Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Does God really have a “memory”? If we say that God indeed has a “memory,” are there times when God also “forgets,” or is absent-minded? From a Maimonidean perspective, such a metaphor must be understood in terms of negative theology, i.e., to say that God has a “memory,” this is simply another way of saying that God is not indifferent to our existence. With this thought in mind, let us examine the verse in Genesis 8:1:

8:1 וַיִּזְכֹּר אֱלֹהִים אֶת־נֹחַ וְאֵת כָּל־הַחַיָּה וְאֶת־כָּל־הַבְּהֵמָה אֲשֶׁר אִתּוֹ בַּתֵּבָה - But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and all the domestic animals that were with him in the ark. – Like all other anthropomorphisms, the concept of God’s “memory” is a distinctively human way of saying that God is “mindful” of Creation; such language is really spoken from the human perspective for the Torah speaks in the language of humankind. God’s memory is the basis of life. This ancient intuition when narrated from the human perspective depicts a time when humanity and the animal world coexisted at the dawn of creation. It was this paradisiacal image of a world that lived in harmony that evoked God’s “memory.”[1] From a metaphysical perspective, every fiber of the cosmos exists continuously as a figment of God’s consciousness, hence is an immortal part of God’s cosmic “memory.”

Ramban limits the metaphor of God “remembering” as pertaining to humankind and not to the kingdom of animals. God’s “remembrance” pertains to something capable of attaining virtue because animals have no moral freedom; they are remembered not for their own sake, but for the sake of humankind.[2] To say “God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and all the domestic animals that were with him in the ark” means that God remembered His plan that the world should continue with the same varieties of animal life that it had before.

Ramban’s reasoning is consistent with his anthropocentric theological belief that God’s concern centers on humankind, and not nature — a view which Maimonides rejects.[3] One must really question the internal logic of Ramban’s thesis. Many biblical passages indicate that God’s “memory” is gratuitous in nature, and it is not always conditional upon human choice or behavior; moreover, it extends bio-centrically through all Creation. God’s memory for the animal kingdom stems from the love God feels toward His creatures: “Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your justice like the ocean depths. You care for people and animals alike, O Lord” (Psa. 36:7, MT).

Indeed, many of the various laws in the Torah aim at preventing unnecessary suffering of God’s creatures. Thus we find in the Book of Jonah how Jonah discovered that part of God’s reticence to destroy the city of Nineveh was because of the animal population that dwelled there (Jonah 4:11).

Ramban’s observation also goes against one Midrashic view that purports that God saved humankind because of the animal world—that were it not for the animal world, humankind would have been doomed to extinction![4] In the same chapter, the Midrash points out that the idea of God’s “remembering” humankind and animals alike is found in Psalm 145:9: “The LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.”

R. Joshua b. Levi paraphrased this as: The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all, because they are His works. R. Samuel b. Nahman interprets “The LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made,” is because it is His nature to be compassionate (Gen. Rabba 33:3).

Notes:

[1] Commentaries past and present debate what may have precipitated God’s “memory.” Ibn Ezra sees in this passage an allusion to the covenant God had made earlier with Noah (6:18). Cassuto takes exception to Ibn Ezra’s view that remembrance is expressly associated with the covenant (6:18) for the verse does not say that “He remembered the covenant that He made with Noah” but rather “God remembered Noah . . .”

[2] Ramban’s commentary differs from Rashi who felt that animals are in some small measure “morally” accountable for their behavior.

[3] Ramban wrote, “The sundry laws pertaining to preventing cruelty towards animals were legislated not because God was concerned with the pain of the animal world, but in order to teach humanity the importance of acting mercifully towards Creation.” Ramban’s view stands in stark contrast with Maimonides, who argues that these precepts aim to help humankind become more sensitive to the pain of animals (Guide 3:26, 48). Maimonides notes: “It is prohibited to slaughter an animal with its young on the same day. This is in order that people should be constrained and discouraged from slaughtering them in such a manner that the young is slain in the sight of its mother, for the pain animals experience is considerable. There is no difference whether it is man or animal alike, for the love and tenderness a mother shows its young is not a matter of intelligence — it is instinctual and emotional. Not only does this faculty exist in humankind, it also is the endowment of most creatures. . . .” In a long polemic, Ramban took Maimonides to task, observing “So too, what the Rabbis have stated (BT Berakhot 33b), ‘Because he treats the ordinances of God like expressions of mercy, whereas they are decrees,’ i.e., it was not a matter of God’s mercy extending to the bird’s nest or the dam and its young, since His mercies did not extend so far into animal life as to prevent us from accomplishing our needs with them, for if that were so, He would have forbidden slaughter altogether. But the purpose for the prohibition [against taking the dam with its nest or against killing the dam with its young in one day] is to teach us the trait of compassion and that we should not be cruel” (Commentary to Deut, 22:6, Chavel’s translation). Continue Reading

Is the origin of the creatio ex nihilo doctrine truly a post-biblical theological concept introduced during the Hellenistic era, as many scholars in the last hundred years wish to assert? The Tanakh itself does not speak of such an explicit philosophical idea; in fact, it appears for the first time in 2 Maccabees 7:28, in a text written in Greek and originating in the 2^nd century B.C.E. In this famous passage, a mother pleads with her son who is about to be executed for his faith, exclaiming: “I beg you, child, to look at the heavens and the earth and see all that is in them; then you will know that God did not make them out of existing things; (οὐκ ἐξ ὄντων ἐποίησεν - ouk ex onton epoiesen), and in the same way the human race came into existence” (NAB). That is to say, the same God that creates the universe out of nothingness also possesses the power to raise a person from the ashes and non-being of death. It seems highly unlikely that such a story would not have also been based on a common attitude that Jews subscribed to for many, many centuries, nor is it a huge conceptual leap for those already believing that God created the universe!

Another one of the oldest references to the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo comes from the Letter of Aristeas, which is believed to have been written sometime between 150-100 and 1^st century B.C.E., and records: “For it would be utterly foolish to suppose that anyone became a god in virtue of his inventions. For the inventors simply took certain objects already created and by combining them together, showed that they possessed a fresh utility: they did not themselves create the substance of the thing.” [1]

On the other hand, a different perspective appears in The Wisdom of Solomon, a work believed to have originated between the 3^rd century B.C.E. and the early 1^st century C.E. The author was very adept in Judaic and Greek thought, and expresses the biblical story of Creation in terms that appear in Plato’s Timaeus,[2] “And indeed Your all-powerful hand which created the world from formless matter . . .” (καὶ κτίσασα τὸν κόσμον ἐξ ἀμόρφου ὕλης—kai katisasa ton kosmon ex amorthou hyles). It is commonly assumed that the author was referring to Genesis 1:1; however, the author may have been referring to Genesis 1:2 and not 1:1!

From Philo of Alexandria’s writings, it is unclear whether he actually subscribes to creatio ex nihilo or not. Some argue that Philo believes that God created all things—including the pre-existing matter—from nothing.[3] Subsequently, once the creative process begins, God acts more like an Artist than an actual Creator by utilizing the raw materials that already exist. Others read Philo differently, contending that Philo does not believe in creatio ex nihilo[4], and that his theological position derives from Plato and Aristotle. As Wolfson observes, the difference in perspective may have been attributed to Philo’s listening audience. To those of a Platonic mindset, Philo “Platonizes” his doctrine; to those more traditionally oriented, he emphasizes the doctrine of creatio-ex nihilo. It may well be that Philo sees no theological or philosophical problem with either viewpoint—provided it is properly articulated. Alternatively, Philo may have personally hedged on this issue at different stages of his thinking.[5]

Alternatively, Josephus is a different matter, he substitutes the verb ἔκτισεν (ektisen = “created”) in place of the Septuagint’s ἐποίησεν (epoiēsen, “made”). With this alteration, Josephus makes it obvious to his readers that God continuously creates the world ex nihilo and has no need to form it out of preexistent matter.[6] One famous Midrash records a discussion between a Gnostic philosopher and R. Gamaliel (1^st century C.E.), who uses an intratextual approach in explaining the opening lines of the Genesis creation narrative:

• “Your God was indeed a great artist, but surely He utilized good materials that assisted Him!” Rabbi Gamaliel asked: “And what do you think they are?” He replied, “Tohu, bohu, darkness, water, wind (ruah), and the deep.” Rabbi Gamaliel exclaimed, “Woe to that man . . .” while adding, “The term creation is used by Scripture in connection with all of them. Regarding tohu and bohu is written, “I make peace and create evil” (Isa. 55: 7).[7] Concerning darkness is written, “I form the light, and create darkness” (ibid.). Concerning the creation of water, is written, “Praise him, you highest heavens, and you waters above the heavens! (Ps. 148: 4) How so? “For He commanded, and they were created” (ibid. 5); concerning wind is written, “For lo, the one who forms the mountains, creates the wind . . . (Amos 4:13); and concerning the depths is written, “When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no springs abounding with water. (Prov. 8: 24).[8]

This pagan philosopher of the Midrash expresses a thought that is reminiscent of a comment made by a second century Neo-Pythagorean philosopher named Numenius, who sought to demonstrate how the wisdom of Pythagoras and Plato could be found in the Torah of the Jews. Numenius has been often quoted as saying, “What else is Plato but Moses speaking Attic Greek?” [9] Like the Midrash of the pagan philosopher, the story of God creating the world from pre-eternal matter seems compatible with the teachings of Plato.

One might wonder why the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo is not widely discussed in the Talmud itself, however, the rabbis were certainly familiar with much of the philosophical and Gnostic speculation concerning the universe’s cosmology, and they felt this was not a topic that ought to be discussed in public. The study of philosophy was considered to be potentially dangerous, thus it was to be avoided. The Ma’aseh Berashit (“The Work of Creation”) was not to be studied in the academies or in public.[10] Still and all, the cosmology of Genesis does find occasional expression in the Midrashic literature. Recorded in a 3^rd century Midrashic text, R. Yochananand Resh Lakish discussed the difference between a human and divine creativity.

• R. Yochanan said: When a mortal king builds a palace, after having built the lower stories he builds the upper ones; but the Holy One, blessed be He, created the upper stories and the lower stories within a single act. R. Simeon b. Lakish said: When a human being builds a ship, first he brings the beams, then the ropes; after this he procures the anchors, and then erects the masts. But the Blessed Holy One, created them [i.e., heaven and earth] and their crew, as it is written, “Thus says God the LORD, Who created the heavens and stretched them out”—we-notehem (Isa. XLII, 5); this is written we-nawtehem (“and their mariners”).[11]

Although the proof text of Resh Lakish is not at all grammatically convincing, the theological point both these Sages make is a valid one: both stress the sheer novelty in how God creates the world—with complete simultaneity in accordance with His will. Continue Reading

Once upon a time, some American tourists went to Mexico on a vacation; they toured some hot springs, where they saw the natives washing their clothes! One tourist said to his guide, “My, isn’t it wonderful how Mother Nature provides her children with hot water to wash their clothes?” The tour-guide replied, “So you might think, Senor, but the natives complain that Mother Nature doesn’t provide the soap!”

It’s been said that the hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings. Chinese wisdom teaches, “When you drink from the stream remember the spring.”

Research has shown that people who regularly practiced grateful thinking were more than 25 percent happier, slept better, suffered lower levels of stress and even spent more time exercising. People sure like to complain. Kvetching is—for many—a national pastime, yet complaining tends to diminish the quality of our lives and relationships. According to one recent author, who wrote a book on gratefulness, Prof. Richard Emmons explains that” Preliminary findings suggest that those who regularly practice grateful thinking do reap emotional, physical, and interpersonal benefits. [...] Grateful people experience higher levels of positive emotions such as joy, enthusiasm, love, happiness, and optimism [...] The practice of gratitude as a discipline protects a person from the destructive impulses of envy, resentment, greed, and bitterness.”

Cultivating an attitude of gratitude is a lot harder than it might seem. When we contemplate the economic problems of our society today, it is easy to get depressed. For a young family that loses a home, or a job, the economic and psychological effects can be devastating. The idea of offering thanksgiving might even strike one as cynical. Some of you are probably familiar with Bart Simpson’s famous Thanksgiving quip, “Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” I fear that Bart Simpson’s remark probably reflects the contemporary attitudes we often hear in our society.

One day of Thanksgiving will not solve all the problems of the world. Suffering has always been a part of the human condition throughout recorded history. As Rabbi Harold Kushner has pointed out, there’s never been a time in which bad things didn’t happen to good people.

The pilgrims experienced enough hardship to leave them demoralized. When they first began their colony, they were propelled by the strength of their dreams. Despite the bitter winter storms that threatened their fledgling community, they did not give hope. They sat for three days, feasting, rejoicing and grateful for what they had. Rejuvenated, they made it through that first winter, and another, and another — just as our immigrant ancestors who left the Old Country did.

Thanksgiving beckons us to see the cup as half-full, as we focus upon the many blessings we experience daily. The name “Jew,” comes from the root which means “to give thanks,” and that is what our tradition teaches us in so many ways. We expect to wake up in the morning and expect to be healthy, but when we receive a diagnosis that we have an illness, suddenly we appreciate and recognize what we have now lost. There is a quality of mindfulness that we must always have when it comes to being thankful for all of God’s gifts.

As rabbis, we often see people living on the ragged edge of life. Today’s economic problems impact the lives of many people we know. The human face demands that we treat that unfamiliar person with kindness and compassion. When in doubt, it is much better to err on the side of compassion.

The Judaic meaning of gratitude must go beyond the mere recognition of God’s countless blessings we experience in our lives. What exactly does “thanksgiving” mean? Thanksgiving comes from two words, “thanks,” and “giving.” True thanksgiving involves a willingness to share God’s blessings and create blessing in the lives of others around us. By creating blessing for others, we reveal that we are not choosing to live in a state of scarcity and want. By opening our hearts to the pain of our brothers and sisters, we are infusing them with a feeling of hopefulness for a better tomorrow.

For many, the yearly community service — helping in a soup kitchen, delivering canned goods to the needy, sick or elderly — has been fulfilled, and they can feel gratified in knowing they’ve done a good deed for others.

I am reminded of a comment I once heard about Thanksgiving, from the Jay Leno Show, concerning the human condition. Leno noted how on Thanksgiving, restaurants give away free meals, soup kitchens pop up all over the place, all kinds of groups provide all kinds of food to the poor. But, Leno pointed out, for the most part, all those who help out do so only on Thanksgiving. “We give these people one big meal a year, really stuff them and tell them, “That oughta hold you. See you next Thanksgiving.’”

We’ve said our thanks, counted our blessings and passed the peas, along with the candied yams. Thanksgiving is over, and as soon as the holidays are out of the way, we can get back to our lives. Why do so many of us relegate thoughts of thankfulness and limit kindly-acts to a single day, or a single season? Continue Reading