What about those "Ten Commandments"?

The Decalogue, from the Greek meaning “ten words,” and more popularly known as “The Ten Commandments,” are statements G!d uttering them to Moses, who in turn transmitted them to Yisrael. This is recorded in two places in the Torah; in Deuteronomy 5:6–18 and in Exodus 20:2–14. Ex. 34:28, Deut. 4:13 and Deut. 10:4 refers to them as aseret ha-devarim, while Rabbinical texts use aseret ha-dibrot.  

Both d’varim and dibrot are derived from the Hebrew root dalet-beit-reish which means word, speak, or thing, and more accurately translates as the Ten Sayings, the Ten Statements, the Ten Declarations, the Ten Words or even the Ten Things, but not as the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments in Hebrew would be aseret ha-mitzvot, and that term is never used.

Tradition tells us that G!d spoke all of these commandments in one instant, so as not to imply priority, but to give them all equal weight. In his comments on this passage, Rashi quotes the Midrash, that all ten statements were pronounced twice.  First, all were stated simultaneously.  Then, each was individually repeated.  This begs the questions, why were the statements first stated simultaneously, if they were to be immediately individually repeated?  What purpose was served or message communicated by merging the ten statements into a single simultaneous pronouncement?

Gur Aryeh al haTorah, a rabbinic commentary by Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, responds that the simultaneous presentation of the ten statements communicated the important message that they are a single integrated system, and adds that these ten statements are inclusive of all of the Torah’s commandments.  

The Ten Words are at the center of the revelation at Sinai. The rabbis say that though G!d only spoke the first two commandments and Moses the rest, the people felt as if they heard the entirety directly from G!d. A reading of the two versions found in the books of Exodus and Deuteronomy reveals quite a few differences, but the rabbis maintain that both versions were transmitted in a single act of speech (Babylonian Talmud, Shevuot 20b).  
 

The rabbis distinguish and categorize the commandments in a number of ways. These reflect the rabbinic tendency to classify and systematize matters, and their attempt to make sense of the vast number of laws they considered to be binding. 
 

Rashi, in Shemot 24:12, is understood by many to say that the aseret ha-dibrot are not perceived as individual mitzvot, but considered to be categories or classifications of mitzvot, with each of the 613 mitzvot being subcategorized under one of these ten statements, some in more obvious ways than others. (“All 613 mitzvoth are included in the Ten Commandments. In the ‘Azharoth’ that he composed for each commandment [of the Ten], Rabbenu Saadiah [Goan] explained the mitzvoth dependent upon it [each commandment]. [from Jonathan, Num. Rabbah 13:16]”). 

 

So there are not ten commandments, really, but ten principles, and not ten mitzvot, but ten categories for the 613 mitzvot. The ten are not the entirety, but the summary of the entirety. The earliest attempt to classify and group the mitzvot under the general headings of the Decalogue is by Philo. Grouping the laws of the Torah under the generalized headings of the Decalogue is seen as an integral aspect of the traditional view of Torah as a whole.

The equation of 613 (Mitzvot) with the Decalogue gave rise to a form of literature called Azharoth. These are a form of  Piyyut which takes each declaration of the Decalogue to refer to a group of mitzvot, or each letter of the Decalogue to represent a particular mitzvah and lists the mitzvot accordingly. Rav Saadiah Gaon of the 10^th century CE composed not one but two Azharoth. He asserted that the Law engraved upon the stone tablets was in reality the 613 in the form of an Azharah. He classified all the 613 mitzvot within the framework of the Decalogue and grouped them under the ten headings of the Decalogue. For instance, he sets all the marital laws under the prohibition of adultery in the Decalogue.

If the Decalogue was of no higher status or of more religious import than the rest of the Torah and the mitzvot, the question remains: what was so special about these Ten Declarations, this Decalogue? Why were these particularly engraved upon the tablets as a symbol of covenant? Perhaps the answer to these questions lie in that moment at Sinai. Seven weeks after liberation from slavery, this newly formed people needed basic guidelines to begin this liberation process in their hearts and minds. Perhaps Moses thought, “You can take the people Yisrael out of Egypt, but can you take Egypt out of the people Yisrael? That was the difficult task faced by Moses. 

Nachmanides, Rabbi Nachman ben Moses of 12^th century Spain, stresses the injustice of slavery on the basis of the Decalogue. The opening statement, “I am the Lord your G!d who brought you out of Egypt” implies “if I the Lord freed you from slavery, you have no right to enslave others.” The proclamation, “I am the Lord your G!d…” and “You shall have no other gods before me” speak directly to the slave mentality that needed to be overcome. The sages explain that when Moses had to defend his right to deliver the Decalogue from its heavenly abode in the possession of the angels to the earthly Israelites, he argues: “What is written therein? ‘I am the Lord…who brought you out of the land of Egypt.’ Did you, the angels, go down to Egypt? Were you enslaved to Pharaoh? Why then should the Torah be yours?” In that vein, some categorize the Ten Principles as speaking to the condition of no longer acting as slaves.

Despite its dramatic focus as the covenant at Sinai, Jewish tradition has stressed that the Decalogue was not more important than the rest of the Torah. The Talmudic sages made it a point not to stand for the reading of the Decalogue in the synagogue even during the festival of Shavuot, and furthermore, referred to this festival in Jewish tradition as the “Season of the Giving of the Torah” and not “the giving of the Decalogue.” In ancient times, the Decalogue was recited daily in the liturgy. This practice was annulled so as not to give credence to those who declared that only the Decalogue is Divine. 

Yet, identifying exactly which statements in the Pentateuch formally constitute the specific mitzvot was not easy, since there are literally thousands of legal “thou shalts” and “thou shalt nots” in the text. This difficulty inspired many books by great scholars over the ages. One of the most famous is Maimonides’ Book of the Mitzvot. There was another effort in the Netherlands in 1745 with Torat Kattan, written by Rabbi Gedalia of Amsterdam. And it is not only the number of mitzvot, but even the minutest details that were ordained on Mount Sinai, say the Talmudic sages. The relationship between Decalogue and Torah is that of the general rule to the detail. The Torah is but the amplification of the Decalogue and embraces the entire legal system of the Torah.

Second century Rabbi Akiva stated that loving one’s neighbor as oneself, was, in a nutshell, the essence of the entire Torah, yet this teaching is not explicitly stated in the Decalogue. Again, though there are also many dietary laws among the 613 mitzvot, not a single one is expressed in the Decalogue. Nor is the “teaching of Torah,” which in rabbinic parlance is the weightiest of all the mitzvot and the equal of them all.

Perhaps what takes precedence at Mt. Sinai was the sense of urgency and need to address a weak, demoralized survivor group of slaves. G!d is presented in the Decalogue as the One “who took you out of Egypt, from out of the house of bondage” and not, the One “who created heaven and earth.” If the mitzvot are a complex “spiritual fitness” program, they clearly cannot be reduced to ten. Life is too complicated, people too varied, social and political realities too diverse. The 613 mitzvot can be categorized within a framework of the Decalogue, but that might only occur if we view the Decalogue as a teaching device. 

Rabbi Simlai asserts that 613 mitzvot were transmitted at Sinai, and a further discussion follows in the Talmud. The view is there expressed that when King David came, he reduced this number to eleven. The eleven that are identified are taken from David’s Psalm 15, wherein he ponders, “who is worthy to come into Your presence?” and then follows with a reply describing a person with eleven virtues: uprightness, righteousness, truthfulness, does not slander, nor do evil, is not critical, who despises the wicked, who honors the moral person, is honest, doesn’t lend money at interest, nor accepts a bribe.

Once again, we are left asking ourselves, if the Decalogue were the absolute essence of the Torah, why was not it, rather than Psalm 15, invoked in the Talmudic discussion of Rabbi Simlai’s words as the compact essence of the Torah? Add to this the fact that this Talmudic discussion further reduces the number to six, then three, then two, and finally, one fundamental virtue. Interestingly, the one to which all the 613 are reduced in this discourse, is that, “the righteous shall live by his faith.” (Habakkuk 2:4).

What that rabbinic discussion clearly demonstrates is the view that, depending on the situation and need, the mitzvot can, for the purpose of instruction, be distilled to certain points of emphasis, while simultaneously asserting that they cannot be reduced at all in an absolute sense. 

Perhaps, they are 613 spiritual possibilities. For this concept, we turn to the Pharisaic sage, Rabbi Chanaya, the son of Akashya, who explained that “The Holy One, blessed be He [sic], was pleased to make Israel worthy; therefore, He [sic] gave them a copious Torah and many commandments.” Maimonides, in his commentary on this, says that we were given so many mitzvot so as to have the opportunity to become really excellent in at least one, perhaps the one that expresses, for each one of us, our unique individuality. So perhaps the Decalogue was the only first introduction to this vast array of 613 spiritual possibilities.

At the end of the day, there is so much unstated here about the Decalogue. It simply cannot be covered with brevity. I have not touched on the Ten Words as covenantal treaty, or even as a covenant unto itself. Nor have I explored the subject of the tablets, by whom and how they were inscribed, and the number of which appeared on each tablet. Even the topic of their place in Jewish liturgy throughout the decades has much to reveal, including some evidence that the Ten Things were also among the texts included in the tefillin.

The sages of the Talmud argued against giving the Ten Words special prominence. To this day, some communities stand during the reading of the commandments and some don’t. The sages did have the final say in that we no longer read these Ten Principles as part of the Shema, or give them any other special liturgical prominence, and today, they are read aloud in the synagogue three times a year: during the yearly readings of Exodus and Deuteronomy, and during the festival of Shavuot.

There is no doubt that the Decalogue has exerted a greater influence on the development of law than many other texts, whether religious or secular. Its impact on the course of human experience has never been equaled. Aseret haDibrot, the Ten Sayings of Jewish tradition, are the most universally famous statements of morality. Rabbi Nathan Laufer describes them in The Genesis of Leadership as G!d’s “fundamental strategic values” necessary to achieve the vision of humans who will “act with sensitivity and responsibility toward G!d and other human beings…”. 

Of certainty is that the genius of the Decalogue goes far beyond its 10 discrete sayings, as illustrated by the wide-ranging perspectives of biblical commentaries. As Candace R. Kwiatek wrote in The Dayton Jewish Observer in 2011, “For the historian, the Decalogue is the source of three unique concepts: ethical monotheism, the inseparability of religious and secular/social obligations, and community united by obligation rather than interest. These ideas would go on to provide the foundation for Western Civilization and the great American experiment.... For the linguist, the question is why they aren’t called the Ten Commandments, but rather Aseret Ha’Devarim/Ten Utterances, in Jewish tradition.... For the mystics of the Zohar, the Commandments are like mirror images: ‘In these five utterances everything is contained. In the (first) five utterances are embodied (the latter) five others. Indeed, there are five within five…’ These mystical descriptions of the Commandments capture the Jewish view that spirituality isn’t just one’s connection with G!d and ethics aren’t just one’s interactions with others: spirituality and ethics are one and the same. ...For the literary analyst, the very structure of the Commandments is significant. ...In this view, the Commandments are not only about guiding our interactions with God and others, but also about improving our own inner spirit. For the information technology specialist, the context of the Commandments provides the most interesting clue. ...The invention of the alphabet was a change in information technology that had a universal impact because... it made writing, reading, and learning accessible to the masses. And the first alphabet (to which all others are related) was Semitic in origin, appearing in Egypt just prior to the Exodus. Thus, our ancestors were to be, at GId’s command, a society of universal literacy. ...”

We can state with confidence that posting these words prominently in schools and other public buildings, notwithstanding whose version and translation would be the “right” one, and referring to them as “The Ten Commandments,” as if there weren’t any others, may be teaching a message that Judaism specifically and consciously rejected decades ago. 

In the final analysis, just as a mitzvah is not merely an ethical prohibition, and more properly understood as an action that a person can do to make life sacred, so we can also say of the Decalogue. It is a gateway, perhaps, to making every action of our daily lives more sacred, whether because we view it as a mandatory covenant or a teaching tool or some other equally valid viewpoint. As Ben Bag Bag tells us in Pirkei Avot, when it comes to these Ten Words, we must, as we do the entire Torah, “Turn it, and turn it, for everything is in it. Reflect on it and grow old and gray with it. Don't turn from it, for nothing is better than it.”