Redeeming Relevance
Creativity and Rigor
It is my hope that these essays have been successful parshanut (commentary). I have attempted to write them within the dynamic that traditionally marks successful Jewish commentaries.
When teaching, I often mention my belief that Jewish genius expresses itself exclusively by working within the tension between intellectual rigor on the one side and individual creativity on the other. That is to say, an important Jewish work must tap into the creative juices of the author while still conforming to the demands that result from respecting the integrity of the text. This may be the key to the greatness of Jewish writings: the author’s ability to create beautiful innovative worlds, while still keeping both feet planted firmly on the ground.
It is obvious that a commentary that lacks creativity will rarely interest us. Such a commentary will only be telling us something that we could see from the text itself, that has already become well-known in another context or that does not contain anything that captures our imaginations. At the same time, however, commentary that lacks rigor is no longer text-based and becomes completely the thoughts of the author. No matter how interesting these thoughts are, they can no longer claim to be legitimate commentary as traditionally understood. Thus, whether consciously or not, the commentator must constantly check himself with these two yardsticks, asking the dual questions of “Is this true?” and “Is this interesting?”
The nature of the storyteller is to embellish the story in order to make it more interesting. Like any author, the commentator is also likely to be tempted by the potential reaction of the reader to say more than that for which there is good evidence. Having found something to be true, it is sometimes difficult to know where to stop. At what point does analysis become conjecture? At what point is that conjecture still legitimate, and at what point does it become fanciful? One must constantly keep these questions in mind and not overstate his reading of the holy text.
Creativity cannot be allowed to overshadow the integrity of the Biblical text. Nechama Leibowitz writes that “the primary demand of parshanut is that it responds to the spirit, tone and intention of the narrative.”1Nechama Leibowitz, Studies in Bereshit, p. 366 (Vayishlach 4). I would add that good commentaries must deal with language, nuance, plot and other literary issues in a convincing manner. In other words, if the text says black, no matter how badly a commentator would like to say white, he cannot. Even while the Torah’s message is refracted through the mind and culture of the human interpreter, parameters of legitimacy such as the ones mentioned above create necessary restrictions to individual creativity. As such, adherence to these parameters constitutes a traditional sine qua non to a commentary’s validity as commentary. Failure to live up to these standards is failure to convince the reader that the idea is rooted in the text. In traditional Judaism, this rootedness is critical.
Yet we should not dismiss an author’s desire to interest his reader as a purely base motive for writing. The desire to say something new and interesting serves to motivate him to explore possibilities that would otherwise go unexplored. Ideas that may be very valid would sometimes never see the light of day due to the overbearing concern not to make mistakes.
In this regard, the author’s drive to interest his readers may be compared to the rabbis’ understanding of what they call the yetzer ha-ra. Literally translated as the impulse to do evil, a more nuanced translation would understand the yetzer ha-ra as the motivation to advance our selfish good. The Talmud speaks about the complete cessation of world activities that would result from the elimination of such motivation (Yoma 69b). In our case as well, the author’s “selfish” drives push him to greater creativity that will make for a better work. Thus, it is entirely appropriate for the commentator to seek that which is novel and significant. If not, he will ultimately write things that are trite and of little consequence.
God’s Voice in History
Of course, the notion of rootedness mentioned above is not just important as a means through which to convince readers of the author’s ideas, but rather it is important in and of itself: The idea of Torah commentary is the search to understand God’s word. Thus, a more critical reason for the vital set of checks and balances is to force us to root our own thought in the Divine will.
In reflecting the Divine voice, parshanut serves a critical function: In post-Biblical times, it may well be the closest thing we have to the Divine voice itself. All historical Jewish communities have their own specific issues that need to be addressed by the Divine voice. By the finite nature of its words, however, the Torah cannot, and perhaps does not want to, explicitly address every individual Jewish culture. Throughout most of Jewish history, it has been the role of the Torah commentators to try to understand the Torah’s implications for their own times. Indeed, consciously or not, Torah commentators throughout the generations have discussed novel ideas they found implicit in the Torah and that spoke to their own cultural contexts.
Parshanut has thus allowed the Torah’s terse writing on the one hand, and its myriad implications on the other, to provide a framework within which to judge ourselves and to chart a course for the future. This open-ended dynamic has provided the Jewish people with the ability to connect with the Divine will throughout the long march of history. Our commentators can only reflect the Divine voice, however, as long as they respect the holy integrity of the text.
In this context, it is important to understand the difference between parshanut and prophecy. In parshanut, there is much more room for variation. The Divine voice in the text is often not monolithic, so that the text may actually broadcast two contradictory messages even to the same historical period. As a result, parshanut is not meant to give clear instruction in the same way as prophecy. Indeed, the confusion created by such a lack of absolute direction is a most intended characteristic of the cessation of prophecy. Nevertheless, even if we are not to get unqualified direction, we can still get guidance as to what are the appropriate and inappropriate values operative in any given society.
Thus, if there has been a serious decline in parshanut, it is no trivial matter. It is tantamount to cutting off the Divine voice in our times. More precisely, it is an abdication of our responsibility to listen to that voice and hear what it is saying specifically to us. Of all times for such a trend to occur, it is ironic that precisely in our day when there are so many unprecedented changes, we would lose the ability or desire to seek direction in contemporary Torah commentary. I cannot think of a more critical time than our own to seek the Divine guidance waiting to be revealed via proper novel readings of the Torah.
Parshanut Today and Tomorrow
It must be noted that in recent years, there has been a resurgence of traditional interpretation of the Torah. In Hebrew, Rabbi Yoel ben Nun, among others, has worked tirelessly to seek out a contemporary understanding of the text which appropriately incorporates scholarly research of ancient Near-East cultures. In English, Dr. Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg has applied contemporary psychological and literary insights in her novel exegetical work on the text. There are many others who have also recently taken a more systematic and sophisticated approach in this field.
The question that must be raised concerning contemporary work in parshanut is whether it will prove itself to be really great in historical terms. In other words, whether any of the recent works on the Torah will stand the test of time remains to be seen. It is still too early to know whether recent efforts at creating something of lasting value to Jewish society have been successful.
Perhaps, as some believe, people writing in this field nowadays are incapable of producing something truly great. On a personal level, I am constantly haunted by this possibility. I do not know if I will ever be able to produce something of lasting value in the field. On the contrary, I know how far I am from the great commentators of yesteryear. For this reason, I think of Nechama Leibowitz’s warning to those who are not “truly great,” not to waste their time writing things very few people will read.2From a letter to R. Netanel Helfgot published in Pirkei Nechama, p. 662. It is interesting to note that, due to her great modesty, Nechama herself rarely entered into the world of commentary per se. Nechama’s works are full of others’ ideas, which she dissects and evaluates with great aplomb, but as for new and original ideas on the meaning of the text, she refrained. Such concerns need be taken seriously and cannot but engender hesitation.
That being said, I can only work with my intuition which points me in the direction of Chazal’s dictate, “In a place where there are no men, attempt to be a man” (Avot 2:5). By this I do not mean that there are no other individuals working seriously in the field of parshanut, but rather that all such individuals must do whatever they can to bring back the Divine voice to our people. It is in this spirit that I have been motivated to present the fruits of my labors, hoping that it will somehow contribute to regaining the Divine voice. If nothing else, perhaps the mere attempt at creating something of value in this vital field will serve as a model and inspiration for others who are more able to take up this task, so critical to the future of the Jewish people.
If we are able, we must strive to put out works of tremendous quality. Scholars must expand their horizons and, by putting forth their best efforts, engender the resulting demand for their original work. But it is not only up to scholars to create the demand by putting out works of obvious value – it is also up to the learned public to encourage and challenge their teachers by seeking the best that can be produced. They can do this by expecting creativity, relevance and rigor – and by settling for nothing less.