Book Review: I Kings: Torn in Two

I Kings: Torn in Two

Alex Israel

Koren Publishers, Magid Books/ Yeshivat Har Etzion

Book Review by Ari D. Kahn

The Jewish People has been known for over a thousand years as “the People of the Book.” Despite the pejorative intentions of those who first coined the phrase, the Jews have adopted it wholeheartedly, reveling in their reputation as a learned people, a nation whose identity and destiny are intertwined with the “book of books,” the Torah.

However, in spectacular irony, the Jews, especially those most orthodox and most educated, are often surprisingly ignorant of the Bible. Sections of the Tenakh that were not included in the liturgy came to be regarded as obscure. As Professor Nechama Leibowitz, the late great teacher par excellence of Bible often remarked, men who study in classical yeshivas know only the verses cited in the Talmud, and are able to locate them only insofar as they are cross-referenced on the Talmud folio. And therein lies the rub; the Talmud has become such an all-encompassing repository of Jewish knowledge and scholarship that all other books have been eclipsed by the Talmud’s huge shadow.

The return to the Land of Israel in the modern age brought with it a renaissance of Bible study. For the early pioneers and founders of the State of Israel, the study of Tenakh was a means of reconnecting the nation with its homeland and heritage, and they revitalized Tenakh studies in Israel’s nascent education system. More recently, the torch of Bible study has been carried primarily by the National Religious stream; the Tenakh curriculum in non-religious public schools has been cut back drastically, and the more traditional streams have preferred to maintain the Talmud-based system -- perhaps because they fear the nationalist and even Zionist messages contained within the Bible.

The return to the Biblical text has given rise to a cadre of dedicated teachers who have brought their own intelligence and creativity, as well as the wealth of tradition, to the study of Tenakh, while expanding the walls of the classroom to include the length and breadth of the Land of Israel. Rabbi Alex Israel has firmly established himself as one of the more important teachers of this school of thought, particularly for English-speaking students.

His first published volume is a guide to the Book of Kings, and it is neither a classic academic inquiry nor a commentary. I Kings: Torn in Two combines a traditional reading of the text and the classical commentaries with a smattering of academic insights and relevant archaeological findings. A broad introduction addresses larger issues that lie beyond the text, including the general perspective and concerns of the author of the Book of Kings, as well as the different perspectives of the events as they are retold in other books of the Tenakh. Israel’s work displays great sensitivity to the words of the Biblical text and great attentiveness to its underlying concepts. Adopting an ancient exegetical approach that is based on midrashic readings of the text, thematic connections that span between various books of the Bible are revealed. Israel is creative and knows when to look at symbols and when to read things literally, both in the Biblical text and the midrashic material.

In this volume, Rabbi Israel attempts, once again, to expand the limits of the classroom – demographically, not geographically. This book undertakes the challenging task of converting lectures given in the classroom into a vehicle to reach a larger audience. The results are sometimes uneven: On one hand, the reader is engaged, and is never left with the sense of hearing only one side of a conversation. On the other hand, when more than one solution to a textual problem is offered, the reader is left to wonder which resolution the author advocates, or to create a synthesis on their own. Thus, in an early chapter, Israel discusses the first chapters of the I Kings, in which the main protagonist, King David is elderly and infirm. Why, Israel quite rightly asks, are these chapters not the concluding sections of the previous book, II Samuel, in which the vast majority of David’s life is detailed? Two approaches are offered to understand the material, one political and the other religious, yet the reader senses that ascribing such a dichotomy to the Biblical text is somewhat forced. Is it not possible that both approaches are correct, and not necessarily mutually exclusive?

In a similar passage, Israel notes the threat posed by Adonijah, David’s son and self-appointed heir. Israel then carefully shows the correlation between this rebellion, which is ultimately thwarted, and the rebellion of Absalom, which ends tragically. The parallels are insightful; we are often guided by “result oriented thinking” and hence miss this important parallel. Yet Israel could have been more daring and gone further: After noting that both sons were “good looking,” he could have cited the Talmudic tradition that David had many children from “beautiful captive women.” This insight would draw a clear line of thought from the rebellious ways of David’s children back to David’s own impetuous behavior. This, in turn, could take us as far back as Deuteronomy, to a newly-enlightened reading of the section regarding the king who takes many wives and its relationship with the consecutive sections regarding the beautiful captive and the rebellious child.

I Kings: Torn in Two has much to offer any reader seeking instruction and insight that is based upon, but not limited to, the classical commentaries. This volume will surely enlighten and enrich any reader’s understanding of the words of the Prophets, but the leap to internalizing and applying the methodology it suggests may prove too great to be accomplished without the classroom setting. Even so, this volume will fill a void, particularly for readers whose language skills do not allow them direct access to the classical commentaries, and will help bring the English- speaking audience back to an authentic understanding of the Book of Books.

Rabbi Ari Kahn, Director of Foreign Students Programs at Bar Ilan University, is a teacher, communal Rabbi, and author. His most recent book in the Echoes of Eden series is Bamidbar: Spies, Subversives and other Scoundrels.

Book Review of Torah from Alexandria

Looking Up to the Patriarchs: A Book Review of

Torah from Alexandria, Volume I: Genesis

Kodesh Press 2014

Edited by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Reviewed by Rabbi Ari D. Kahn

A very new, very old book has been published recently. Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel has set out to perform the herculean task of translating Philo of Alexandria's commentary on the Book of Genesis into smooth, readable English, presented in the order of the verses and chapters of the Torah. This volume is the first in a projected series on all five books of the Pentateuch.

At the outset, I should make it clear that my limited knowledge of Philo’s philosophical milieu limits my ability to write a comprehensive review of Torah from Alexandria. I leave it to scholars well-versed in the Hellenistic Roman and Egyptian philosophical traditions to examine Rabbi Samuel's efforts to compare and contrast Philo’s commentary with the philosophical trends of his age. Instead, I approached the material hoping to discover the Torah insights of an ancient Jewish philosopher, and to consider these insights in their historical and masoretic context.

I was not disappointed. In addition to translating Philo's writings, Rabbi Samuel explains the texts when necessary, often with the aid of references and notes, thus allowing the modern reader to access and understand Philo's interpretation of the Torah. Even more importantly, through Torah from Alexandria we are able to reveal the underlying exegetical approach with which Philo explained the Torah to readers of his own generation. The relevance of his approach to our own generation is striking.

In recent years, students of Tanach, especially among the religious Zionist community in Israel, have been engaged in a debate (some might characterize it as a battle) regarding authentic and legitimate interpretation of the sacred biblical text. The debate centers around two related points: First, to what extent is fidelity to classical rabbinic commentary requisite (or even desirable); and second, to what extent is it legitimate to interpret the text in a manner that implies that the heroes of the biblical narrative were less than perfect? This debate has come to be known as interpretation b’govah ha- einayim – looking biblical heroes in the eye, as opposed to gazing up at them as a mere mortal would view a titan.

One maverick in the new school of Israeli interpretation, the late Rav Mordechai Breuer, was fond of saying that he reads the text just as the sages of old did -- without the commentary of the sages. In other words, Rav Breuer's insights were based upon an unfettered reading of the text itself, stripped of the layers of traditional rabbinic exegesis. Opponents of this approach decry the deconstruction of our spiritual forebears, denounce the abandonment of our traditional view of the forefathers and our accepted understanding of their behavior. According to the more traditional approach, looking biblical characters in the eye borders on heresy and undermines the very foundations of Jewish spirituality. According to this approach, deconstructing our spiritual heroes diminishes us all, and leaves us empty and bereft of role models. At the same time, discarding traditional rabbinic explanations of the biblical text casts a shadow on our masorah, subtly calling into question the centrality of teachings attributed all the way back to Moses and passed down to the sages of each subsequent generation.

With the help of Rabbi Samuel, we are now able to look back to the exegetical method used by Philo in Alexandria some two thousand years ago, and what we find may have important ramifications for our current debate.  In Torah from Alexandria, we find a biblical commentator whose work is remarkably in sync with rabbinic tradition -- which is no small feat given that a good number of the interpretations he offers are found only in much later rabbinic writings. We must therefore assume that Philo, like the authors of those later rabbinic texts, recorded ideas and exegetical traditions that had previously been transmitted orally (or, alternatively, that these rabbinic interpretations originated in Alexandria). The masorah's centrality and antiquity are clearly reinforced.

Even more fascinating is the impact Philo's approach should have on the govah ha'einayim debate. Philo proves to be a staunch supporter of the classical approach to biblical characters, immediately and unequivocally defending them and dispelling any possible negative interpretation of their behavior.  In situations where such "mainstream" commentaries as Nachmanides or Rabbi S.R. Hirsch find fault in the behavior of the matriarchs or patriarchs, Philo is quick to defend; in fact, there are many instances in which he inserts a virtuous spin on seemingly neutral situations .

For example:

·       Abraham could have resolved the problem with Lot by force, but did not wish to humiliate him, and sought a peaceful resolution. (p. 156)

·       When Abraham seems to complain to God that he has no children, Philo reads it as a virtue: “A servant must be direct and honest with his superior.” (p. 164)

·       While Lot’s daughters' behavior is “unlawful,” their intentions were “not without some merit.” (p. 199)

·       Sarah suggested that Abraham have a child with Hagar; her motivations were “selfless and altruistic.” (p. 171)

·       Sarah’s treatment of Hagar was “disciplinary, and not abusive, in nature.” (p. 174)

·       Philo turns Abraham's false claim that Sarah is his sister into a virtue, explaining that a person who speaks only the truth in all situations is “unphilosophical as well as an ignoramus.” (p. 154)

·       Sarah's demand that Hagar and Yishmael be banished was not motivated by spite or jealousy. It was a well-earned response to their having spread malicious rumors that Isaac was illegitimate child. (p. 206)

·       Abraham acquiesces to his wife's demand; this behavior always has “the best and happiest kind of outcome.” (p. 206)

·       The expulsion of Yishmael is compared to the expulsion of Adam from the Garden of Eden: “Once the mind contracts folly, it becomes almost an incurable disease…their penchant for superficiality and mediocrity.” (p. 207)

·       “The animus against Abraham stems from an envy and hatred of everything that is good.” (p. 209)

·       The sacrifice of Isaac (whose name connotes joy) teaches us that “even joy must be subordinated to God.” (p. 210)

·       Isaac was not misguided or mistaken in his love for Esau. Isaac’s love for Esau was compartmentalized or limited, conditional; he was attracted to Esau's skill as a hunter, because Isaac himself sought to “hunt down his passions and keep them at bay.” (p. 233)

·       Esau had always been a slave, and was destined to remain enslaved for all time – with or without the blessing Jacob took. By selling the birthright, Esau proved that he was a slave to his “belly’s pleasures.” (p. 233)

·       When Jacob buys the birthright from Esau, it is an act of virtue intended to save his brother from rampant materialism that would bring about Esau's downfall. (p. 234)

·       Isaac wants to bless Esau because he sees that Esau is limited and lacking, while Jacob is perfect and does not need his blessing. (p. 240)

·       Jacob should be admired for respecting both his parents and carrying out his mother's instructions to the letter, rather than being vilified for taking Esau's blessings through subterfuge. (p. 242)

·       “Malicious people never tire of accusing Scripture of excusing Jacob’s deceit and fraud… subterfuge and maneuvering have their place in life…sometimes a general will make a threat of war, while he is actually working in the interest of peace.”  (p. 243) “A good man may do something that appears wrong, but [he] acts with noble intention.” (p. 245; also see p. 248)

·       Simeon and Levy “acted as a vanguard of justice and fought to protect their family’s purity.” (p. 272)

·       Joseph treats the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah as equals, hence drawing the ire of his other brothers. (p. 275)

·       Jacob's love for Joseph was not arbitrary favoritism. Rather, he loved Joseph because of his skills, his virtue, and his nobility. (p. 275)

·       Regarding Tamar: “Virtue is subtle –sometimes she veils her face like Tamar.” (p. 284)

·       Joseph was physically assaulted by Madame Potiphar, but never succumbed to her advances. (p. 287)

·       Joseph does not seek revenge; he wants to see how the brothers will treat Benjamin, another son of Rachel. (p. 301) Joseph sees the entire episode as divine providence (p. 313).

·       Even in prison, Joseph behaves virtuously toward all the other prisoners. (p. 288)

·       Joseph does not gain personally from any of the wealth accrued in Egypt; rather, he is a dedicated civil servant. (p. 318f)

·       Joseph completely forgave his brothers and never sought vengeance, not only out of respect for their father, but because of his love for his brothers. (p. 326)

·       Jacob enters the palace and all those present are aware of his dignity. (p. 318)

Philo proves to be a sensitive reader of the text – sensitive to the underlying philosophical issues as well as a staunch defender of Judaism. Perhaps because he lived among non-Jews, within the general society, he intuited that attacks on Abraham and Sarah are tantamount to attacks on the underpinnings of Judaism and, through a subtle process of anti-Semitism, on every Jew. Alternatively, he may simply have seen the patriarchs and matriarchs as spiritual giants – people whose thoughts and actions were far more elevated than those of common men, people who were far above the petty jealousies and foolish mistakes more cynical readers ascribe to them, people who actually were "larger than life." Philo teaches us that in order to look at them at all, to see and understand them, to learn from them - we must look up.

Rabbi Leo Samuel has done an outstanding service, both to Philo and to modern readers. In Torah from Alexandria, Philo's ancient Torah commentary becomes readable and meaningful, exciting and contemporary. I look forward to future volumes.

Book Review - Chumash Mesoras HaRav

Chumash Mesoras HaRav, Sefer Shemos

compiled and edited by Dr. Arnold Lustiger

Reviewed by Rabbi Ari D. Kahn

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Shabbat meals in my parents’ home: Family and guests around the table, food, songs - and words of Torah. My father would share Torah insights with us  – more often than not, ideas he had heard from “The Rov.” The highlight of my father’s week was traveling to Manhattan to participate in Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik’s weekly shiur in the Moriah synagogue. This weekly Gemara class (in which The Rav dedicated a few minutes to the parasha) was attended by laymen and rabbis alike, and the words of Torah, the questions, the answers, the explanations that my father heard there and shared with us, are the bedrock of my own learning, teaching and religious identity. Only years later I was privileged to personally learn from The Rov, and to read and study his writings.

A newly published work by Dr. Arnold Lustiger reminds me of those early years, and of the glow on my father’s face as The Rov’s words flowed from his lips to our young ears. Mesoras HaRav is a digest of Torah commentary, ideas that The Rov either wrote or delivered orally in different venues, and to different types of audiences, throughout his career. Despite the fact that this work was not written by The Rov, and despite the fact that a commentary of the Torah written by The Rov himself would have undoubtedly been a completely different book, Dr. Lustiger’s Mesoras HaRav is a major achievement.

The Rov was notoriously careful with language; this was a family tradition. Had he chosen to write a commentary on the Torah, every word, every letter, would have been weighed carefully - first and foremost, in terms of the intended purpose and audience of such a work. The Rov was a master of pshat, drash, homiletics, midrash, philosophy and philology (in fact, students who sat in his classroom sensed that the Rov has mastered all of Judaism); had he chosen to focus on any one or more of these aspects of the Torah, the result would no doubt have been magnificent, breathtaking. Furthermore, The Rov had the unique ability to communicate with audiences that spanned the entire spectrum of age, affiliation and background. Whatever audience he might have chosen to address, any and all readers on this spectrum would have benefitted.  

But alas, the Rov did not leave us with such a commentary on the Torah, neither a complete nor even an incomplete opus. Thus, the purists, the “real” students, the “Rovaphiles” will have ample room to criticize Dr. Lustiger’s work for what it is not:  It surely is not what The Rov or any of those attempting to imitate or recreate his style would have written. In a sense, though, the fact that Dr. Lustiger is not among that innermost circle of The Rov’s students may be an advantage: Mesoras HaRav is not limited to sentences that The Rov himself would have penned. Instead, Dr. Lustiger attempts to share a glimpse into the thought of Rabbi Joseph Dov Soloveitchik with a new generation. What emerges is a compilation, smatterings of many things the Rov said and wrote; and even if it is uneven, it is nonetheless, magnificent.

A new generation has arisen, a generation that “does not know Yosef.” This generation does not sit in his daily Gemara shiur, his weekly Chumash shiur or his mesmerizing public classes and lectures. This new generation cannot aspire, as did every serious yeshiva student for decades, to reach the level required to join The Rov’s Gemara shiur. Today’s Orthodox Jewish community will not experience the sunburst of intellectual and spiritual energy that previous generations enjoyed at The Rov’s annual Yahrziet and Teshuva drashot. This generation will have no firsthand acquaintance with The Rov’s well-crafted lectures or the uplifting messages they conveyed, nor will they know the awe and wonder that earlier students felt when they came face to face with The Rov’s breathtaking process and methodology of learning. Although more and more of The Rov’s recorded shiurim are making their way to the internet in digital form and there is an ever-growing library of publications based on his teachings, many of these are far beyond the grasp of those not on the highest levels of Torah scholarship. Some of these publications treat topics so specific and with such erudition that they are esoteric; others, although they address broader topics, require the layperson to keep both a dictionary and encyclopedia close at hand in order to understand the words and follow the references.

Mesoras HaRav is different, accessible. Again, the purists may complain: The work is uneven, collected from many different lectures and articles, cobbled together from sources that differ in purpose, audience, topic and methodology. The eclectic nature of the sources is both an advantage and a disadvantage. Despite the disparity of its sources, the book is cogent, and should be seen as a reflection of The Rov’s vast knowledge, of the different topics he tackled and the different ways he would approach the same topic. Many of the Rov’s own writings do not lend themselves to the creation of a running commentary on the Torah. Long essays in which The Rov laid out critical elements of his philosophy, such as the delineation of  “Adam I” and “Adam II,” cannot easily be harvested for micro-comments on specific Torah verses. Such essays, although they elucidate central components of the Rov’s weltanschauung, are often too unwieldy to be used as primary sources for Mesoras HaRav and the reader must suffice with small samples from such a monumental work.

Some suggestions: In my opinion, more footnotes are needed. Occasionally, thematic connections or overarching ideas are expressed in several independent comments, but no connection is made, either between the sources from which these ideas are drawn or between the comments themselves. When a particular idea or theme is illustrated through various different verses, it would be useful to note that each independent comment is part of a larger whole; each verse expresses a larger idea in its own way, but all are related. For example: The Rov taught, in numerous lectures and to different audiences, that at one point Moses had actually given up hope in the redemption of the Jewish People, and had taken up permanent residence (or so he thought) in Midian. In Mesoras HaRav, the commentary to each relevant verse illustrates this idea, but at no point do the comments on individual verses refer to any of the other verses that deal with this topic. An introductory section would do much to help the reader identify and understand such concepts as they are applied or expressed in the remainder of the work. Alternatively, an index and cross-referencing in the footnotes would allow the reader to gain a wider view of The Rov’s treatment of this recurring theme, and would alleviate much of the perceived repetitiveness. Moreover, although it is not unusual for a single source, a single lecture or article written by The Rov, to lie behind Mesoras HaRav’s commentary to many disparate and far-flung verses, the reader is generally given no indication of this connection.

While this is not a book the Rov wrote -- or would have written -- it is a book that reminds me of those Shabbat meals with family, when my father shared The Rov’s Torah with us. Those early lessons led me, and both of my brothers, to attend The Rov’s shiur, and led our entire family to a deeper knowledge and experience of Judaism. Some of the ideas I first heard at my parents’ Shabbat table appear in print for the first time in Mesoras HaRav. The citation reads “Moriah,” where my father attended those weekly shiurim years ago. Each time I see that citation, a smile comes to my face as I recall the question my father raised at the table or the answer he relayed. Occasionally, I can recall only one or the other; now, thanks to Dr. Lustiger, they have come together.

Mesoras HaRav is valuable in and of itself, as it transmits hundreds of The Rov’s insights and explanations. If it spurs the reader to further inquiry and investigation, if it leads the reader to seek out the primary sources – The Rov’s original essays or recordings of his classes or lectures -  perhaps this generation who “do not know Yosef” will at the very least “see his back” and understand the profound privilege my generation enjoyed: We had a Torah colossus in our midst, an accessible and inspiring source of Torah tradition and innovation. I applaud Dr. Lustiger for his efforts and look forward to the publication of future volumes that will allow a new generation to bring The Rov to their table and inspire children and adults alike.

Rabbi Ari Kahn is a student of Rav Soloveitchik, he is author of numerous books including a series on the Torah called “Echoes of Eden”.