Let’s dive into Chapter 7 of Rambam’s "Eight Chapters," where we take a little stroll through the mystical realm of prophets, barriers, and the ultimate quest to connect with the Divine. But don't worry, we’re going to keep it light, fun, and maybe even a bit cheeky.
So, imagine this: you're at a concert, right? You're pumped, the music’s about to start, but you’ve got this huge crowd in front of you. These people are your "barriers." Some are super tall, some are wearing ridiculous hats, and no matter how much you jump, you can’t quite get a clear view of the stage. Now, picture this same scenario but with prophets trying to see HaShem (God). Each prophet has their own set of "barriers"—but instead of tall people and hats, these barriers are moral and intellectual flaws. The fewer the flaws, the closer they get to a clear view of the Divine.
In this chapter, Rambam riffs on an idea found in Midrash, Haggadah, and Talmud—basically, the ancient sages’ equivalent of Instagram, Twitter, and Reddit. According to these sources, prophets each have their own level of access to HaShem, depending on how many barriers they’ve got between them and the Big Guy. And guess who had the least barriers of all? That’s right, Moses! He’s like that one friend who somehow always gets front-row tickets. The sages say he saw HaShem through a single, clear partition, like looking through a spotless window.
Now, Rambam breaks it down further, explaining that these barriers are really just flaws—some are intellectual, like being a bit slow on the uptake, and others are moral, like being a little too into the idea of revenge. And while we all have our quirks (I mean, who doesn’t secretly wish they could sneak a whole cake sometimes?), these flaws are what stand between us and a deeper connection with HaShem. When the prophet Isaiah said, “But your iniquities have separated you from your God,” he wasn’t just being dramatic. He was pointing out that these flaws are like the walls that keep us from being totally in sync with the Divine.
So, let’s talk about what makes a prophet a prophet. According to Rambam, to get that holy Wi-Fi connection, you need to have all the mental smarts and most of the major moral virtues. In other words, prophets aren’t just any random folks—they’re wise, brave, and content with what they’ve got. The sages even said that prophecy rests only on the wise, the brave, and the rich. But don’t get it twisted—by “rich,” they mean someone who’s rich in spirit, not the guy flexing his new Tesla. Being rich in this sense is all about being content with what you have, which, if you think about it, is way more valuable than any material wealth.
But here’s where things get juicy. You don’t have to be perfect to be a prophet. Rambam drops some names—like Solomon, who had a thing for way too many wives, and David, who was a little too into slaying his enemies. Both had their flaws, yet they were still prophets. This is like finding out your favorite celebrity has a weird habit but is still totally awesome at what they do. Even the great Elijah had a temper that God thought might be a little too fiery for the job. Rambam is saying that these imperfections are like smudges on a glass—still clear enough to see through but not without their issues.
Now, don’t go thinking that having a couple of bad habits is no big deal. Rambam makes it clear that certain flaws can totally kill the prophetic vibe. Take anger, for example. The rabbis said that if a prophet gets too heated, the prophecy just poofs away. It’s like when you’re in a heated argument, and you totally forget the point you were making. You lose that connection. Even stress and sadness can block the prophetic flow. Just look at Jacob, who lost his divine mojo while grieving for Joseph until he found out his son was alive. Basically, good vibes only if you want to keep that prophetic signal strong.
And then there’s Moses, the ultimate prophet. By the time he asked God to "show me Your glory," he had pretty much cleared away all his barriers. But HaShem was like, "Sorry, dude, no one can see my full essence and live." So, Moses got as close as humanly possible, but there was still that one last partition—his human intellect, still bound by the physical world. God did give Moses a little extra glimpse, though, which was kind of like getting a backstage pass after the concert’s over—still awesome, but not the full deal.
Rambam wraps up by reminding us that while the sages recognized the greatness of some prophets, they never fully equated anyone with Moses. They might say someone was "like Joshua," but that’s just a comparison, not an equality. Moses was in a league of his own, and that’s something even the greatest prophets couldn’t quite reach.
So, the takeaway here? Even if you’ve got a few smudges on your spiritual window, you can still catch some divine rays. Just keep polishing those virtues, and who knows? Maybe one day you’ll have your own clear view of the stage.
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