Explaining why Maimonides’s view of the Menorah is incorrect . . .

Arch_of_titus
Arch of Titus, Rome

At our Talmud class on Hanukkah, we discussed the debate regarding the actual shape of the menorah.

The menorah’s physical dimensions have puzzled many scholars for centuries. This famous image of the menorah raises several problems and much has been written on it. The authenticity of the depicted menorah’s base is sometimes called in question since it consists of two hexagons, the one superimposed on the other, on whose sides dragons are depicted–images that one would hardly expect to see on a sacred Jewish artifact! Perhaps Roman artists added these embellishments for the public procession of Israel’s captured treasures.

Those scholars who regard it as genuine article insist that the Roman triumphal arches were designed as historical documents and toward that end; in general, they strove to be as accurate as possible. Most of the details demonstrate to the sculptors’ intimate knowledge of the Temple’s vessels as described in the Bible and other Jewish sources. Moreover, the proportions of the menorah, with its over-sized base, are in such blatant conflict with the classical notions of aesthetic form that it is inconceivable that a Roman craftsman would have invented them.

Conversely, those who argue against its authenticity are quick to point out that certain elements of the menorah are omitted in this depiction. For example, the menorah had feet extending from its base [1] whereas the menorah on the Arch of Titus has no feet. The base of the menorah certain fits the Hellenistic and Herodian style which was current at that time and there is ample reason to suggest Herod redesigned the menorah to make it more atheistically appealing. Perhaps Herod followed Solomon’s example who constructed ten single lampstands (1 Kings. 7:49). Solomon built ten menorot of gold, five along the northern and five along the southern wall of the Heikhal (1 Kings. 7:49; 2 Chron. 4:7). These were ornamented with carvings of flowers and furnished with appliances of gold for tending the lamps (1 Kings 7:49-50), the number of which on each menorah is not stated. This being the case, the Arch of Titus merely shows just one menorah which was taken by the Romans, to whom in all likelihood did not care what kind of menorah they were carrying. One menorah was probably just as good as another.[2]

Over the last couple of years or so, the feet of the menorah unearthed from a newly-discovered synagogue not far from the Migdal Beech in Jerusalem, strongly resembles the feet of the menorah depicted on the famous Hasmonean coin. But the synagogue menorah is resting on a square base, whereas the coin’s menorah is not. Perhaps the base of the menorah was placed on top of a square base in the days of the Temple, under Herod’s watchful engineering eye. Simply put, Herod added style and flare, and his aesthetic judgments were quite exceptional indeed.

It is also possible that when the menorah was taken to Rome, Roman artisans fused the base of the menorah with the menorah itself for practical and aesthetic purposes.

So much for history …

Maimonides’ personal view of the menorah has long puzzled many rabbinic scholars. Some have argued Maimonides concurs with the opinion that the menorah’s branches were semi-circular shaped. Strangely enough, the late Lubavitcher Rebbe preferred to accept Maimonides’ peculiar conception that the menorah consisted of long extending diagonally shaped branches. Maimonides’ own son, Abraham ibn Maimon, makes this point quite clearly in his Torah commentary.[3] An identical view was also argued by Rashi in his Torah commentary. It never occurs to the old Rebbe that Maimonides and Rashi are wrong! One of the reasons for this is because there is a tendency to believe in what the Israeli journalist David Landau refers to as, “the doctrine of implied infallibility,” which comes eerily close to the Catholic doctrine of papal infallibility.

Even if Maimonides personally subscribed to such a peculiar view of the menorah, there is no support from the last 2300 years that would even indicate that the Temple menorah had a geometrical design. All the numerous artifacts unearthed from the time of the Maccabees (e.g., gravestones, coins, amulets etc.,) suggests that the branches were U-shaped rather than V-shaped. In one recent archaeological discovery an ancient synagogue dating back from the Second Temple (50-100 B.C.E.) from the early Roman period; it shows a seven-branched menorah (candelabrum), The excavations were directed by archaeologists Dina Avshalom-Gorni and Arfan Najar of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

The main hall of synagogue is c. 120 square meters in area and its stone benches, which served as seats for the worshipers, were built up against the walls of the hall. Its floor consisted of mosaic and its walls were treated with colored plaster (frescos). A square stone, the top and four sides of which are adorned with reliefs, was discovered in the hall. The stone is engraved with a seven-branched menorah set atop a pedestal with a triangular base, which is flanked on either side by an amphora (jars). Remarkably, the menorah looks a lot like the menorah minted on the Hasmonean coin.

All the archaeological evidence proves beyond doubt that Maimonides erred, as did Rabbi M.S. Schnersohn after him. It’s a pity Hassidic Jews would rather cling on to a medieval model of what they believed the menorah to be, rather than examine the hard facts of archaeology and history. This would explain why Haredi and Chabad views of history can best be described as, “ahistorical,” and not “historical.”

One cannot blame the great minds of the past like Maimonides or Rashi; had they possessed the knowledge of archaeology we now possess, they would certainly have used it in their expositions. In Maimonides’ introduction to his Guide of the Perplexed, he argues that any authentic interpretation of Torah must be grounded in reason; metaphysical interpretations ought to be introduced only after one masters the natural sciences.

Ditto.

Abraham Maimonides, in his treatise on the aggadot [rabbinic teachings on biblical narrative], appears to go one step beyond his father: “We are not obligated… to uphold all the sundry medical, scientific, and astronomical statements made by the rabbis as being inerrant, like the way we believe them with respect to their interpretations of Torah, whose expert wisdom was in their hands.” [4]

In other words, scientific interpretations will always remain supreme so long as these principles do not violate the fundamental principles of our faith. This writer would argue that even rabbinical interpretations are not beyond criticism as well. A commitment to truth must always take precedent to a commitment to religious dogma, which historically has never ever been completely uniform in Jewish exegetical history.

Hassidic and Haredi Rabbis–like the Rebbe of Lubavitch–generally fear any kind of knowledge that threatens to undermine the wisdom of the past. What a pity they cannot re-vision their way of interpreting the world . . .

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The Dreidel as a Spiritual Metaphor for Today’s Unpredictable Times

I often get asked the questions, “What is the symbolism of the dreidel? What exactly is its origin?” The dreidel is a four cornered top that was popular in the medieval era and originally used for gambling. Jewish folklore purports that when the Syrians prohibited the study of Torah, the Jews insurrectionists would take a top to gamble with, so that the soldiers would let them play their game in peace. The name, “dreidel,” is a Yiddish word that derives from the German verb, “drehen,” (“to turn”).

Historically, the origin of the dreidel is not quite so apocryphal. During the medieval era, gambling dice often had four letters inscribed, N,G, H, and S, representing “nichts,” (nothing), “ganz” (i.e., winner takes “all”), and “shtell arein” (“put in”). Jews subsequently transformed the dice into a top and added four Hebrew letters, נ (N), ג (G), ה (H), and שׁ (S)—signifying, נֵס גָדוֹל הָיָה ֹשָם “nes gadol hayah sham” (“A great miracle happened there”).

The symbolism gets more interesting when we take into consideration the numerological patterns the Kabbalists cleverly add when redesigning the dreidel during the medieval era. The value of the four letters equals 358, the same numerology (gematria) as Moshiach (Messiah)! This could suggest several things:

(1) The wandering of the Jews (drehen) is not purposeless, though it may seem that way at times. Israel’s wandering serves to bring the world that much closer to its final redemptive stage of human history—the Messianic era.

(2) As the dreidel spins, it represents the pulsating movement of the Divine; we who observe it, cannot see how its final stage will unfold until it actually occurs. Such a concept has its antecedents in the Talmud’s famous statement, “Three come unawares: Messiah, a found article and a scorpion” (T.B. Sanhedrin 97a). I have always liked this passage, for in its simplicity, the Sages teach us that it is not for mortal men–or women–regardless how pious or learned they happen to be, to engage in the mindless pursuit of messianic prognostications. The Messiah will appear when we least expect him to arrive.

(3) Our fortunes in life are much like the chaotic turnings of the dreidel; those of us, who lost our fortunes with the Stock Market, know this all too well. Political surprises like the recent death of North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-il, the cyber-hijacking of an American stealth drone, know the wisdom of this teaching only all too well … the world—even on its quantum level is full of paradox and unpredictability.

In short, although our existence is unpredictable, faith is the compass that provides us with the wisdom and radar to navigate through even the most difficult of times, like today.

Rabbinic Reflections on Vaclav Havel and Kim Jong-il

The death of the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-il raises some interesting moral and religious questions as to how we—as individuals—and as a nation ought to respond. It is most unfortunate that this rogue seems to be the talk of the hour, while scant attention has been given to one of humanity’s truly great heroes of the 20th century, the Czechoslovakian President and champion of democracy, Vaclav Havel, whose Velvet Revolution stood of the might of the Soviet Communist machine; his legacy is the democracy he created for the two countries of Czech and Slovakia. Jewish tradition teaches that the death of the righteous is a like the destruction of the Temple (BT Rosh Hashanah 18b).

What a dramatic contrast . . .

Jewish tradition teaches us that “The death of the wicked benefits themselves and the world” (BT Sanhedrin 72a), but some scriptural texts seem to adopt a different attitude, “Do not rejoice when your enemies fall, and do not let your heart be glad when they stumble (Prov. 24:17). Now compare this passage with another biblical verse where King David is believed to have said, “Do I not hate, LORD, those who hate you? Those who rise against you, do I not loathe?With fierce hatred I hate them, enemies I count as my own” (Psalms 139:22).

For Christians, the question becomes even more acute: One might easily ask, “How does one reconcile the famous prescription of Jesus found in NT Matthew 5:43-48:

  • [Y]ou shall love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Heavenly Father, for He makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Don’t the tax collectors do the same?[1]And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Don’t the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your Heavenly Father is perfect.

These sundry passages seem to be in conflict with one another. One could argue that since the Bible was written by different individuals over time, it is only natural that some writers might have strong opinions about the death of the wicked.[2] This is certainly a plausible way of looking at our texts. On the other hand, a more organic approach is certainly not only conceivable, but I would argue represents a clearer way of harmonizing the above cited texts.

With respect to Psalm 139:22, let’s be blunt: for many people, the verse certainly offends the liberal propensities and moral values of our times. Obviously, this is not a warm and fuzzy type of passage we might expect to encounter in the Psalms, but do not underestimate its contemporary message. Besides, there are numerous other passages in both Testaments that reflect the same animus toward “God’s enemies.” [3]

More specifically, would it be too farfetched to suggest that when Jesus said, “Love your enemies,” he was merely referring to the garden variety of people who behave more like a nuisance in our lives, or people who simply don’t like us, rather than individuals who pose a certain existential threat to whole societies or even civilization itself? Put in different words, would Jesus consider the likes of a Hitler, Stalin, Kim Jong-il, and Osama bin Ladin as “enemies of God” because of their genocidal behavior? Are such villains of history beyond even the periphery of forgiveness?

Most Americans probably don’t remember how Kim Jong-il’s policies directly created the mass starvation of the 1990s, where famine devastated North Korea, killing anywhere between 2.5 million and possibly 3.7 million victims. Imagine people living off of approximately 1 cup of food, the equivalent to 25% of the 25 percent of the internationally-recommended minimum calorie intake.[4] Beyond the incalculable damage this man has committed against his own people, Kim Jong-il has done to proliferate nuclear technology to the most unstable region of the world—the Middle East. If the day should arrive when Iran and its consort of terrorist groups gain access to any of these nuclear weapons, humanity may soon find itself standing at the precipice of non-existence. ‘

In practical terms, how should leaders of the free world remember Kim Jong-il?

There are two ways of responding; one approach is championed by diplomats; the other method comes from real people who have faced evil in their lives.

For an example of the former, take the former Secretary of State, Madeline Albright; in an interview with Larry King, where she admires certain qualities Ki Jong-il displayed in their meeting:

  • He said that he would really have loved to have been a movie director. He knew a lot about American movies and had suggestions for Oscar nominations and, you know, he also liked American sports, he liked Michael Jordan. It was possible to talk with him. He’s not a nut. I think that’s the main kind of point. I think that it’s important actually not to make fun. He wanted me to e-mail with him. I think the thing that’s interesting, Larry, is I do not believe that he’s crazy. I know a lot of people have said that. I don’t think so.” One must wonder: Had she been the Secretary of State during WWII, would she have had the gull to say something similar about Hitler too?

And then there is Andrea Mitchell, NBC News, Washington, who said with enthusiastic glee, “I actually met Kim Jong-il.” I would like to ask Ms. Mitchell, “Did you manage to get his autograph, too?”

When you consider the amount of human suffering and evil this one man has contributed to the world, it is amazing to hear any American diplomat sing his praises as though Kim Jong-il was some Hollywood “bad boy” celebrity.

As I was reading the media’s reaction to the death of Kim Jong-il, I decided to compare the media’s reaction with the kind of reactions seen when the world first discovered about the death of Adolf Hitler, on June 1st, 1945. If nothing else, it is offers a remarkable contrast to how our society has changed over the last 67 years.

  • Lt. William J. Cullerton of Chicago, a fighter pilot who was left for dead a few weeks after a German SS man fired a .35-slug through his stomach, said, “I thought I’d had it, now they say Hitler is dead. Maybe he is. If he is, I don’t believe he died heroically. Mussolini died at least like a dictator, but somehow I can’t figure Hitler dying in action . . .”
  • Sgt. Allan Pettit of Verndale, Minnesota, said, “Why waste words on Hitler?” he said. “And how do you know for sure? Anyway, he picked a damn good Nazi to take his place . . .”
  • Another soldier said, “I wish I was the guy who killed him . . . I’d kill him a little slower. Awful slow . . .” One infantry captain said, “Yeah, I guess he’s dead, but so are a lot of other good guys. And you just remember that.

What a contrast . . .

The real issue that bothers me is the feeling of moral relativism that has become a part of our modern culture. Lines of demarcation differentiating between good and evil has become passé; in its place we are now seeing a new lexicon of political correctness that no longer refers to evil leaders as “evil,” but “opinionated,” or some other vacuous metaphors that trivialize evil in the world. Continue Reading