And I will make you swear by the LORD, the God of heaven and the God of the earth…” What Did Abraham Mean?

 

Around the time of Abraham, or a generation or two before, Ur was the capital. The kings there had a ritual that mattered a lot to them: the sacred marriage of Inanna and Dumuzi.

We know about it from clay tablets archaeologists dug up, mostly from the scribal schools at Nippur, with some copies also found at Ur and other cities. The poems were written and copied during the Third Dynasty of Ur and the years right after — right around Abraham’s traditional lifetime.

Inanna is called the “Lady of Heaven.” She’s tied to the sky and to Venus. Dumuzi is a shepherd god, linked to flocks and the fertility of the land. In the poems she’s also pursued by Enkimdu, the farmer god of canals and fields. At first she likes the farmer better — grain, flax, steady harvests — but in the end she chooses the shepherd. She bathes, puts on oil and her royal clothes and jewelry, opens the door, and lets him in. That choice was understood as the moment heaven and earth came together, meant to keep the land fertile and confirm the king.

The kings of Ur actually performed this. The king took the role of Dumuzi; a high priestess took the role of Inanna. For the ritual they were treated as the gods themselves. It gave the king his legitimacy.

That’s the background for this week’s parsha.

Last week we heard that kings would come from Abraham and Sarah:

וְהִפְרֵתִי אֹתְךָ בִּמְאֹד מְאֹד וּנְתַתִּיךָ לְגוֹיִם וּמְלָכִים מִמְּךָ יֵצֵאוּ

“I will make you exceedingly fruitful, and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you.” (Genesis 17:6)

וּבֵרַכְתִּי אֹתָהּ וְגַם נָתַתִּי מִמֶּנָּה לְךָ בֵּן וּבֵרַכְתִּיהָ וְהָיְתָה לְגוֹיִם מַלְכֵי עַמִּים מִמֶּנָּה יִהְיוּ

“I will bless her, and she shall become nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” (Genesis 17:16)

Abraham and Sarah are the father and mother of those future kings. But the story they’re living is the opposite of what the kings of Ur performed. Heaven and earth are not gods to be joined or embodied. They’re creations that exist only because God wills them to exist, and their only job is to do what He gave them to do.

Now Abraham is sending Eliezer to find a wife for Yitzchak, and the oath he makes him swear is this:

וְאַשְׁבִּיעֲךָ בַּיהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵי הַשָּׁמַיִם וֵאלֹהֵי הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר לֹא־תִקַּח אִשָּׁה לִבְנִי מִבְּנוֹת הַכְּנַעֲנִי אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי יוֹשֵׁב בְּקִרְבּוֹ

“And I will make you swear by the LORD, the God of heaven and the God of the earth, that you will not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites among whom I dwell.” (Genesis 24:3)

Not a goddess of heaven and a separate god of the earth. One God who is both. In the Guide for the Perplexed 2:30 the Rambam lists this very verse among the places the Torah speaks of God’s relation to the heavens, and he explains: “As for the expressions ‘the God of the heaven’ and also ‘God of the world,’ they are used with respect to His perfection, may He be exalted, and theirs. He is Elohim— that is, He who governs — and they are those governed by Him… He is God, not they.”

He then tells Eliezer that the God of heaven told him to go to his father’s house. Once it’s clear there’s only one God over everything, the mission is simply under that God.

It’s also striking how Abraham mirrors the way God runs the world. Heaven and earth are not gods; they’re servants created to carry out God’s will. Abraham does the same. Instead of reenacting the sacred-marriage poem the way the kings of Ur did — taking on the role of a god for a moment — he simply fulfills God’s will. He sends his servant Eliezer to find a wife for Yitzchak from his father’s house, exactly as God has directed. Heaven and earth serve God; Abraham serves God by having Eliezer carry out the command about where his son should marry.

Eliezer takes the wealth with him. When he tells the story to Rivkah’s family he says:

וַיהֹוָה בֵּרַךְ אֶת־אֲדֹנִי מְאֹד וַיִּגְדָּל וַיִּתֶּן־לוֹ צֹאן וּבָקָר וְכֶסֶף וְזָהָב וַעֲבָדִם וּשְׁפָחֹת וּגְמַלִּים וַחֲמֹרִים

“The LORD has greatly blessed my master, and he has become great. He has given him flocks and herds, silver and gold, male and female slaves, camels and donkeys.” (Genesis 24:35)

Sheep and cattle — the things that belonged to the shepherd-god in the old poems — are here just gifts from the one God. Abraham is a wealthy shepherd because God made him one, not because he embodied Dumuzi.

And then there’s Eliezer’s test. He sets a condition: if the girl does this, then I’ll know she’s the one. The Rambam in Hilchot Avodah Zarah 11:4 brings exactly that as the example of forbidden nichush:

וְכֵן הַמֵּשִׂים לְעַצְמוֹ סִימָנִים, אִם יֵאָרַע לִי כָּךְ וְכָךְ אֶעֱשֶׂה דָּבָר פְּלוֹנִי, וְאִם לֹא יֵאָרַע לֹא אֶעֱשֶׂה, כֶּאֱלִיעֶזֶר עֶבֶד אַבְרָהָם. וְכָל כַּיּוֹצֵא בַּדְּבָרִים הָאֵלּוּ, הַכֹּל אָסוּר; וְכָל הָעוֹשֶׂה מַעֲשֶׂה מִפְּנֵי דָּבָר מִדְּבָרִים אֵלּוּ, לוֹקֶה.

Likewise, one who sets signs for himself — “If such-and-such happens to me, I will do such-and-such, and if it does not happen, I will not do it” — as Eliezer the servant of Abraham did, and anything similar to these things: all of it is forbidden. And anyone who performs an action because of one of these things is liable for lashes.

In the poems, Inanna’s bathing and opening the door show that she has accepted Dumuzi. Eliezer is doing something the Torah world eventually rules out. The wife for Yitzchak is found under the oath of the single God of heaven and earth, not through a sign that treats heaven and earth as separate powers that need to be joined or tested.

Abraham is promised kings will come from him. The pagan kings of the city he came from tried to become gods by reenacting and imitating a story in which their gods of heaven and earth merged. We do the opposite. The story of Abraham, Eliezer, and the search for a wife for Yitzchak shows us what that looks like in practice: everything is done under the one God of heaven and earth, with a servant carrying out the will of his master who is himself carrying out the will of God. All of the Jewish people are a kingdom of priests that serve, precisely by imitating how we see God run creation — not by becoming gods ourselves, but by serving His will the way heaven and earth do. That is how we live as tzelem Elokim.

Why didn’t Avraham try to save Lot from Sodom?

 

It must have occurred to some of you over the years: Avraham saved Lot from captivity, he prayed for the entire city of Sodom — so why didn’t he at least try to warn or rescue his own nephew from the destruction? The angels appear to save Lot. Why couldn’t Avraham, the father of gemilut chasadim, do the same?

A few striking parallels in the story of Lot may point toward an answer.

We all know the midrash that Avraham survived the kivshan ha’eish (the fiery furnace) because of his belief in God. Yet in this week’s parsha the Torah describes Lot surviving his own kivshan ha’eish. First the fire itself:

וַה' הִמְטִיר עַל־סְדֹם וְעַל־עֲמֹרָה גׇּפְרִית וָאֵשׁ מֵאֵת ה' מִן־הַשָּׁמָיִם

“The Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah sulfurous fire from the Lord out of heaven.”

(Genesis 19:24)

Then Avraham looks out over the ruins:

וַיַּשְׁקֵף עַל־פְּנֵי סְדֹם וַעֲמֹרָה וְעַל־כׇּל־פְּנֵי אֶרֶץ הַכִּכָּר וַיַּרְא וְהִנֵּה עָלָה קִיטֹר הָאָרֶץ כְּקִיטֹר הַכִּבְשָׁן

“And he looked down toward Sodom and Gomorrah and all the land of the Plain, and he saw the smoke of the land rising like the smoke of a kiln.”

(Genesis 19:28)

Other parallels with the Akeidah are hard to miss. Just as Avraham was willing to sacrifice his son, Lot was willing to sacrifice his daughters to protect strangers he had never met. In both stories the angels intervene at the last moment:

וַיֹּאמְרוּ גֶּשׁ־הָלְאָה … וַיִּפְצְרוּ בָאִישׁ בְּלוֹט מְאֹד וַיִּגְּשׁוּ לִשְׁבֹּר הַדָּלֶת

“But they said, ‘Stand back!’ … And they pressed hard against the man—against Lot—and moved forward to break the door.”

(Genesis 19:9)

A midrash says that Yitzchak was later struck with blindness by the tears of the angels that fell into his eyes during the Akeidah. Here the pasuk itself says the angels struck the people of Sodom with blindness:

וְאֶת־הָאֲנָשִׁים אֲשֶׁר־פֶּתַח הַבַּיִת הִכּוּ בַּסַּנְוֵרִים מִקָּטֹן וְעַד־גָּדוֹל

“And the men who were at the entrance of the house, low and high alike, they struck with blinding light…”

(Genesis 19:11)

The midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 65:10, cited by Rashi on Genesis 27:1) reads:

בשעה שעקד אברהם אבינו את בנו על גבי המזבח בכו מלאכי השרת… ונשרו דמעות מעיניהם לתוך עיניו והיו רשומות בתוך עיניו, וכיון שהזקין כהו עיניו

“When Abraham our father bound his son on the altar, the ministering angels wept… and tears dropped from their eyes into his eyes and were imprinted in them, and when he grew old his eyes dimmed.”

In many ways Lot appears even greater in chesed than Avraham by his willingness to sacrifice his own family to save strangers. Perhaps this middah was passed on through his daughters’ children — Moav and Ammon — and ultimately through Ruth, whose chesed to her mother-in-law brought the lineage of King David (and through Ammon, King Solomon).

This may also explain why Moabite males were permanently forbidden from marrying into the Jewish people, while Moabite females were permitted. The males of Moav went against the chesed of their ancestor Lot by refusing to give food and water to the Jewish nation in the wilderness. The daughters, by contrast, acted from a form of chesed — they believed the world had been destroyed and sought to repopulate it. That chesed was preserved in Ruth and entered the Jewish people.

Coming back to the original question: why didn’t Avraham try to save Lot?

Perhaps because, like the Akeidah according to the Rambam, the entire angelic episode in Sodom was a vision and never physically took place in the ordinary sense. The Rambam states the principle clearly in the Guide for the Perplexed 2:42:

כבר ביארנו כי כל מקום שנזכרה בו ראית מלאך או דבורו שזה אמנם הוא במראה הנבואה או בחלום… ואין הפרש בין שיכתוב תחילה שהוא ראה המלאך או יהיה הנראה מן המאמר תחילה שהוא חשבו איש מבני אדם ואחר כן בסוף הענין התבאר לו שהוא מלאך… תדע ותאמת שמתחלת הענין היה מראה הנבואה או חלום של נבואה.

“We have already explained that whenever the appearance or speech of an angel is mentioned in Scripture, this occurred only in a vision of prophecy or in a dream… There is no difference whether the text first states that he saw the angel, or whether it appears at first that he thought him a human being and only at the end it becomes clear that it was an angel… Know and be certain that from the beginning of the matter it was a vision of prophecy or a prophetic dream.”

He applies this specifically to the three visitors of Genesis 18, and in 3:24 he notes that the command at the Akeidah itself came “in a dream or a vision.” Once that framework is accepted, the angels who then “go down” to Sodom can be read as the continuation of the same prophetic vision granted to Avraham.

Lot was indeed saved — but not necessarily by angels physically extracting him. The angels’ visit, the dragging, and the blinding of the townspeople were part of the vision Avraham received. The vision explained why the city had to be destroyed, the depth of its evil, and the relative righteousness of his nephew.

How Lot was actually saved is the theme we have been seeing in the past few parshiyot: hashgacha (divine providence) attaches to a person who is connected to God by walking in His ways — chesed. The Rambam explains this idea with the classic example of a ship that sinks by chance:

אמנם אם טבעה הספינה ומה שבתוכה כמו שזכר, ונפל הגג על מי שבבית, אם היה זה במקרה לפי דעתנו, אבל ברצון אלוהי לפי הדין במשפטיו אשר לא יגיעו דעותינו לידיעת סדרם

“If a ship sinks with all who are in it, as we have mentioned, or a roof falls on those who are in the house — if this occurs by chance according to our view, [the fact that those particular people were on the ship or in the house is] according to the will of God and in accordance with the justice of His judgments, the method of which our minds cannot attain.”

(Guide for the Perplexed 3:17)

The ship (or the city) may be destroyed by the ordinary course of nature or judgment. Who is on it — and who is spared — is not left to pure chance when a person is attached to God through chesed. On this reading, Avraham did not need to run to Sodom. The vision itself already contained the outcome: Lot would be preserved because of his connection to God through chesed, and Abraham’s role was to witness and understand the moral lesson. The smoke he sees the next morning is the fulfillment of what he has already been shown.

The story of Lot, then, is not merely a side narrative. It is the continuation of Abraham’s vision — teaching the limits and the power of chesed, the nature of divine justice, and the long-term fruit of even imperfect kindness that would one day bring Ruth and David into the world.

The Sun Doesn’t Change When You Close the Blinds: A Tanya Insight That Fits Perfectly with the Rambam

 

I’m in the middle of working through the Tanya (Likkutei Amarim by Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi) and came across this past shabbat, a passage that lines up really nicely with something the Rambam says.

In the Guide (MN 3:18), the Rambam explains that hashgacha pratis depends on how close a person is to God in thought and action. As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, the point isn’t that God changes based on us—it’s that we change. God stays exactly the same.

Right after discussing how the mitzvot affect the revelation of the Shechinah (in the Tanya’s usual mystical language), Rav Shneur Zalman adds these clear, rational words:

וְהִנֵּה, כָּל בְּחִינַת הַמְשָׁכַת אוֹר הַשְּׁכִינָה, שֶׁהִיא בְּחִינַת גִּילּוּי אוֹר־אֵין־סוֹף בָּרוּךְ־הוּא, אֵינוֹ נִקְרָא שִׁינּוּי חַס וְשָׁלוֹם בּוֹ יִתְבָּרֵךְ, וְלֹא רִיבּוּי, כִּדְאִיתָא בְּסַנְהֶדְרִין, דְּ״אָמַר לֵיהּ הַהוּא מִינָא לְרַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל, אַמְרִיתוּ כָּל בֵּי עֲשָׂרָה שְׁכִינְתָּא שַׁרְיָא, כַּמָּה שְׁכִינְתָּא אִית לְכוּ״? וְהֵשִׁיב לוֹ מָשָׁל מֵאוֹר הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ הַנִּכְנָס בְּחַלּוֹנוֹת רַבִּים כוּ׳, וְהַמַּשְׂכִּיל יָבִין:

“Clearly, any such diffusion of the light of the Shechinah, that is, the revelation of the light of the En Sof, blessed is He, cannot be termed mutability in Him, G-d forbid, nor multiplicity. Witness the passage in Sanhedrin, where a heretic said to Rabban Gamliel: ‘You say that on every gathering of ten [Jews] the Shechinah rests. How many Divine Presences have you, then?’ And he replied to him with an example of the light of the sun which enters through many windows…. The intelligent man will understand.”

The Gemara he’s pointing to is Sanhedrin 39a. A heretic asks Rabban Gamliel how the Shechinah can rest on every gathering of ten Jews without there being multiple versions of God showing up wherever ten people get together. Rabban Gamliel then hits the heretic’s servant on the neck and asks him why he allowed the sun’s rays to enter the heretic’s house. The heretic answers for his servant that the sun shines on the whole world—no one can prevent it from shining. Rabban Gamliel replies that if even the sun (just one of God’s countless servants) lights up the entire world, then certainly God’s presence does too.

Here’s the deeper rational point that I believe Rav Shneur Zalman is trying to communicate through this Gemara:

The sun’s rays keep shining all day. They don’t change at all whether we notice them, open the blinds, or pull the shades and sit in the dark. The only thing that changes is us—how we see and move through the world around us.

It’s the same when a person walks with God in thought and in mitzvot. God isn’t altered or affected by what we do. What shifts is our own perception and the way we approach life and the choices we make-Hashgacha Pratis

Stop Treating Your Comfort as God’s Will-the lesson of the "test" in this weeks parsha

 

God doesn’t change. So He isn’t sitting up in heaven running tests to figure people out. That’s not what a “test” is for.

The real test is simpler and harder: stop expecting the command to make your life easier right now. When things blow up, don’t call it a failure of the promise. Call it the next obstacle you’re supposed to walk through while you keep doing what God asked.

That’s exactly what happens with Abraham. God tells him:

וַיֹּאמֶר ה׳ אֶל־אַבְרָם לֶךְ־לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל־הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ׃ וְאֶעֶשְׂךָ לְגוֹי גָּדוֹל וַאֲבָרֶכְךָ וַאֲגַדְּלָה שְׁמֶךָ וֶהְיֵה בְּרָכָה׃  

(בראשית יב:א–ב)

“Go from your land, your birthplace, your father’s house to the land I will show you. I will make you a great nation, bless you, make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”

Then a famine hits. Then his wife gets taken by Pharaoh. Abraham doesn’t freeze and say “this wasn’t part of the deal.” He keeps moving. He uses his head. With Pharaoh he follows his judgment, and it works out — not by magic, but because his mind was already walking in God’s ways.

That’s the whole point of serving God. You’re not doing it so life goes smooth. You’re doing it because it’s right and because it serves something bigger than you. When you’re actually trying to walk like God (imitatio Dei), your personal discomfort doesn’t disappear — you still feel it — but it stops being the main thing. The job comes first.

God never told Abraham he had to stay in Canaan while everyone starved. He told him to go Canaan but nothing about staying there. When the famine got severe he followed his instincts and left(as opposed to the Ramban, the Rambam doesn't mention that he did anything wrong)

וַיְהִי רָעָב בָּאָרֶץ וַיֵּרֶד אַבְרָם מִצְרַיְמָה לָגוּר שָׁם כִּי־כָבֵד הָרָעָב בָּאָרֶץ׃  

(בראשית יב:י)

“There was a famine in the land, and Abram went down to Egypt to live there, because the famine was severe.”

Going down to Egypt and later going to war to rescue Lot are the same kind of move. Both involved his family, and neither was a prophecy telling him what to do. He didn’t need a nevuah. He was already locked into ratzon Elokim — the will of God — so he knew what justice required and he acted.

Then this happens:

וַיְהִי כְּבוֹא אַבְרָם מִצְרָיְמָה וַיִּרְאוּ הַמִּצְרִים אֶת־הָאִשָּׁה כִּי־יָפָה הִוא מְאֹד׃ וַיִּרְאוּ אֹתָהּ שָׂרֵי פַרְעֹה וַיְהַלְלוּ אֹתָהּ אֶל־פַּרְעֹה וַתֻּקַּח הָאִשָּׁה בֵּית פַּרְעֹה׃  

(בראשית יב:יד–טו)

“When Abram entered Egypt, the Egyptians saw that the woman was very beautiful. Pharaoh’s officials saw her, praised her to Pharaoh, and she was taken into Pharaoh’s house.”

One week he’s willing to risk his wife. Later he’ll be willing to risk the child of that same wife. Both times God steps in via Abraham walking in the ways of God, and both are saved. The pattern is clear: the person who is actually serving God keeps walking toward justice without waiting for a new command every time. He’s already in the stream.

In the future his descendants would take the same path down to Egypt. What started as an apparent exile and the eventual slavery of his great-grandchildren, ensured their flourishing and the birth of a nation with the giving of the Torah. That’s what God promised Abraham in this week’s parsha. His children may not have it easy in the moment, and what seems like injustice turns out to be the greatest gift to Abraham, his descendants, and the world as a whole.

In our own time, many people — in modern Judaism and in the Chareidi world — do the opposite. They take their personal beliefs, their comfort, or their fears, and then declare that this is the will of God. They become the false prophets of our generation: whether it’s progressive views dressed up as Torah, or the claim that avoiding the army (and the loss of income that comes with it) is somehow a higher divine calling. Abraham didn’t need a new prophecy to know what justice required. He was already walking in the ways of God. The question is whether we are.

Maimonides and Shadal both say the same thing about “tests.” They’re not for God to learn something. They’re public lessons so other people (including us) can see what real devotion looks like. Shadal makes the point especially about the Akeidah: the world needs to see that true servants of God will go to the extreme if commanded — even when it goes against what they personally believe is right — and also see that the true God does not actually want child sacrifice.

Maimonides is blunt about the other idea people love: that God makes you suffer now so He can give you a bigger payout later. He thinks that view is wrong and ugly. It makes God look like He needs to manufacture pain in order to hand out rewards. That’s not a just God. Real service is doing what’s right because it’s right and because it serves the larger purpose — not because you’re trying to cash in on suffering.

That’s also why God keeps pointing Abraham to the future of his children: they will become a great nation that actually does God’s will. When someone’s whole life is aimed at that, the real reward is the ongoing life of his children and his deeds.

Maimonides says it cleanly in Hilchot Avel 4:4:

וְהַצַּדִּיקִים, אֵין בּוֹנִים לָהֶם נֶפֶשׁ עַל קִבְרוֹתֵיהֶן — דִּבְרֵיהֶם הֵם זִכְרוֹנָם.

“For the righteous we do not build a monument on their graves — their words are their memorial.”

A tombstone isn’t what keeps a righteous person alive in the world. Their words and deeds do that.

The Flood, the Rainbow, and Why Walking with God Doesn’t Promise You a Comfortable Life

 

As I discussed in last week’s post, God doesn’t change, its man that changes. According to the Rambam, a catastrophic flood isn't a result of God  suddenly deciding  to do something new. The world getting wiped out can just be a natural event, the same way the dinosaurs got wiped out by a meteor. Nature does what nature does. God set the order of the world and it keeps running.

What the Torah is teaching is that a person who walks in the ways of God can see something coming and do something about it — whether through actual knowledge, ruach hakodesh, or nevuah. The people who died weren’t specially targeted. They lived like animals. They did whatever felt good instead of following justice and the way God set up the world. That’s what the Torah means by “והלכתם עמי בקרי” — if you live by happenstance, then happenstance hits you. “ויספתי עליכם מכה שבע כחטאתיכם.” You become a victim of whatever nature throws at you.

A person who is actually trying to live according to the middot built into creation is different. He’s constantly thinking about how the world works and what justice looks like, so he ends up either saving himself or the people around him from pure chance. That’s the point of the ship example the Rambam gives in the Moreh (3:17). The ship going down is chance — a natural event. But the fact that certain people got on that ship isn’t just chance. It’s tied to the choices they made. (Rambam’s own brother drowned at sea, so this isn’t an abstract example for him.)

Rambam puts it like this: in the world, individual providence only really applies to humans. Everything else happens by chance, the way Aristotle described. Providence is connected to the intellectual influence that reaches a person. The more of that someone has, the more protected they are. The less they have, the more they’re left to chance — “like the beasts.” This is the meaning according to the Rambam of "הכל בידי שמים חוץ מיראת שמים".

So Noah is the story of someone who wasn’t living by keri. Through prophecy, he saw what was coming and built the ark. Even the Ramban says the rainbow itself always existed as a natural thing — sunlight on moist air does that. It wasn’t a brand-new creation. Noah, through prophecy, turned an existing natural phenomenon into the symbol that this particular kind of destruction wouldn’t happen again. Or maybe the deeper point of the rainbow is that from now on people would start moving toward knowing God (Abraham and onward) by looking at nature and finding God in how the world actually works, and that would be what prevents another total wipeout.

There’s a caveat here, though, for anyone who thinks that walking in God’s ways means wealth, success, and personal physical happiness as the end result. That’s not necessarily true. Noah walked with God and still lost his entire society. He was traumatized enough that he got drunk and lost control. The Rambam’s whole framework makes this make sense. Providence isn’t a promise of comfort or material reward. It’s tied to the intellectual attachment and the drive to know God’s ways in the world. When someone follows that, personal needs start to matter less — or, on a higher level, there’s a kind of abandonment to God’s will as it plays out in creation. The real need becomes the survival and betterment of society and the world.

Just look at Noah: he preserved the physical continuation of mankind. Or Moshe, the greatest prophet who ever lived — he changed how the world thinks and practices for eternity, toward the eventual realization of the unity of God by all of mankind. That’s the higher end of walking in the ways of God. Not a comfortable life for yourself, but something that lasts beyond you.

God doesn’t change. Nature keeps going. What changes is whether a person is close enough to God that he’s not just another body in the path of whatever happens next — and whether he’s willing to put the world ahead of his own ease. That’s the whole story, and that’s what the rainbow is pointing to.

If every leaf falls by the decree of God, the commandments make no sense...

If God controls everything — even which leaf falls and exactly where it lands — and if the wind does not blow by chance but only because God moves it, then it is not the wind that makes the leaf fall. Each leaf falls by God’s decree. On that view there is no freedom of choice, and everything is predestined. Every movement of an animal is preordained and no one has the power to do or to refrain from doing anything. 

But then there is no point to revelation, or to the Torah’s commandments, which assume we can choose. That is why this picture is not the rational Jewish view. Free choice is foundational; without it, command, reward, and punishment lose their sense.

Something to keep in mind as we read this week about God creating the world. For more on the Torah’s view of hashgacha see the Rambam in MN 3:17.

The Torah demands we know one God. So why is His name in creation plural?

 

It always bothered me reading Elohim in the Torah. The word is plural. Why would a Torah that demands we know and believe in one unique God use a plural name for the Creator of the world — בראשית ברא אלהים?

Shadal has a good answer. The pagans believed in many powers, each ruling its own realm. Greek gods of thunder, of water, and so on. Christianity still has the devil ruling hell. Judaism, he says, used the plural on purpose: our God is not one power among others. He rules all of creation. There is no division.

His words:

אלהים: אל ואיל לשון כח וחוזק, ואלהים לשון רבים, והיה נוהג אצל האומות העובדות אלילים (כוזרי מאמר ד' סימן א'), והיו קוראים כן כל כחות הטבע, אשר הם סיבות המאורעות בארץ, והיו עובדים את כולם, וכל א' מהם יהיה להם לאלוה, ואמנם העברים בעלי היחוד קיימו שם זה בלשון רבים להורות, כי האל אשר הם עובדים איננו כח פרטי אחד, כמו שהיו הגוים אומרים אלהי הרים ה' ולא אלהי עמקים הוא (מ"א כ' כ"ח), אבל הוא קיבוץ כל הכחות ובעל הכחות כולם (וכיוצא בזה מילות ימים עיין למטה פסוק י'), כן קראו אותו בשם צבאות לומר שהוא עצמו כולל כחות כל צבאות השמים שהיו הגוים עובדים, עיין פירושי

Translation-

"El and Eil mean power and strength. Elohim is the plural. The idolaters used it for the forces of nature, and worshipped each one. The Hebrews, who hold God’s unity, kept the plural to say the opposite: the God they serve is not a local power, the way the nations said “the Lord is a god of the mountains but not a god of the valleys” (I Kings 20:28). He is the sum of every power, and master of them all. Same reason they called Him Tzevaot. He includes the hosts of heaven the nations worshipped."

The Rambam comes at the word differently. In the Guide (1:2) Elohim means God, angels, and judges. An angel is a messenger — a force of nature, a prophet, or a person carrying out God’s will (Guide 2:6). Miracles, for him, were planted in things at creation (Commentary on Avot 5:6; Guide 2:29). God does not later change His mind or suspend the decree. Providence works the same way. God does not come down, shift mood, and cancel the פורענויות. It follows a person’s connection to Him (Guide 3:17–18). We are the ones who change. By imitatio Dei, and by living the Torah, a person can behave, judge and rule in a godly manner. That is why Elohim is the name used for creation. Only by studying creation, and the will of God in it, does someone become a proper ruler(either over himself or others) and judge. That is tzelem Elokim.

We say every morning, ויעמידם לעד לעולם חק נתן ולא יעבור (Psalms 148:6). אמת ויציב says the same thing, and says who it is for: על אבותינו ועלינו, על בנינו ועל דורותינו, ועל כל דורות זרע ישראל… אמת ואמונה חק ולא יעבור. The rules of nature do not change, and they are not violated. The promise to the Avot is the same kind of decree. They imitated the will of God in creation. The generations that keep doing so do not drop out of history. The promise does not get revised. We go on, a people and a nation in sync with the will of God in creation. Both God and Tzelem Elohim will go on together hand in hand  throughout eternity

From Altar Fire to Kedusha: How “Kadosh” Began as Burning

 

Interesting Shadal on this past week’s parsha, Ki Teitzei (Devarim 22:9), on the pasuk of kilayim — which also appears in tomorrow’s daf:

ט לֹא־תִזְרַע כַּרְמְךָ כִּלְאָיִם פֶּן־תִּקְדַּשׁ הַמְלֵאָה הַזֶּרַע אֲשֶׁר תִּזְרָע וּתְבוּאַת הַכָּרֶם

“You shall not sow your vineyard with mixed seeds, lest the fullness of the seed that you sow and the produce of the vineyard become kadosh.”

The Gemara in Kiddushin 56b learns פן תקדש homiletically as פן תוקד אש — “lest it be burned by fire.” The Torah uses this language because the produce is forbidden for benefit and is to be destroyed by burning.

Shadal (on Shemot 15:11) uses this same Gemara to extend the idea further. He suggests that the term kodesh originally derived from קד אש / יקוד אש (“burning of fire”), referring first to the korbanot that were burned on the altar. From there the word was extended to anything from which one may not derive benefit, and eventually to anything set apart for God.

I would like to take this idea one step further in our parsha, with the prohibition of prostitution among the daughters of Israel (23:18):

לֹא־תִהְיֶה קְדֵשָׁה מִבְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל

“There shall be no kedeshah among the daughters of Israel.”

The commentaries (including Shadal) explain that female cultic prostitution was a common pagan form of worship: the wages were donated to the gods in the form of sacrifices to be burned on the altar. The Torah is warning against this type of “service” to Hashem — which is why the very next verse forbids bringing the wages of a prostitute as a sacrifice. This fits beautifully with the idea that kadosh originally meant something burned on the altar.

Interestingly, a bat kohen who commits adultery is punished by burning (Vayikra 21:9). Perhaps this is another reason the term kedeshah appears in discussions connected to sacrifices.

We can take this even further and see a hint to the story of Tamar and Yehuda. After acting as a prostitute, Tamar is accused of infidelity and brought out to be burned

 (Bereishit 38:24). Notice the language Yehuda uses when searching for her:

אַיֵּה הַקְּדֵשָׁה הִוא בָעֵינַיִם עַל־הַדָּרֶךְ וַיֹּאמְרוּ לֹא־הָיְתָה בָזֶה קְדֵשָׁה

“Where is the kedeshah who was at Enaim by the roadside?” And they said, “There was no kedeshah here.”

Taking this to another level: when we pray in the Amidah אַתָּה קָדוֹשׁ — it means “You are separate (holy),” but according to Shadal’s understanding it can also mean “to You we burn our sacrifices.” וּשְׁמְךָ קָדוֹשׁ — “and Your name is holy,” or “to Your name we offer sacrifices” (perhaps alluding to the times when the Kohen Gadol pronounced the Name during the Yom Kippur offerings).

And וּקְדוֹשִׁים בְּכָל־יוֹם יְהַלְּלוּךָ סֶּלָה — this too can refer to the priests, Levites, and Israelites who recited prayers over the sacrifices.

In fact, when we quote from Isaiah קָדוֹשׁ קָדוֹשׁ קָדוֹשׁ, perhaps it alludes to the tamid of the morning, the tamid of the afternoon, and the burning of the eimurim at night — which correspond to our three daily prayers.

This fits nicely with the seraphim earlier in Isaiah, which can also mean the “burners” of the sacrifices — the kohanim. When we say in the Musaf Kedusha כְּסוֹד שִׂיחַ שַׂרְפֵי קֹדֶשׁ הַמְקַדְּשִׁים שִׁמְךָ בַּקֹּדֶשׁ, it can once again be speaking of the sacrifices-the ones that speak over the burning of the sacrifices. 

The prophecy of Isaiah makes much more sense in this light, and it explains why Chazal incorporated these verses into our prayers — in memory of the Temple and its sacrifices. Time to view every mention of קדוש in a new light...

From War Spoils to the Throne of Glory: A Deeper Look at Today’s Daf

 

At the end of today’s daf (Chullin 88b) and continuing into tomorrow’s (89a), the Gemara teaches:

אָמַר רָבָא:

בִּשְׂכַר שֶׁאָמַר אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ

״אִם מִחוּט וְעַד שְׂרוֹךְ נַעַל״,

זָכוּ בָּנָיו לִשְׁתֵּי מִצְוֹת:

לְחוּט שֶׁל תְּכֵלֶת, וּרְצוּעָה שֶׁל תְּפִילִּין.

Rava said:

As reward for what our Patriarch Abraham said —

“That I will not take a thread nor a shoe-strap…” (Genesis 14:23) —

his descendants merited two mitzvot:

the thread of techelet and the strap of tefillin.

The Gemara continues:

בִּשְׁלָמָא רְצוּעָה שֶׁל תְּפִילִּין… אֶלָּא חוּט שֶׁל תְּכֵלֶת מַאי הִיא?

Granted, the strap of tefillin makes sense… But what is the special quality of the techelet thread?

דְּתַנְיָא, רַבִּי מֵאִיר אוֹמֵר:

מָה נִשְׁתַּנָּה תְּכֵלֶת מִכׇּל הַצִּבְעוֹנִין?

מִפְּנֵי שֶׁתְּכֵלֶת דּוֹמֶה לַיָּם,

וְיָם דּוֹמֶה לָרָקִיעַ,

וְרָקִיעַ דּוֹמֶה לְאֶבֶן סַפִּיר,

וְאֶבֶן סַפִּיר דּוֹמֶה לְכִסֵּא הַכָּבוֹד…

As it was taught in a baraita, Rabbi Meir says:

Why is techelet different from all other colors?

Because techelet resembles the sea,

the sea resembles the sky,

the sky resembles sapphire,

and sapphire resembles the Throne of Glory…

(Source: Chullin 89a)

On the surface, this seems strange. What is the connection between Abraham refusing the spoils of war after rescuing Lot and the mitzvot of techelet and tefillin?

I understand this Gemara as an expression of the core Jewish idea of imitatio Dei — “and you shall walk in His ways” (והלכת בדרכיו).

Abraham recognized the Creator, the First Cause of existence. As the Rambam describes in hus MT Yesodei HaTorah, once a person truly apprehends God, he naturally seeks to know Him by imitating His ways. That is why Abraham is remembered above all for gemilut chasadim — acts of kindness — a quality he learned by imitating God.

In the war of the kings, the balance of society was shattered. Injustice was done: hostages were taken, freedom was stolen, and property was seized. Abraham corrected that imbalance. He restored people and property to their rightful owners — and then refused to take even a single thread or sandal-strap as reward. He wanted the restoration to be pure. He would not introduce any new imbalance of self-interest. In doing so, he participated in rebalancing the world, just as God maintains balance and order throughout creation.

The Gemara is teaching a powerful lesson: this very religious ideal that Abraham pioneered — imitatio Dei — is embodied in the mitzvot we wear.

Tefillin reminds us (and those who see us) that we are called to imitate God’s ways in the world.

Techelet trains the eye and the mind to look deeper into creation until we reach the “Throne of Glory.”

According to the Rambam, the “Throne” is not a physical seat. In Guide for the Perplexed (Part I, Chapter 9) he writes:

“The original meaning of the word kisse (‘throne’) requires no comment… The term is used… to denote the rank, greatness, and authority of a person… When applied to God it signifies His greatness and majesty… not that the Omnipotent, Supreme God is supported by any material object.”

For the Rambam, the Throne represents God’s sovereign control and the ordered plan He implanted in creation. When we look at the techelet on our tzitzit, we are invited to contemplate that very plan — and to strive, in our own small way, to imitate it through lives of justice, balance, and integrity.

Abraham restored justice without taking anything for himself.

We wear the symbols of that act every day.

The Shema Teaching That Almost Made Me a Heretic – And What the Rambam Really Meant by ‘Echad’

 

I remember when I was a kid, I was taught that when saying Shema, while pronouncing the word אחד in the first verse, I should have the following in mind:

א = one God

ח = over the 7 skies and 1 earth

ד = the 4 corners of the world

The original source for this idea is the Gemara TB Berachot 13B. The Shulchan Aruch OC 61:6 also brings this idea down in the name of the Tur.Though both are not really exactly in the above format.

As I got older, this became very problematic. First of all, describing God literally as “one” in a purely numerical sense can limit Him. Adding “7 skies and 1 earth” plus “4 corners of the world” further confines Him — not to mention the outdated idea that the world is flat. Holding these thoughts while reciting Shema could almost lead a person to a limited or even heretical conception of God.

As I matured, I began to understand that one must be interpreted as,"God as unique" — nothing can be compared to Him.

Then I studied Hilchot Keriat Shema in the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah. Here are his words, followed by the Sefaria translation:

וּמַה הוּא קוֹרֵא, שְׁלֹשָׁה פָּרָשִׁיּוֹת. אֵלּוּ הֵן (דברים ו ד) ״שְׁמַע״ (דברים יא יג) ״וְהָיָה אִם שָׁמֹעַ״ (במדבר טו לז) ״וַיֹּאמֶר״. וּמַקְדִּימִין לִקְרוֹת פָּרָשַׁת שְׁמַע מִפְּנֵי שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהּ יִחוּד הַשֵּׁם וְאַהֲבָתוֹ וְתַלְמוּדוֹ שֶׁהוּא הָעִקָּר הַגָּדוֹל שֶׁהַכֹּל תָּלוּי בּוֹ. וְאַחֲרֶיהָ וְהָיָה אִם שָׁמֹעַ שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהּ צִוּוּי עַל (זְכִירַת) שְׁאָר כָּל הַמִּצְוֹת. וְאַחַר כָּךְ פָּרָשַׁת (במדבר טו לח) ״צִיצִית״ שֶׁגַּם הִיא יֵשׁ בָּהּ צִוּוּי זְכִירַת כָּל הַמִּצְוֹת:

"And what is it that one recites? These three sections:

"Hear O Israel..." (Deuteronomy 6:4-9),

"And if you will listen..." (Deuteronomy 11:13-21), and

"And God said..." (Numbers 15:37-41).

We begin with the section of "Hear O Israel" since it contains [the concept of] the unity of God, [the commandment of] loving Him and the study of Torah, it being a fundamental principle upon which everything is based.

After it, [we read] "And if you will listen...," since it contains the imperative to fulfill the rest of the commandments, and finally the portion of tzitzit, since it also contains the imperative of remembering all the commandments.

https://www.sefaria.org/Mishneh_Torah,_Reading_the_Shema.1.2

I believe Sefaria is incorrectly translating תלמודו as “the study of Torah.” This is a mistake.

The first part of the Rambam makes perfect sense: by reciting Shema one contemplates the unity (or uniqueness) of God — that nothing can be compared to Him — which then leads to love of God. As the Rambam writes in Yesodei HaTorah:

בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁיִּתְבּוֹנֵן הָאָדָם בְּמַעֲשָׂיו וּבְרוּאָיו הַנִּפְלָאִים הַגְּדוֹלִים, וְיִרְאֶה מֵהֶם חָכְמָתוֹ שְׁאֵין לָהּ עֵרֶךְ וְלֹא קֵץ--מִיָּד הוּא אוֹהֵב וּמְשַׁבֵּחַ וּמְפָאֵר וּמִתְאַוֶּה תַּאֲוָה גְּדוֹלָה לֵידַע הַשֵּׁם הַגָּדוֹל, כְּמוֹ שֶׁאָמַר דָּוִיד "צָמְאָה נַפְשִׁי, לֵאלֹהִים--לְאֵל חָי" (תהילים מב,ג).

"When a person contemplates His deeds and His wondrous and great creations, and sees in them His wisdom that has no measure or end, he immediately loves, praises, and glorifies Him, and is filled with a great desire to know the great Name, as David said: “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Psalms 42:3)."

When one thinks about God and His uniqueness, that naturally leads to love. But what about תַלְמוּדוֹ? How does thinking about God lead specifically to “Talmud”(if we translate it like sefaria -learning torah)?

Let’s look in MT Hilchot Talmud Torah 1:12  to see how the Rambam understands תַלְמוּד:

כֵּיצַד: הָיָה בַּעַל אֻמָּנוּת--יִהְיֶה עוֹסֵק בַּמְּלָאכָה שָׁלוֹשׁ שָׁעוֹת בַּיּוֹם, וּבַתּוֹרָה תֵּשַׁע: אוֹתָן הַתֵּשַׁע--קוֹרֵא בְּשָׁלוֹשׁ מֵהֶן, בְּתוֹרָה שֶׁבִּכְתָב; וּבְשָׁלוֹשׁ, בְּתוֹרָה שֶׁבְּעַל פֶּה; וּבְשָׁלוֹשׁ, מִתְבּוֹנֵן בְּדַעְתּוֹ לְהָבִין דָּבָר מִדָּבָר. וְדִבְרֵי קַבָּלָה, בִּכְלַל תּוֹרָה שֶׁבִּכְתָב הֶן; וּפֵרוּשָׁן, בִּכְלַל תּוֹרָה שֶׁבְּעַל פֶּה; וְהָעִנְיָנוֹת הַנִּקְרָאִין פַּרְדֵּס, בִּכְלַל הַתַּלְמוּד.

"How is the above expressed? A person who is a craftsman may spend three hours each day involved in his work, and [devote] nine hours to Torah study: In those nine hours, he should spend three reading the Written Law; three, the Oral Law; and three, meditating with his intellect to derive one concept from another.

The “words of the prophetic tradition” are considered part of the Written Law; and their explanation, part of the Oral Law. The matters referred to as Pardes are considered part of the Talmud."

According to the Rambam, Talmud means Pardes (and not specifically learning torah)— the study of esoteric thought, the sciences, and the nature of God. As he writes in Yesodei HaTorah:

ד,כ [יג] וְעִנְיְנֵי אַרְבָּעָה פְּרָקִים אֵלּוּ שֶׁבְּחָמֵשׁ מִצְווֹת הָאֵלּוּ--הֶם שֶׁחֲכָמִים הָרִאשׁוֹנִים קוֹרְאִין אוֹתָן פַּרְדֵּס, כְּמוֹ שֶׁאָמְרוּ אַרְבָּעָה נִכְנְסוּ לַפַּרְדֵּס: וְאַף עַל פִּי שֶׁגְּדוֹלֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הָיוּ וַחֲכָמִים גְּדוֹלִים הָיוּ, לֹא כֻּלָּם הָיָה בָּהֶן כּוֹחַ לֵידַע וּלְהַשִּׂיג כָּל הַדְּבָרִים עַל בָּרְיָן.

"And the subjects of these four chapters that are in these five commandments—they are what the early Sages call Pardes, as they said: “Four entered the Pardes.” And even though they were the great ones of Israel and great sages, not all of them had the power to know and to grasp all the matters thoroughly [in their true nature / as they truly are].

Now the first verse of Shema makes much more sense."

Now the words,of the Rambam are powerful. Twice a day, when we recite this passage, we are meant to force ourselves to contemplate the unity of God — the ultimate Cause of all existence. This contemplation leads to loving Him, and then to continuing that pursuit by seeking a deeper understanding of Him through the study of the world and of God’s relationship (or lack of relationship) to everything that exists. This is the “Talmud” the Rambam is referring to: the highest form of intellectual and spiritual seeking (Pardes).

That is also why that of all the parts of Shema that one must have kavana, the first pasuk of Shema Yisrael etc is a must or one does not fulfill one's obligation 

Unlike the modern popular idea that Torah study is an end in itself, according to this understanding it is actually the opposite. Everything we do and practice is meant to lead us to the fundamental principle of the Shema — the understanding of God, the world, and our relationship to both.

כי אם בזאת יתהלל המתהלל השכל וידע אותי כי אני יהוה עשה חסד משפט וצדקה בארץ כי באלה חפצתי נאם יהוה

Tisha baav

Tonight we read in Eicha that it was the religious leadership that caused the Churban.

Perek 4:

מֵחַטֹּאות נְבִיאֶיהָ עֲוֺנֹת כֹּהֲנֶיהָ הַשֹּׁפְכִים בְּקִרְבָּהּ דַּם צַדִּיקִים׃

“It was for the sins of her prophets,  

The iniquities of her priests,  

Who had shed in her midst  

The blood of the just.”

The very next pesukim show how the remaining religious leaders were in denial even as death and the Churban were taking place. They were still preoccupied with tumah instead of helping their fellow Jews who were being murdered and abused:(disclaimer-this is my own chiddush on how to interpret these next two pasukim)

נָעוּ עִוְרִים בַּחוּצוֹת נְגֹאֲלוּ בַּדָּם בְּלֹא יוּכְלוּ יִגְּעוּ בִּלְבֻשֵׁיהֶם׃

“They wandered blindly through the streets,  

Defiled with blood,  

So that no one was able  

To touch their garments.”

סוּרוּ טָמֵא קָרְאוּ לָמוֹ סוּרוּ סוּרוּ אַל־תִּגָּעוּ כִּי נָצוּ גַּם־נָעוּ אָמְרוּ בַּגּוֹיִם לֹא יוֹסִפוּ לָגוּר׃

“‘Away! Unclean!’ people shouted at them,  

‘Away! Away! Touch not!’  

So they wandered and wandered again;  

For the nations had resolved:  

‘They shall stay here no longer.’”

As a result, midah k’neged midah, the people finally realized the evil of the leadership that caused God’s countenance to abandon them—and therefore they abandoned the leaders:

פְּנֵי יְהֹוָה חִלְּקָם לֹא יוֹסִיף לְהַבִּיטָם פְּנֵי כֹהֲנִים לֹא נָשָׂאוּ וּזְקֵנִים לֹא חָנָנוּ׃

“GOD’s countenance has turned away from them,  

And will look on them no more.  

They showed no regard for priests,  

No favor to elders.”

https://www.sefaria.org/Lamentations.4.16

Understanding “The Torah and God Are One” (Tikunei Zohar 74:1) Through the Rational Lens of Rambam

 

I am definitely not a believer that the Zohar was written by Rashbi, and I do believe that the Zohar — and especially the Arizal — are responsible for many of the problems we are having today, especially with the Chareidim/Chasidim and many of the “voodoo Judaism” rituals that have permeated throughout Orthodox Judaism.

Having said that, this one line from the Tikunei Zohar (74:1) can be beautifully interpreted through the philosophy of the Rambam. Moshe de León (the real author, in my view) was deeply well versed in the Rambam’s writings — he even had a personal copy of the Moreh Nevuchim (Guide for the Perplexed) written specifically for him — and likely had Rambam’s rational ideas in mind.

The Tikunei Zohar (74:1) states:

דאורייתא וקדשא בריך הוא כולא חד

(“The Torah and the Holy One, Blessed Be He, are entirely one.”)

What does this actually mean? Not, God forbid, a literal pantheistic identity where the Torah is God.

According to the Rambam, “Torah” itself is not only the literal text and mitzvot but also the deep rational understanding of God and how He runs the world. The study of physics (ma’aseh bereshit) and metaphysics (ma’aseh merkavah) — what we today call science and philosophy — is itself part of Torah, because these very subjects form the foundation of Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah (the opening section of the Mishneh Torah), where Rambam places them as the core principles for knowing God (see especially chapters 1–4, in which he identifies these sciences as the “secrets of Torah” and explains that contemplating creation and God’s governance leads directly to love and fear of Him).

Only once we have this broad, rational “Torah” do we see how man brings the Divine into reality: through Imitatio Dei — by imitating the divine middot (characteristics) that God embedded in the Torah and mitzvot as the ideal blueprint for life.

When we internalize this Torah and actually live its commandments, our thoughts and behavior become godly. By imitating God’s middot we are perfecting our own thoughts and character, our behavior, society, and the entire world — all by fulfilling Ratzon Elokim (God’s will) with every single thought and action. In this way man truly becomes the “tzel” — the living shadow and reflection — of God in this world.

Rambam supports this powerfully:

In Mishneh Torah, Hilchot De’ot 1:5–6:

“We are commanded to walk in these intermediate paths… as it says, ‘And you shall walk in His ways’ (Deuteronomy 28:9).”

“Just as He is called Gracious, you shall be gracious; just as He is called Merciful, you shall be merciful… 

A person is obligated to accustom himself to these paths and to resemble Him to the extent of his ability.”

In Sefer HaMitzvot, Positive Commandment 8: 

We are commanded to emulate the Holy One to the best of our ability, explained by the Sifrei as: just as God is called merciful, be merciful; just as gracious, be gracious.

And in the climactic final chapter of his masterpiece, Guide for the Perplexed 3:54: After acquiring knowledge of God and His providence, one “will then be determined always to seek lovingkindness, justice, and righteousness and thus to imitate the ways of God.”

Rambam considers all of mankind equal in the sense that they are all individually a Tzelem Elokim and have the same equal potential to meditate (intellectual contemplation of His ways and creation) and imitate God's ways — no one person is more special or holy than another.

Unlike Christianity and many Chareidi and Chasidic sects of Judaism that worship their leaders (both alive and dead), authentic rational Judaism according to the Rambam sees every human being as having this same equal potential.

It’s fascinating to note that ancient idol worshippers often viewed their statues (also called tzelem) not as the gods themselves but as vehicles or shadows meant to channel divine power(see MN 3:29). Judaism completely revolutionizes this idea: Man is the true Tzelem Elokim. Endowed with the unique ability to think abstractly (as Rambam explains in Guide for the Perplexed 1:1, where the image refers to our intellectual form), and by imitating God’s ways while doing His will, man becomes the authentic living shadow and representative of the Divine on earth.

Bottom line: By embodying this broad Torah, man creates the living unity described in the Zohar — דאורייתא וקדשא בריך הוא כולא חד — because by “pulling” the Torah into reality through his thoughts, choices, and actions, God’s will becomes fully present and manifest in man’s inner world, his behavior, and the outcomes he produces in the world around him. The Torah and the Holy One are one through the human being who lives them perfectly.

The "Torah" thus become our greatest opportunity — a dynamic partnership with the Creator to align reality with perfection.

God Shrunk the Moon After It Talked Back… And It Won Big! (Chullin Daf 60)!

 

Tomorrow's daf- in Chullin Daf 60 we learn this powerful Gemara (Chullin 60b):

“The moon said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: Master of the Universe, is it possible for two kings to serve with one crown?

God said to her: ‘If so, go and diminish yourself.’

She said: ‘Master of the Universe, because I said something correct, I must diminish myself?!’

… God said to her: ‘Go; let righteous men be named after you — just as you are called the lesser [hakatan] light, there will be Ya’akov HaKatan, Shmuel HaKatan, and David HaKatan.’

God saw that the moon was not comforted, so the Holy One said: ‘Bring atonement for Me, for I diminished the moon.’”

Most commentaries get stuck on a technical issue with Shmuel and change the text to refer to Shmuel HaKatan the Tanna (not the prophet). I respectfully disagree — because if you do that, you completely miss the explosive message the Gemara is trying to teach us.

Here’s the real point the Gemara is screaming:

Hashem created the world so that man could partner with Him and actually improve creation.

The Moon was originally meant to be the same size as the Sun. But Hashem intentionally made it smaller — so it would reflect the Sun’s light. Why? So that the Jewish people could look up at the sky, see the new moon, and declare:

“This is my moment to sanctify time.”

We built our entire calendar, our holidays, our entire relationship with time around the Moon’s cycle.That’s man taking raw nature and turning it into a holy tool to serve Hashem.

The Gemara then pushes back: “But the Sun also matters — we adjust the calendar so the seasons line up with the festivals!” So what’s the big deal about the Moon being smaller?

And then comes the breathtaking philosophical answer:

Being smaller is not a defect — it’s the secret to greatness.

Look at Yaakov (the younger brother), Shmuel (the servant to Eli), and Dovid (the boy who replaced King Shaul). Each one was the “smaller” one — yet each became the true leader, the one who carried the light forward.

Exactly like the Moon.

The Sun looks powerful, but the Moon — the smaller, humbler one — ends up being the star of Jewish life. It’s the Moon we bless. It’s the Moon that sets our holidays. It’s the Moon that reminds us every month that renewal comes from humility.

That’s exactly why the Torah commands a Jewish king NOT to have a huge army, massive wealth, or many wives — the exact opposite of every other nation.

Instead, the king must write his own Sefer Torah and keep it with him at all times.

Small. Humble. Close to Hashem.

And in that smallness… he becomes like the Moon — quietly shining God’s light to the entire world.

Now comes the most difficult part: What does it mean that God needs atonement? On the surface this sounds completely ridiculous — one could even argue it borders on heresy. But the answer is beautiful: the atonement for God is not literal. Instead, it describes the entire esoteric message of the Aggadah. Man becomes a partner with God in perfecting nature. By bringing the korban, he reminds himself that the world was created in a way that allows man to participate with God in furthering its perfection — both physically, personally, and societally — by observing how God created the world and imitating those ways.

The message for us today?

What looks big, loud, and impressive is not necessarily what represents Hashem.

The real power is in the humble, the reflective, the one who takes what exists and elevates it.

Tzelem in Eternity: Man’s Imitation of the Timeless Creator by Weaving All Three Tenses

 

This Shabbos I completed my annual siyum on Mishnayot — actually seventeen months and three weeks. I’d like to share with you what this completion stirred in me.

In the second part of the Moreh Nevukhim(chapters 13-30), the Rambam explains that time itself is an accident tied to physical bodies and their movement. Because God is not physical, He is not subject to time. Past, present, and future are all one to Him — a single, perfect “now.”

We, the Jewish people, are commanded to draw close to God by studying His ways and imitating His middot. Perhaps that is why the Torah uses the phrase tzelem Elokim precisely at the creation of man. Just as the ancient pagans believed their idols channeled the power of their gods, the Torah tells us that we are the living image through which God’s presence enters the world — not through stone, but through human beings who choose to walk in His ways. By imitating the Creator, each of us, and the Jewish people as a whole, becomes a living shadow and channel of the Divine in daily life.

And this imitation reaches even into the dimension of time.

Look at the structure of the Shemoneh Esrei: we begin with the Avot — the past, the God of our fathers and the covenant they forged. We then turn to our present needs — wisdom, repentance, healing, sustenance, justice. We conclude with the future — thanksgiving, acceptance of our prayer, the rebuilding of Jerusalem, the coming of the redeemer, and Sim Shalom, universal peace. In one standing prayer we weave all three tenses together and stand before the King who experiences them as one.

The same beautiful pattern appears when we learn Mishnayot. We open with Berachot and the practical mitzvot of today — the present. We study the laws of the Temple, purity, and korbanot — the living past. And we are constantly pointed toward the future: the final Mishnah in Uktzin speaks of the World to Come, the reward of the righteous, and peace among the Jewish nation.

It is no coincidence that the Mishnah began to take shape toward the end of the Second Temple period, when the future looked increasingly bleak. Its compilation continued in Yavneh and was completed one hundred and thirty years later—precisely as the nation stood on the brink of exile. In Masechet Yadayim (chapter 4), we still see the Sages of Yavneh deliberating over the very laws of purity and sacrifices that were slipping into the past—yet carefully recording them so the Jewish people could carry their entire heritage into an uncertain future. Thus, the Mishnah was born as a portable Torah, a vessel that would allow us to survive as a nation no matter where history might scatter us.

By learning it, we do more than remember. We imitate the One who is beyond time. We pull past, present, and future into a single holy act — and in that moment we become a little more like the God whose Name itself means “Was, Is, and Will Be.”

May the merit of this siyum — and of all the siyumim we make together — help us continue to walk in His ways, until the day when past, present, and future truly merge in the final redemption, speedily in our days.

You Can Do the Mitzvah of Shechitah Perfectly According to Halacha — But It’s Still Pasul: What We Learn from Chullin and Rambam’s Halachic Psak!

 

This week’s Daf Yomi (Chullin 38–41) contains a powerful teaching that we can learn from how the Rambam paskens/rules on the laws of shechita that feels strikingly relevant to the broader condition of Jewish religious practice in our time.

The Gemara had already discussed shechita of chullin performed without kavanah. Examples include throwing a knife off a wall so that it bounces and slaughters a cow, or slaughtering while preoccupied or in a playful manner. The Rambam rules that the shechita is nevertheless kosher, provided it is executed properly in the correct location and according to the required measure.

In Hilchot Shechita, Perek 2, the Rambam writes:

אֵין שְׁחִיטַת הַחֻלִּין צְרִיכָה כַּוָּנָה; אֵלָא אַפִלּוּ שָׁחַט כְּמִתְעַסֵּק, אוֹ דֶּרֶךְ שְׂחוֹק, אוֹ שֶׁזָּרַק סַכִּין לְנָעְצָהּ בַּכּוֹתָל וְשָׁחֲטָה בַּהֲלִיכָתָהּ--הוֹאִיל וְהַשְּׁחִיטָה כָּרָאוּי בִּמְקוֹמָהּ וְשֵׁעוּרָהּ, הֲרֵי זוֹ כְּשֵׁרָה

Translation:

The slaughter of non-sacred animals does not require intention. Rather, even if one slaughtered while preoccupied with other matters, or in a playful manner, or if one threw a knife to embed it in the wall and it slaughtered the animal in its flight — since the slaughter was performed properly in its place and according to its measure, it is kosher.

The Gemara furtber on addresses a different scenario: a Jew slaughters an animal for a non-Jew (an idolater), and the non-Jew intends the act as a dedication to his god. The ruling is that the shechita remains fully kosher. Another person’s intention — even the owner’s — cannot invalidate the act of the shochet.

The Rambam states in the same perek:

יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁשָּׁחַט לְנָכְרִי--אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁהַנָּכְרִי מִתְכַּוֵּן לְכָל מַה שֶׁיִּרְצֶה, שְׁחִיטָתוֹ כְּשֵׁרָה:  שְׁאֵין חוֹשְׁשִׁין אֵלָא לְמַחְשֶׁבֶת הַזּוֹבֵחַ, לֹא לְמַחְשֶׁבֶת בַּעַל הַבְּהֵמָה

Translation:

A Jew who slaughters for a non-Jew — even though the non-Jew intends whatever he wishes, his slaughter is kosher. For we are only concerned with the intention of the slaughterer, not with the intention of the owner of the animal.

However, when the Jew performing the shechita himself harbors a corrupt intention, the result changes completely — even if every technical detail of the shechita is flawless. The Rambam draws a sharp distinction:

If one slaughters while invoking mountains, hills, seas, rivers, or deserts for healing or similar purposes drawn from the foolish beliefs of the nations (without intending to worship them as gods), the shechita is invalid (pasul).

But if one slaughters in the name of the mazal of the sea or the mountain, or for the stars, constellations, and the like, then the animal is prohibited for any benefit whatsoever, just like an offering to avodah zarah.

Here are the Rambam’s words:

הַשּׁוֹחֵט לְשֵׁם הָרִים, לְשֵׁם גְּבָעוֹת, לְשֵׁם יַמִּים, לְשֵׁם נְהָרוֹת, לְשֵׁם מִדְבָּרוֹת--אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁלֹּא נִתְכַּוַּן לְעָבְדָן אֵלָא לִרְפוּאָה וְכַיּוֹצֶא בָּהּ מִדִּבְרֵי הֲבָאי שֶׁאוֹמְרִין הַגּוֹיִים, הֲרֵי שְׁחִיטָתוֹ פְּסוּלָה; אֲבָל אִם שָׁחַט לְשֵׁם מַזַּל הַיָּם, אוֹ מַזַּל הָהָר, אוֹ לַכּוֹכָבִים וְלַמַּזָּלוֹת וְכַיּוֹצֶא בָּהֶן--הֲרֵי זוֹ אֲסוּרָה בַּהֲנָיָה, כְּכָל תִּקְרֹבֶת עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה.

Translation:

One who slaughters in the name of mountains, hills, seas, rivers, or deserts — even though he did not intend to worship them but only for healing and similar things from the foolish words that the nations say — behold, his slaughter is invalid. But if he slaughtered in the name of the constellation of the sea, or the constellation of the mountain, or for the stars and constellations and the like — behold, this is prohibited for benefit, like any offering of idolatry.

To summarize the halachic principles:

No intention on the part of the shochet → still kosher.

Intention on the part of someone else (even the owner, even for idolatry) → still kosher.

Intention on the part of the shochet for superstitious “healing” through natural forces → pasul.

Intention on the part of the shochet for stars, constellations, or idolatrous entities → prohibited for any benefit.

These disqualifications apply even when the knife is perfectly sharpened, the beracha is recited correctly, and all the simanim are severed as required.

The deeper lesson is clear: merely performing the external actions of a mitzvah does not make the deed acceptable before Hashem. Reciting Tehillim while praying to the dead for healing — whether for oneself or for a relative or friend — remains prohibited. Even reciting Tehillim or the Shemoneh Esrei while directing prayers to the dead is problematic. Lighting bonfires while dancing in an ecstatic trance and singing words of Tehillim or of the Rashbi, with the intention that the Rashbi hear and answer one’s prayers, is likewise problematic.

All these acts may appear religious and part of Judaism on the surface, yet they are deeply flawed. This is the same phenomenon we see with the spies, who sincerely believed they were acting religiously by speaking negatively about the Land of Israel — when in reality their actions were evil. The same was true of Korach and his congregation. 

That is why the prophet Isaiah declares in chapter 1:

שִׁמְעוּ דְבַר־יְהוָה, קְצִינֵי סְדֹם; הַאֲזִינוּ תּוֹרַת אֱלֹהֵינוּ, עַם עֲמֹרָה. יא לָמָּה־לִּי רֹב־זִבְחֵיכֶם יֹאמַר יְהוָה, שָׂבַעְתִּי עֹלוֹת אֵילִים וְחֵלֶב מְרִיאִים; וְדַם פָּרִים וּכְבָשִׂים וְעַתּוּדִים, לֹא חָפָצְתִּי. יב כִּי תָבֹאוּ, לֵרָאוֹת פָּנָי--מִי־בִקֵּשׁ זֹאת מִיֶּדְכֶם, רְמֹס חֲצֵרָי. יג לֹא תוֹסִיפוּ, הָבִיא מִנְחַת־שָׁוְא--קְטֹרֶת תּוֹעֵבָה הִיא, לִי; חֹדֶשׁ וְשַׁבָּת קְרֹא מִקְרָא, לֹא־אוּכַל אָוֶן וַעֲצָרָה. יד חָדְשֵׁיכֶם וּמוֹעֲדֵיכֶם שָׂנְאָה נַפְשִׁי, הָיוּ עָלַי לָטֹרַח; נִלְאֵיתִי, נְשֹׂא. טו וּבְפָרִשְׂכֶם כַּפֵּיכֶם, אַעְלִים עֵינַי מִכֶּם--גַּם כִּי־תַרְבּוּ תְפִלָּה, אֵינֶנִּי שֹׁמֵעַ: יְדֵיכֶם, דָּמִים מָלֵאוּ

Translation:

Hear the word of the LORD, you rulers of Sodom; give ear to the teaching of our God, you people of Gomorrah!

“To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices to Me?” says the LORD. “I am sated with burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts; I have no delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats. When you come to appear before Me, who has required this at your hand, to trample My courts? Bring no more vain offerings; incense is an abomination to Me. New moon and Sabbath, the calling of assemblies — I cannot bear iniquity together with solemn assembly. Your new moons and your appointed seasons My soul hates; they have become a burden to Me; I am weary of bearing them. When you spread forth your hands, I will hide My eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I will not hear — your hands are full of blood.”

Outwardly the jews were performing acts of worship and sacrifice, yet because the intentions were corrupt and the accompanying behaviors evil, Hashem declares them repulsive.

We see the identical dynamic with the Chareidim in Eretz Yisrael. On the outside their conduct looks religious — they learn Torah all day. Their leaders and rabbis look and act religious in their appearance, age and serious demeaner. Yet the chillul Hashem they cause is anything but religious. That they encourage and insist that healthy young men refuse to participate in the labor market and  the defense of their country (and their fellow Jews), while instead consuming valuable national resources to sustain their lifestyle, is disgusting to Hashem. That they can justify hatred of Zionism and the Jewish state by building an entire movement on the basis of an aggadah is abhorrent to Him.

Anyone who supports these individuals may believe they are performing a great mitzvah by sustaining “Torah learners.” In truth, they are no different from the shochet who sharpens his knife according to halacha, recites the beracha, and severs all the proper simanim with precision — yet directs his intention toward the wrong “god.” Such a shechita is pasul, and it is prohibited to derive any benefit from it.

Rambam’s Bombshell for Every Observant Jew: “Miracle-Based Belief Has a Serious Defect” – The Shocking Truth of Matan Torah!

What is really so special about Matan Torah? Every religion has a foundational experience that its followers claim makes their religion unique. So what makes the Matan Torah experience so central to Judaism?

The Kabbalists speak of Tzimtzum, that God had to shrink Himself, so to speak, to make room for creation. Some anti-Zionists demand revealed miracles before they will return to Jewish governance in the Land of Israel. The Rambam, however, teaches that it is not miracles or philosophical paradoxes that make us Jews or ground our belief in God and His Torah.

Instead, it is about human beings bringing God into this world through our own actions. God does not become part of our reality unless we draw Him in — by ascending the spiritual ladder through deep thinking, meditation on His ways in creation, and changing ourselves by imitating Him. This is the true meaning of B'tzelem Elokim. Just as a shadow follows a person wherever he goes, so too we are the shadow of God in this world through Imitatio Dei.

Just as the Avot were permanently transformed — their outlook and destiny completely changed through their intimate connection with God — and just as Moshe Rabbeinu became an entirely different person with a new destiny after the Burning Bush, so too the experience of Matan Torah changed the Jewish people forever. At Sinai we transformed not only ourselves, but the destiny of all our descendants for eternity.

Shavuot reminds us of this sacred process: the journey from Yetziat Mitzrayim to Matan Torah, when the entire Jewish nation experienced prophecy together. It serves as a microcosm of the future era when the whole world will recognize that Hashem is One and the world will be filled with peace, justice, and the knowledge of God — as Maimonides describes in Hilchot Melachim.

Maimonides explains the unique importance of Shavuot in the Guide for the Perplexed (3:43):

The Feast of Weeks is the anniversary of the Revelation on Mount Sinai. In order to raise the importance of this day, we count the days that pass since the preceding festival, just as one who expects his most intimate friend on a certain day counts the days and even the hours. This is the reason why we count the days that pass since the offering of the Omer, between the anniversary of our departure from Egypt and the anniversary of the Lawgiving. The latter was the aim and object of the exodus from Egypt, as it is said: "I brought you to Myself."

He further teaches why our belief rests on Sinai rather than miracles (Mishneh Torah, Foundations of the Torah 8:1):

The Jews did not believe in Moses, our teacher, because of the wonders that he performed. Whenever anyone's belief is based on wonders, there is a shortcoming in his heart... What is the source of our belief in him? The revelation at Mount Sinai. Our eyes saw, and not a stranger's. Our ears heard, and not another's.

Finally, his vision of the Messianic future (Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 12:5):

In that era, there will be neither famine nor war, envy nor competition, for good will flow in abundance and all the delights will be freely available as dust. The occupation of the entire world will be solely to know God. Therefore, the Jews will be great sages and know the hidden matters, grasping the knowledge of their Creator according to the full extent of human potential, as it is stated: "For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of God, as the waters cover the sea."

Chag Shavuot Sameach. May we merit to bring more of the Divine presence into our world through our actions this Shavuot and always.

Lag Ba’Omer “Voodoo Judaism Day”!

 

Very apropos that on this Erev Lag Ba’Omer — the “Voodoo Judaism Day” when crowds rush to visit the dead and pray to deceased tzadikim (or, giving them the benefit of the doubt, merely ask the tzadikim to intercede and change God’s mind) so they can have children, wealth, and happiness — we are learning today’s daf in Chullin, daf 4 amud bet.

The gemara focuses on the word ויסיתהו (“entice”) as part of the Gemara’s core discussion about whether a mumar who worships idols can still be trusted with shechita.

For our Lag Ba’Omer conversation, I want to zero in on the ויסיתהו (“entice”) section.

The Gemara teaches that enticing someone is normally done with food and drink. (That’s probably why so many business deals are closed over lunch or dinner.) To prove the point, the Gemara brings several examples where the word always appears in the context of food-based enticement.

One classic case: when a person entices his friend to worship idols. The Gemara concludes that this, too, is typically done with food and alcohol. Maybe that’s why the Lag Ba’Omer and Uman “visits to the dead” parties almost always revolve around food and alcohol… :)

The Gemara then challenges this rule with the story of Iyov. The pasuk says about Satan (Iyov 2:3):

ותסיתני בו לבלעו חנם

(“You enticed Me against him to destroy him for no reason.”)

God is criticizing Satan for enticing Him to test Iyov with all kinds of yissurim (sufferings).

The Gemara immediately asks: Did Satan eat food and drink alcohol with God?! Obviously not. Therefore the Gemara answers that when the Torah speaks about God, its language is never literal. This is simply an exception.

The Ritva sharpens the point: the very concept of hasatah (enticement) cannot even apply to God, because God cannot be enticed.

So the big question remains: Why did the author of Iyov use the term “entice” about God in the first place? If God’s mind cannot be changed or enticed, why choose a word that could mislead the literal reader?

I believe the answer lies in the approach of the Rambam. The entire story of Iyov is allegorical. It is teaching a deep Jewish philosophical truth: real happiness is not found in physical pleasures — the very thing Satan represents. The narrative shows this by stripping Iyov of everything physical — wealth, children, family — forcing him to turn inward toward yedias Hashem (knowledge of God) through meditation and contemplation.

 Only through that painful process did Iyov reach perfection. When he eventually received back his riches and family, they were no longer primary; walking in the ways of God had become the true foundation of his life.

That is what God is telling Satan with the words ותסיתני (“you enticed Me”): “You enticed Me against him to swallow Iyov needlessly.” Had Iyov not been so attached to his physical desires, wealth, and needs from the beginning (enticement with food and drink represents the physical pleasures), none of this painful process would have been necessary. He could have reached the goal immediately — if only his priorities had been correct from the start.

It is only when a person is unhappy with what he has that he goes searching for meaning to fill the void. In Judaism, yedias Hashem — achieved by walking in God’s ways — is what actually brings us there.

That should be  the real Lag Ba’Omer lesson.

Asking the dead (or asking the dead to ask God) for our physical needs — believing they can convince a God who, by definition, does not change — is ultimately serving ourselves.

The authentic Jewish path is the opposite: we change ourselves, not God, so that we can serve Him better and walk in His ways.

The Hidden Meaning Behind Rambam’s Milah Blessing That Only Malbim Saw!

 

I have always had difficulty reconciling the Rambam’s statement in Hilchot Milah, Chapter 3, where he discusses the circumcision of a convert and writes the following:

הַמָּל אֶת הַגֵּרִים--מְבָרֵךְ בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְווֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ לָמוּל אֶת הַגֵּרִים וּלְהַטִּיף מֵהֶן דַּם בְּרִית, שֶׁאִלְמָלֵא דַּם בְּרִית, לֹא נִתְקַיְּמוּ שָׁמַיִם וָאָרֶץ:  שֶׁנֶּאֱמָר "אִם-לֹא בְרִיתִי יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה--חֻקּוֹת שָׁמַיִם וָאָרֶץ, לֹא-שָׂמְתִּי" (ירמיהו לג,כה)

Translation: One who circumcises converts recites the following blessing: “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to circumcise converts and to draw from them the blood of the covenant. For were it not for the blood of the covenant, heaven and earth would not endure.” As it is stated: “If My covenant with day and night were not, if I had not established the laws of heaven and earth…” (Jeremiah 33:25).

What makes this surprising is that in Moreh Nevuchim the Rambam explicitly does not hold that the world was created for the sake of man. On the contrary, he teaches that the world came into existence solely through the goodness and will of God, and humanity is simply one small part of that vast creation. In Moreh Nevuchim III:12 he writes (Friedlander translation):

“It is of great advantage that man should know his station, and not erroneously imagine that the whole universe exists only for him… For an ignorant man believes that the whole universe only exists for him; as if nothing else required any consideration.”

He emphasizes that each creature exists for its own purpose (or for the perfection of the whole), not as a means to serve man. The celestial spheres, for example, are far superior to humanity in the hierarchy of being. So why, in the context of milah—and especially the milah of a convert—does the Rambam invoke these verses from Jeremiah to imply that heaven and earth endure because of the covenant (a statement that appears, at first glance, to place man at the center of creation)?

While flying back from overseas yesterday, I came across the Malbim’s commentary on these very verses in Yirmiyahu 33:25. I believe the Malbim had this exact difficulty with the Rambam in mind when he wrote it. Here are his words:

כה אמר ה' אם לא בריתי — ר"ל אם יצוייר שלא יהיה עוד ברית היום והלילה במציאות, ואם יצוייר שחקות שמים וארץ לא שמתי, שיתבטלו חקי הטבע והשמים והארץ כאילו לא שמתי אותם, אז יצוייר שגם זרע יעקב ודוד עבדי אמאס (כי שתי הבריתות מוכרחות למציאות ומהלך השלמות הכללי). ור"ל מקחת מזרע יעקב מושלים אל זרע אברהם יצחק, ומזרע דוד מושלים אל זרע יעקב, שזרע דוד ימשול על זרע יעקב, וזרע יעקב ימשול על בני ישמעאל ועשו.

Translation: “Thus says the Lord: ‘If My covenant…’” — Meaning: If one could imagine that the covenant of day and night would no longer exist in reality, and if one could imagine that I had not established the laws of heaven and earth (so that the laws of nature, the heavens, and the earth would be nullified as though I had never set them), then one could likewise imagine that I would also reject the seed of Jacob and My servant David (for these two covenants are indispensable for existence and for the general course of perfection in the world). In other words, just as rulers are taken from the seed of Jacob to rule over the seed of Abraham and Isaac, and rulers from the seed of David to rule over the seed of Jacob—so that the seed of David will rule over the seed of Jacob, and the seed of Jacob will rule over the children of Ishmael and Esau.

With the Malbim’s explanation, the Rambam’s words flow beautifully and no longer contradict his philosophy in the Moreh. The Rambam is saying that just as God established the immutable laws of nature and never violates them, so too His promises to the prophets (and to the Avot) are equally inviolable. Both truths stand together, hand in hand. When a convert undergoes milah and joins the Jewish people, he is affirming this very belief—that God does not retract His vows, whether they concern the natural order or the prophetic covenants. Even more strikingly, the Malbim uses King David—who himself descended from a convert (Ruth the Moabite)—as one of his central examples...