to do His will then we will learn it anyway (just as He would not command us to eat so that we have strength to perform commandments). If learning the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, is a sensible way to serve Him and cleave to Him, then He also does not need to command that, and so I would expect you to conclude that Torah study is the study of sacred facts. Of course, you can say that Torah study is broader than that, and that you prefer to deal with studying sacred facts that is also study of God’s will and is also more enjoyable for you, rather than studying sacred facts as such.
Another thing I wrote, and I think it is still relevant, is that it is worth trying something before expressing an opinion about it, certainly emphatically. The fact that you were at a few Bible classes proves nothing, especially since one may assume that your basic assumptions differ from those of the teachers. If you want to know whether there is value in studying Tanakh, try studying Tanakh seriously. After all, it is the word of God, and you do not understand why God gave it—so is it not worth investing a few weeks of your life to find out? (I am pretty sure that the answer here should be given on the psychological plane, but there is a limit even to how low I can sink when pestering you.) Take a few weeks, study three stories (so there will be a presumption established), and in each story begin with literal understanding to the end, syntactic understanding, understanding the plot, relatively stable literary analysis (that is, not all kinds of airy things, but meaningful linguistic comparisons), and finally try to understand why it was written. Of course, for all these things you will need to use many books, and also books that you probably do not know. The effort you made in the previous post—asking readers for proofs—is really a pathetic effort in light of the size of the subject under discussion (the word of God!), and especially since I assume that you too would agree that it is easier for you (and probably for anyone else) to change positions through independent reflection than through discussion with others (which has value in its own right). I can mention again as an example the endless arguments I have heard about the economic benefit or lack of benefit of the Haredim. (That is what I meant by what you called pointless stubbornness in the comments on the previous post.)

The main problem is that many students of Tanakh lack systematic literary tools for deciphering a biblical text. In the absence of such objective tools, anyone can come up with an interpretation that is close to his own worldview, and truly there is no value in such study. But someone who has a system of interpretive tools at his disposal can reach conclusions that contradict his own outlook in the course of studying Scripture. I recommend Prof. Yoni Grossman’s book Exposed from Within, which enumerates the various modes of design in biblical narrative; there one can truly see that the Bible employs measurable literary devices in order to convey its messages. Of course things are not always cut and dried, but as in any discipline, the rules are not absolute and there is always room for deliberation. It has happened to me quite a few times that I changed my position on various subjects because I became convinced that a certain interpretation in Tanakh was more correct than another interpretation (there is also the issue of integrity, which is always relevant and not only to Bible study).

Maimonides already wrote that all prophecies will be nullified in the future to come, so you have something to hope for.

I join the request for some discussion of the Book of Psalms, and would also like to ask, if possible, for a post on the matter of the Messiah as the rabbi sees it (I feel this is a loaded subject, and I would appreciate it if the rabbi did not dismiss it superficially).

I did not understand the question. If you do not understand—go and study, and understand.

All right, I’ll try to check it out.

I don’t think that was the request (see my response there).
I didn’t understand what I’m supposed to write about the Book of Psalms.
As for the Messiah, I don’t have much to say about him. Our tradition tells us that the Messiah will come, and there are also verses in the Prophets whose plain sense says so. Still, it is not clear to me to what extent this is a description of future facts, wishes, hopes, and what the meaning of the Messiah and that period is. All this seems to me speculative, and even what we can learn from the verses is limited in scope because of everything I said here (that the gates of interpretation and metaphor have not been locked, etc.).
Sorry for being brief contrary to your request, but that is about all I have to say on this subject. In my opinion, everything anyone says to you about it is speculation.

I understood the rabbi there as making an a priori claim (there is nothing to learn from the Tanakh). Be that as it may, I very much enjoyed it, but I agree with the rabbi that what was, was, and I also anchor the claim in Maimonides (the nullification of prophecies in the future to come). I think a large part of the prophecies are a kind of reference point—if you want to know why we were exiled from our land, look in the Tanakh—even if historically that is not precise, as Yehoshua Greenberg notes:
https://hashiloach.org.il/%d7%9e%d7%a2%d7%91%d7%a8-%d7%9c%d7%97%d7%98%d7%90-%d7%95%d7%9c%d7%a2%d7%95%d7%a0%d7%a9%d7%95-%d7%91%d7%a8%d7%99%d7%97%d7%aa%d7%94-%d7%a9%d7%9c-%d7%94%d7%94%d7%99%d7%a1%d7%98%d7%95%d7%a8%d7%99%d7%94/

I’m just wondering what the rabbi’s expectations are from the Book of Psalms (analytical, experiential, religious), and whether the rabbi is willing to accept a Judaism of the Book of Psalms (there are also Litvaks who recite Psalms; I’m not sure about the Enlightenment types).

As for the Messiah, the truth is that, as far as the rabbi is removed from that, we would be happy with some kind of homiletic discourse. Joking, of course. The rabbi knows quite a lot, and it is clear that this topic has sides not accessible to the ordinary person.

If so, there is intrinsic value in engaging in Tanakh, but it has not been proven that there is value in studying large parts of it.
Could one say that the Tanakh was not intended for study, but rather so that we would have the words of God in our hands and engage with them? In a certain sense like the benefit of reciting Psalms, even for people who do not understand. Had the Holy One, blessed be He, handed to His prophets telephone books, then indeed engaging in telephone books would bring us closer to Him. For reasons I do not understand, it happened that He handed to His prophets other books. Is engaging in them not significant? Engaging, not studying.
Take for example the list of the princes’ offerings—the approach of Bamidbar Rabbah is that the offerings are mentioned again and again because the symbolism of each offering was different; that is an approach of study, because we try to understand or at least guess twelve different meanings of those lists of offerings. It is somewhat similar to the view of the kabbalists/allegorists. But a second approach is that this was considered aesthetic (there is such a structure in ancient Babylonian writings, of repeating the same sentence structure many times), and the assumption is that when we engage with a verse that has aesthetic value, the experience is engraved in our souls more deeply, and thus we will be able to engage more and more with the word of God—because it will be a little less boring. The fact that studying Tanakh or Psalms is boring does not detract from the value of it as a text given by the Holy One, blessed be He, into the hands of His prophets (I will not get into the status of the Writings from that perspective right now).

The request indeed was not specifically about Psalms. I was only raising an idea for another substantive reason to study Tanakh.

I have no expectations from the Book of Psalms beyond the rest of the Tanakh. It can, however, be seen as a book that from the outset was not intended for study but for pouring out the soul and religious experience.

That is a scriptural decree that I was talking about. See also the next post, which sums up the issue.

Interesting! In this post you tried for the first time to explain the opposite side—why one should study Talmud. And these were the answers you gave (partial quotations):
1) …As opposed to halakhic study, which not for nothing gentiles and secular Jews hardly engage in. This is a Jewish and Torah world that does not touch them.
2) In Talmudic analysis you acquire something new. You join a unique discipline, and that is something Jewish that can count as Torah.
3) Studying the Talmud and analyzing it also enables connection to the ethos and mode of thinking of the previous generations of Jews.
4) One who studies halakhah deals with uniquely Jewish matters, with the desires of the Holy One, blessed be He, as reflected in the Torah and in the rich discipline that developed from it (and only in them).
5) The Talmud is truly, in my opinion, a masterpiece that succeeds in presenting a complex worldview with many branches, shades, and layers; in documenting give-and-take and an intergenerational conversation on varied topics that are both applicable to our lives and enrich them; and in containing many aspects within itself and synthesizing them into a uniquely Jewish discipline and uniquely Jewish modes of relating.

In short, you have two motivations for preferring the Talmud:
A. Objective—the Talmud represents a unique Jewish ethos (quotes 1–4).
B. Subjective—the Talmud is very interesting and relevant to our lives (quote 5).

And here the son asks:

A. In fact, this is my claim about the Tanakh: it is a unique Israeli ethos* on which the entire Israeli consciousness/identity rests. You can argue that it is no longer relevant—but then you will have to explain, at least in honor of Independence Day, how it happened that the students of Talmud remained dust and ashes, while the students of Tanakh were the ones who founded the state thanks to which you can sit peacefully and study Talmudic sugyot. So perhaps there is relevance in studying Tanakh that has escaped your notice?
* There is no parallel to the Tanakh in any nation or language—though there were later attempts at imitation (the Qur’an, the Book of Mormon). The fact that gentiles study it is a badge of honor for the Tanakh, not a demerit! Apparently in the eyes of a nationalist-Talmudic chauvinist like you that is perceived as a disadvantage… 🙂

B. In most people’s opinion, including the educated among them, the Talmud is for the most part extremely boring. In addition, its relevance to most areas of our lives is negligible, even if you are a religious person—most of what a person does in his life (go and check!) is not connected in any way to the Talmud, but rather to the halakhic codes, and they are related to the Talmud about as much as it is related to the Tanakh.
From a literary point of view, the Talmud is far from being a masterpiece—it includes tedious discussions with objections that repeat themselves and answers that would not be accepted in any logical discipline; it contains many old wives’ tales fit for children at best; it presents a chauvinistic and racist mentality, with an instrumental attitude toward (almost) everything emotional; and it often deals with the secondary instead of the primary (= the halakhic significance of events in some esoteric way rather than the values to be learned from them).

Bottom line—everyone likes a certain field, and there is a natural tendency to try to prove to the rest of the world that what they like is utter vanity… I, for example, really love flamenco music + Greek music. And sometimes I feel like explaining to everyone that pop is garbage, rock is trite, jazz is boring, etc.—but I restrain myself…

By the way, full disclosure—the undersigned gives a Daf Yomi class several times a week in his community. Examples of what I wrote about the Talmud can be found on almost every page.

First, I should note your fundamental misunderstanding of my words. When I wrote that the Talmud is a Jewish ethos, I meant to say that even in this respect Tanakh does not surpass it. For me, this is not the motivation to study it, because I do not study for the sake of ethoses; rather, it is an argument of “according to your own method.” And with that your claim A falls.
Second, there is no chauvinism in what I said, and I have no problem with gentiles studying Tanakh, nor would I have a problem if they studied Talmud. I brought it as an indication of the uniquely Jewish character of the Talmud as distinct from the Tanakh, which strengthens the “according to your own method” argument. By the way, I did not understand why you are not a chauvinist of Tanakh and only I am.
Third, the discussion of why to study Talmud and what its significance is is broad, and perhaps one should open a separate thread or post about it. This is not the place to go into detail. By the way, in my estimation, if there is a unique text in the history of world literature, it is much more the Talmud than the Tanakh.
Fourth, the students of relativity theory, the readers of Melville, and the students of Kant also remained dust and ashes, simply because it is difficult and heavy. I have already written here that ratings, for me, prove nothing.
Fifth, the fact that the Tanakh led to the establishment of the state is of course true. So what? That only means that most people do not want something complex and technical and prefer an easier life they can readily relate to. The state was established by a broad public, and it is no wonder that this was driven by the Tanakh. I wrote that this is also what happens today, that most of the public prefers Tanakh. So let them study Tanakh. I wrote that I have no problem with this, and good health to them. I explained why I do not find my place there and why I do not see this as meaningful study. I am looking for something that teaches me new things, even at the price of complexity.
As for the character of the Talmud, you are talking nonsense and displaying a lack of understanding. But as I said, this is not the place to get into it.
And fifthly, I am not getting into my dark motives for writing what I write. I prefer discussing the matter itself and the arguments themselves. By the same token, I could write that you prefer Tanakh because of your personal (chauvinistic?) taste and therefore defend it. But I restrain myself… 🙂

I think the main problem the rabbi raised—and in fact this is what underlies his inability to connect to the study of Tanakh—is, to put it bluntly, that he does not really study Tanakh. Throughout the post, and I believe this shows a great deal about the rabbi’s basic attitude toward Tanakh, he speaks about studying Tanakh but means in-depth analysis in halakhah and Gemara. By contrast, here are several examples of conclusions that I reached through in-depth study of Tanakh: In the halakhic area—an in-depth study of the passages on sacrifices gave me insights that cannot be obtained from halakhah regarding the religious emotions underlying the different sacrifices and the differing role of eating the sacrifice in each case (and it is important to me to note that these are not merely my personal interpretations, but things based on study of traditional and modern commentators, of course with my own additions and developments using the tools they employed). From a broad analysis of the Torah’s attitude toward the ideal regime (beginning with the Torah, continuing with the obligations stated in the narratives, and ending with the words of the prophets), I arrived at a conclusion that I think is trivial, but I do not think it is so simple for everyone, namely that the Torah does not care (despite the detailed commandments in Parashat Shoftim) about the specific form of government, but rather that all governing bodies should increase fear of Heaven, both in government and among the people. A study of the stories in Ezra and Nehemiah shows the writer’s ambivalent judgment (and from it, God’s judgment, assuming it was written with divine inspiration) about their deeds: their spiritual intention was correct, but they did not succeed in connecting the people, and especially the elite class, to their efforts, and thus they laid the groundwork for the Hellenization that followed directly in history (the judgment here is the main point, not the historical knowledge). Likewise, in the Writings there is criticism of Ezra (and this can be seen only after study, since it is hinted at rather than stated directly), namely that he sank into frustration over the people’s condition and did not act decisively against it.
Of course, here I have only presented the conclusions and not the whole course of study, so they seem detached and made up. I would be happy to answer the rabbi, if he wishes to hear more, about the process that leads to such conclusions and about the suitable form of study. I too, like the rabbi, recoil from little sermonic tidbits, and therefore in my opinion without real analysis of Scripture one cannot truly learn from it. By contrast, in my eyes it is precisely halakhah (I will set Gemara aside in this discussion) that is deadly boring, and one can no longer continue learning from it today since it lacks the power of continuation in most areas that were not dealt with over the years (unlike, for example, Shabbat, kashrut, and niddah), and it will be possible truly to engage with it as the word of God only when there is a living court as in the days of the Gemara, just as one can still derive values from judicial rulings issued by the courts today.

Okay, I considered and accepted (though I did not agree!).
Only regarding what you wrote—“The students of relativity theory, the readers of Melville, and the students of Kant also remained dust and ashes, simply because it is difficult and heavy. I have already written here that ratings, for me, prove nothing”—my words were misunderstood. I meant that the Judaism of the Talmud did not succeed in surviving the Holocaust, while the Judaism of Tanakh did (a sweeping generalization, and nevertheless). This is not about ratings, but about the fact that the Talmud is Babylonian (= diasporic…)—and therefore there is a clear preference for studying Tanakh, because it proved itself as a foundational text that contributes to the survival of the Jewish people.
And if you say: But did not Jewish life over 2,000 years survive only thanks to the Talmud? I too will say to you: Can that even be called life?!… Look at Christianity without the Talmud, and see where we could have gotten… 🙂

For the readers’ benefit, I will present here what I heard from Rabbi Sherlo about the structure of the “speech of the commandments” in Deuteronomy according to the Ten Commandments:
“I am the Lord your God” — the commandment of God’s unity: “Hear, O Israel,” “You shall not test” (end of Va’etchanan)
“You shall have no other gods” — Eikev and the beginning of Re’eh up to the law of the wayward city
“You shall not take My name in vain” — the obligation of worship in the place where I shall choose to make My name dwell? (beginning of Re’eh)
“Keep the Sabbath day to sanctify it” — commandments of time: Shemittah and the pilgrimage festivals (end of Re’eh)
“Honor your father” — authority: judge, priest, king, and prophet (Shoftim)
“You shall not murder” — accidental murderer, laws of war, the heifer whose neck is broken, the beautiful captive woman (end of Shoftim, beginning of Ki Tetze)
“You shall not commit adultery” — the betrothed maiden, marriage prohibitions (Ki Tetze)
“You shall not steal” — interest, wage labor, pledges, and more (Ki Tetze)
“You shall not covet” — confession over tithes?

This is of course only a representative list, and as in the Gemara there are many deviations, digressive discussions, and commandments that seemingly are not in their place. The list apparently supports Maimonides against Nahmanides and the Masoretes, who combine “I am the Lord your God” and “You shall have no other gods” (the Masoretes, however, separate two different kinds of “You shall not covet,” and there is room to engage in pilpul about their view). Still, for someone to whom reading Deuteronomy always gave the feeling of a heap of commandments, the proposed order can suddenly provide understanding and open the door to many inquiries and fine points.

Y.D.,
This is a good example, because here one can see that no new insight is learned from it. It organizes the book itself, but what do I learn from it? This is exactly what I said: the study can be interesting and beautiful, but its conclusions tell me nothing new except about the structure of the text itself.

If we are already dealing in summaries, we would not have merited to renew the state with the help of the holy Tanakh were it not for the fact that we survived 2,000 years of exile with the Talmud. But as stated, survival is not a criterion for me.

Perhaps the very categorization can teach you something new (for example, that a divorced woman’s marriage to another man is considered a kind of theft). Just as understanding Maimonides’ classification in the Mishneh Torah has significance for Talmudic analysis.

I did not bring this as a refutation (you know my position on the issue), but it seems to me that just as there is a branch within Torah of interpreting Scripture according to the plain grammatical sense—even though it sometimes contradicts halakhah—so in our times there has arisen a branch of interpreting Scripture according to methods of literary analysis. Why this arose now and not before is a historical question (regarding grammar, the Greek influence is fairly clear), but the sages of Gush should not be considered inferior to the sages of grammar.

I assume you know that I have no objection to new methods, as long as they are conclusive and help me produce new, nontrivial insights.

The issue of classification and arrangement seems more significant to me, and I would like to expand on it.

The Ten Commandments:
Already from the Torah we know that there are the Ten Commandments (“the ten words” in Parashat Ki Tisa), yet there is no clear list of them. Following Maimonides, we tend to divide between “I am” and “You shall have no other gods” and to combine “You shall not covet” into one commandment. But the Masoretes (and also the upper cantillation) did not think so, and they combined “I am” and “You shall have no other gods” and split “You shall not covet.” To halakhists this seems strange. In the second version of the commandments, they do divide between “You shall not desire” and “You shall not covet,” but in the first version the difference is not clear. I heard that Professor Haym Soloveitchik used to explain variant readings (round and square brackets in the Talmud) as a conceptual dispute. Seemingly, here too the Masoretes have a different conceptual rationale regarding the commandment of “You shall not covet,” but I still have not fully grasped their view.

The beautiful captive woman — the beautiful captive woman is perceived as an example of an immoral commandment (to the point that Rabbi Michael Abraham devoted a post on his site to the subject). This is because our conception of war is Russian (soldiers rape women). But if, for example, we conceive of war in the American way (soldiers marry local women), as the Re’em understood it, then there would be no moral problem here at all. This view has a clear halakhic implication in the Re’em’s prohibition of raping a beautiful captive woman.

Shemittah — in Parashat Behar there is a dispute between Rashi and Ibn Ezra as to why we return to Mount Sinai. Rashi sees this as an illustration.
Ibn Ezra, by contrast, understands Shemittah as a covenant of Mount Sinai. A study of Parashat Emor points to a chiastic structure that supports his approach:
Lighting the lamp and the showbread: Tabernacle passages
The blasphemer: civil laws (“an eye for an eye”)
Behar: the revelation at Mount Sinai.
Seemingly this has no halakhic significance, but in our generation the Hazon Ish adopted Ibn Ezra’s view and argued that if the covenant of the land was made concerning Shemittah so that we might return, then we are obligated to observe Shemittah and not try to circumvent it through the sale permit. And he was not satisfied until he defined the rabbis who permit the sale as aiding transgressors, even though he knew very well that they had strong support (the Beit Yosef and others). Seemingly the dispute between Rashi and Ibn Ezra teaches nothing. In practice, the categorization by which Ibn Ezra associated Shemittah with Mount Sinai led to an extremely sharp halakhic dispute.

Classification is important. In one of the arguments on the site I claimed that Amalek is a religious war, not a racial one, and that this has halakhic ramifications (for some reason everyone ignored it despite the proofs from Maimonides). What the rabbi now paints as unimportant may turn out to be important through someone else in a few years.

I think that when I accused the rabbi of Leibowitzianism, he did not understand me. I never spoke of reading a sacred text as a mantra (or reciting the genealogies of Chronicles and the portions of inheritances and cities in the Book of Joshua). I spoke about real study. The books of the Later Prophets—and also the stories of the Former Prophets—are not mere history. They are a goal-directed description of history (as the rabbi said, a spiritual and ethical lesson—though forgive me, rabbi, that is a rather feeble formulation. The Torah is Torah, not morality, not lessons, not Pinocchio, not La Fontaine’s fables, and not “Torah thoughts” in Shabbat pamphlets). This is quite clear, for example, in Chronicles (especially II Chronicles), where in the summary of each section it is mentioned that whoever sought the Lord, the Lord helped him, and whoever trusted not in Him but in flesh and blood (his own or others’) did not succeed and was even punished for it. This is admittedly trivial, but God is in the small details, and the ways of providence are what changed from case to case, and those are what must be studied. Indeed, Tanakh in itself in the form of historical narrative cannot teach us much today, but as I said, the story is not the Tanakh but rather Kabbalah, Jewish thought, and the aggadot and homiletical midrashim of Hazal, which cannot be understood even in their simple sense without complete mastery of Tanakh down to the smallest details. True, afterward, when one studies Tanakh and understands it, it acquires value in itself. One can really see how the aggadot are already written there (on the level of peshat). And that is the task of our generation.

Indeed, one really must study Tanakh, as the rabbi wrote, for the sake of the holy names and the sefirot written within it. The whole Torah of Kabbalah is the ways of God and His providence, knowledge of God. The great novelty is that after one understands even a little of the Torah of Kabbalah, one can see that the things that Kabbalah reads into Tanakh are present even on the level of simple peshat; it is just that we were blind before to see it. What I am saying is that usually, on the level of simple peshat, people deal with what is written. But I claim that part of simple peshat is also why what is written is written. That is, the reason for what is written is also written in Tanakh, within the written text itself. And the level of “why” has levels upon levels—why the why, and why the why of the why, like how from a set one can build infinitely many sets by means of subsets, and so on.

It is impossible to see this over the format of a post. It is like the rabbi trying to teach Gemara to a child (how to read Gemara, Aramaic, and basic terms) over the internet.

By the way, in this fascinating discussion here, two important remarks that support Rabbi Michi’s position:
1) Rabbi Michi is agreed with by the greatest of the Tosafists, Rabbenu Tam, who ruled that since we have the Babylonian Talmud, there is no obligation to study Scripture (Kiddushin 30—and someone noted this in the previous post, but his words were swallowed in the sea of verbiage).
2) A counter-proof could have been something like: “Here is a halakhah that I learned from Scripture, contrary to Hazal’s interpretation / to accepted halakhah.” But for some reason no one offers such a thing!

___
By the way, I will note something I encountered recently that also supports Rabbi Michi’s position—
Abroad, a provocative and fascinating book by a distinguished Bible professor has been published, titled The Old Testament Is Dying. According to him, nobody in the U.S. studies the Bible—not even in the religious (Christian) public!
The reasons for this are very reminiscent of what Rabbi Michi wrote against the “value-based” argument for studying Tanakh—according to the professor, two noisy groups in America use it in a manipulative way that causes the silent majority to keep their distance from it. In fact, he shows that everyone finds in the Bible the values he wants to find…
See what was written here + interesting quotations about attitudes to the Bible in Israel, from Yuval Noah Harari on the one hand and the Hidabroot organization on the other, and more:
http://ivri.org.il/2018/03/bible-homer/

Of course order has importance. But if we are dealing with halakhah, then this is not our issue, since halakhot are certainly learned from Scripture in various ways. Here I am discussing the study of moral values or facts of various kinds.
And even regarding the examples you brought, they require discussion. Here I will suffice with two comments:
Regarding the beautiful captive woman, I do not agree with your connection. The moral objection is to rape, not to marriage by consent. The objection to marriage by consent is halakhic, not moral.
I am very doubtful (careful: severe understatement) whether the Hazon Ish’s dispute is really founded on biblical interpretation or on basic conceptions (opposition to Zionist leniencies regarding Shemittah). Do you really think that because of Ibn Ezra—whose halakhic standing is, as is well known, highly questionable—the Hazon Ish arrived at his position? This is actually an example proving the opposite: people choose what seems right to them a priori.

Many thanks for the proofs. There are indeed sometimes halakhot that are learned from Scripture (as is known, the Hafetz Hayyim in his commentary learned several halakhot from the verses, such as “you shall surely help” applying to a small child, learned by an a fortiori argument from an animal, and so on). Likewise the “resting” of one’s son, which the Rashba learned at the beginning of the chapter Mi Shehekhshikh from an explicit verse, though in Hazal there is no halakhah learned from it (there is the resting of one’s animal, and there is a dispute over the resting of one’s utensils, but no resting of one’s son), and the Magen Avraham cites it. I once wrote about this and called it “uprooted verses” (explicit verses with halakhot that Hazal do not derive from them halakhically, and therefore most decisors ignore them). Another example is causing a blind person to stumble over a physical obstacle, where the Minhat Hinukh claims there is no prohibition involved (only giving improper advice or causing someone to sin). This is of course absurd, and it is obvious he is wrong, for Scripture explicitly spoke about this.
What you brought about the death of the Bible reminds me of the abandonment of the Bible because of fear of the Enlightenment and biblical criticism. I have already written that, in my opinion, the basis of the abandonment is not fear but the essential attitude toward Tanakh described in my posts here. And indeed, in the past as well, even before the Enlightenment and biblical criticism, people did not engage in it much.

Regarding the beautiful captive woman—if you do not assume rape, you do not need to explain rape (for some reason people remember the Russians and forget that the Americans brought half a million European women home with them).
Regarding the Hazon Ish, I fear you are right. Though the very introduction of extra-halakhic considerations was already strange in itself.

But as I wrote, if there is no rape then there is no problem.

But if there is a prohibition on rape, as the Re’em writes, then why should one assume that the Torah permits rape?

Where is there a prohibition on rape? Only in the case of a virgin maiden (ages 3 to 12). There is of course a prohibition in the interpersonal sense, but that does not apply regarding gentile women. The fact is that the accepted assumption there in the passage of the beautiful captive woman is that it is talking about rape (I noted this there, perhaps in the talkbacks, and brought a source that deals with it). There is of course also a moral prohibition, and it certainly applies to gentile women too—that is what I discussed there (namely, that this was not necessarily permitted).

“Between Sun and Ear of Grain”—an answer to the survey: What the Tanakh gave me in my creative work.

In the Days of Mercy, even a writer ought to engage in self-examination, and therefore it is fitting that he be grateful to anyone who asks him questions that may arouse him to do so. And such, without doubt, is the question: what did the Tanakh give him in his creative work? Surely the intent of the question is not the shell—such as borrowing language from Scripture, or even borrowing subjects from biblical material—but the inner substance: whether the fullness of truth and light of the Book of Books took hold in him and were absorbed in him. If so, the very formulation of the question forces reflection in reply, for immediately the tremendous disproportion stands out: the Tanakh on the one hand, and his own writing on the other. More precisely: Torah and prophecy on the one hand, and his own various compositions called “creative work” on the other.
What wonder, then, that the respondent escapes to the refuge of the perplexed, the refuge of parable. What is this like? You are walking in a field of stalks of grain, and one ear of grain comes before you, and you ask it: What did the sun give you for your growth? The ear of grain answers: almost everything and almost nothing. You continue and ask: Explain? The ear of grain continues and answers: almost everything—because were it not for the power of the sun’s giving, I would not exist; almost nothing—because how great is the receiving capacity of an ear of grain?
(Dov Sadan)

When I was a child I looked for a source in the Torah for the authority of the sages. Today I accept the sanctity of the Torah only because of the authority of the sages…

I greatly wonder at you, Abram the Hebrew (Avi Dentelsky), regarding the proof you brought from Rabbenu Tam—you took him out of context!

The words there refer to the obligation stated in the Gemara to divide one’s study into thirds: “A person should always divide his years: one-third Scripture, one-third Mishnah, one-third Talmud.” On this Rabbenu Tam says that when a person studies Gemara, he automatically fulfills his obligation, since verses from the Tanakh are already included in it: “Rabbenu Tam explained that we rely on what we say in Sanhedrin (24a), ‘Babylonia is mixed with Scripture, Mishnah, and Gemara,’ for the Babylonian Gemara is mixed from them all.”
That is to say, Rabbenu Tam agrees with Rabbi Michi, but not at all for the same reason. And there is a practical difference: if someone were to set his study only in the Shulhan Arukh, or only study yeshivish “sugyot,” then Rabbenu Tam would certainly require him to set a fixed time for Scripture (or at least to read the posts on “Eretz Ha-Ivrim,” which are also a blend of Scripture, Mishnah, and flamenco).

I did not understand your second remark.
Obviously it is possible to understand halakhot differently from the tradition of Hazal, such as taking “an eye for an eye” literally.
What is the point of trying to learn halakhot from Scripture when we are restricting ourselves in advance, by definition, that such halakhot do not count?
A religious person who studies Tanakh is not trying to reel in such halakhot.

Full disclosure: I am a regular and faithful reader of “Eretz Ha-Ivrim,” and I comment there under a different name (and by my name I have not been known to them; and why do you ask, for it is wondrous).

And about this our third prophet Isaiah already said:
“The Jewish religion creates the faith upon which it is founded. This is a logical paradox, but it is not a religious paradox.”

http://ivri.org.il/2018/04/bible-expired/

To Aharon—as is well known, every quotation is taking something out of context; the only question is whether it is really carrying from one domain to another… 🙂
So at the end of the day, Rabbenu Tam exempts a student of Talmud from studying Tanakh! And that is exactly what Rabbi Michi says too, even if not for the same reason. Surely if you ask the rabbi what someone who cannot study Talmud should do, he would presumably agree that it is preferable for him to study Scripture, no?

As for the question of learning halakhot from Tanakh—I only suggested it. But surely you agree with me that if there is something it makes sense to learn from Tanakh, it would be halakhot—and the fact is that this is not done!

And regarding Eretz Ha-Ivrim—in order to fulfill what was said, “While this one is speaking, another also speaks,” I published the following post, which summarizes the opinions on the matter and even presumes to rule what the correct answer is (you will be surprised 🙂
http://ivri.org.il/2018/04/bible-expired/

I still hold the view that the main goal is the study of Tanakh for its own sake, and that there is interest and challenge in the form of deep analysis. But it seems to me that there are several areas in which one gets a substantial “bonus” from studying Tanakh in external fields (I hope I am not repeating things others have written; I read only some of the comments):

1. The relationship between Tanakh and the aggadot and midrashim of Hazal: I will note in parentheses that everything said regarding the study of Tanakh is doubly true regarding aggadot that appear in the Gemara. There, even the intrinsic value is less, and all the critiques apply there as well. When there is a puzzling saying of Hazal regarding a topic that appears in Tanakh, for example, “Whoever says David sinned is nothing but mistaken,” we enter into perplexity. On the one hand there is the plain sense of the verses; on the other hand, this is an opinion in the Gemara that we prefer not to dismiss with a wave of the hand. The traditional approach is to accept the biblical figures as perfect, and this is already a substantial statement about reality, as they denounce any attempt to find, Heaven forbid, sin in the forefathers of the nation (even though there are many sayings in the Gemara that attribute sins we would never have thought to attribute to our forefathers).
But attempts at reconciliation, arrived at through deep study of the plain sense of Scripture (this is what Rabbi Medan deals with in his book/article on the subject), enable us to understand that they were not perfect, but were much more like us today. The worldview implications of these conclusions are enormous, and can also affect our conceptions of prophecy and divine inspiration, our own potential, the saying “the earlier ones were like angels,” etc. As I saw in some of the comments—a sincere and honest discussion of these issues can lead to changes in our worldview (when the worldview derives from interpretation of the text and not vice versa). Of course, we are not talking about one sugya or one passage, but about a whole set of issues and their reasonable interpretation, which indeed can lead to change or sharpening of one’s worldview.

2. The relation between Tanakh and science: The question whether the Holy One, blessed be He, changes nature miraculously is a substantial one, and its answer can, for example, affect our attitude toward miracle workers today. Of course one can argue that in the period of Tanakh there were miracles and in our day there are not, but a consistent and reasonable interpretation that finds minimal divine intervention in nature can influence our conception in this issue as well.

3. The relation between Tanakh and political regime: For example, the Torah’s and the Book of Samuel’s attitude toward kingship is very complicated, and in the plain sense of the verses one can find completely contradictory statements. An objective, deep, and systematic analysis of the verses (as, for example, Rabbi Amnon Bazak does in his book on Samuel) can serve as an attempt to understand what God’s true will is in this matter.

4. Reasons for the commandments: I assume you will agree less with this, but an analysis of the plain sense of the verses can shed light on part of their purpose and details (a bit like what the Vilna Gaon does regarding the fruit of the Sukkot festival, or like the discussion of the plain meaning of “an eye for an eye”).

Each example I brought on its own, and each topic considered on its own, will usually not lead to a substantial change in worldview. But an attempt to create a deep and as objective as possible interpretation of Tanakh can lead subtly, and by way of “underground currents” (as happens in every field one studies), to a shift in worldview and to bringing it closer to what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants from us.

With God’s help, 2 Iyar 5778

The Tanakh teaches that God does not play dice with His world. There is a Master of the palace, who created the world, oversees its generalities and particulars, and leads His world through a long-term process, full of ups and downs, toward its complete repair.

The Tanakh sets before humanity in general, and the people of Israel in particular, a mission: to work toward the repair of the world, to cultivate it and guard it, in both the material and spiritual realms; to walk in the footsteps of Abraham, who calls in the name of the Lord and teaches his children and the whole world to walk in the way of the Lord, to do righteousness and justice, and to act according to the “trilogy” of the prophet Micah: “He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord seeks from you: only to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.”

And the Tanakh is the great educational book for Israel and for the whole world, for it knows that fine words are not enough. We are all wise, and we all know how to say the great values with our mouths, and we all live our lives without paying attention to them. Therefore the Tanakh places before us detailed commandments that make those great values present in our lives.

But the Tanakh also commands us to repeat the beliefs and values to ourselves and to our children so that we not forget them, and it presents them to us in countless ways—laws and rebukes, prophecies and prayers, exemplary stories about prophets and patriarchs, from whom we take example from the heights they reached and draw lessons from their failures, and from those too we take example when we see how they rose from their fall and returned to the Lord.

The variety given to us by prophets and sages allows for a multi-generational and multi-age encounter around the sacred text, which gives a general direction but “does not close all the corners” completely, and thereby allows and invites ongoing discussion that deepens and broadens matters and generates new insights and conclusions.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

With God’s help, Independence Day 5778

According to Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Torah study is not merely the transfer of information and insights from teacher to student:

“The true teacher must blend his total experience with that of his student… A teacher is engaged not only in training the intellect, but also in shaping the student’s personality; it is not only information that he shares with him, but also experiences of vision and dreams—that is, his very essence. As the Rav explains in U-Vikkashtem Mi-Sham (p. 229), the personality of the rabbi, like that of the prophet, flows toward the student in an act of self-revelation that leaves an indelible impression on the student’s soul and binds them together to the point of cleaving.”

(Rabbi Reuven Ziegler, Majesty and Humility, Jerusalem 5778, p. 36)

In this vein, we may say that studying the Written Torah is also not merely studying a text. When we study the words of God, the words of Moses, Joshua, and Samuel, Isaiah and Jeremiah and the other prophets, we create an unmediated bond with the soul of the author, who poured all of his personality into his composition—“I myself wrote and gave my soul”—and thus connect with him in the complete bond of teacher and student.

Perhaps this is what my great-great-grandfather, Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Loewinger (a student of the Hatam Sofer), meant when in his book Orhot Hayyim (Orah Hayyim, sec. 156) he brings the instruction of the Shelah in his testament Yesh Nohalin that one should precede the study of the twenty-four books of Scripture to the study of the Talmud, with the added reason: “so that his fear of Heaven should precede his wisdom; and when the words of the teacher conflict with the words of the student—whose words do we heed?” It seems to me that he meant that the spiritual impact of the words of God and His prophets is greater than the spiritual impact of sages who did not attain the level of prophecy, and therefore the greater the writer, the more deeply his words penetrate the soul (and similarly the Vilna Gaon instructed in his letter to his wife that the best books of ethics are Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, and the ethical teachings of Hazal).

With the blessing, “May the festivals be for joy toward the complete redemption,” Shatz Lvinger

1. Connecting to the rabbi’s final paragraph,
I am trying to think what would happen if we were to stop engaging altogether in the study of Tanakh (as an extreme and nonbinding scenario).
Surely it is obvious that very quickly we would forget why we have a right to the land (something that today is very clear to us, and to the rabbi too, by his own words). And similarly in understanding halakhah—it is clear that the Oral Torah is built upon the Written Torah, and although today we understand the basis for the need to study and observe the commandments, what would happen if, as the rabbi suggests, we stopped studying Tanakh (or even drastically reduced its study)?
So in my opinion, even on a purely practical level alone, it is not worth eroding the amount of time and quality of Tanakh study, even if one accepts all the claims above.
2. Slightly outside the topic: the rabbi mentioned in the article that he has criticisms of psychology in general. I would be glad for a reference to a place where the rabbi spoke about this. I am inclined to think similarly myself, but my arguments are not organized in that context, and I would appreciate a link to an article (or anything else) that sets out the matter in an orderly way, if there is one.
Thanks in advance!

And see further in my comments “Scripture—a broad view and setting a goal,” and “A broad view of history,” on post 134.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

1. I do not share the apocalyptic vision you describe. In my estimation, we will remember our right to the land very well, and there is no need to study Tanakh, only to know it. I do not study Tanakh, but I know this very well. By the way, in my estimation this does not really interfere with Talmud study either.
2. I have not written anything systematic about this. There was a question here on the site, and I explained my position briefly:
https://mikyab.net/%D7%A9%D7%95%D7%AA/%D7%94%D7%90%D7%9D-%D7%99%D7%A9-%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%AA-%D7%91%D7%A4%D7%A1%D7%99%D7%9B%D7%95%D7%90%D7%A0%D7%9C%D7%99%D7%96%D7%94/
See also here:
https://mikyab.net/%D7%A9%D7%95%D7%AA/%D7%90%D7%99%D7%A0%D7%98%D7%95%D7%90%D7%99%D7%A6%D7%99%D7%94-%D7%91%D7%A4%D7%A1%D7%99%D7%9B%D7%95%D7%9C%D7%95%D7%92%D7%99%D7%94/

Rabbi, the questioner here asked about psychology as a whole, and you sent him links about psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysis is characterized by apriorism, whereas psychology defines itself as an empirical science, and therefore, in my opinion, this is not the same thing at all.

With God’s help, 5 Iyar 5778

To Mr. D.S. Attias—greetings,

It seems to me, for several reasons, that there is no need to fear that the Tanakh will be forgotten:

1. After all, we will learn Tanakh from the Gemara, which we will learn from the Ketzot, and thanks to Brisk—Tanakh is not “at risk” in Brisk.

2. Soon, very soon, Rabbi M.D.A.’s “trilogy” will appear, destined to be accepted throughout the Jewish diaspora, and presumably the sages will institute that it be read in synagogues on Sabbaths and festivals and every Monday and Thursday, and it will become routine. Presumably there will arise people who will secretly peek into the Tanakh while the prayer leader reads the “trilogy,” and thus they will save the Tanakh from being forgotten.

3. It seems that even if Rabbi M.D.A. and his trilogy become the foundational book of humanity, there will still remain a few hundred million people who will not abandon the Tanakh, including a few million of our Jewish brethren.

4. And in addition to Judah, we should include the promise of the Tanakh itself: “For it shall not be forgotten out of the mouths of his descendants”—a promise that has been fairly well fulfilled. In the 3,330 years that have passed since the giving of the Torah, the Tanakh lives, exists, and influences!

5. And if we had already feared that the Tanakh would be forgotten, then along came Rabbi M.D.A.’s post, which within a few short days aroused 260 comments on this site and in the house of destruction, and saved the Tanakh from oblivion!

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

Indeed, but it seems to me that within my remarks I also referred to psychological treatment in general.

Beyond what you noted—there is enormous value to studying the Tanakh as the basis for every discussion and as the “boundaries of the arena” in questions of “metaphysical facts” that also have implications for moral values. And here I do not need to invent things to prove it—it can easily be seen in the Rishonim:
1. First example, divine providence over animals—according to Maimonides there is no individual providence over animals, only general providence; he proves this from the verse “You make man like the fish of the sea” and reconciles the verse “He gives food to the beasts.” According to other views (perhaps Saadia Gaon), there is some sort of providence over animals as well, and they too will make sense of the verses. It is possible that Maimonides, left to himself, would not object to saying that there is no providence at all over animals, not even general providence, and that would actually fit his view that providence depends on intellect and animals lack that. But what can one do—because of verses such as “He gives food to the beasts,” apparently he not only does not hold this, but regards that as an illegitimate opinion. And vice versa: someone who wants to say there is the same providence over humans and animals—this seems less likely from the verse. One’s outlook on providence over animals has moral significance regarding our attitude toward them. Now suppose I am vegan—if I were not committed to the Tanakh, I would be inclined to say there is no difference between man and animals, but if I am committed to the Tanakh I will probably think there is some difference, and even if I try to minimize it, in the end there will be verses that require me to moderate my position—and therefore to be less extreme.
2. The issue of the people of Israel—suppose I am a person whose general outlook strongly opposes the national idea, and thinks that the whole matter of Israel’s chosenness is nonsense, etc. If I am committed to the Tanakh, then I too will have to moderate my outlook a bit and say there is some uniqueness because of not a few verses, and therefore perhaps after all I will not marry a gentile woman even though that is only a rabbinic prohibition, or at least I will not go to a demonstration against “Yad L’Achim.” And vice versa—someone whose natural outlook is extremely racist and thinks that only the people of Israel are human beings—there is “for in the image of God…”
True, there are seventy facets to Torah and everyone interprets according to his way, but thanks to the Torah there is much less of the seventy-first face. And in every generation there are values coming from outside the Torah that cause us to veer in a certain direction. That alone is a good reason why the Tanakh was given to us and is important even today.
This indeed does not answer the question why an adult needs to study Tanakh. Truly, the main study is at a young age—“at five years old, Scripture”—and likewise Maimonides’ instruction that only at the beginning of study should one divide one’s time into thirds. But it does explain very well the value of a person’s study in the early stages of building his worldview. Therefore it is good that Tanakh be studied seriously in religious schools, which see the Tanakh as a source for “metaphysical facts” and values. I agree that learning secular facts from the Tanakh has no value.
In my opinion, even at an older age there is value in studying Tanakh for two reasons—because this is the framework on the basis of which the Oral Torah operates, both halakhically and ideologically—and perhaps that is why Maimonides held that one should review this study a bit even at an older age.
In addition, in studying Tanakh based also on examination of the commentators, even a person who has already established his worldview and for whom most of the Tanakh’s guidance is already internalized and not novel can make fine adjustments and refine his worldview more precisely. And great Torah figures such as the Meshekh Hokhmah, for example, learned a great deal from the Tanakh—not only halakhot directly, but not only that. I hope you esteem him enough to see that, if one wants, the Written Torah too is an excellent source for novel halakhot and values even without the mediation of the Oral Torah.

And in contrast to Rabbi M.D.A.’s skeptical attitude toward psychology in the places he linked to above, see his reliance on psychologists in this post, in the section “Learning Other Facts from the Tanakh.” This requires investigation.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

Rabbi Froman said that a good psychologist is one who knows how to listen to a different opinion.

Shatz Lvinger, this is already the second message since yesterday that points out a contradiction in my teachings. From you I would have expected stronger challenges (I again refer you to my remark on the centrality and importance of logic in discussing contradictions). If these are the contradictions you found in everything I have written—my situation is excellent.

I do not completely agree with the claim, since one can also anchor a view that there is no providence over animals while remaining committed to the Tanakh. But this is not important for our discussion, because as you wrote, this does not show the importance of studying Tanakh. I already explained that belief in God, in creation, and in the revelation at Mount Sinai can also be acquired from the Tanakh, but I already know that.

On the question of psychology learned from the Tanakh: in the Haredi public there is a very large dispute over this matter. On the one hand, there are those who go to study this field professionally. On the other hand, there are fierce attacks on psychology because it contradicts knowledge written in the Tanakh and in Hazal. Many oppose these therapeutic tools for that reason. To them it is clear that either psychology is wrong because the Tanakh says otherwise, or psychology reflects a gentile mindset that is built differently from that of a Jew, who contains a soul that is literally a part of God above.

With God’s help, 8 Iyar 5778

The Torah and psychology actually deal with the same subject: helping a person shape his personality into a better state. There are many differences. The differences begin from the starting point—is the goal that a person be better, or that he be happier? From here differences in methods of action necessarily follow. If a person feels good in a certain mode of behavior that the Torah forbids, from the perspective of psychology that is perfectly fine, but from the perspective of the Torah—not at all! So one must relate cautiously to insights and treatment methods accepted in the secular world, and know how to sift out what is appropriate.

On the other hand, caution is also needed not to do “copy-paste” from every educational method found in Torah literature and adopt it in our situations. If in the past a person would generally accept the norms of the society in which he lived, today we are in the “footsteps of the Messiah,” in which every person wants to think independently and the authority of parents and teachers is not taken for granted. In such a situation one must use insights and treatment methods suited to modern problems “which our fathers did not imagine.”

The best situation is for the educator and therapist to be armed both with the methods of inner work and character development found in Scripture and the words of Hazal, and among the thinkers of ethics and Hasidism, and with the experience acquired in modern psychological treatment—and, through listening to the soul of the patient, to find the path suited to him.

You can find material of this kind on various approaches that combine insights and treatment methods from Jewish sources and modern psychology in the Wikipedia entry “Jewish psychology,” and in the links there.

Regards, Sh. Tz. Lvinger

With God’s help, 24th of the Omer, 5778

Perhaps one can say that the relationship between Scripture and Talmud is like the relationship between poetry and prose, according to Rabbi M.D.A.’s definition. For the transfer of information and precise, clear analysis of data in order to draw practical conclusions—the language of prose is fitting.

But for conveying feelings and deep intuition, which words are unable to describe in full—that is what the language of poetry is suited for, conveying the deep feelings beyond words.

The Written Torah conveys, like poetry, both the verbal message and the deep feelings beyond words, and upon this foundation comes the Oral Torah, which explains and analyzes, defines rules, and draws practical conclusions.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

According to Maimonides, the commandment “And now write for yourselves this song” begins with the song of faith, the Song of Ha’azinu, except that the song is not complete unless it comes out of the whole Torah. According to Maimonides, the song is knowledge of God and its internalization in the heart; accordingly, the essence of the song is faith, the wine of Torah, to which is joined knowledge of the explanations of the commandments, which direct a person to know God.

By contrast, according to the Rosh, even books of halakhah are included in the commandment “Write for yourselves this song,” for the main way the Torah is a “song” is in bringing the great values of Scripture to expression in practical life, and in this the Talmud has great power.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

It is possible that these differences of perspective also underlie differences in study order. Maimonides, although he formulated clearly the conclusions of the Oral Torah in his work Mishneh Torah, required that before studying the work, the student read the Written Torah, and only by combining the two would he know all the laws of the Torah. By contrast, Rabbenu Tam holds that the central focus is the Talmud, which includes Scripture within it.

I would be glad to know whether this is also your method regarding the study of Torah, or only the Prophets and Writings.
Do you also think, regarding the study of the Torah itself, that the interpretive freedom is too broad?

A second thing: it is not entirely clear to me what is meant by creating a new moral value. It is quite clear that all moral values already exist before us; the challenge is not to create a new value, but a new and balanced blend.
In identifying that blend, I do not understand why the Prophets would not help.

I am not speaking right now about the Former Prophets, but Isaiah and others, whose purpose is religious and moral exhortation. If you believe in their prophecy, reading them can help you hit the precise blend.

A third point, though admittedly a side argument, but in my opinion a strong one: the Tanakh became fertile ground for religious interpretation and discussion. Its commentators and the other books written on top of the Tanakh by the sages of the last two thousand years together created a very extensive “wisdom literature,” and the entry ticket to it is the Tanakh.
Just as it is not enough to read thinkers who analyze Aristotle without reading Aristotle, so it is lacking to study Jewish wisdom literature without its foundational book.

I do not see a difference between the Torah and the Prophets and Writings in this respect. I do not see how you learn a moral blend from the Torah or from the Prophets and Writings. I asked those who claim otherwise to bring examples, not declarations about why it seems very plausible. I know that too.
The Tanakh
The Tanakh became fertile ground for discussions, most of which do not really teach me anything. I am making my claim also about the interpretive literature on the Tanakh, not only about the Tanakh itself (that is part of what is called studying Tanakh). Again, I asked for examples, not declarations.

Maybe it is worth studying Tanakh so as not to reach this disgrace:
“The earliest findings identifying a permanent Jewish presence in Jerusalem are dated to the beginning of the Second Temple period (500 BCE).”
https://www.haaretz.co.il/news/jerusalem-1.3524

A. Regarding the Torah, I am asking from the direction of Torah study. Do you see value in studying Gemara together with deep familiarity with the Five Books of Moses?
Or perhaps, in your opinion, the interpretive freedom in the Torah is too broad, and therefore the discussion begins with Hazal?

B. Regarding the blend,
In my opinion, it would be very difficult for a religious person to be an extreme capitalist, because of the emphasis in the Prophets on the treatment of the weak, the poor, and the stranger. Most of my religious-capitalist friends advocate a relatively balanced capitalism, and as I understand it, that comes from there.

Regarding attitude to nationalism, it would be hard for a religious person to loathe nationalism in the way that is the modern trend.

Regarding idolatry, as I understand it, the distancing measures in Hazal and even today in general stem from a scar from the Tanakh period. It preserves boundaries even today, in the face of softer forms of idolatry.

A. In halakhic sugyot, meaningful study is certainly possible. I am speaking mainly about the non-halakhic parts. Admittedly, usually the interpretive freedom is broad, and one begins with Hazal.
B. I do not agree with any of the examples you brought. These are considerations of common sense. And certainly these are not details learned through study, but perhaps only a general impression. That is not a justification for studying Tanakh.

Hello Rabbi,

My name is A. and I study at Gush.
In your blog article about Tanakh, you asked readers to bring an example of study from the Tanakh that gives us new information.
I decided to present the summary of your claim to my teacher, Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun, and he gave an example that he learned from the Book of Ruth that conversion has two stages: one, distancing from the previous people and previous religion, and a second stage of acceptance before a rabbinical court.
I am bringing his wording from his very short article on 929 on chapter 1 of Ruth.

“In a conversation with a senior judge from the conversion courts, I said that if we were to set Ruth as the sole model and the standard that determines conversion, there would hardly be any conversions, because who can compare to Ruth in self-sacrifice, willing to forgo family and cleave to her Jewish mother-in-law and her faith; but from this story one must learn something else—conversion as a process, which begins in an adoptive family and with distancing from a foreign people and another religion, and ends, after some time, before the elders sitting at the city gate.”

I have a feeling that this learning will not satisfy you, but it seems to me that Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun is an example of a person who tries to learn new things in his study of Tanakh. As he said to me, one need not agree with his analyses, but that does not mean they are not novel.

Since I understand from your writing that you do not avoid sharp arguments, I will also quote Rabbi Bin Nun, who said to me:
“You can tell him that I said [about your claim regarding the study of Tanakh]: behold, it is vanity and a striving after wind.”

More power to you, and Shabbat shalom.

Hello.
Before I check whether this convinces me, I did not understand what the lesson is. Beyond that, we are talking here about learning halakhah and not learning some other kind of lesson, and that was not what I was discussing. One can also learn from the Tanakh that there is a prohibition on eating pork and an obligation to redeem a firstborn donkey. Those are certainly real novelties.
As for Rabbi Yoel’s opinion, I could have guessed he would say that. But I have nothing to do with declarations.
Regards to Rabbi Yoel.

In the last paragraph, line 2:
…that before studying the work, he should read…

Thank you, Rabbi Shatz Lvinger, for the correction!!!

For a month and a half I’ve been racking my brain, laboring to understand the depth of your intention!!!

With God’s help, 6 Tammuz 5778

To David—greetings,

The vitality in Scripture and in prayer (as instituted by the Men of the Great Assembly) lies in setting a distant horizon of aspirations for a perfected future, far beyond the natural expectation that “things will be good,” that we will suffer less, and that we will be “a little better.”

If everything were left to our natural aspiration, we would be satisfied with asking to live in tranquility, to maintain with our neighbors a “live and let live” arrangement, without burning kites and without Kassams. Let them leave us alone and we will leave them alone, as Rabbi M.D.A. so aptly described in post 149 on “the middle path.”

Scripture and prayer remind us that we have much greater aspirations: “to see speedily the splendor of Your might, to remove idols from the earth and utterly cut off false gods,” and then our neighbors, together with all the inhabitants of the world, “will recognize and know that to You every knee shall bend, every tongue shall swear,” and together they will stream to the “house of the God of Jacob” so that He may teach us His ways and instruct us in the way of peace.

We are light-years away from this, but we must not forget the great aspirations, and great aspirations lead to small steps that may bring the world closer to its repair.

The Tanakh and prayer place before us the horizon of these great aspirations, while the Talmud and halakhah steer our steps in daily reality, how to manage within the existing reality, “without forcing the end,” but also without despairing of waiting for it.

Regards, Shatz Lvinger

“Hear, my son, your father’s instruction”—this is the Written Torah; “and do not forsake your mother’s teaching”—this is the Oral Torah. The expounders of aggadah say: If you wish
to know the One who spoke and the world came into being, study aggadah, for through this you come to know the One who spoke and the world came into being, and to cleave to His ways.
Just as the Written Torah is the source for all the halakhot in the Oral Torah, so Scripture is the source for all the aggadot in the Oral Torah.

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook wrote: “The movement of broad, ideal thought naturally widens; it encompasses many visions
and great horizons, and the character of its imagery differs from the character of the imagery of the minute particulars of practical Torah and halakhic analysis. And the state of soul required for depth in halakhah, according to its fixed style as transmitted to us since the sealing of the Talmud, is by its nature not suited to the state of soul of walking expansively in the heights of the divine ideals and their mysteries, their aspirations and the broadening of their refinements. Therefore aggadah and halakhah, the revealed and the hidden, were divided by an original distinction; yet an inner aspiration was laid in the depths of the soul to combine halakhah and aggadah together.”

Maimonides wrote that aggadah is the language of feeling, a poetic matter, meant to act upon the powers of the soul, to awaken them from their slumber to service and action, whereas halakhah is the language of intellect and science. From his words Rabbi Reines inferred that halakhah was stated only for knowledge, whereas aggadah was also stated for impression and action.

But one who studies halakhah diligently and with melody—does he not hear heaps upon heaps of hidden aggadot? And one who studies aggadah in depth—does he not see at every step the imprint of halakhah?

In paragraph 1, line 1
The vitality of studying Scripture and of prayer (in the text instituted by the Men of the Great Assembly) lies, among other things, in setting a distant horizon of aspirations…

You can say that about any text whatsoever. After you have studied it, there is nothing more to learn from it. So if the principles in the Tanakh are already known to the rabbi, that is excellent. Isn’t that the purpose of the Tanakh?
If the Tanakh wanted to be endless intellectual-moral entertainment, then it never would have been sealed. In my opinion, God gave man the ability to distinguish between good and evil, and therefore we have the ability to reach every moral conclusion on our own. So it may very well be that the Tanakh really only wants to be an instrument that reveals to us things that are already within us. Then studying Tanakh means learning the values that other people saw in the Tanakh (for themselves). That is how we help one another distinguish between good and evil, using the Tanakh as a tool for self-discovery.

Correction—line 3: but rather = not.

Not true. There are texts that definitely teach, including the Tanakh in its halakhic portions (together with the Oral Torah).
Beyond that, you must apply your conclusion to the other side of the coin as well: therefore one can learn from any text exactly as from the Tanakh. If your goal is to discover what is within you, you can use any means to do that. Therefore there is no special importance or value to the Tanakh.
As for your point that if we have already learned from the Tanakh then it is natural that today there is nothing for us to learn from it—I did not understand your claim. After all, that is what I wrote. I am not trying to disparage the Tanakh and say it has no importance or value. I am only claiming that it has exhausted that, and today there is no value in studying it. That is all.

I meant that after one studies any text, there is nothing more to learn from it.
Obviously one can learn from anything, but the point is that in studying Tanakh there is a commandment, unlike other things, “and you shall speak of them.” After the commandment to study comes the commandment to repeat, so even if the feeling is that one is not learning anything new, that is okay. And I do not agree that there is no more to learn from it. I think part of the point is also to find the truth in the Tanakh itself. That is, that we have not yet truly discovered the meaning and depth hidden in it, and if more people engage in this then the field will flourish, because as I said, the point is to learn from one another as well, not only from yourself. I am not saying that the goal is only to discover what is within you, because in my opinion no single person can arrive at the truth alone. One can reach the truth only if we learn each other’s insights and also argue about what makes sense and what does not, and the Tanakh is the best tool for this because it is divine and also contains within it many layers that we have not yet uncovered. So perhaps we have learned the level of peshat (though even here there is more to discover), but there are still other layers, including literary layers, which in your eyes people only use to discover things they already think. Therefore I also add the point that we need to learn and speak with one another about those insights—“and you shall speak of them”—and that, in my opinion, is the true purpose of the Tanakh (besides the commandments, of course): to be a central part of our culture and daily discourse.

I see no point in discussing slogans, especially ones that have already been discussed here to exhaustion. You should read what has already been written here.

With God’s help, 3 Shevat 5780

To Y.D.—greetings,

Following the idea that the commandments are like “offspring” of the Ten Commandments, it occurred to me to say that the reason that the “Book of the Covenant” in Parashat Mishpatim and also the “Book of the Covenant” in Parashat Ki Tisa end with “You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk” is that this commandment is an exercise for the last commandment, “You shall not covet.”

For from Abraham our father, the great host, one may learn that the finest delicacy is “butter and milk and the calf,” and therefore he offers it to his guests. Therefore, when the Torah came to place a fence around the fulfillment of one’s desire, it withheld from him the “pinnacle of culinary bliss,” the combination of meat and milk.

Regards, Shatz

Your position is that Judaism is halakhah and nothing else, so of course you will not see value in studying non-halakhic Tanakh. In any case, the Tanakh is the word of God, which means that God’s ideas are hidden in it. With that you agree. Your claim is that it is difficult to understand the Tanakh properly. And if something is difficult, does one stop doing it?! Besides, who said we study in order to reach conclusions for our lives? We study Torah because it is the word of God. We have (at least I do) a desire to attain knowledge of God, and the Tanakh is an excellent way to get there.
And still, if you asked for something that comes out of the study of Tanakh, one can see that wherever Tanakh was taught there did not arise opposition to Zionism, and wherever Tanakh was not taught, opposition to Zionism did arise.

And I also forgot to write that you did not understand Rashi. Rashi’s initial assumption is that the Tanakh is merely a law book. In the final conclusion, it is not a law book; it has other purposes (it is not critical right now what the purpose is).

I said that there may be intrinsic value in the very engagement with Tanakh. But I would not call that study. I explained this further in the second book of my trilogy.
You are pointing to indirect and very ambiguous effects, not to lessons learned through study. This has already come up here more than once in the comments. No lesson emerges here that I learn from studying a given chapter or passage in the Tanakh.

Thanks. Now I understand him. (Written sarcastically, in case you didn’t understand.)

At first glance, the Prophets and Writings seem to contradict halakhah; it appears that the people of the Bible did not observe halakhah. And if that is not true, then there is a need to reconcile this in a simple way, and also to answer why the Tanakh itself did not reconcile the contradictions on its own. Why was it written in such a way that we understand that they did not observe halakhah?
As for the question itself, it seems that the main point of studying Tanakh is to learn how the people of the Bible perceived God—what sort of relationship they had with Him, how He influenced their lives in a practical way, how they judged their relationship with God relative to their life situation.
For example, I would ask about a very strange thing: David was in a famine for three years, and only in the third year did he inquire by the Urim why this had happened. Why did he not ask earlier? What was their worldview that prevented them from asking this?
And in general, in the Tanakh there are acts that are very challenging morally, and apparently Western morality is not at all correct in their eyes. Why is their morality different? What worldview and what factors caused that? And if we believe in the Tanakh, why do we not believe as they did?

What nonsense you people are talking—how do you even have the energy to write so much?

It could be that I have not understood your words properly (and probably that is indeed the case), but it seems that what follows from your words is that a new sugya or mode of study that has no practical implication is not worthy of study (for as you noted several times regarding Tanakh study, the method does not interest us if it does not lead us to some innovative conclusion).
Still, I assume that you do engage even in sugyot that end in teiku, and that you also engage in pilpul even when no practical implication comes out of that pilpul.
My main impression from the article is that your lack of interest in studying Tanakh is completely personal. When I learn a new approach to the Book of Esther or the Song of Songs, I can enjoy it and find value in studying it even if there is no innovative conclusion at the end, just as I can enjoy engaging in a Talmudic sugya from a new angle even though I know it will not lead me to any innovative practical implication.

This has nothing to do with practical implication. For me, a practical implication regarding betrothal is excellent. My claim is that this is study that teaches you nothing new, even apart from practical implication. When you study Tanakh, nothing new is taught to you—not in the sense that it is not innovative, but in the sense that you have not learned anything you did not already know. Again and again people read into Tanakh, sometimes honestly and sometimes not, ideas that seemed right to them from the outset. In my view, that is not study.

Test

The claim that studying Tanakh “does not teach anything new” requires clarification. If the intention is that there is no principled conceptual novelty here—that can at least be heard (and even that is open to discussion). But beyond mere familiarity with the texts themselves (which is not trivial), the books of prophecy and the Writings present contents and insights that it is not at all clear one could have reached without them, both in terms of moral depth and in terms of the conception of divinity.

For example, it is hard to claim that the prophecies of Isaiah or the counsel of Proverbs are merely a reformulation of what a person already knows anyway. At the very least, there is here a shaping and deepening of insights in a way that is far from self-evident, and at times even content we would not have arrived at without the study itself.

If the intention is to claim that the content has no value—that is already a different claim. But to say that there is no novelty here at all seems difficult.