#tanach asks

I'm afraid not. However, I am in possession of a sleeved coat! It's great, really. Nons of my ten brothers have one, they work in the field with the sheep and the grains and sleeves tend to get in the way. But father made me a special coat with sleeves, because I stay in the tent with him! I'm sure my brothers understand that I'm just fated to continue the line and to lead our family, after all I told them about my dreams with their sheafs bowing down to me and the sun and moon and eleven stars doing so as well. They joked around about it, but I'm sure they understand.

What exactly constitutes the tanach? I think I've heard it's an acronym, so would the Torah be the t? what's the rest of the acronym? Which writings does it include? I'm pretty sure the talmud isn't part of it, what else isn't? Apologies if this is too basic of a question for you!

Hello! Thank you for the question!

The Torah indeed is the first part of the Tanach. Tanach is an acronym for the Hebrew words Torah, Nevi'im and Ketuvim. Roughly translated, those titles mean "Instructions", "Prophets" and "Writings", respectively. The Tanach, then, consists of 24 books divided into those three categories.

The Torah is the easiest one to define: it's the Pentateuch, the Five Books of Moses, however else you choose to call them, and they are generally known to be set apart. The books in it are Bereshit (Genesis), Shemot (Exodus), Vayikra (Leviticus), B'midbar (Numbers) and Devarim (Deuteronomy). Those are the books traditionally given to Moshe directly by G-d, and mostly focus on the formation of the Israelite people and its time under his leadership. It also includes all the commandments, basically.

Nevi'im are supposedly the books written by prophets, and half the books there are specifically books of prophecy (which is more messages from G-d than necessarily predicting the future). However, the first four books - Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings - are more historical in nature, chronicling the events from Moshe's death to the destruction of the 1st Temple. The last four books - Isaiah, Jeremaiah, Ezkiel and the Twelve prophets - are primarily books of prophecies and visions, with some stories sprinked in between. Most of them are concurrent with events in the book of Kings - except for the last three of the Twelve Prophets, who have lived around the building of the 2nd Temple. The Twelve Prophets are (by this order): Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Michah, Naḥum, Ḥabakuk, Zephaniah, Ḥaggai, Zacharias and Malachi. Names are written more or less in their traditional English spelling.

Then we get to the Ketuvim, Written texts, which are... a little more vague. It's hard to say if there's a uniting theme. A couple are books of parables and songs are there, yet others are more chronicles of events, either ones that occured after the time of the book of Kings, before it or concurrently with it. A common assumption is that the difference between those and the Nevi'im is the level of prophecy in writing them - where the Nevi'im were written under direct prophecies, while the Ketuvim were only written in Ruach HaKodesh (roughly translated as "the holy spirit", but I don't want to cause any confusion with Christianity). Either way, the books in the Ketuvim are, in order: Tehilim (Psalms), Mishley (Proverbs), 'Iyov (Job), Shir HaShirim (the Song o Songs/the Songs of Solomon), Rut (or Ruth), Eichah (Lamentations), Kohellet (Ecclesiastes), Ester (or Esther), Daniel, Ezra (and Neḥemiah) and Divrey HaYamim (Chronicles).

If you count, you'll find there are 5 books in the Torah, 8 in the Nevi'im and 11 in the Ketuvim - 24 in total. Ther Twelve Prophets, known as Trei Asar (which just means twelve), are considered one book, The division of Samuel, Kings, Ezra and Chronicles into two books each is relatively late and only makes sense in Ezra due to the obvious PoV shift. Which kind of reminds me, maybe a brief explanation is required as to what each of those last 11 books is.

Tehilim is a book of prayers and religious poems, traditionally written by King David (though they were probably collected long after his time). Mishley is the proverbs of king Shelomo (Solomon), some of which were definitely written long after his time (as in, it's directly stated inside the book). 'Iyov is possibly a parable, possibly a real story which serves as a background to a conversation on the problem of evil that doesn't seem to be solved within the book. The five books from Shir HaShirim to Esther are considered the Five Scrolls, but actually share very little in common: Shir HaShirim is a love song that sometimes become rather erotic, written by King Solomon. Ruth is an origin story to King David's family that occurs during the Judges period, and is about his Great-Grandmother and her conversion to Judaism (she was from Moab, which was a neighboring nation). Eichah is a book lamenting the destruction of the 1st Temple and of the Kingdom of Judea, traditionally written by Jeremiah. Kohellet is a philosophical book pondering the meaning of life - it either finds none or finds solace in faith, depending who you ask - also said to have been written by King Solomon. Esther is famously about the first organised Pogrom in recorded history - one against the Jews of the Persian empire, occuring during the Babylonian exile in Persia. Daniel is about the vision of a Jewish slave in the court of Nebuchadnezzar, who somehow succeeds to stay in a position of power after multiple switches in the government. The story of Daniel isn't half as interesting as his weird visions, though. Ezra is about the rebuilding of the Temple and Jerusalem after the return from exile, more or less - Ezra and Neḥemiah are the major leaders of this time period. This is pretty much a chronicling book - as is the last one, appropriately called Chronicles (Divrey HaYamim). That one basically attempts to sum up everything that happened to the Jewish people throughout history until the building of the 2nd Temple.

Right. So the quick and simple answer is no. My concept wasn't inspired by an alternative view of the Nephilim. But I do think this is still workable.

The reason I went with the Nephilim is because I've seen interpretations in the past that this verse from Genesis is an answer to stories about demigods from surrounding cultures. As a result, the Jewish monotheistic view casts them as a problem. The verse itself seems to indicate, in context, that they were one of the reasons for the flood. In certain Midrashim, they are children of rebellious angels - I think they correspond with the traditions in the book of Enoch, but I didn't read it yet so I can't really say. My point with keeping this in the camp is essentially that it stands for already existing Nephilim: children whose parents already went and interbred with humans. There's no reason to start disqualifying them from existence because their parents sinned, and Nephilim seems to be the best term for this kind of things.

Now, in your point you connected the Nephilim to the Refa’im, if not completely consciously so. Though to be fair, the Gemara (Niddah 61A) already did that, as well as the very same Midrashim that talk about Nephilim. Plus, the only time Nephilim are mentioned in the Tanach outside of Genesis is when the Spies tell Moshe that they encountered giants of the Nephilim in Canaan. This, together with verses in Deuteronomy talking about the various nations of Refa’im around the eastern bank of the Jordan river and referring to them as giants as well, led to the identification of the Refa’im as Nephilim. The Midrash (Bereshit Rabah Parsha 26) treats those as two different names for the same group.

The Refa’im aren't exactly described as evil in the same way ‘Amalek is. By the time the Israelites got to Canaan they were largely extinct - see Deuteronomy chapters 2-3, ‘Og is described as one of the last remaining, while the Moabites and Amonites (and possibly Edomites and Pelishtim) killed most of them. In addition to C(e)darla‘omer killing them (Genesus 14, 5) centuries earlier. There are a couple of giants said to still exist in Canaan when the Israelites go there - Aḥiman, Sheshay and Talmay in Hebron, and the children of Harafah (while it's spelled differently than Refa’im, it's possible that this is what it refers to) from the land of the Pelishtim. G-d promised the land of the Refa’im to Abraham (Genesis 15, 20), so in essence... They are conquered people, pretty much. And because they're practically extinct, there isn't much said to vilify them.

The fallen angels thing is... kind of complicated. Judaism doesn't really have the common Christian view of Lucifer and the rebellious angels. By which I mean, no such story exists. There are, however, references to fallen angels of sorts. I think it's related to the story in the book of Enoch - but the book is not canonical to the Tanach, and I'm not sure if there's a clear detailing of this in sources widely accepted in Judaism. I do have a couple of things to say about angels in Jewish sources (especially in the Tanach), but this isn't the place for that.

Tanach asks are open. Meaning, everyone is invited to ask me stuff about the Tanach, the Hebrew Bible. A few disclaimers, though:

I'm talking about the Tanach. No New Testament, no Apocrypha. No Qur'an either, but that should be obvious.

Unless you ask for a quote (which frankly would be easier to look for on the Internet, but we'll see), most of my replies will be my personal opinion. If I mention a commentary of some Rabbi I will do my best to refer to the source. What I'm trying to say is I do not represent Judaism as a whole. Not even Orthodox Judaism.

Please don't ask too generalized things. The Tanach is a book made of books, and as such, it's not exactly easy to say what the Tanach says about [nebulous concept].

Asks trying to push political or proselytizing agenda will be ignored. If you want to know my opinion on Isaiah 53 or the Pelishtim but don't actually intend to push me to political topics or convert me, please do phrase your ask in a way that reflects that. Otherwise I'd likely avoid answering.

That is a great question, and yes I do! This is actually a great question (he says, after insisting on other occasions that comparative questions aren't really good). My excuse for being fine with this comparative question is that Psalms are prayers, and during certain parts of life you can find yourself identifying and resonating with different psalms. I know I have.

(Side note: at a certain point I realized I don't feel comfortable continuing using the term psalm due to a degree of association with Christianity. Thus, henceforth I'm going to talk about Capitals of Tehillim. It's mostly a semantic point.)

The first Capital I'd like to mention is 107, Qof-Zayin. This one is about a variety of people thanking G-d for a variety of reasons - people lost in the desert trying to find their way to civilization; people in captivity behind iron bars; people sick or starving; and those who sail the sea. Each group is said to be saved by G-d from their trouble and thanking Him - it has a regular structure of explaining the ailment, having a repeating nigh identical verse of the people crying to G-d and Him saving them, a verse or two detailing what that entails, then the other repeating phrase of thanking G-d for his kindness and wonders to humankind. Then it's one more verse to close each portion - for the two first ones it's an further addition on what they're thanking G-d for, for the two latter it's about further deeds of thanks the people who were saved shall do, including sacrifices and telling their stories. After this part ends, though, the capital continues on to talk about the reward and punishment G-d hands to entire cities - making a desert into a flourishing place and turning sinful cities to wasteland.

I loved this capital for a long time, for a number of reasons I find it hard to articulate. However, during the past six years, two of its portions also hit a bit close to home. I don't think it's hard to guess which. I can only hope that the other two will remain less relatable for the near future. Said relatability didn't hurt my relationship with the chapter, I think - quite the opposite. But it's not pleasant to think of why it's so relatable all the sudden.

An additional point for this capital is the fact that there's a famous tune conducted to two of its verses: the first appearance of the fully repeating verse. A Spotify link provided:

Now, me being me (as may become apparent from a couple other capitals I shall mention; in hindsight, music plays a significant part of why I call these particular capitals my favourites), I put all other appearances of the repeating verse/chorus to the very same tune. It sits decently enough. The other verses are sung to the tune of verses from a different capital, which I'm going to next: Capital 72, ‘Ayin-Bet.

This capital is the only one that is said to be "for Shlomoh" (whom you may know better as Solomon). Considering its content and ending, that likely means it was written as a prayer about Sh(e)lomoh by his father, King David. The capital is all about the future king, his prosperity, success and the justice he shall bring. It's not really relatable, admittedly, and has certain things that I wouldn't really wish for my modern state and country. It does have a nice tune conducted for a couple of its verses - a tune that you might know from who knows where else, because it's used for a couple of other stuff (like An‘im Zemirot in some places). Link to Spotify:

Among other uses, it's also the tune I use for most of Capital 107. Is it weird? Probably. Does it even work with that other tune? For me it does. Now, admittedly, the lack of relatability is a likely reason why 72 is in a more precarious position in my favourites list, but I couldn't just supply the tune without talking about the capital.

The next one might be related to my educational context. Well, let's be fair, the mere fact I know of Yifrach Beyamav Tzadik is likely due to my Chabad-adjacent education, but the next one is more specific: Capital 139, Qof-Lamed-Tet. This one, I have it on good authority, was a favourite Tehillim Capital of Rav ‘Adin Even-Yisra’el, commonly known as Rav Steinsaltz. I know that because I studied in institutions that were heavily influenced by him. Anyway, this capital is about Hashgacha, the divine providence, and its inescapability. There is something comforting about it, I think, though you can probably also make a Magnus Archives episode about the very same concept. Either way, there is technically a tune for a couple of verses from this capital, but it's hardly catchy:

Supplied this one because I don't know that this particular tune exists on Spotify. There is, however, a Breslov tune for the same verses based on an alternative interpretation of them: that G-d not only watches over you everywhere, but He is also even more with you when you falter and sin. Provided here:

So far so good. Other capitals I like I can point to include possibly 73, ‘Ayin-Gimel, which is about the Question of Evil; 79, ‘Ayin-Tet, which is about the destruction of the Temple; and Kaf-Zayin, LeDavid Hashem Ori, which is about trusting G-d as one's sanctuary/asking Hom to be one's sanctuary. I've taken a liking of 77, ‘Ayin-Zayin, at some point - it's about remembering G-d's past aid and... A little about nostalgia, in a way, not unlike 42, Mem-Bet. Both of those have tunes for some verses, though the one for 42 is older and more well-known:

(Before I share the other one, it's important to note that it's something I personally know, not anything of any known significant to a large number of people:)

The Tanach doesn't technically say anything about the concept of love. By which I mean, it doesn't have a list of concepts that it explains. So everything you can learn is by looking at context, results, and at how love is being expressed. In addition, the Tanach isn't called the Book of Books (at least in Hebrew) for naught: it's made of twenty four to thirty six books (depends how you cout Trei 'Asar and Ezra&Nehemiah), and has varied authors. We can perhaps extrapolate what the word means when it's used in different contexts, but it may well be tainted by the view of the author.

You actually were right on the money to start talking about it now, though, because this is the first time in the whole Tanach love is mentioned! ...However, when looking at the future of their marriage, it's... A bit marred.

Next week's portion is the only one that focuses of Yitzchak. And you can see his character from that, I suppose. He's certainly committed to one wife, unlike his father or son, but he does not consult with her when he tells Avimelech she's his sister. As a matter of fact, the only direct interaction between Yitzchak and Rivkah is when she tells him she can't have Ya'akov marry anyone from Canaan. But, to be fair, that doesn't actually mean anything. The Torah only tells us what's relevant, and perhaps Yitzchak's daily life with Rivkah isn't that relevant. I still wouldn't take them as model marriage, though - they both pick favourites among their children and by the time they get to the Blessings Rivkah seems to not trust Yitzchak to listen to her if she tells him Ya'akov deserves them more. A lot of that us about how you choose to interpret the text, and I might be biased by a Shi'ur I've heard from one of my Rashei Yeshiva once.

I can keep ruining every good part in this by talking about the next time romantic (or more likely erotic) love appears, but I think we can skip Shechem and Dinah. That story is horrible without talking about what love is there, though it might lean into committment considering Shechem's love leads him to want to marry Dinah instead of having this be a one night stand. This stands as a stark opposition to Amnon, who hates Tamar immediately after raping her and is frankly a disgusting human being, but that's another story.

If we want to look at romantic love in the Tanach, going one by one on every mention of love and weighing whether or not it's romantic is going to be exhausting though. So let's just jump into the most obvious book on the topic: Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs!

Honestly, considering my opening I should probably just direct you in that direction and leave it at that. I marred everything with the touch of my opinion so far, maybe I should let the Tanach speak for itself. Especially since I don't really know how to talk about love in the Song of Songs.

Now, don't get me wrong, this is one of my favourite books of the Tanach, despite how it's one of the only two to have semi-erotic descriptions in it. It's widely considered a parable for the love between G-d and the people of Israel, but as I've heard from Rav Aviah HaCohen - if the story in the parable has no worth, then the moral would be empty as well. (Paraphrased from memory and translated to English, please cut me some slack if it doesn't carry the exact right meaning.)

Maybe I'm having trouble talking about that because I never actually experienced romantic love (though I'd be hesitant to call myself aromantic). I could (in theory) talk about the dedication to each other the lovers of the Song of Songs show - "I am for my lover and my lover is for me". Maybe. But I'm not convinced I can say what the Tanach says about love from that. The book is certainly full of passion and dedication. Maybe I should just gently direct you to read and study it yourself, I don't really know.

So, a couple of points: first, thank you for asking me about the Tanach, I love it and actually am currently studying to teach it. However, I would like to ask people who might send farther asks on it to not ask about such nebulous concepts. The Tanach doesn't really have a clear line on it. It would be easier to talk about love in Judaism in general, and that is a complex topic unto itself: you have the commandment to love G-d with all your heart, soul and being; you have Rambam's definition of loving G-d - like a man who is lovesick and can think of nothing but his beloved; then you have the Hassidic terms of love like fire and love like water, the idea of always seeking closeness as one type of love, and simply enjoying the presence of one's loved one presence as another. But point is, it's hard to answer such a question straight from the Tanach, and as a person who did not experience romantic love I'm likely the wrong person to ask.

Please, do ask about the Tanach - but be aware that you're asking me, a person with his pwn biases and conceptions. Be aware you're asking about a collection of books that touches many, many things from multiple different angles. Be aware that I can't really touch all of them. And be aware that when all is said and done, I am just a 20-odd years old guy who studies the Tanach, not an outstanding expert. I still hope I helped, though I'm not all too sure about that.

I don't believe my ask said that biblical criticism has no place at all, only that its position is weaker than you might think. It's still very interesting and while I might not send yeshiva students to learn it I still read some journals myself.

I wanted to clarify a point about the biases in the field. I'm not talking about bigotry necessarily but biases more broadly. There are a lot of assumptions built into how anything gets interpreted and that's pretty much inevitable when working in this field. And because of the complex nature of this material the biases can lead to weird places. That doesn't deny that the in-group also brings biases to their own interpretation - they do! My point is mainly meant to push back on treating the conclusions of bible critics as being more objective or accurate. Fascinating and occasionally insightful? Yes. Scientifically correct? Eh.

Fair, I'm sorry, I wrote without enough acknowledgement to what you yourself said.

My first major problem with this question is that I pick favourites between books in the Tanach. And the book of Judges is low on the list. Due to mostly that, I don't necessarily have a favourite judge, but I can probably pick one with some thought.

My first thought would be Gid‘on. I'm not going to compare him to all other judges, because I don't necessarily remember them all too well, but Gid‘on has, in my opinion, been one of the most level-headed of them - he comes out especially as a good one when compared to his fellow tribesman, Yiphtaḥ. You see, both of them face the same conundrum: their sibling tribe, Ephraim, complain not getting a part in the glory of the fight.

One thing that is easy to overlook in the time of the judges, and I promise this is relevant, is how divided it is. When you actually look at the stories, most of them are isolated to very specific tribes. When the Moabites subjugate Israel, it's a Binyaminite rising against them. The Pelishtim are fased by a Danite who stays around Yehudah. The king of Ḥatzor is faced by a small coalition of Naftalites abd Zevulunites mostly. Yiphtaḥ fights the Ammonites, which is framed as a more general undertaking? But I'm pretty sure that the first time most of the tribes come together is, ironically, against Binyamin, in the Levite's Concubine story. Fun stuff. Point being, the nation is divided, and if Menashe want to rise up against the midianites... Well, Ephraim might not see a reason to join... Until victory is assured, that is. At which point they'll complain not being called.

In all honesty, in both the situations with Gid‘on and Yiphtaḥ, I feel like the Ephrites are whining for nothing. It's not really totally clear, but Yiphtaḥ just blows on them, claiming that he did call them... But let's wheel back a minute and describe the situation.

Both Gid‘on and Yiphtaḥ win their fights against their respective enemies, though Gid‘on keeps going after the incident described. Anyway, right after said victory, the Ephrites come to complain over not being called to partake in the battle. They even threaten violence over that. And here comes the difference between the judges: while Yiphtaḥ escalated, claiming that he did call them and they didn't came, Gid‘on de-escalated, telling them that they captured the leaders, completing the most important part.

And it's not like Gid‘on never takes harsh actions to people refusing to cooperate with him. Look at the people of Sukkot. That might not be a positive trait of his, but his policy is certainly better than Yiphtaḥ. He avoids war over hurt egos, instead only punishing people who refused to lend him aid when he could use it, because they weren't assured he'll win.

Gid‘on also gets a great introduction - literally asking an angel he meets where are all the miracles of the olden days. After destroying a local idol, his father defends him by claiming the god he ruined the altar of can avenge him for it, giving Gid‘on the nickname Yeruba‘al. Meaning "the Ba‘al will fight him", basically.