As we noted last time, the very first word of the Rambam’s Introduction to the Commentary on the Mishnah is דע — know. We took this to mean that the idea which follows is meant to transform how we understand the Mishnah itself. We are now ready to read that idea.

And when we do, we may find ourselves underwhelmed.

I ask for a little patience. Let us work our way through the Rambam’s opening lines, and I believe the significance of what he is saying will become clear — even if, on first reading, it seems almost obvious.

Here is what he writes:

דע כי כל מצוה שנתן ה׳ למשה רבינו — נתנה לו עם פרושה

Know that every mitzvah which God gave to Moshe, He gave with its explanation.

This does not, at first glance, seem like a particularly profound claim. But let us slow down and notice what the Rambam is telling us. According to him, two things were given to Moshe at Sinai: the mitzvah itself, and its peyrush — its explanation. The commandment, and the explanation of the commandment.

We will want to understand these two terms more precisely — what exactly was given, and why the Rambam insists on the distinction. But the Rambam himself seems sensitive to the need for clarification, because he immediately elaborates. Using Rav Shilat’s Hebrew translation of the Arabic original, the Rambam continues: God would say to Moshe the mikra.

This word deserves attention. A mikra is not merely a text that is written down and read. It is a text that is written down to be publicly recited. The word carries within it the act of proclamation — a verse designed not only for private study but for the ears of all who would hear it. We should not underestimate the importance of this idea, and we will have reason to return to it.

The Rambam then tells us that after giving Moshe the mikra, God would give him three further things: its peyrush, its inyan, and all that the mikra ha-mukhkam encompasses.

Let us take these one at a time.

The peyrush is the explanation — what the words of the verse mean. The grammar, the concepts, the plain sense of the language. If you have a legal text, the peyrush answers: what do these words say?

The inyan is harder to pin down. Rav Shilat, drawing on the Arabic source, describes it as an explanation that goes beyond the plain meaning of the language. My friend R’ Daniel Price translates the Arabic term as “elucidation” and, citing an article by Cohen, defines it as “clarifying matters not explicit in the text, but nonetheless intended.”

This is a subtle but important distinction. The peyrush explains what the words mean. The inyan clarifies what the words intend — the subject matter, the issues the text is addressing, the implications that flow from the stated principle even though they are not contained in the literal grammar.

Consider, by way of analogy, the Fifth Amendment to the United States Constitution:

No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.

We can explain what these words mean — that is the peyrush. But what is due process? What procedures are required? Must a person receive notice before a hearing? What counts as impartial? What standards of evidence apply? Can a trial be dragged out for years? Is there a right of appeal?

These questions are not answered by the phrase itself. Yet, if one is aware of the context and discussion surrounding this phrase, they will understand that the phrase relates to these (and other similar) ideas. That is the inyan — the elucidation of what the principle encompasses.

Finally, the Rambam speaks of the mikra ha-mukhkam and all that it contains. I understand this as a “wisdom-filled mikra.” That is to say, that mikra — that verse which is written to be recited — is full of wisdom. Meaning, that it is precisely phrased, and within that precision are ideas and interpretations which are just waiting to be discovered.

So here is what emerges. According to the Rambam, what was given at Sinai was not simply a list of commandments. It was a carefully constructed text — a mikra, designed to be both studied and publicly recited — together with: its explanation (what the words mean), its elucidation (what the words intend), and everything that the precisely composed text encompasses.

The Rambam offers a concrete example, and it is worth examining. He turns to the mitzvah of Sukkos and quotes the verse:

בסכת תשבו שבעת ימים

Let us leave the verse untranslated for a moment and simply ask the obvious questions.

What is a sukkah? What does it mean to sit — or perhaps dwell — in one? Who is obligated? Men only, or women as well? What if a person is sick, or traveling? What materials may be used to build a sukkah? What is its minimum size? What activities must be done inside it?

None of these questions are answered by the verse itself. The information exists elsewhere — in the explanation that accompanied the directive.

The Rambam lists a number of these details: who is obligated, what materials are permitted, what activities are required, the minimum dimensions. These are not in the verse. They cannot be derived from the verse alone. The verse states the principle. The explanation makes it functional.

I find it helpful to think of an analogy from everyday life.

Imagine you walk into your child’s room and find a disaster. Clothes — dirty and clean — piled together. Half-eaten food. Books, games, and toys all jumbled into one magnificent heap. You issue your directive: Clean up your room. And you walk out.

An hour later you return, and to your amazement, the room looks spotless. Not a thing in sight. Until you notice that the bedsheet hangs all the way to the floor. Your son watches nervously as you lift the sheet and discover everything — all the clothes, all the food, all the toys — stuffed under the bed.

And so you explain what you meant. Dirty clothes go in the laundry. Clean clothes go on the shelf. Books go on the bookshelf. Food and garbage go in the garbage can.

The explanation tells your son what it means to have fulfilled the directive. Stuffing everything under the bed does not count. (Whether the clothes in the closet need to be folded — that, perhaps, is a machlokis between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel.)

This, I believe, is the first fundamental idea in the Rambam’s introduction. When we speak of the 613 mitzvos — or perhaps more precisely, 613 Toros (תורות) — we are speaking of directives. General principles. Statements of what is to be accomplished, but not yet how to accomplish it.

You cannot do melacha on Shabbos. You must place totafos between your eyes. You must dwell in a sukkah for seven days.

Not one of these lines tells you how to do what you are being told to do, or even what exactly you are supposed to do.

Take our verse about Sukkos: you shall תשבו in the sukkah for seven days. Does תשבו mean sit — and not stand? Or does it mean “dwell” — i.e., to live in the Succah for seven days? And if it does mean “dwell”, then what does one have to actually do in order to be considered “dwelling” in a Succah?

The answer is not in the verse. It is in the explanation.

The verse is the principle — the what. The explanation provides the how.

And so let us return, with fresh eyes, to the Rambam’s opening lines.

Know that every mitzvah, every general directive, was given with its explanation for how to fulfill that principle.

G-d would give Moshe the mikra: the written formulation of the base legal idea, composed in an extremely exact literary and legal manner. Designed both for recitation and interpretation.

And then He would give its explanation — what the words mean — and its elucidation — the subject matter it addresses, the implications it carries, the matters intended though not stated.

And everything that this carefully constructed verse encompasses: who it applies to, who it does not, and under what conditions.

The Torah’s commandments, in other words, are like the phrase “due process of law.” The principle is stated with magnificent economy. But without the accompanying body of explanation, the principle alone cannot function. Look at halacha after halacha in the Torah, and you can see from how each is written that it requires an explanation if it is going to work — if it is going to be livable.

That is the Rambam’s first point. We are still far from the Mishnah — we have not gotten close to it yet. But we are not quite as far as we were when we started.

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The Rambam begins his introduction to the Mishnah with a single word: דע.

Da. Know.

It’s easy to skip past this short little word. To not pay it much thought. But that, I believe, is a mistake. There is quite a bit hidden in that word, and we would be wise to take a moment to understand it.

As such, let’s turn to what may be the best initial source to try and understand this word — the very book named after it: Sefer HaMadah (ספר המדע -- Sefer HaMadah).

Note the name. It shares the same root as our two-lettered friend — ידע, to know.

And also note that the Rambam actually explains why he named this work Sefer HaMadah. Of course, it’s not so easy to find — one has to know where to look.

We start with the Rambam’s introduction to the Mishnah Torah.
We then continue by skipping that introduction.

At this point we have hit a section called Minyan HaMitzvos (מנין המצוות -- The Count of the Mitzvos). This is a section where the Rambam lists all the mitzvos in the Torah. 248 positive commandments (מצוות עשה) and 365 negative commandments (מצוות לא תעשה).

We will skip that section also.

Then, after enumerating them all — and after a short section discussing them — the Rambam writes the following line:

וראיתי לחלק חיבור זה לארבעה עשר ספרים

And I saw fit to divide this work into fourteen books.

This is the section we want. It’s short and easy to pass by. If you find yourself in the area where the Rambam lists all the different halachos found in each of these fourteen books, then you have gone too far.

Come back and enjoy this view — because it is here that we will finally find what we have been looking for:

ספר ראשון

אכלול בו כל המצוות שהן עיקר דת משה רבינו וצריך אדם לידע אותן תחלת הכל

First Book

In it, I will include all the mitzvos that are the essence of the religion of Moshe Rabbeinu, and a person needs to know them before anything else.

I love this line.

Because (as we will see) this line will give us our working-hypothesis for what the Rambam means by דע. Of course, as we make our way through the Rambam, we may need to update, modify or radically change our hypothesis. But for now, we have something to work with.

So let’s dive deeper into what the Rambam is saying here.

Sefer HaMadah, says the Rambam, is not like any other sefer (book) in the Mishnah Torah. Rather, it contains a special class or category of Mitzvos — namely, those Mitzvos which one needs to know first (תחלת הכל) because they are the essence of the entire system of Torah (עיקר דת משה רבנו).

Now, this is a bit abstract. We need something concrete to help us fully understand what it is that the Rambam is saying.

And I have just the story for that.

A Real World Example

The story I have in mind involves a man named Stephen Covey (the author of the ever so famous book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People).

In this story, Covey was riding a subway when a man boarded with his children. The children were not just misbehaving.

They were yelling.
Throwing things back and forth.
Grabbing other people’s newspapers (remember those).

And the father?

He simply sat there, closed his eyes and did nothing. This irked Covey.

How could the father be so insensitive to everyone else?
How could he not take responsibility for his children?

Eventually, Covey confronted the man.

Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn’t control them a little more?

The man looked up at Covey — as if he was just now becoming aware that his kids were misbehaving — and softly replied:

“Oh, you’re right. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital, where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think, and I guess they don’t know how to handle it, either.”

In that moment, everything changed for Covey. His entire interpretation of the situation changed.

What he thought changed.
How he felt changed.
What he said changed.
How he acted changed.

But you know what did not change — the actual situation.

It was the same boys running wild in the same subway car. It was the same father who was still doing nothing to rein them in.

All the data, all the facts — the entire reality — was exactly as it had been one moment earlier.

The only thing that changed was the information that Covey had. He now knew something that he did not know before.

And with that knowledge, his entire perspective and experience were fundamentally transformed.

Bringing it Back to the Rambam

Now let’s go back and read the Rambam’s words again:

וצריך אדם לידע אותן תחלת הכל

A person needs to know them before anything else.

Notice the Rambam’s language.

It’s not enough to just know these Mitzvos at some time point in one’s learning. No, these are Mitzvos that one needs to know before anything else.

Why?

Because without this knowledge, a person will experience the entire Torah the way Covey experienced that father and his children — with all the facts in front of him, but missing the crucial information needed to understand those facts.

As such, we now have our working definition of what the Rambam means by דע:

Daas (דעת) is knowledge that transforms how you understand the facts in front of you.

And the Rambam himself signals this in the name he chose. He didn’t call it Sefer Madah — the Book of Knowledge (ספר מדע). He called it Sefer HaMadah — the Book of the Knowledge.

Note that word “the”. It sticks out. No other book in the Mishnah Torah has “the” in its name. Why does this one?

The word “the” is a defining and limiting word.

Can you please bring me the book.

That means I have a particular book in mind. Not just any old book, but a specific one.

So too, for the Rambam. Not just any old knowledge, but specific, crucial, essential knowledge — the knowledge that transforms how we understand the Mitzvos of the Torah.

Back to the Mishnah

With that said, let’s return to the first word of the Rambam’s Introduction to the Mishnah: דע.

It is in command form — there is something (says the Rambam) which you have to know. Some bit of information which will transform how you understand the Mishnah.

So, what is it?

That’s what we need to find out. And we’ll start on that avodah in the very next article.

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