Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

According to Rashi (1040-1105), one of humanity’s chief distinctions from the animal world lies in its unique ability to formulate speech in expressing ideas about itself, the world, and God. As proof, Rashi cites the Aramaic translation (Targum) of Onkelos (2nd cent. c.e.), who paraphrases the verse to mean: וַהֲוָת בְאָדָם לְרֻוחַ מְמַלְלָא “and it became within man, a speaking spirit,” as if to say humanity represents the most evolved of all created entities, for humankind alone was granted the power of understanding and speech.

These traditional interpretations regarding the human capacity for complex and abstract speech raise important questions in light of our contemporary knowledge of zoology, comparative linguistics, anthropology, and neuroscience. Simply put, how unique is the human capacity to speak and communicate through language? Is human language the by-product of a long evolutionary history, or is it more the result of spontaneous development that is unique to people?

There is a large scientific interdisciplinary debate about the nature of human communication going back to the time of Darwin, who originally theorized that human language is simply an evolved form of communication, no different in principle from the grunts, gestures, and calls generated by other non-human species. Darwin posits, “I cannot doubt that language owes its origin to the imitation and modification of various natural sounds, the voices of other animals, and man’s own instinctive cries, aided by signs and gestures.”[1] While natural selection argues for a gradualist account for language, the appearance of organized language makes its mysterious but spontaneous appearance only in humankind. Until the 20^th century, the origin of language remained a forbidden topic in certain academic circles, probably because of its highly speculative nature.[2]

Still and all, some linguistic scholars like Noam Chomsky reject the Darwinian idea that language could have evolved by natural selection. Chomsky asserts that the human language instinct is fundamentally incompatible with the modern Darwinian theory of evolution, in which complex biological systems arise by gradual accumulation over generations of random genetic mutations that enhance reproductive success. As such, language is a skill limited strictly to humans, who are the sole possessors of the cognitive hardware which makes language possible.

Chomsky contends that human language is radically different from primate communication and draws attention to the incredible ease with which children learn to communicate (as opposed to learning, for instance, mathematics) far beyond the intellectual capacity of their years.[3] Such ability is actually hardwired within the brain itself, which enables it to grasp the words along with its grammar, intuitively knowing how to make symbolic sense of the words that are spoken. Chomsky refers to this mental faculty as the “Language Acquisition Device” or simply “LAD.” The child’s innate ability to acquire the grammar necessary for a language can best be explained only if one assumes that all grammars are variations of a single, generic “universal grammar,” which is a cross-cultural phenomenon that reveals how all human brains come “with a built-in language organ that contains this language blueprint.” He postulates that there is an “organ” within the brain that enables it to effortlessly learn the meaning of symbolic language. It is this “instinct” or “innate facility” that makes human language unique.

Among modern linguists, M.I.T. Professor Steven Pinker offers one of the most controversial theories about human language in his book, The Language Instinct.[4] While Pinker is sympathetic to many of Chomsky’s original insights regarding the uniqueness of human language, he also sides with the Darwinian view that the brain’s innate grammatical abilities are not necessarily incompatible with natural selection and mutation. He writes, “There must have been a series of steps leading from no language at all to language as we now find it, each step small enough to have been produced by random mutation of genes and with each intermediate grammar being useful to its possessor.”[5]

One could argue that once a person defines language from a purely human perspective, other forms of non-human language are at a disadvantage from the start. It is perhaps more relevant to ask ourselves, how do animal species communicate with one another? Or, can human beings, for example, train primates to understand or speak human language? If in fact, the understanding of symbols is a vital prerequisite to the development of language, then, is the phenomenon of syntax, as Chomsky argues, the most important defining feature that is exclusive to human language?

Some scientists, like primatologist Sue Savage-Rumbaugh, contend that certain species of primates are capable of developing a basic sense of syntax. She offers an altogether different approach to the relationship of animals and language, through the use of lexigrams and computer-based keyboards, the same kind of technology that is used for children and adults with language deficits. With this method, each lexigram or symbol represents a word; however, a symbol is not necessarily characteristic of the words it represents. Remarkably, the information gathered at the center regarding the primates’ abilities to acquire symbols, comprehend spoken words, decode simple syntactical structures, learn concepts of number and quantity, and perform complex perceptual-motor tasks have revolutionized the way scientists understand primate communication. [6] Other researchers have also managed to teach gorillas how to utilize sign language.[7]

Studies with the African Grey Parrot, named “Alex,” have been studied for the past thirty years by animal psychologist Irene Pepperberg, initially at the University of Arizona and later at Harvard and Brandeis University. Prior to her studies, most scientists believed that birds were only capable of mimicking human speech, but were incapable of using words creatively. According to Pepperberg, birds actually possess a capacity to reason and utilize words in expressing themselves and can even count! Alex’s intelligence is believed to have been comparable to that of dolphins and great apes, if not that of a five-year-old human child. Had it not died prematurely because of illness, it might have developed an even greater capacity to express itself through human language.[8]

Marine biologists have also discovered that the humpback whales’ songs continue to change as the season progresses. The New Year’s song will start off where last year’s song has ended, providing evidence of an enormous memory capacity. As the season progresses, the song will gradually change. New pieces will be added while other sections will be dropped. One whale may carry a note a bit longer than another whale, but the structure and components are the same. One recent study points out that their language sophistication is so great, that some whales seem to sing in different dialects depending on their place of origin. For example, blue whales off the Pacific Northwest sound differently from blue whales in the western Pacific, which sound differently from those living off of Antarctica. Moreover, they all sound differently from the blue whales living near Chile. Whales in the eastern Pacific are purported to emit lower-pitched sounds followed by a tone, while other whale populations use a different variety of pulses, tones, and pitches. Perhaps the regional differences in their tones are similar to the distinctions between French and Italian, or are variations of the regional accents found in this country. In addition, whales even have a grasp of grammar whenever they communicate with one another.[9] Continue Reading

When we think about animal rights, we tend to identify this movement with Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), which in turn was modeled after the British Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA), was set up in Victoria in 1871. Yet, the spiritual roots of animal rights derive from the Bible itself. Here is a brief story that I think pet-owners will enjoy, which points out how sentient and spiritually aware animals may actually be. For those of us who enjoy pets, this is no great secret . . .

Actually, the Bible is one of the great works of antiquity that first proclaimed the rights of animals in its Sabbath legislation of the Ten Commandments: “But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates” (Exod. 20:11). Animals are sentient beings, endowed with moral standing-they too, are entitled to the wonders of the Sabbath rest!

There is the story of a certain pious man who owned a plowing heifer. In the course of time, his wealth slipped out of his hand, and he had to sell her to a heathen. The new master plowed with her during the six [working] days of the week. On the Sabbath, he brought her out again to plow for him, but she lay down under the yoke and would not work. Though he kept beating her, she would not budge from her place. Seeing this, the heathen went to the pious man and said to him, “Come, take back your heifer. Six days I worked her, but when I took her out on the Sabbath, she lay down under the yoke and would do no work whatever. And though I beat her again and again, she would not budge from her place.”

After the heathen spoke, the pious man understood why the heifer would do no work-it was because she had become accustomed to rest on the Sabbath. So he said to the heathen, “Come along, and I will get her up and make her plow.” When he came to the heifer, he whispered into her ear “O heifer, heifer, you know that when you were in my domain, you were allowed to rest on the Sabbath. But since my sins brought it about that I had to sell you to this heathen, I beg of you, stand up and do the will of your [new] master.”

At once the heifer stood up and was ready to work. The heathen then said to the pious man, “I won’t let you go until you tell me what you did to her and what you whispered in her ear. Perhaps you bewitched her.” The pious man replied, “I put it to her thus and so.”

Upon hearing these words the heathen, shaken and amazed, reasoned with himself: If a heifer, which has neither speech nor knowledge nor understanding, could acknowledge her Creator, shall not I, whose Maker made me in His own image and likeness, and put knowledge and At once the heifer stood up and was ready to work. The heathen then said to the pious man, “I won’t let you go until you tell me what you did to her and what you whispered in her ear. Perhaps you bewitched her.”

The pious man replied, “I put it to her thus and so.” Upon hearing these words the heathen, shaken and amazed, reasoned with himself: If a heifer, which has neither speech nor knowledge nor understanding, could acknowledge her Creator, shall not I, whose Maker made me in His own image and likeness, and put knowledge and understanding into me-shall not I acknowledge my Creator? At once he went off, became a proselyte, and was privileged to acquire so much Torah that he came to be called R. Yohanan ben Torta (“son of a heifer”). [1] Continue Reading

• The just man knows the soul of his beast, but the heart of the wicked is merciless.

—Proverbs 12:10

The author of Proverbs stresses an important ethical lesson: a humane person considers the needs of his animals and acts kindly towards them.^[1] The world of Creation is full of sentient beings, which also experience many of the joys and blessings that people commonly enjoy: like humankind, these creatures also experience pain. Suffering is a common language that links humanity with other species of animal life. Therefore, Jewish ethics take sharp issue with French philosopher Rene Descartes (ca. 1596–1650), who compares animals to machines that service people, stating that their suffering “means nothing more than the creaking of a wheel.”[2] In physiological terms, according to Descartes, what human beings and animals share is that their bodies function by the laws of mechanics. One might respond: How then do human beings differ from animals? Descartes argues that the Creator endows human beings with a divine soul and a moral conscience—qualities that are lacking in animals. In addition, unlike animals, human beings possess the ability to conceptualize and verbalize ideas. Most importantly, only human beings are capable of conscious and rational thought since they are uniquely endowed with the ability to be self-reflective. Only a human being is capable of exclaiming, “Cogito ergo sum.”

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[3] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite disregarding the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshipper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27). “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[4]

Pursuing a similar approach found in Philo, Maimonides comments on a number of biblical precepts dealing with preventing cruelty towards animals in his Guide:

• It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28), the reason being, is so that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in plain sight of the mother; the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There can be no difference in this case between the pain of man and the pain of other sentient beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by reasoning, but is a matter determined by instinct and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to ox and lamb, because of the domestic animals used as food these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. . . . If the Torah provides that such grief should not be caused to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow human beings![5]

According to Maimonides, an animal’s ability to feel emotional pain gives it moral standing; it is for this reason that the Torah prohibits these acts. Not all Jewish thinkers concur with Maimonides. Ramban claims that the prohibitions against cruelty to animals are not so much for the animal’s benefit, but for the sole moral development of humankind. Cruelty towards animals is desensitizing (commenting on Deuteronomy 22:6 and Leviticus 22:28), which will eventually produce brutality and insensitivity to the pain and suffering of others.

• The ruling on the mother bird is not predicated upon the Almighty’s “pity” for the animal. Otherwise, God would have forbidden their slaughter altogether! The reason, however, for the prohibition is to instill within us compassion and the avoidance of cruelty; butchers and slaughterers often become insensitive to the suffering on account of their occupation. Therefore, to avoid engendering these negative traits, the Torah proscribed precepts that a person should not slaughter the mother and its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28) and sending away the mother bird (Deut. 22:6). Such laws are not inspired by feelings of consideration for their suffering but are decrees to inculcate humanity in us. [6]

Recently, I have joined a new website (for me anyway!) Jewish Values Online. Here is a question somebody asked me earlier today: God warns us explicitly not to follow in the ways of the other nations. How does this apply to our custom to give gifts on Hanukkah which seems to have been taken from the very not Jewish tradition of giving gifts on Christmas?

Answer:

The verse, “Do not conform, therefore, to the customs of the nations whom I am driving out of your way, because all these things that they have done have filled me with disgust for them” (Lev 20:23) specifically pertains to not emulating pagan religious traditions. Most Halachic authorities do not consider Christianity as a “pagan religion.” At worse, Christianity is an amalgamation of Judaic and pagan elements; Jews should not regard Christianity as “idolatry.”

Still and all, the original question is valid for other reasons: Is it appropriate for Judaism to integrate practices that derive from non-Judaic sources? Historians believe the custom of gift-giving in early Christianity originated with the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, which also occurs late December.

Many traditional rabbis would certainly concur with the view that sees gift-giving on Hanukkah as a concession to popular Christian culture—plain and simple. To some degree, these rabbis make a valid point. In Southern California, there was a well-known rabbi of a prominent Reform synagogue who used dress up as “Chanu Claus” every year in a blue and white outfit, while wearing a prosthetic white beard. This type of religious capitulation to Christmas is painfully obvious—Oy, oy, oy! This is obviously the wrong message we wish to instill this time of the year about Hanukkah.

From a historical perspective, the question becomes a bit more nuanced and complex. Prof. Eliezer Segal thinks Hanukkah Gelt began at a time when Jewish teachers were an impoverished class. Hanukkah was the time when parents would give their children monies to give to their teachers. It was only natural for the children to receive a little financial incentive for carrying out the good deed. This practice eventually led to other older children asking that their parents give some money to them too.

This writer believes Segal’s explanation falls just a little bit short of the mark.

Life for the Jew in medieval and modern times was often filled with despair and uncertainty. As a persecuted minority, something had to be done to buoy the spirits of children, who frankly, felt jealous of the local Christian children celebrating Christmas with the usual pomp and festivities. This is the principle reason (in my opinion) why the giving of Hanukkah Gelt began, which later morphed into gift-giving.

While it is true, one could say this custom mimics Christian tradition, there is another way of looking at this relatively new Jewish custom. For one thing, no religion lives in a spiritual biosphere. Where different religions peacefully co-exist, a cultural commingling of values is inevitable.[1]

The commingling of Jewish and Christian values is not without complete precedent. One interesting example comes to mind: the 16^th century Halachic scholar, R. Yoel Sirkes (better known as the “Bach”) had no problem using Christian melodies in the synagogue provided these melodies had widespread and universal appeal.[2]

In all candor Judaism has since rabbinic times borrowed numerous religious beliefs and practices from its Semitic neighbors, e.g., the belief in demonology (e.g., Lilith) is clearly Babylonian in nature. Many superstitions we have regarding the Evil Eye also derive from pagan sources.[3] In addition, many of the rabbis participated in what we would now identify as occult practices.[4]

Oftentimes we reason backwards in our attempt to find an explanation for a contemporary practice. It’s a little bit like trying to hit a bull’s eye by first painting the target around the arrow after it has already hit its target. Halachic drash (interpretation) often employs this particular method in its exposition of traditions.

One explanation I remember reading in a number of Hassidic texts dealing with Hanukkah explains that there exists a linguistic connection between the words חֲנֻכָּה (ḥănūkkâ) dedication and חֲנֹךְ (ḥānı̂k) which means, “to train,” or “educate,” as in חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר עַל־פִּי דַרְכּוֹ “train the child according to his way” (Prov. 22:6). The nexus between these two meanings is obvious: providing a Jewish education for a child is like dedicating him/her to God.

With respect to education, it was customary in Jewish communities to give the child a gift upon entering school for the first time. Maimonides was not at all averse to “bribing a child” in order to get the child accustomed to study. [5] So, it is argued (based upon linguistic sources) that giving a child a gift during Hanukkah is not without some antecedent.

This writer would further argue that gift-giving is specifically mentioned in Numbers 7, which delineates all the sundry sacrifices and financial gifts each tribe gave in honor of the Temple’s dedication. Incidentally, this same theme of gift-giving reappears in the First Book of Maccabees where Judas and his brothers, along with the people, rededicate the Temple by giving gifts to refurbish the Temple.[6]

So, is gift giving such a bad practice during Hanukkah? Traditionalist will definitely prefer giving Hanukkah Gelt; but personally, I see no problem with it so long as we do not include the other Christian traditions of Santa Claus with the celebration. Continue Reading