Human Autonomy and Divine Commandment

Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the Lord foreign fire, which He had not commanded them.

Vayikra 10:1

One of the most discussed issues in today’s world of religious thought is the question of human autonomy versus our obligation to carry out God’s command. Which is the higher religious value: to serve God in a spontaneous outpouring of religious devotion (autonomy), or to obey the divine imperative (obedience)?

Over the many years, Jewish thinkers have struggled with this issue and tried to find some solution to the problem. No doubt, spontaneity must play a crucial role in the religious experience. But who is wise enough to know what makes an extemporaneous burst of religiosity into an authentic service of God?

We find several incidents in the Torah where humans decided to take religious devotion into their own hands only to pay a heavy price. Well known is the event where Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron, brought a “strange” (illicit) fire into the Tent of Meeting and lost their lives because of this autonomous act.^[1]

Obligation as a greater value

The controversial Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz z.l., relying heavily on earlier commentaries, writes: 

Just as it is possible for a person to be drawn to regard the (golden) calf as god even when his intention was to worship God (see Sforno and Meshech Chochma); the worship of God itself, if not performed with an awareness that one is obeying an order of God, but because of an inner drive to serve God, is a kind of idolatry — even when the person’s intentions are to serve God. The faith which is expressed in the practical mitzvot in the worship of God is not something which is meant to give expression or release to man’s emotions, but its importance lies in the fact that the person has accepted upon himself what, in the post-Biblical tradition is known as the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven and the yoke of the Torah and mitzvot. Faith is expressed in the act which man does due to his awareness of his obligation to do it and not because of an internal urge….[otherwise,] this is illicit fire.^[2]

A careful reading of a comment by Ohr Hachaim seems to bear out this view. He wonders why Parashat Lech Lecha begins with an unusual introductory clause: “And God said to Avraham, lech lecha me-artzecha (leave your country)…”^[3]This is the first time in the Torah that God speaks to Avraham, so the appropriate clause would have been: “And God appeared to Avraham and said, lech lecha…” Ohr Hachaim understands the absence of this clause to mean there was only divine speech but no divine revelation. In other words, there was no exalted religious experience that would have transformed Avraham, “just” a voice speaking to him, which he recognized as coming from God.

Ohr Hachaim offers two possible reasons for this, one of which is that up until now Avraham had not yet received any divine commandment to which he had responded with absolute commitment. In Ohr Hachaim’s words, “God refused to grant Avraham the ultimate revelation until He put him to the supreme test — whether he will carry out His commandment, or not.” Only after Avraham had proved his devotion by fulfilling God’s commandment (obedience) would God be willing to appear to him and provide him with a religious experience of the highest order. It is for this reason that the commandment lech lecha was not preceded by the words “And God appeared to Avraham.” The Torah indeed informs us (12:7) that God did actually appear to Avraham, but only after he fulfilled this commandment.

The risk of religious spontaneity

This may be the answer to a crucial question related to one of the most heroic moments in Avraham’s life. According to a midrash in Bereshit Rabbah^[4], Nimrod, the despot of those days and arch enemy of Avraham, threw him into the kivshan ha-esh (fiery furnace) — the first holocaust experience of the first Jew — after Avraham refused to stop teaching his fellow man about God, despite Nimrod’s demand that Avraham instruct people to worship fire. Yet, why is Avraham’s unprecedented valor not mentioned in the text of the Torah, but only in the Oral Torah? 

The answer to this fundamental question may very well be based on our earlier observations. As impressive as this episode may have been, it in no way sets the standards for Jewish worship. After all, Avraham acted on his own. He was not commanded by God. It was, no doubt, a correct and desired response to Nimrod’s tyranny, but it was an autonomous one. As such, it lacked the fundamental disposition of a religious act commanded by God.

Spontaneity, then, seems to have value only when it deepens the mitzvah, not when it tries to replace it. Perhaps the most glaring proof of this fact is derived from the incident of “illicit fire” which was brought by the sons of Aaron in the Tent of Meeting. Nadav and Avihu paid with their lives when a deeply religious urge overwhelmed their commitment to religious obligation.^[5]

When autonomy is needed

And yet, this is not the whole story. According to the Talmud,^[8] our patriarchs were called yesharim—honest, upstanding men. Commentators explain that it was their unusual objectivity and refusal to be influenced by external negative forces that made them yesharim—individuals of outstanding moral character.^[6] In fact, they are of the opinion that the patriarchs did not always behave by halachic standards alone but conducted themselves according to even higher moral ideals, especially when interacting with their fellow men. This is well expressed by the Yiddish word menschlichkeit (my apologies to my co-Sephardic religionists!) 

Another incident in the life of Avraham is illustrative of this principle. After having been informed that his nephew Lot was captured by several kings, Avraham organized an army of three hundred eighteen men and pursued the kings “as far as Dan.”^[7] Fighting these kings was far from easy and highly risky. Just a few verses earlier we are told that these monarchs had defeated the kings of Sedom and Amorah. Clearly, they would be able to defeat Avraham’s army as well; his chances of victory were remote at best. From a halachic-ethical point of view it seems clear that Avraham had no obligation to try and save Lot. One does not have to enter a high-risk situation to save another from death. It may be questionable whether this would even be permitted.

And yet, Avraham took action to rescue his nephew from captivity, even though it meant taking on a tremendous personal risk. Avraham felt a special obligation to save the life of his nephew, since Lot’s father Haran had become a martyr for God’s sake, i.e. for Avraham’s very mission.^[8]

Ramban adds that Lot had gone out of his way to look after Avraham, who was already an old man, and wandered with him from place to place so as to serve him.^[9] In fact, this is the reason why Lot went to dwell in Sedom; if not for Avraham, he would have remained in Haran. Consequently, says the Ramban, “it was inconceivable that any evil should have overtaken him because of (his having looked after) Avraham. This, too, was the reason that Avraham risked his life by pursuing the kings in order to save Lot.”

It may be argued that many of the narratives in the book of Bereshit reflect this sense of obligation to others. Netziv, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (1817-1893) goes out of his way to emphasize that the patriarchs showed the greatest compassion even towards idolaters. His dramatic words are well taken: 

Besides the fact that they were tzaddikim (righteous) and hassidim (pious) and showed great love towards God, they were also yesharim in that they behaved respectfully towards the most distasteful idolaters; they related to them in a loving way and were concerned about their welfare since this is the foundation of all civilization….This is clearly to be deduced from the degree to which Avraham struggled and pleaded with God to spare the people of Sedom who were thoroughly wicked…and how Yitshak went out of his way to appease the shepherds of Avimelech who caused him great and awful difficulties….The same is true of Yaakov who showed infinite tolerance towards his father-in-law Lavan.^[10]

These observations by Netziv are surprising in light of the fact that the Torah later introduces the law of “lo techanem” — You shall not show them (the idolaters) any favor — which has far-reaching halachic import for the relationship between Jews and non-monotheistic gentiles.^[11]

It is clear that there are occasions when spontaneity is dangerous, as Nadav and Avihu so tragically learned. And yet, there are occasions when we are called upon to act, like the patriarchs, with autonomy, and not wait for the Divine command. 

How then, are we to know when to be spontaneous and when to act exactly as we are told?

The distinction is clear: In the sphere of relationship between man and God, we must conduct our religious lives out of a genuine sense of obligation, and not translate spontaneous urges into self-imposed rituals which have no intrinsic connection with a particular mitzvah. “Extra-religious ritualism” is unacceptable.But when it comes to our relationships with other human beings, the case is different. When the welfare of our fellows is at stake, we are encouraged to act beyond the requirement of the law, with spontaneity and without waiting to be told to take action.^[12] By going beyond the letter of the law, we deepen our religious commitment.

Notes

^[1] Vayikra, 10:1-2.

^[2] Notes and Remarks on the Weekly Parashah, Chemed Books, 1990, tr. Shmuel Himelstein, p.106.

^[3] Bereshit 12:1.

^[4] Bereshit Rabbah 38:11 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, 363-364). See also Eruvin53a and Pesachim 118a.

^[5] Vayikra 10:1-2.

^[6] Avoda Zarah 25a.

^[7] Bereshit 14:12-14.

^[8] See Emet LeYaakov by Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky, page 91.

^[9] See Ramban on Bereshit 19:29.

^[10]  Ha’emek Davar, Introduction to Bereshit.

^[11] Devarim 7:2.

^[12] Whether this conclusion is entirely correct is a matter of interpretation. Many new customs, rabbinical enactments and stringencies in the worship of God have been introduced throughout the thousands of years. They may however be seen as ways to give more substance to the divine command.

Questions to Ponder from the DCA Think Tank

1. In the penultimate chapter of the Torah, God tells Moshe to go up to Har Nevo to die. God says that because the nation did not sanctify God, Moshe must ascend the mountain but not see the land. Moshe does not obey immediately. Instead, the verse says, “This is the blessing with which Moshe, the Man of God, blessed the children of Israel before he died.” Moshe, here called the Man of God, blesses the people, though he was not told to do so, before he obeys. We then read a chapter’s worth of blessings with which Moshe blesses the people and we cannot help feeling that this is Moshe’s last defense of his beloved nation in the face of God’s criticism. When Moshe has finished his blessing, in the last chapter of the Torah, it says, “Moshe, the Servant of God, died there, in the Land of Moav at the word of God.”
   Moshe is now called the Servant of God. Why is it that after postponing the fulfillment of God’s command and blessing the people without having been told to do so, Moshe dies a servant of God? Surely, a servant obeys without question? What made Moshe transform just before his death from a man of God to a servant of God? 
2. How do we recognize the voice of God when it is not accompanied by definitive revelation? When we “hear” an inner voice telling us to do something, can we ever conclude that it is the voice of God, or is that conclusion always psychotic? 
3. Can the voice of God be heard through anything other than Torah and Halacha? Is there Godliness or divine guidance in the development of world values? May we turn to world values, or must we shun all “outside” influences? How do we decide which world values are worthy of adoption and which are beyond the pale? If the voice of God is only heard through Torah and Halacha, are Torah and Halacha themselves independent of outside influence?
4. Can the understanding we derive from world values, or our changing relationship with other nations, help shed light on Torah values that were heretofore hidden from us? Can world values be part of a continuing revelation? Can this be what it means to receive the Torah anew every day?
5. The example of Nadav and Avihu illustrates the dangers of spontaneous religious acts. However, it’s possible that an overemphasis on obedience might stifle genuine spiritual expression and creativity. Do you agree that worshiping God out of an internal urge rather than obedience to Divine command may be considered a form of idolatry? Do you feel that there really is a dichotomy between conducting religious life out of a genuine sense of obligation to God versus translating spontaneous urges into self-imposed rituals?
6. At the opposite end of the spectrum, Rabbi Cardozo highlights the actions of the patriarchs, who often went beyond the requirements of the law in their dealings with others. How do you personally determine when it is appropriate to act autonomously in moral and ethical situations, particularly when such actions might conflict with established religious laws?
7. How can individuals develop the wisdom to discern when to rely on personal judgment and when to adhere strictly to religious laws? What role does personal conscience play in religious observance?
8. Rabbi Cardozo implies that the understanding and interpretation of Divine commandments may evolve over time, influenced by changing ethical standards. How should religious communities approach the reinterpretation of commandments in light of contemporary moral values? Can this process lead to a deeper and more meaningful observance of religious principles?
9. The Netziv points out that the patriarchs showed compassion even towards idolaters, despite later Torah injunctions against showing favor to non-monotheistic gentiles. Rabbi Cardozo offers one way of resolving this contradiction. Can you think of others?