Mordechai Z. Cohen. The Rule of Peshat

In Jewish biblical interpretation, the term peshat normally refers to the “plain” sense of Scripture, which has often been understood as the product of “systematic philological-contextual and historically sensitive analysis” (p. 1). Whereas the sages of the Talmud placed greater emphasis on creative midrash used to derive religious law, Jewish interpreters of the Middle Ages gave increasing attention to peshat exegesis. This medieval interpretive trend was often supported with a saying from the Talmud: “a biblical verse does not leave the realm of its peshat” (Cohen calls this “the peshat maxim”). Some modern scholars, starting with a clearly defined concept of the peshat sense (e.g., “what the text really says”), have described the growth of peshat exegesis as a linear progression from early, imperfect efforts (e.g., Rashi) to genuine, consistent peshat interpretation (e.g., Rashbam). In The Rule of Peshat, Mordechai Cohen argues for a more nuanced account of this movement that seeks to understand precisely how key figures in medieval Jewish exegesis variously understood the peshat sense.The first two chapters address the origins of medieval peshat exegesis in the eighth and ninth centuries under the influence of Islamic learning (ch. 1), and the expansion of peshat interpretation in the tenth and eleventh centuries in Muslim Spain (ch. 2). Chapter 2 describes the development of the Karaite movement (which focused on Scripture and rejected rabbinic authority) in dialogue with Rabbanite Jews on the topic of biblical interpretation. In Qur’anic exegesis, a distinction was made between clear expressions that may be interpreted according to their “apparent” (Arabic: ẓāhir) sense, and ambiguous expressions that are subject to nonliteral interpretation (Arabic: taʼwīl). The most important Karaite interpreter, Yefet ben Eli (ca. 915–1007), favored the “apparent” sense but deviated from this sense when the text is obscure or when it contradicts reason or a clearer verse. Among Rabbanites, Saadia Gaon (882–942) and Samuel ben Hofni (d. 1013) likewise insisted on starting with the “apparent” (ẓāhir) sense but sought a different meaning when this sense contradicts sense perception, reason, a clearer verse, or rabbinic tradition. Samuel ben Hofni cites the peshat maxim to justify this view. Cohen refers to this as a “weak reading” of the maxim, because the peshat sense is merely a starting point that can be set aside when it presents a problem. Chapter 3 details the Andalusian (Spanish) school of Jewish exegesis, which contains several figures who follow in the line of Saadia and Samuel ben Hofni. But it also preserves an alternative perspective in Jonah Ibn Janah (ca. 990–ca. 1050), for whom the peshat maxim proves that the peshat sense maintains its validity alongside the equally valid midrashic meaning. Cohen calls this dual hermeneutic a “strong reading” of the maxim, because the peshat sense always maintains its integrity. In these chapters, advances in peshat exegesis are explained in the areas of grammar, lexicography, poetics, and literary conventions.In chs. 3 and 4, the growth of peshat exegesis in Northern France is addressed. Chapter 3 is devoted to R. Solomon ben Isaac (“Rashi,”1040–1105). Particularly helpful is Cohen’s discussion of recent scholarship on Rashi’s understanding of the peshat sense. Rashi’s stated aim was “to relate only the peshat of Scripture and the sort of aggadah that settles the words of Scripture” (p. 98). In the end, it is concluded that Rashi valued peshat exegesis, but did not see it as his final goal; rather, he saw the peshat sense as “a stepping-stone to arrive at Scripture’s deeper sense, providing a framework for selecting midrashic interpretations that ‘settle’ the language” (p. 126). Cohen places this interpretive stance within the context of medieval Christian exegesis, which saw the “literal” sense as a “foundation” (fundamentum) for spiritual interpretation. Chapter 4 focuses on Rashi’s successors in Northern France, Joseph Qara (ca. 1050–1130) and R. Samuel ben Meir (“Rashbam,” ca. 1080–1160). Both these interpreters showed special interest in textual context, flow of thought, language conventions (including parallelism), and the human authors of Scripture. Although Qara and Rashbam were primarily interested in peshat interpretation, they also affirmed midrashic interpretation (especially related to halakhah), even if the two interpretations contradict. For Rashbam in particular, the peshat maxim proves that a verse never loses its peshat sense, although it may also have a midrashic sense.Chapter 5 provides a fresh survey of recently discovered sources in the history of medieval Jewish exegesis, namely, Byzantine Jewish sources. A range of positions are held by figures in this tradition, including that of Tobiah ben Eliezer (late eleventh century), who favors midrash and cites the peshat maxim simply as a concession, and that of Menahem ben Solomon (early twelfth century), who privileges peshat interpretation.Chapters 6, 7, and 8 offer insightful and well-illustrated treatments of well-known figures, Ibn Ezra (1089–1164), Maimonides (1138–1204), and Naḥmanides (1194–1270). For Ibn Ezra, the peshat maxim supports his view that the peshat sense represents the biblical text’s only genuine meaning. In consequence of this view, he is sometimes required to adopt a figurative reading as his peshat interpretation, he cannot allow the peshat meaning to contradict authoritative halakhah, and he must construe halakhic midrash merely as a support (asmakhta) for rabbinic tradition. Maimonides argued that only halakhah grounded in the peshat sense can claim biblical authority (de-orayta), whereas halakhah based on midrashic exegesis is merely of rabbinic authority (de-rabbanan). In his Arabic writings, Maimonides often sets aside the “apparent” meaning (ẓāhir) and favors nonliteral interpretation (taʼwīl) in order to address philosophical issues, such as anthropomorphic depictions of God. This has caused some confusion, because the Arabic ẓāhir has frequently been rendered into Hebrew as peshat. But these words are not the same for Maimonides: the ẓāhir is the “apparent” meaning that strikes a reader at first glance, but it may not be the intended meaning (i.e., the peshat), which, ironically, is sometimes perceived with the help of rabbinic tradition. Finally, Naḥmanides asserts that all Talmudic halakhah derived from Scripture through midrash has full biblical authority. Moreover, he appeals to the peshat maxim to affirm the peshat sense as the basis for his system of four biblical senses: peshat (“plain” sense), derash (halakhic-midrashic sense), remez (typological hints, pointing forward in time), and sod (kabbalistic sense, pointing to supernal truths). Cohen offers a useful comparison between Naḥmanides and the medieval Christian four senses of Scripture.The account of medieval Jewish peshat exegesis that Cohen weaves around these key figures is both engaging and informative. Of course, given Cohen’s ambitious attempt to describe and categorize his diverse sources, it is possible to question certain interpretations. For example, I was not fully convinced that the anonymous Andalusian commentator on Chronicles meant nothing more by the term peshat than “succinct interpretation” (pp. 71–73). Moreover, the book would benefit from a general summary and conclusion. Still, my overall response to The Rule of Peshat was gratitude for how much I learned. I highly recommend this book for all those interested in the interpretation of the HB or the general history of biblical interpretation

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