Rabbi Elazar's Five Principles of Faith

  One of the reasons that I have never done any formal yeshiva study is that the detailed examination of the laws and legal arguments through logical, legalistic reasoning does not sit well with me.  I realise that it has a particular purpose which it fulfils, but it is not a method that I find stimulating, meaningful or helpful.  My primary interest is in the philosophical side of Judaism.  I do not believe this is separate from the halakhic side; on the contrary, I see them as intertwined.  However, I can only get to grips with a halakhic argument, really understand what is being said and why and therefore remember the points being made instead of rote-learning them, by examining the philosophical issues underlying it.

  However, this is not the favoured method of study generally, which seeks to clarify the laws in the hope that this will lead on to understanding of the philosophical issues.  Perhaps for most people (who, I realise, tend not to be interested in philosophical matters) this is the best approach.  I certainly believe that on one level the mitzvot are intended to teach certain basic philosophical points (about ethics, theology, even epistemology and ontology) almost subliminally to a large population, and perhaps this ‘unconscious philosophy’ works well for the majority.  I tend to find it dry, and so recently, inspired by Chief Rabbi Sacks, who frequently adopts this method in his divrei Torah, when I have come to a mitzvah or a halakha that I do not understand, I try to deduce the underlying philosophical issues at stake.

  At this point, it is worth clarifying a point of etymology and one of history.  In biblical Hebrew, belief is not a cognitive or emotional matter.  That is to say, one can not believe something in the abstract.  One can only act as if something is true, attempt to make an ideal come true through speech and especially action.  This means that the link between the mitzvot and Jewish philosophy is very logical: the mitzvot are how we translate abstract concepts (justice, human dignity, equity) into action, moving them from the conceptual realm to the physical world.

  As a result, it took a long time before any core set of Jewish beliefs was written.  It was only in the late Middle Ages, as a result of antisemitic allegations that Jews had no real dogma and hence were crypto-atheist libertines, that various rabbis attempted to codify a set of basic Jewish beliefs, the most famous being Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith.  Here too the emphasis was on those beliefs that affect action.  Believing in an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent God who demands moral behaviour affects our actions in a tangible way; belief in demons (always a controversial idea among Jewish thinkers) does not, and so can not be considered an important belief one way or the other.

  I have used this approach to understand a Mishna that has always perplexed me:

Rabbi Elazar of Modin said: one who desecrates sacred things, despises the festivals, shames his fellow in public, nullifies the covenant of our father Avraham [i.e. tries to surgically remove the mark of circumcision] or attributes meanings to the Torah contrary to the normative law, even if he has Torah knowledge and good deeds to his credit, he has no share in the world to come.  (Pirkei Avot 3.15)

At first glance, this is confusing.  The mitzvot chosen appear to be a random selection.  None of the obviously serious aveirot are here (murder, the most serious types of sexual immorality, avodah zara, breaking Shabbat, theft), neither do the five seem to have much in common with each other.  Moreover, not all of them are punishable by the courts.  My suggestion is that they represent the negation of five fundamental Jewish beliefs (remember that Judaism is not interested in abstract beliefs or disbeliefs, only in their translation into practice).  Rabbi Elazar is in effect saying that anyone who does not hold all five of these beliefs and put translate them into action is not practicing Judaism, regardless of how much Torah he knows or how many other mitzvot he performs.

Desecrating the Sacred: the Holiness of the Physical

  By setting aside an object for a sacred purpose, one makes a statement about the nature of the physical world and our role in it.  To sanctify something is to set it aside for a holy task, to give it a different purpose to that which it had previously.  It represents man’s ability to take the entirety of the physical world and make it holy by using it for a holy purpose, by using it ethically and within the boundaries of the halakha.  Moreover, it represents man’s ability to take himself – another part of the physical world, after all – and dedicate himself to a life of holiness and morality.

  By desecrating a sacred object, one makes the reverse statement: that the physical remains physical and can never be used for a holy, moral purpose.  By extension, mankind can never rise above the impulsive, instinctive, animalistic elements of human nature to an ethical form of existence.  This attitude is inherently incompatible with Judaism, which sees the elevation of the physical world into a world of holiness and morality as its ultimate goal, which has mitzvot to bring holiness into the most mundane or instinctive actions (eating, drinking, sexual intercourse etc.), and which sees the entire Jewish people as holy – that is separated from other people to live a superlatively ethical lifestyle: “You shall be holy for Me, for I Hashem am holy, and I have separated you from the peoples to be Mine.” (Vayikra/Lev. 20.26)

Despising the Festivals: the Divine in the Physical

  If desecrating sacred objects is an attempt to deny that the physical can be made holy, then despising the festivals is the denial of God’s involvement in the world.  I would suggest that this is why the festivals are mentioned, not Shabbat.  Shabbat testifies primarily to God’s creation of the world, not to his supervision and control of it (although the latter is mentioned with relation to it).  The festivals are about God’s involvement in the world, whether through the natural processes of the agricultural year (Pesach, Shavuot and Succot), through history (all of them, to a greater or lesser extent) and through His personal supervision of every nation and every individual (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur).

  Despising the festivals therefore shows either a lack of belief in a God who cares about humanity as a whole and about each individual, who controls nature and who intervenes in history or a dislike of this idea, a desire to live in a universe without Divine supervision, where there is no ultimate moral law.  This runs in complete opposition to the idea of the Jewish people as living testimony to God’s involvement in the world’s affairs: “And now, thus says Hashem your Creator, O Yaakov; the One Who fashioned you, O Yisrael: Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called [you] by name; you are Mine.  When you pass through water, I am with you; through rivers, they will not wash you away; when you walk through fire you will not be singed, and no flame will burn you… Fear not, for I am with you; from the east I will bring your offspring and from the west I will gather you.  I will say to the north ‘Give over!’ and to the South ‘Do not withhold!  Bring My sons from afar and My daughters from the ends of the Earth…’ You are My witnesses – the word of Hashem – and My servant whom I have chosen, so that you will know and believe in Me, and understand that I am He; before Me nothing was created by a god and nor will there be after me.  I, only I, am Hashem, and there is no deliverer aside from Me… You are my witnesses – the word of Hashem – and I am God.” (Isaiah 43.1-12)

Shaming One’s Fellow: the Equal Dignity of Mankind

  The Mishna now moves from the relationship between the physical and the spiritual, between mankind and God, to the social sphere.  Shaming one’s fellow is a very serious offence in Judaism.  The rabbis saw no moral distinction between murder, the literal ending of a life, and character assassination, the destruction of all that is worthwhile about a life: friends, respect, dignity.  Obviously the two were not treated the same legally, and that may be why the lesser offence is singled out here, not the greater one.

  Few people in any society would go so far as to kill a fellow human being in cold blood.  Even aside from moral scruples, the risk of consequences, whether legal or the blood-feud, would be too great.  Yet to destroy a person’s reputation, or even to humiliate him or her momentarily, is often considered insignificant.  It can be rationalised in many ways, both to avoid punishment and to calm one’s conscience: “I didn’t know he was so sensitive,” “she needs to get a sense of humour,” “I was just joking around,” “sticks and stones…”  However, when the tables are turned and we are subject to humiliation, we rarely make the same calculations to justify those who hurt us.

  A person who hurts others, whether physically or emotionally, is fundamentally guilty of failing to see his fellow as equally human, as another person with his or her own emotional needs and psychological desire to be treated with respect.  This belief in the superiority of some people (even just the self) over others is contrary to a fundamental Jewish belief: that all mankind are of equal worth: “For this reason, man [i.e. the first human being] was created alone to teach that whoever destroys a single life is as though he had destroyed an entire universe, and whoever saves a single life is as if he had saved an entire universe.” (Mishnah, Sanhedrin 4: 5).  This was seen by the rabbis as the basis of Judaism:  Rabbi Akiva saw the commandment to “love your neighbour as yourself” as the fundamental principle of the Torah, while Hillel summarised the Torah as “that which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.  The rest is commentary: go and learn it.” (Shabbat 31a)

Nullifying the Covenant: Mutual Responsibility

  The individual has an inherent dignity, a particular set of rights.  Yet no one exists in the abstract.  While people have legitimate demands they can make of society, at the same time, society makes legitimate demands of them.  The key word is ‘reciprocity’.  The nature of a covenant is a set of reciprocal obligations between both participants.  The particular covenant of the Jewish people connects each individual not just to God, but to every other member of the covenant, across time and space.  Together, they pursue a shared vision of society.  This is symbolised by circumcision of the male reproductive organ, linking it to the eternal, cross-generational aspect of the covenant.  “God said to Avraham: ‘And as for you, you shall safeguard My covenant; you and your offspring after you through their generations.  This is my covenant which you shall keep between Me and you and your offspring after you: circumcise every male among you.’” (Bereshit/Gen. 17.9-10)

  To attempt to nullify the covenant is to attempt to remove oneself from the Jewish people completely.  It is to indicate that one has no interest in the sense of common history and purpose that joins Jews together to try to build a just and equitable society built on halakhic lines.  Such a person is in effect stating an intention to forego the benefits of a covenantal relationship with God and with the Jewish people in order to avoid any obligations towards anyone other than himself.

Contradicting the Halakha: Shared Purpose

  If all Jews have a set of responsibilities to each other and to God, the obvious question is, “where are these found?”  The answer is found in the final one of Rabbi Elazar’s statements: in the Torah – and not just in the Torah, but in the entire halakhic interpretive tradition.  This tradition allows for logical debate using certain known interpretive principles.  To attempt to promote a different set of rules is to attempt to turn Judaism into something completely new.  Furthermore, it is to deny both that God has communicated His ideals and commandments to the Jewish people via the Torah and that the sages have been able to correctly determine the meaning of such commandments, which would go some way to denying the earlier principles that God is involved with humanity and that mankind can successfully engage in holy pursuits.  For the Torah and the halakhic process is the very lifeblood of Judaism, the blueprint for our society, our sense of identity (that which makes us different), our sense of history and our purpose wrapped up together: “See, I have taught you decrees and laws as Hashem my God has commanded me, so that you may follow them in the land you are entering to take possession of it. Observe them carefully, for this is your wisdom and understanding in the eyes of the nations, who will hear about all these decrees and say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.’ What other nation is so great as to have their God near to them the way Hashem our God is near to us whenever we pray to Him? And what other nation is so great as to have such righteous decrees and laws as this entire Torah I am setting before you today?” (Devarim/Deut. 4.5-8)


To summarise: I believe Rabbi Elazar is reducing Judaism to five key points, namely:

1)      the physical world can and should be made holy through ethical, halakhic living;

2)      God is involved in human affairs;

3)      every person is of equal worth and has an inherent dignity;

4)      the Jewish people are bound by an unbreakable covenant to each other and to God;

5)      the terms of this covenant and the obligations it places on both parties are found in the Torah as elucidated via the rabbinic interpretative process.