I Don't Understand

Gemara (Talmud commentary) explanations read like rules for a children's game. They seem to be ad hoc, based on the desired outcome and without regard for reality or previous rules. Whenever a situation is reached that cannot be resolved using principles with which we're familiar, another principle is introduced that solves the problem.

Sometimes there is a close observation of science, as in anatomy of kosher animals, and sometimes there is a total disregard of science. The fact that the “science” is wrong doesn't seem to disqualify any results based on the errors. They are, after all, “traditions.”

Since the Bible is the word of G-d, there are no errors in it. We may have to “explain” what appear to be inconsistencies. And there are no extra words. Thus every one must bear a lesson and we have to figure out what it is. It does not matter that there may be no obvious support for our position or that someone else may have a completely different explanation – one diametrically opposite – or a contrary opinion. There may be a machlokes – an argument. But both, “these and these are the words of the living G-d.” In some circumstances we even admit that we don't know. “Tayku.” When Elijah, the predecessor of the Messiah, comes, he will answer our questions.

I recognize the tradition that those closer in time to Sinai have a more accurate idea of Torat Moshe than later generations so that the more recent cannot disagree with their predecessors. I am less certain about the concept that they, therefore, are always right. It is the time-honored view that they cannot make mistakes. If there is any statement that does not make sense or seems to be in disagreement with another, the mistake is ours and we must reevaluate our interpretation of what we read. I am troubled by the hoops we pass through in order to make a statement fit in to what we know. It often means that they have to concoct, and we have to accept some unlikely, or even bizarre, scenario that would justify a statement, or believe that something “must” mean the opposite of what it seems to say or that it was copied wrong. And if two sages disagree, they only appear to disagree but were dealing with different cases. Anything to ensure that the tanna (or whoever) is right. We turn them into deities who are infallible, even though we claim to believe that only Hashem is infallible. By doing so – by refusing to accept the idea that one of them can make a mistake – we risk having all of Shas (Talmud) called into question even if we are convinced that what is there is worth defending.

Among the apparently erroneous statements are many related to science and medicine which do not coincide with current knowledge. While it is indisputable that not everything we think is scientifically true will ultimately remain a “fact,” it is unlikely that we will return to some of the ancient beliefs that still exist in the Talmud. And there are modern techniques that make some of the earlier practices outmoded. Indeed, we may have abandoned those practices in our daily lives, but we still maintain their veracity on the printed page. No current authority, for example, would treat a malady with animal urine or some other supposed cure rather than use modern drugs, and none would eschew the use of modern electronic devices since they were not used by our ancestors.

In most fields we use past knowledge as a springboard for advances. We admire the work of our predecessors but go beyond it and correct it when necessary. We “stand on the shoulders” of those who came before us but by doing so we rise higher. Even though such an attitude may be – indeed is – used as justification for wholesale changes in Judaism, perhaps that has happened, and perhaps it will continue, because we have not been willing to make the kind of modest changes and reevaluations that are justified and won't detract from our belief system. We have left the field open for others to make major changes because we were unable to accept smaller ones.

Yet having said that, the gemara has been the backbone of Jewish learning for centuries and, despite any criticisms, bears much of the credit for our survival. When our sages might have been distracted by the world and the cultures around them they focused on the puzzles of the gemara and in creating solutions for them. Their dedication to our heritage was an important contributor to the persistence of that heritage. And the Bible, despite what we don't understand, is the basis for what has sustained us. But the key, in the previous sentence, is “what we don't understand.” Man does not know everything. Nor should he be expected to.

Thus we should be willing to accept apparent errors and inconsistencies as areas of our ignorance rather than try to construct explanations. In some limited cases we admit we don't understand, and that is admirable. When we say that someone meant something else rather than what he said, or when we add or disregard a word, we are placing our own egos on a pedestal and, basically, saying we know more than they did.

Bottom line Judaism. There is no denial of the Rabbis' conclusions, only the route to them. As we learn from the Torah, we must accept their interpretation of the law. But that does not mean that we necessarily accept, or at least comprehend, the explanations they give for reaching their conclusions. It may be hard to give complete understanding and credence to the explanations of two Rabbis who have reached the same conclusions by diametrically opposite routes, and who disagree with each other's arguments. But their conclusion is binding on us.

Even if we don't understand.

January 10, 2017