May 24th: Behar
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
In 1751, Isaac Norris, the Speaker of the Pennsylvania Assembly, chose an inscription for the State House Bell—now known as The Liberty Bell. It was a verse from this week’s Torah portion: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof” (Leviticus 25.10). We do not know why he chose this verse—though some think it was in honor of William Penn’s 1701 Charter of Privileges which granted religious liberties and political self-government. However what strikes me is his interpretative effort to craft a majestically inspiring phrase from a verse that has nothing to do with religion or politics. It is a wonderful inscription, but it is not at all what the Torah’s author meant.
The Hebrew phrase refers to real estate. Though the King James’ translation used by Norris is has those overtones that make it perfect for The Liberty Bell, the actual phrase, “U’kra’tem d’ror ba’aretz l’chol-yosh’veha…” is more contextually translated as, “You shall proclaim release throughout the land for all its inhabitants.” (Jewish Publication Society, 1999). Every fifty years, all real estate transactions were to be cancelled, and everyone was to return to his ancestral homestead—the land assigned by Moses (and God!) when the Israelites were entering the Promised Land.
So, what we have is a marvelous quotation, but one that is taken out of context. Is the sentiment true because it is from the Bible? Or is it true because it is a hopeful goal for our country? One thing for sure, Norris’ use is an example of eisegesis—the imposition of an idea on a Biblical verse that the Biblical author did not intend or anticipate.
The opposite of eisegesis is exegesis, an interpretation that approaches what the passage is actually addressing.
One might think that exegesis is the more authentic way to approach the Bible, and there is logic in this view. However, there are some wonderful examples of eisegesis that speak to us of great wisdom. That the messages were not intended by the Biblical author is just historical fact. What may be more important is how these Biblical words inspired later readers to derive wisdom—a wisdom that stands on its own.
The Liberty Bell inscription is a perfect example. Though taken out of context, this new formulation holds up the holy possibility to which Pennsylvania—and the whole United States—aspires. Our Union is not yet perfect, but such goals statements remind us to keep trying. Let us “proclaim liberty throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof!”
The Bible presents an interesting and challenging chorus of opinions and experiences. Some we adopt as timeless and essential, while others strike our modern sensibilities as unfair or unrealistic. In other words, in dealing with a text that is both holy and ancient, interpretation is a must—and both exegesis and eisegesis have their place. When we are presented with “Love thy neighbor as thyself” or “With Justice shall you judge My people,” (Leviticus 19.18 and 15), we can affirm them wholeheartedly. However, when we read time-bound or culture-bound anachronisms that enforce gender roles, or dismiss those with some physical disabilities (see Leviticus 21.16ff), or insist that worship requires animal sacrifice, we Liberal Jews feel bound by a higher sensibility to filter out these less-than-godly traditions. Upon what basis do we do so? Upon the principles of fairness, justice, piety, and God’s all-encompassing love that are also in the Bible. As much as we revere the holy text—and the relationship with the Divine it represents, there are times when we need to transcend the text with the wisdom that God gives us through less direct communications. This is where eisegesis and Midrash enter the Jewish equation, offering teachings that can be more Biblical and holy than literally-minded exegesis.
Another example involves the notion of majority rule. It is in no way Biblical. In the Bible, instructions and laws are given by God, and people are expected to follow orders. Though most of the instructions are given through Nevi’im (Prophets), God chooses them and tells them what to say. Humans are expected to follow God’s rules—even if they disagree with them, and those who disobey suffer the consequences. The Rabbis, however, lived in a “different world,” one in which revelation was no longer operative. And, in the absence of revelatory instructions and clarifications, they determined that majority rule by the Sages is the best course. Since it is not in the Torah, however, they had to rely upon a higher wisdom and “find” such an imprimatur. The passage they chose for eisegesis is Exodus 23.1-2: “You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness. Neither shall you side with the mighty to do wrong…” Though the passage does not address actual decision making, the Rabbis took the phrase, “you shall neither side with the mighty to do wrong,” and reconfigured it into, “You shall not incline after the majority to do wrong, but you shall incline after the majority to do good,” thus providing a “proof text” for majority rule. The teaching is expounded in a wonderful story in Talmud Baba Metzia 59b, The Oven of Achnai, in which the majority’s view overcomes even miraculous testimonies. As Rabbi Joshua insists, quoting Deuteronomy 30.12, “It is not in the heavens.” God gave the Torah to humanity, and it is up to us to interpret it.
One can object that the Exodus passage is taken out of context—or twisted logically, but the wisdom of majority rule stands on its own. And, as the Talmud tells us, even God approves.
The point of my “praise of eisegesis” is that there is a wisdom that emanates from the Torah and its study, a wisdom that may not be found in the words themselves. Perhaps this is what Rabbi Chananya ben Teradion meant when he said, “When two people sit and words of Torah pass between them, the Presence of God resides upon them.” (Pirke Avot 3.2) Or, as my teacher, Ellis Rivkin used to say, sometimes we are able to “tap the Mind of God.”
How do we know whether an interpretation is legitimate, wise, and actually from God? Not every interpretation is wise or fair or kind or helpful. We wish there were a foolproof technique, but in lieu of an actual immutable and perfect revelation, we are left with the human search for wisdom—the continuing and developing human quest for enlightenment and holiness. Lots of ideas are floated, and we must decide which ones are good. Perhaps that is why the Rabbis relied on study, majority rule, and persistent reconsideration. Ours is a living tradition and one that needs to be in touch with the Mind of God on a regular basis.