The Divine Names (2)

The essential quality of the name Elokim is its generality.  The main difference between it and the Tetragrammaton is comparable to the difference that exists between a proper and a common noun.  This distinction has various grammatical ramifications; yet, beyond this, it also has an emotional impact upon us.  We can relate in all kinds of ways to strangers that we happen to see on the street.  However, the central expression of our acquaintance with them and the prerequisite for verbal contact is that we know their name.  Of course, we can speak to them as a passenger speaks to a driver, a cashier to a customer; however, this type of interaction is not what one would call personal acquaintance.  Learning the other's name is akin to the transition from speaking about someone far away, a "he," to speaking to someone close, a "you."  The phrasing of the blessing, "Blessed are you God" expresses the creation of a personal relationship, and direct connection with God.  The prophet, as opposed to the philosopher, knows Him directly.  The knowledge of God is one of the marks of the Jewish nation, and it allows for the calling of God's name, prayer and the hope of divine response.

     In his "Book of The Name," Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra analyzed the differences between proper and common nouns.  He also demonstrated that the Scriptures were careful to preserve these distinctions.  For example, common nouns are not preceded by "the."  In Hebrew, it is correct to use the term "the Elokim," while "the" cannot precede the Tetragrammaton.  A common noun cannot be conjugated, nor can it be articulated in the plural.

     Medieval grammarians compared the relationship between the Hebrew alphabet and the vowels, which are not part of the alphabet but added under the letters, to the relationship between bodies and souls.  This is because one written word may potentially have a number of meanings, depending upon the vowels affixed to the letters.  A word without vowels is like a body without a soul; it is not yet alive.  Similarly, Rihal teaches us, the letters of the Tetragrammaton are like souls.

     Rihal adds a trifling but very important point.  We are forbidden to pronounce the Tetragrammaton and its expression was always a unique one.  This is because the Tetragrammaton is made up of a combination and arrangement of letters which are quite difficult to pronounce together.  In addition, the appropriate vowels for the Tetragrammaton are unknown to us.

     We can now return to the difference between the two types of nouns through a different parable.  A blind man tries to master the streets of the city in which he lives.  With great effort, he will succeed in doing so perfectly or almost perfectly.  Yet, despite this, there remains a difference between the blind man and the person who sees the city with his eyes.  This is the difference between the philosopher and the prophet.  As philosophers, we grope in the dark and attempt to construct a map of the city.  We have reached the conclusion that God exists, but as philosophers we cannot know God personally and directly.  The blind philosopher knows God in the general sense represented by the name Elokim; while the direct petition - that of the sighted prophet - the unmediated encounter between God and man, finds expression in the Tetragrammaton.  The God of the Jews is not the God known to the blind philosopher: "and all those who walk in the path of the divine Torah are attracted to follow those who have the prophetic vision" [4:17].

     However, there is another component to the difference between prophecy and philosophy.  The blind gropings of the philosopher - despite the fact that they are usually successful - inevitably lead to the trap "which gave birth to  heresy and the worthless [religious] approaches."  The examples are as many and varied as the history of ideas.  We will mention only two, which are brought by Rihal.  The first is the mistake of the Dualists, those who believed in the existence of two gods, such as the Persian religion and later the Gnostic groups, who believed in the existence of two divine entities.  The second is the error of another group - the Jahariya - which believed that God exists but only as a physical force, bringing us back to the third of the thirteen principles.  These are errors which strew the path toward a logical solution to the eternal questions.  Of all the human attempts to find God, the finest of all was the philosophical way.  It was powerful, logically consistent and very careful to avoid pitfalls and errors.  It did, in fact, reach the truth, but not the whole truth.  The philosophers sometimes reached partial and incorrect conclusions.  As we have already seen many times, the god of the philosophers does not know, and is not interested in, man.  Thus, the follower of the beliefs of the philosophers has found neither religion nor existential meaning.  Here we return to the Kuzari's response, to the philosopher's presentation at the beginning of the book.  The importance of truth is measured by its ability to create devotion: "and this intuitive knowledge ["ta'am"] brings whomever experiences it to give up his soul and die for his love [whereas] the logical knowledge ["hakasha"] of God demands only an obligation to raise God up as long as it does no harm and one does not suffer from it" [4:16].  The final test of truth lies in the sanctification of God's name in its two senses: sanctification by man, in his willingness to suffer for his beliefs, and sanctification by God Himself, through the final redemption.

(This lecture was translated by Gila Weinberg.)