The Genesis of Justice Read Online Free Page B

a midrash about how the
     law was given to the people of Israel. To take the narrative literally and believe that God actually spoke and handed over
     tablets is, Heschel argues, to confuse metaphor with fact. According to this view, there is
only
midrash, followed by midrash upon midrash. The stories of the Bible translate God’s unknowable actions into familiar human
     terms that a reader can understand. 30 Maimonides also viewed some of the words of the Bible as “metaphorical,” using “the language of man” and “adapted to the
     mental capacity of the majority of mankind. … ” 31 Focusing on phrases such as “the hand of God” and His “glittering sword,” Maimonides explains that these words are directed
     at people who have “a clear perception of physical bodies only.”
    The New Testament and the Koran were also subject to midrashic elaboration. Jesus excelled in the use of the midrashic technique,
     and the Gospels have been characterized as a “masterpiece of the Aggadah.” 32 Mohammed also used the midrash for the legendary material he incorporated into the Koran.
    In this book I will focus primarily on the text of Genesis. When relevant, I will make references to various commentators
     and midrashim. I do not feel bound by any particular interpretation, nor do I regard any as authoritative or dispositive.
     Once a text is published, it belongs to us all and we may interpret it according to our own lights. The marketplace of ideas
     is the sole judge of the validity or usefulness of a given interpretation. Tradition certainly has “a vote but not a veto.” 33 I surely reject the anti-intellectual approach of those contemporary Haredi (fervently Orthodox) rabbis who argue that “the
     mind of a man in our generation” is “forbidden” to contain “ideas and thoughts which he devises from his own mind, which were
     not handed down from earlier generations.” 34 I have fought against this sort of anti-intellectual fundamentalism since I was a child studying in the yeshiva, and I continue
     to reject it as an adult teaching at Harvard. I am inspired far more by the approach suggested by the great sixteenth-century
     Bible commentator Rabbi Eliezer Ashkenazi, who insisted that “each and every one of us, our children and grandchildren until
     the conclusion of all generations,” is “duty bound to examine the secrets of the Torah” by “accepting the truth from whoever
     says it”:
    Neither ought we be concerned about the logic of others—even if they preceded us—preventing our own individual investigation.
     Much to the contrary, just as [our forebears] did not wish to indiscriminately accept the truth from those who preceded them,
     and that which they did not choose [to accept] they rejected, so is it fitting for us to do. Only on the basis of gathering
     many different opinions will the truth be tested. . . . Do not be dismayed by the names of the great personalities when you
     find them in disagreement with your belief; you must investigate and interpret, because for this purpose were you created,
     and wisdom was granted you from Above, and this will benefit you. …” 35
    While my own ideas certainly owe an enormous debt to those of earlier generations, it is hoped that I can provide some new
     insights that derive from my unique experiences as a lawyer and teacher. Employing one’s own experiences to expand knowledge
     is, after all, a central message of Genesis, in which the characters make mistakes, challenge, and are challenged by God.
    Several of my students and colleagues have wondered why I have chosen to focus on the Book of Genesis, which contains many
     stories but few laws, rather than on the “law books” of the Bible. I have chosen to write about Genesis quite deliberately.
     I believe that the broad narratives of justice and injustice are more enduring than the often narrow, time-bound, and sometimes
     derivative rules of the Bible. Although their