Peshat

Sons, and then daughters, brothers, and paternal uncles all inherit, but the Bible is silent about spouses. The Talmud, in a midrashic reading of the laws of inheritance (Numbers 27:8–11) that the sages themselves admit is not what the verses say, adds that husbands are first to inherit from wives, but wives do not inherit from their husbands. Rashi and Ibn Ezra differ on whether a biblical verse can support both midrashic and peshat interpretations.

Moses, an Egyptian prince who discovers he is a Hebrew, makes for a compelling movie. But is that the peshat, the straightforward meaning of the biblical story?

Through her public appearances and widely circulated gilyonot (study sheets), Nehama Leibowitz engaged thousands in the study of Torah, becoming a respected and beloved figure within the religious-Zionist community and beyond.

The Bible never numbers the plagues of Egypt, but the number ten has been canonized in tradition, and a canonical list of the ten plagues appears in the Passover Haggadah. The 18^th century enlightenment commentator Naftali Herz Wessely breaks free from the number ten, offering a more persuasive structure of twelve miracles.

In medieval Latin Christendom, the Psalms were highly beloved, with commentators interpreting them as prophecies about Christ and the Church. Aware of this prevailing interpretation, Rashi often deviates from the plain meaning of the text to read the Psalms as a reflection of the Jewish people’s experience and suffering in his own time.

In the final blood ceremony formalizing the covenant at Sinai, how informed is Israel about the covenant’s details when they declare, na’aseh v’nishma, “let us do and [then] let us hear”?

“When the ram’s horn sounds a long blast, they shall go up on the mountain” (Exodus 19:13). The original intention was for all Israelites to be like priests, and experience YHWH’s revelation on the mountain. But when YHWH descends and the horn sounds, the people recoil and remain below.

Known by the acronym Pardes, four approaches—peshat, the literal, remez, the philosophical-allegorical, derash, the midrashic-allegorical, and sod, the mystical—can be found not only in commentaries on the Song of Songs but also in a variety of musical settings.

The shift in biblical exegesis from homiletic readings to literary, contextual commentaries has its roots in Charlemagne’s 9th century Carolingian Revolution. It comes to the fore only in the 11th century with Rashi’s quasi-peshat commentary, soon followed by the peshat approach of R. Joseph Kara and Rashbam.

When Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, he says, “I am your brother, whom you sold into Egypt” (Genesis 45:4). Tradition takes for granted that Joseph’s brothers were indeed the ones who sold him. However, as Rashbam and Shadal note, a straightforward peshat reading of events once Joseph is thrown into the pit reveals a different conclusion.

Rashi (Rabbi Solomon b. Isaac) wrote the most famous Jewish Bible commentary in history. Over 900 years later, scholars still argue about the nature of the commentary: Is it an attempt to explain peshat, the plain meaning of the biblical text, or is it an anthology of midrash?

Rashi interprets the opening verses of the creation story as describing God’s use of primordial substances to form the world. This idea appears in various forms in rabbinic literature but some of Rashi’s particular notions are only found in Plato’s Timaeus. Could this be one of Rashi’s sources?

For the first nine hundred years after the writing of the Mishnah in the early third century, Jews thought that laws about bailees or custodians (שומרים) in the Mishnah and in the Talmud corresponded closely to the plain meaning (peshat) of the Torah. But in the Middle Ages, Rashbam challenged that assumption, proposing an understanding of the Torah that contradicted Jewish law.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine” (Song 1:2). The Song of Songs opens with this sudden shift in person, an ungrammatical syntactic substitution called enallage. How common is this literary device, and why is it used?

The Song of Songs is a collection of love poetry. The Rabbis read it as an allegory of the relationship between God and the Jewish people. Only in the Middle Ages, in Spain and Northern France, did scholars begin to pay attention to the plain (Peshat) meaning of the text. Some went as far as dropping the allegory altogether and treating it as love poetry, as it was originally intended.

Finding gender equality in the Song of Songs without compromising God and meaning.

Moses Mendelssohn’s Be’ur (1780-83) was the first Jewish translation of the Torah into standard German. Motivated by religious and cultural needs, Mendelssohn took advantage of the translation revolution already underway in eighteenth-century Germany—and also included many striking innovations.

A biblical metaphor was reinterpreted in light of a practice of wearing amulets for bodily protection.

After the shocking death of Nadav and Avihu, Moses says to Aaron that this is what God meant when he said, “through those near to me I will sanctify Myself.”  Rashi, Rashbam, and Nahmanides struggle to understand the meaning of Moses’ message.

In 1305, the great Catalonian Sage, Rashba, tried to limit philosophic study and interpretation of Torah in Languedoc (southern France). In the process, he and went so far as to excommunicate one of the great scholars involved in such philosophical readings of Torah, Levi ben Avraham ben Hayyim of Villefranche-de-Conflent.

Abraham’s servant says that his master told him to take a wife for Isaac from his family, but Abraham said no such thing. Why does the servant say this and why did medieval pashtanim ignore this blatant discrepancy?

The Torah describes a practice of declaring people cherem, which means that the person, and—in some cases—his family, would be annihilated, and his possessions donated to the Temple. The rabbis were unhappy with this law and used their homiletical approach to “obliterate” it.

The Decalogue texts in Exodus and Deuteronomy have significant differences, a problem grappled with by the Talmudic sages and Medieval exegetes.

Reading Shir HaShirim in Its Original Sense

At stake is Ibn Ezra’s curse: “May your tongue stick to your palate… may your arm dry up and your right eye go blind.” 

YHWH’s appearance to Abraham (Gen 18:1) is interpreted by the midrashic tradition as a vision separate from the arrival of the three guests. However, the plain meaning of the text, which suggests that YHWH is one of the three guests, is supported by an ancient rabbinic “correction” to the text.

A medieval non-traditional interpretation of arami oved avi and the push-back against it.