Min haMuvhar

The modern era in the Western world has witnessed numerous assaults on the patterns of traditional religious life. Science has changed the way people think; technology has changed the way they live. Autonomous, human-centered theology has come to replace heteronomous, God-centered theology. Rationalism and positivism have constricted metaphysics. Respect for authority and hierarchies has been replaced by an emphasis on individuality and egalitarianism. The challenges of modernity are symbolized by such names as Darwin, Schleiermacher, Freud, Einstein, Ayn Rand.

The modern era has also seen dramatic changes in the physical patterns of life: vast migrations from the farms to the cities; mass emigration (often as refugees) from one country or continent to another; shrinking family size; increased mobility; expansion of educational opportunities; phenomenal technological change.

Peter Berger has described modem individuals as suffering "spiritual homelessness." People have lost their sense of being part of a comprehensive, cohesive and understandable world.

For the Jewish people, the modern period has been particularly challenging. Jews were given the possibility of entering the mainstream of Western civilization. As the first winds of change swept into Jewish neighborhoods and ghettos, many Jews were enticed to leave traditional Jewish life behind. They hoped to gain acceptance into the general society by abandoning or modifying their religious beliefs and observances. Some went so far as to convert to other religions. The Haskalah--Jewish "enlightenment"--attracted numerous intellectuals who sought to modernize Jewish culture. The result was a secularization and objectification of Judaism.

The traditional religious framework was threatened by the Reform movement. Reform was an attempt of 19th century Western European Jews to "sanitize" Judaism by discarding Jewish laws and traditions. Reform wanted to make Judaism appear more "cultured" and socially respectable.

Whereas in previous eras, the masses of Jews accepted the authority of Torah and halakha, the modern period experienced a transition to the opposite situation--the masses of Western Jews no longer accepted the authority of Torah and halakha. In their desire to succeed in the modern world, many were ready to cast aside the claims of Jewish tradition. When large numbers of European Jews came to the United States during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, this phenomenon continued and expanded. A sizable majority of American Jews came to be affiliated with non-Orthodox movements or chose to remain unaffiliated with any movement at all.

In the face of tremendous defections from classic halakhic Judaism, the Orthodox community fought valiantly to maintain the time-honored beliefs and observances which they had inherited from their ancestors. But the Orthodox responses to the challenges of the modern situation were not monolithic. Some advocated a rejectionist stand, arguing that modern Western culture was to be eschewed to the extent possible. The "outside world," including non-Orthodox society, presented a danger to the purity of Jewish religious tradition; isolation was the best approach for Jews who wished to remain loyal to Torah and halakha. On the other hand, another Orthodox approach called for the active participation of Jews in general society while at the same time maintaining a strict allegiance to halakha. The task was to keep a balance of Torah with derekh eretz (worldly concerns/culture), Torah with madda (general knowledge).
These attitudes within Orthodoxy, as well as variations within the themes, have characterized Orthodox Jewish life since the mid-nineteenth century.

The strength of Orthodoxy has been its heroic devotion to Torah and halakha, even in the face of criticism and hostility. Orthodoxy alone maintains a total commitment to the Divine nature of the Torah and the binding authority of halakha. Orthodoxy is inextricably bound to all past generations of Torah observant Jews, and is faithfully confident that with the coming of the Messiah all Jews will return to traditional Torah life. Yet, it is the peculiar genius of Modern Orthodoxy to be thoroughly loyal to Torah and halakha while being open to modern thought and participating creatively in society.

Non-Orthodox detractors accuse Orthodoxy of being too bound by tradition, inflexible, unreceptive to modernity.
Non-Orthodox Jews have often found it expedient to stereotype Orthodox Jews as being "pre-modern," narrow-minded, irrational, insular, those who use religion as an escape from the realities of the world. They criticize Jewish law as being dry and tedious. They describe followers of halakha as unthinking slaves of ritual and detail, lacking in deeper spiritual feelings.

These criticisms and stereotypes are refuted in one name: Rabbi Joseph Baer Soloveitchik.

The Rav and Modernity

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, known to his students and followers as the Rav (the rabbi par excellence), is Orthodoxy's most eloquent response to the challenges of modernity and to the critics of Modern Orthodoxy. A Torah giant of the highest caliber, the Rav was also a world-class philosopher. In his studies in Lithuania, he attained the stature of a rabbinic luminary. At the University of Berlin, he achieved the erudition of a philosophical prodigy.

A Talmudic dictum teaches that the path of Torah is flanked on the right by fire and on the left by ice. If one moves too far to the right, he is consumed by fire. If he moves too close to the left, he freezes to death. Rabbi Soloveitchik was that model personality who walked the path of the Torah, veering neither to the right nor to the left.

The Rav's unique greatness made him the ideal symbol and spokesman of Modern Orthodoxy. In his own person, he demonstrated that the ideal Torah sage is creative, open-minded, compassionate, righteous, visionary, realistic and idealistic. He showed that one could be profoundly committed to the world of Torah and halakha and at the same time be a sophisticated modern thinker. Rabbi Soloveitchik was the paradigmatic 20th century figure for those seeking mediation between classic halakhic Judaism and Western modernity. He was the spiritual and intellectual leader of Yeshiva University, the Rabbinical Council of America and Mizrachi; his influence, directly and through his students, has been ubiquitous within Modern Orthodox Jewish life. He was the singular rabbinic sage of his generation who was deeply steeped in modern intellectual life, who understood modernity on its own terms; he was, therefore, uniquely qualified to guide Orthodoxy in its relationship with modernity.

The Rav was appreciative of many of the achievements of Western civilization. But he could not ignore the shortcomings of modernity. He was pained by the discrepancy between dominant modern values and the values of traditional religion. It is lonely being a person of faith in "modern society which is technically-minded, self-centered, and self-loving, almost in a sickly narcissistic fashion, scoring honor upon honor, piling up victory upon victory, reaching for the distant galaxies, and seeing in the here-and-now sensible world the only manifestation of being" ("The Lonely Man of Faith," p. 8). Utilitarianism and materialism, as manifestations of the modern worldview, are inimical to the values of religion.

In pondering the dilemma of a person of faith, the Rav explores a universal dilemma of human beings: inner conflict. He draws on the Torah's descriptions of the creation of Adam to shed light on human nature. Adam I is majestic; he wants to build, to control, to succeed. He is dedicated to attaining dignity. Adam II is covenantal; he is introspective, lonely, in search of community and meaning. He seeks a redeemed existence. Each human being, like Adam, is an amalgam of these conflicting tendencies. In creating humans in this way, God thereby underscored the dual aspect of the human personality. Human fulfillment involves the awareness of both Adams within, and the ability to balance their claims.

The Rav suggests that Western society errs in giving too much weight to Adam I. The stress is on success and control, pragmatic benefits. Even when it comes to religion, people seem to be more concerned with operating quantifiably successful institutions rather than coming into a relationship with God. In the words of the Rav: "Western man diabolically insists on being successful. Alas, he wants to be successful even in his adventure with God. If he gives of himself to God, he expects reciprocity. He also reaches a covenant with God, but this covenant is a mercantile one. ... The gesture of faith for him is a give-and-take affair" ("The Lonely Man of Faith," p. 64). This attitude is antithetical to authentic religion. True religious experience necessitates surrender to God, feelings of being defeated--qualities identified with Adam II.

By extension, the Rav is critical of modernizers and liberalizers of Judaism who have tried to "market" Judaism by changing its content. Any philosophy of Judaism not firmly rooted in halakha is simply not true to Judaism. The non-halakhic movements did not grow out of classic Judaism; rather, they emerged as compromising responses to modernity. Had it not been for the external influences on Western Jews, non-halakhic movements would not have arisen as they did. The litmus test of an authentic philosophy of Judaism is: is it true to Torah and halakha, does it spring naturally and directly from them, is it faithful to their teachings? If Torah and halakha are made subservient to external pressures of modernity, this results in a corruption of Judaism.

Modernity, then, poses serious problems for traditional religion. However, counter-currents within modernity offer opportunities. Already in the early 1940's, Rabbi Soloveitchik felt that the time had come for a new approach to the philosophy of religion. The "uncertainty principle" of quantum physics was an anodyne to the certainty of Newtonian physics. Thinkers in psychology, art and religion were proclaiming that human beings are not machines, but are complex organisms with religious, emotional and aesthetic sensibilities. Rationalism could not sustain and nourish the human soul. The Holocaust exploded the idealized myths of Western humanism and culture. Western civilization was moving into a post-modern phase which should be far more sympathetic to the spiritual character of human beings, more receptive to the eternal teachings of religion.

The Rav felt that a philosophy of Judaism rooted in Torah and halakha needed to be expressed in modern terms. Orthodox Jews needed to penetrate the eternal wisdom of the halakhic tradition, deepening their ability to cope with the challenges and opportunities of modernity and post-modernity. And non-Orthodox Jews needed to study classic Judaism on its own terms, freed from the negative propaganda of anti-Orthodox critics. After all, Torah and halakha are the patrimony of all Jews.

In his various lectures and writings, the Rav has provided a meaningful and powerful exposition of halakhic Judaism. He is a modern thinker, rooted in tradition, who has laid the foundation for post-modern Jewish thought.

Conflict and Creativity

The Rav has stated that "man is a great and creative being because he is torn by conflict and is always in a state of ontological tenseness and perplexity." The creative gesture is associated with agony ("Majesty and Humility," p. 25). As the Rav pointed out in "The Lonely Man of Faith," God created human beings with a built-in set of conflicts and tensions; this inner turmoil is a basic feature of the human predicament.

Religion is not an escape from conflict: it is a way of confronting and balancing the tensions that go with being a thinking human being. One must learn to be a creative free agent and, at the same time, an obedient servant of God.
Detractors of religion often portray religionists as seeking peace of mind by losing themselves in the spiritual realm.

Critics say: "it is easy to be religious; you do not have to think; you only have to accept the tenets of faith and you can avoid the responsibility of making decisions and facing conflict." To such critics, the Rav would say simply: you do not understand the true nature of religion. Religion is not a place for cowards to hide; it is a place for courageous people to face a totally honest revelation of their own inner being. Halakhic Judaism does not shield the Jew from ontological conflict: it compels him to face it directly, heroically.

It is precisely this inner tension and struggle which generates a lofty and creative understanding of life. Rabbi Soloveitchik's writings and lectures are vivid examples of religious struggle and creativity at their best. His use of typologies, his first-person reminiscences, his powerfully emotive use of language--all contribute to express his singular message: a religious person must live a creative, heroic life.

In his Ish ha-Halakha (Halakhic Man), the Rav notes that the halakhic Jew approaches reality with the Torah, given at Sinai, in hand. "Halakhic man, well furnished with rules, judgments, and fundamental principles, draws near the world with an a priori relation. His approach begins with an ideal creation and concludes with a real one" (Halakhic Man, p. 19). Intellectual effort is the hallmark of the ideal religious personality, and is a sine qua non of understanding the halakhic enterprise.

The Rav compares the domain of theoretical halakha with mathematics. The mathematical theoretician develops a system in the abstract; this theoretical construct is then applied to the practical world. The theoretical system helps define and shape practical reality. So it is with halakha. The classic halakhists immerse themselves in the world of theoretical halakha and apply halakhic constructs to the mundane world. The Rav observes that "both the halakhist and the mathematician live in an ideal realm and enjoy the radiance of their own creations" (Halakhic Man, p. 25).
The ideal halakhic personality lives in constant intimacy with halakha. Halakha is as natural and central to him as breathing. His concern for theoretical halakha is an expression of profound love and commitment to the entire halakhic worldview. This love and commitment are manifested in a scrupulous concern for the observance of the rules of practical halakha.

The sage who attains the highest level of relationship with halakha is one "to whom the Torah is married." This level is achieved not merely by intellectual acumen, but by imagination and creativity. "The purely logical mode of halakhic reasoning draws its sustenance from the pre-rational perception and vision which erupt stormily from the depths of this personality, a personality which is enveloped with the aura of holiness. This mysterious intuition is the source of halakhic creativity and innovative insight . . . . Creative halakhic activity begins not with intellectual calculation, but with vision; not with clear formulations, but with unease; not in the clear light of rational discourse, but in the pre-rational darkness" (Besod ha-Yahid ve-haYahad, p. 219). The halakhic personality, then, is characterized by conflict, creativity, imagination, vision. The world of halakha is vast and all-encompassing. One who reaches the level of being "married" to the Torah and halakha has come as close to eternal truth as is possible for a human being.

Halakhic Activism

Rabbi Soloveitchik emphasized the Torah's focus on this-worldy concerns. "The ideal of halakhic man is the redemption of the world not via a higher world but via the world itself, via the adaptation of empirical reality to the ideal patterns of halakha. ... A lowly world is elevated through the halakha to the level of a divine world" (Halakhic Man, pp. 37–38).

Whereas the universal homo religiosus believes that the lower spiritual domain of this world must yearn for the higher spiritual realms, halakhic man declares that "the higher longs and pines for the lower." God created human beings to live in this world; in so doing, He endowed human life in this world with dignity and meaning.

Halakha can be actualized only in the real world. "Halakhic man's most fervent desire is the perfection of the world under the dominion of righteousness and loving-kindness--the realization of the a priori, ideal creation, whose name is Torah (or halakha), in the realm of concrete life" (Halakhic Man, p. 94). The halakhic life, thus, is necessarily committed to this-worldly activism; the halakhic personality is devoted to the creation of a righteous society.
The halakha is not confined to sanctuaries, but "penetrates into every nook and cranny of life." Halakha is in the home, the marketplace, the banquet hall, the street, the office--everywhere. As important as the synagogue is, it does not occupy the central place in halakhic Judaism. Halakha is too vast and comprehensive to be confined to a synagogue.

Rabbi Soloveitchik argues that non-halakhic Judaism erred grievously in putting the temple at the heart of religion. "The halakha, the Judaism that is faithful to itself ... which brings the Divine Presence into the midst of empirical reality, does not center about the synagogue or study house. These are minor sanctuaries. The true sanctuary is the sphere of our daily, mundane activities, for it is there that the realization of the halakha takes place" (Halakhic Man, pp. 94-5).

Consequently, halakhic Judaism is realistic, idealistic and demanding. Halakha is concerned with every moment, with every place. Its sanctity fills the universe.

Halakha is unequivocally committed to righteous, ethical life. The Rav points out that the great sages of halakha have always been known for their lofty ethical standards. The halakha demands high respect for the dignity of others. "To recognize a person is not just to identify him physically. It is more than that: it is an act of identifying him existentially, as a person who has a job to do, that only he can do properly. To recognize a person means to affirm that he is irreplaceable. To hurt a person means to tell him that he is expendable, that there is no need for him. The halakha equated the act of publicly embarrassing a person with murder" ("The Community," p. 16).

The ethical demands of halakha are exacting. One's personal life must be guided by halakhic teachings in every situation, in every relationship. The halakhic worldview opposes mystical quietism which is tolerant of pain and suffering. On the contrary, halakhic Judaism "wants man to cry out aloud against any kind of pain, to react indignantly to all kinds of injustice or unfairness" ("Redemption, Prayer, Talmud Torah," p. 65; see also, U-Vikkashtem mi-Sham, p. 16). The Rav's stress on ethical activism manifested itself in his views on religious Zionism. He accepted upon himself the mantle of leadership for religious Zionism; this placed him at odds with many Orthodox leaders who did not ascribe religious legitimacy to the State of Israel. Rabbi Soloveitchik eloquently insists that the halakha prohibits the missing of opportunities. After the Holocaust, the Jewish people were given the miraculous opportunity to re-establish a Jewish state in the land of Israel. For centuries, Jews had prayed for the return of Jewish sovereignty in Israel. Now, in this generation, the opportunity was being offered. For the Rav, it would be tragic and unforgivable to miss the gift of the moment. Not to respond to "the knocking of the beloved," not to respond to God's message to the suffering people of Israel--this would be a tragic error of terrible magnitude. This was not a time for hesitation: this was a time to embrace the opportunity of a Jewish State, an opportunity granted to us by the Almighty. The Rav conveyed a certain impatience with those who did not respond religiously to the new Jewish State. Like the Shulamith maiden in the Song of Songs, they were drowsy and hesitant at the very moment the beloved had returned. They were not fully awake to the significance of the moment, and the halakhic and ethical imperatives which flowed from it.

Interiority

All true religious action must be accompanied by appropriate inner feelings and thoughts. The exterior features of religious behavior must be expressions of one's interior spiritual sensibilities.

Yet in non-Orthodox circles, it has long been fashionable to deride halakhic Jews as automatons who slavishly adhere to a myriad of ancient rules and regulations. They depict Orthodox Jews as unspiritual beings who only care about the letter of the law, who nitpick over trifling details, whose souls are lost in a labyrinth of medieval codes of law. To such critics, Rabbi Soloveitchik would answer quite simply: you do not understand the halakha; you do not understand the nature of halakhic Judaism. Interiority is a basic feature of the halakhic way of life.

Halakha relates not merely to an external pattern of behavior. Rather, it infuses and shapes one's inner life. "The halakha wishes to objectify religiosity not only through introducing the external act and the psychophysical deed into the world of religion, but also through the structuring and ordering of the inner correlative in the realm of man's spirit" (Halakhic Man, p. 59).

For the halakhic Jew, halakha is not a compilation of random laws; it is the expression of God's will. Through halakha, God provides a means of drawing nearer to Him, even of developing a sense of intimacy with Him. To the outsider, a person fulfilling a halakhic prescription may seem like an unthinking robot; but this skewed view totally ignores the inner life of the halakhic Jew. It does not see or sense the inner world of thought, emotion, spiritual elevation.

The halakhic Jew must expect to be misunderstood. How can others who do not live in the world of halakha possibly understand the profundity of halakhic life? How can those who judge others by surface behavior be expected to penetrate into the mysterious depths of a halakhic Jew's inner life? Those who stereotype Orthodoxy are thereby revealing their own ignorance of the true halakhic personality.
"Halakhic man does not quiver before any man; he does not seek out compliments, nor does he require public approval. ... He knows that the truth is a lamp unto his feet and the halakha a light unto his path" (Halakhic Man, p. 89). The halakhic personality strives to maintain and develop inner strength. One must have the courage and self-confidence to be able to stand alone. Self-validation comes from within one's self, not from others. "Heroism is the central category in practical Judaism." The halakhic Jew needs the inner confidence "which makes it possible for him to be different" ("The Community," p. 13).

Knesset Israel

Halakhic Jews feel inextricably bound to all Jews, even those who are unsympathetic to them and their beliefs. "Judaism has stressed the wholeness and the unity of Knesset Israel, the Jewish community. The latter is not a conglomerate. It is an autonomous entity, endowed with a life of its own .... However strange such a concept may appear to the empirical sociologist, it is not at all a strange experience for the halakhist and the mystic, to whom Knesset Israel is a living, loving and suffering mother" ("The Community," p. 9). In one of his teshuvah lectures, Rabbi Soloveitchik stated that "the Jew who believes in Knesset Israel is the Jew who lives as part of it wherever it is and is willing to give his life for it, feels its pain, rejoices with it, fights in its wars, groans at its defeats and celebrates its victories" (Al ha-Teshuvah, p. 98). By binding oneself to the Torah, which embodies the spirit and destiny of Israel, the believer in Knesset Israel thereby is bound to all the generations of the community of Israel, past, present and future.

The Rav speaks of two types of covenant which bind Jews to Knesset Israel. The berit goral, the covenant of fate, is that which makes a Jew identify with Jewishness due to external pressure. Such a Jew is made conscious of Jewish identity when under attack by anti-Semites; when Israel is threatened by its enemies; when Jews around the world are endangered because of their Jewishness. The berit goral is connected to Jewish ethnicity and nationalism; it reminds the Jew that, like it or not, he is a Jew by fate.

The berit yeud, the covenant of mission and destiny, links the Jew to the positive content of Jewishness. He is Jewish because he chooses the Jewish way of life, the Torah and halakha; he seeks a living relationship with the God of Israel. The berit yeud is connected with Jewish ideals, values, beliefs, observances; it inspires the Jew to choose to live as a Jew. The berit goral is clearly on a much lower spiritual level than the berit yeud; the ideal Jew should see Jewish identity primarily in the positive terms of the berit yeud. However, the Rav does not negate the significance of the berit goral. Even if a Jew relates to Jewishness only on the ethnic level, this at least manifests some connection to the Jewish people. Such individuals should not be discounted from Knesset Israel, nor should they be disdained as hopelessly lost as Jews. Halakhic Jews, although they cling to the berit yeud, must recognize their necessary relationship with those Jews whose connection to Jewishness is on the level of berit goral.

Ultimately, though, Jewish tradition is passed from generation to generation by those Jews who are committed to Torah and halakha. Thus, it is critical that all Jews be brought into the category of those for whom Jewishness is a positive, living commitment. Jewishness based on ethnicity will not ensure Jewish continuity. The Rav credited the masorah community with transmitting Judaism from generation to generation. The masorah community is composed of those Jews for whom transmission of Torah and halakha is the central purpose of life. It was founded by Moses and will continue into the times of the Messiah. Members of the masorah community draw on the traditions of former generations, teach the present generation, plan for future generations. "The masorah community cuts across the centuries, indeed millenia, of calendaric time and unites those who already played their part, delivered their message, acquired fame, and withdrew from the covenantal stage quietly and humbly, with those who have not yet been given the opportunity to appear on the covenantal stage and who wait for their turn in the anonymity of the 'about to be'" ("The Lonely Man of Faith," p. 47).

The masorah community actually embodies two dimensions--the masorah community of the fathers and that of the mothers. The Rav clarifies this point by a personal reminiscence. "The laws of Shabbat, for instance, were passed on to me by my father; they are part of mussar avikha. The Shabbat as a living entity, as a queen, was revealed to me by my mother; it is a part of torat imekha. The fathers knew much about the Shabbat; the mothers lived the Shabbat, experienced her presence, and perceived her beauty and splendor. The fathers taught generations how to observe the Shabbat; mothers taught generations how to greet the Shabbat and how to enjoy her twenty-four hour presence" (“Tribute to the Rebbitzen of Talne," p. 77).

The Rav teaches that Knesset Israel is a prayerful community and a charitable community. "It is not enough to feel the pain of many, nor is it sufficient to pray for the many, if this does not lead to charitable action" ("The Community," p. 22). A responsible member of Knesset Israel must be spiritually awake, must be concerned for others, must work to help those in need. "The prayerful-charity community rises to a higher sense of communion in the teaching community, where teacher and disciple are fully united" ("The Community," p. 23). The community must engage in teaching, in transmitting, in passing the teachings of Torah to new generations.

The Rav, Our Teacher

The Rav, through his lectures and writings, was the most powerful and effective teacher of Orthodoxy of our times. In his lectures, he was able to spellbind huge audiences for hours on end. His Talmudic and halakhic lessons pushed his students to the limits of their intellects, challenging them to think analytically. His insights in Torah were breathtaking in their depth and scope. Those who were privileged to study with him cherish their memories of the Rav. And those who have read his writings have been grateful for the privilege of learning Torah from one of the Torah giants of our time.

The Rav described his own experience when he studied Talmud. "When I sit to 'learn' I find myself immediately in the fellowship of the sages of tradition. The relationship is personal. Maimonides is at my right. Rabbenu Tam at the left. Rashi sits at the head and explicates the text. Rabbenu Tam objects, the Rambam decides, the Ra'abad attacks. They are all in my small room, sitting around my table."
Learning Torah is a trans-generational experience. It links the student with the sages of all previous generations. It creates a fellowship, a special tie of friendship and common cause. It binds together the community in a profound bond of love, and provides the foundation for future generations. Halakhic Judaism represents a millennial Jewish tradition dedicated to Torah and halakha, truth and righteousness, love and fear of God. It demands--and yearns to bring out--the best in us. One who strives to be a member of the trans-generational community does not suffer from spiritual homelessness.

When we and future generations sit down to study Torah, we will be privileged to share our room with Rashi and Maimonides, with Rabbenu Tam and the Rashba. And sitting right next to us will be Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, his penetrating insights leading us to greater heights in our quest to become "married" to the Torah.

References
Al ha-Teshuvah, written and edited by Pinchas Peli, Jerusalem, 5735.
Besod ha-Yahid ve-ha-Yahad, edited by Pinchas Peli, Jerusalem, 5736.
"The Community," Tradition 17:2 (1978), pp. 7–24.
"Confrontation," Tradition 6:2 (1964), pp. 5–29.
Halakhic Man, translated by Lawrence Kaplan, Philadelphia, 1983.
"The Lonely Man of Faith," Tradition 7:2 (1965), pp. 5–67.
"Majesty and Humility," Tradition 17:2 (1978), pp. 25–37.
"Redemption, Prayer and Talmud Torah," Tradition 17:2 (1978), pp. 55–72.
"A Tribute to the Rebbitzen of Talne," Tradition 17:2 (1978), pp. 73–83.
"U-Vikkashtem mi-Sham," Hadarom, Tishri 5739, pp. 1–83.

Making our Days Count: Thoughts on Counting the Omer
by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

We had a neighbor--an elderly widow--who was vibrant, intelligent and active. As she grew older, she became increasingly forgetful. Her condition gradually worsened, to the point where she needed full time help at home.

One day, several of her grandchildren came to visit her. They brought tape recorders and note pads. They wanted to know more about her life story. They asked her questions, but she gave vague or confused replies. First she told them she grew up in the Bronx; and later said she grew up in Brooklyn. She couldn't remember names, or dates, or places. She could not remember the facts that the grandchildren were trying to learn. They were frustrated; their tape recorders and note pads were useless, since the grandmother's memory had deteriorated so badly.

They had come too late. The grandmother had lived well into her nineties, but the grandchildren had never seemed to have found time to ask her their questions or to listen carefully to her stories. Now, when she was about to die, they realized that they had better interview her before it was too late. But, in fact, it was too late. Her memory was impaired. All of her stories and adventures were locked into her mind, and were forever inaccessible to them. They were unable to retrieve information that would have been meaningful to their own lives, that would have given them greater understanding of the grandmother's life and experiences. They must have asked themselves: why did we wait so long before asking her our questions?

When people suffer the loss of a loved one, they often ask: why didn't I spend more time, why wasn't I more attentive, why didn't I listen more and listen better? When people suffer a breakdown in their relationships, they often ask: why didn't I give more time and effort to the relationship? Why did I take things for granted, why did I assume that everything would just go on forever?

In relationships, small things are often the big things: kindness, attentiveness, giving extra time and energy, expressing love and respect and appreciation, not taking others for granted. To maintain good relationships, one needs to feel a sense of urgency; the relationship needs to be renewed every day. If we let time slip by, we may lose everything.

When I was a young boy, I heard a rabbi explain the importance of the mitzvah of counting the Omer--the 49 day period between the second day of Passover and Shavuoth. He said: "We count the days so that we will learn to make our days count!" By focusing on each day, by actually counting it out, we come to sense the importance of each day. We then learn, hopefully, that each day counts--each day is important and cannot be taken for granted. None of us knows how the future will unfold; we only know what we can do here and now in the present.

The Omer period is an appropriate time to remind ourselves of the importance of each day. We can make each day count by devoting proper time to our loved ones, to our friends and neighbors, to those activities that strengthen ourselves and our society. Don't wait for tomorrow or next week or next year. Life must be lived and renewed each day. Count your days to make your days count.

Introduction

            The Bible has a singular vision for Jews and humanity. Beginning with the unprecedented declaration in the first chapter of Genesis that all people are created in God’s Image (Genesis 1:26–27), the Torah and prophets present a program for Israel and humanity that can bring about a redeemed, harmonious, religious-ethical world.

            In previous articles published in Conversations, I have discussed the biblical ideas of the Chosen People and of loving the ger—the resident alien non-Israelite who dwells in the Land of Israel when Israel has sovereignty.[1] In this article, I summarize the conclusions of those two articles, and then discuss the prophetic messianic ideal of Israel and humanity. Rabbinic interpreters debate the boundaries of what the prophets envision as the ideal relationship between Israel and the nations in the future.

The Chosen People

            The Torah begins its narrative with Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden, and not with the people or Land of Israel. All people belong to the same family created in God’s Image, with equal standing before God. God expects humanity to serve God and observe a basic level of morality, codified in Jewish law as the seven Noahide Laws.

God rejected humanity after the expulsion from Eden, the Flood, and finally the Tower of Babel. God then chose Abraham because Abraham chose God; Abraham taught his children and society about the religious-ethical lifestyle the Torah promotes for humanity.

            God’s choosing of Israel is an eternal choice, but the relationship is damaged when Israel sins. Israel’s exiles represent a separation, not a permanent divorce. God longs for Israel’s repentance and restoration of the ideal relationship between God and Israel. Similarly, God’s rejection of humanity with the Tower of Babel is a separation, not a permanent divorce. Non-Israelites who return to Godly behavior can become chosen again. All humanity will be redeemed in the messianic era.

One is chosen when one chooses God. For Jews, that means faithfulness to the God-Israel covenant in the Torah with its commandments. For non-Jews, that means faithfulness to the basic religious-ethical principles of the seven Noahide Laws.

Israel plays a special role as a nation of priests (Exodus 19:6). Israel’s priests have a genetic component (descendants of Aaron the Priest), have more commandments than regular Israelites, guard and serve in the Temple, and teach Torah to Israel. So too, Israel is a family within the community of nations, has more commandments than non-Israelites, guards and serves in the Temple, and teaches Torah to the world.

The Torah thereby establishes a particularistic religious system for Israel, while simultaneously promoting love and genuine respect of a diverse religious-ethical humanity.

The Resident Alien

            In the Torah (the Written Law), the resident alien in Israel must observe most laws of the Torah, be cared for and loved, and receive equal treatment. The resident alien is exempt from several laws that govern the unique covenantal relationship between God and Israel.

The Oral Law distinguishes between the ger tzedek (convert to Judaism) who is bound by all of the Torah’s laws and is loved and cared for by Jews, and the ger toshav (resident alien) who must accept certain minimal religious-ethical standards to live in Israel.

            The Oral Law teaches the core Jewish value of loving converts to Judaism. The Written Law teaches that identical love and inclusion of the resident alien, complete with rights and responsibilities. The Torah commands love, sensitivity, and fair treatment of all decent people living in the Land of Israel. Although we apply the laws of the Oral Law on the halakhic level, it also is critical to internalize the core values of the Written Law to envisage and build the ideal society.

The Messianic Future

We now turn to the focus of this article, prophecies that develop the contours of the ideal future for Israel and humanity. Several passages elicit debate among commentators, who disagree over the precise relationship between Israel and the nations in the ideal future.

Zephaniah 3:9

Nations Accept God

For then I will make the peoples pure of speech (safah berurah), so that they all invoke the Lord by name and serve Him with one accord. (Zephaniah 3:9)

After censuring the wicked societies of Israel and its neighbors, Zephaniah proffers a prophecy of consolation. All people will speak a pure speech and serve God in unity. Several commentators interpret the “pure speech” as referring to Hebrew (Rabbi Joseph Kara, Ibn Ezra, Radak). However, most explain that people will serve the one true God (Rambam Hilkhot Melakhim 11:4, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, Abarbanel, cf. Berakhot 57b, Rashi on Deuteronomy 6:4). Abarbanel adds that Zephaniah’s prophecy represents the undoing of the Tower of Babel. People no longer will be confused of language nor retreat from God. Instead, religious and social unity will prevail. Both of these components remedy the rupture from the Tower of Babel, making this dual interpretation of Zephaniah’s prophecy particularly apt.[2]

Isaiah 2:2–4

Nations Join Israel in the Temple

In the days to come, the Mount of the Lord’s House shall stand firm above the mountains and tower above the hills; and all the nations shall gaze on it with joy. And the many peoples shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob; that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths.” For instruction shall come forth from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.  Thus He will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples, and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war. (Isaiah 2:2–4)

In this celebrated prophecy, Isaiah envisions world peace in the context of universal worship of God. All humanity will serve God and will be welcome to the Temple. Yehezkel Kaufmann (1889–1963, Hebrew University) adds that this vision also serves as an antidote to the Tower of Babel.[3] Jerusalem represents the ideal metropolitan center, which attracts people to serve God.

We may add that the prophets generally do not enjoin Israel to actively proselytize throughout the world. Rather, they must build an ideal society and through that model inspire humanity. This picture aligns with God’s exhortation in Deuteronomy:

See, I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God has commanded me, for you to abide by in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, “Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people.” For what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is the Lord our God whenever we call upon Him? Or what great nation has laws and rules as perfect as all this Teaching that I set before you this day? (Deuteronomy 4:5–8)

Isaiah 56:3–7

Nations Join Israel in the Temple

Let not the foreigner say, who has attached himself to the Lord, “The Lord will keep me apart from His people”; and let not the eunuch say, “I am a withered tree.” For thus said the Lord: “As for the eunuchs who keep My Sabbaths, who have chosen what I desire and hold fast to My covenant—I will give them, in My House and within My walls, a monument and a name better than sons or daughters. I will give them an everlasting name which shall not perish. As for the foreigners who attach themselves to the Lord, to minister to Him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be His servants—all who keep the Sabbath and do not profane it, and who hold fast to My covenant—I will bring them to My sacred mount and let them rejoice in My house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices shall be welcome on My altar; for My House shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” (Isaiah 56:3–7)

This prophecy furthers the invitation to all God-fearing people to serve God in the Temple. Evidently, some God-fearing Gentiles felt excluded, so the prophet responds that they indeed have access to the Temple.

            Rashi, Radak, and Abarbanel interpret this prophecy as referring to full converts to Judaism (gerei tzedek).[4] Ibn Ezra and Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, however, explain the prophecy as referring to righteous Gentiles. They cite Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the First Temple:

Or if a foreigner who is not of Your people Israel comes from a distant land for the sake of Your name—for they shall hear about Your great name and Your mighty hand and Your outstretched arm—when he comes to pray toward this House, oh, hear in Your heavenly abode and grant all that the foreigner asks You for. Thus all the peoples of the earth will know Your name and revere You, as does Your people Israel; and they will recognize that Your name is attached to this House that I have built. (I Kings 8:41–43)

Righteous Gentiles always are welcome to serve God in the Temple.

Isaiah 66:18–21

Will Gentiles Serve as Priests in the Temple?

For I [know] their deeds and purposes. [The time] has come to gather all the nations and tongues; they shall come and behold My glory…. And out of all the nations, said the Lord, they shall bring all your brothers on horses, in chariots and drays, on mules and dromedaries, to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord—just as the Israelites bring an offering in a pure vessel to the House of the Lord. And from them likewise I will take some to be levitical priests, said the Lord. (Isaiah 66:18–21)

Depending on how one understands “from them,” it is possible to read the final verse in this passage as saying that some righteous Gentiles will serve as priests in the Temple. If that is the plain sense of the text, it is unparalleled in the Bible. Generally, the Torah prohibits any non-Aaronides—whether from Israel or the nations—from serving as priests in the Temple.[5]

            Classical commentators maintain that this prophecy does not countermand the laws of the Torah. Only Aaronide priests will serve in that capacity in the Temple. They disagree, however, over how to understand this prophecy.

            Rashi, Radak, Abarbanel, and Malbim maintain that non-Jews will bring Israelite priests and Levites back from exile with them.[6] Although those priests and Levites had assimilated while in exile, God will accept their repentance and allow them to serve in the Temple.

Alternatively, Rabbi Joseph Kimhi and Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency submit that non-Jews will serve in the Temple by assisting the Aaronide and Levitic priests as the Gibeonites and netinim did from the time of Joshua through the Second Temple period:

That day Joshua made [the Gibeonites] hewers of wood and drawers of water—as they still are—for the community and for the altar of the Lord, in the place that He would choose. (Joshua 9:27)

And of the temple servants (netinim) whom David and the officers had appointed for the service of the Levites—220 temple servants, all of them listed by name. (Ezra 8:20)

Amos Hakham also interprets the text as referring to non-Jews serving in the Temple, but understands the verses figuratively. Righteous Gentiles will bring offerings in the Temple, and God considers those who sacrifice as though they are God’s attendants, like priests and Levites.[7]

            To summarize the respective readings according to the aforementioned commentators:

1. Rashi: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord…. And from them (=Jews whom the nations brought back who are of priestly and Levitic descent) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests, said the Lord.

2. Rabbi Joseph Kimhi: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord.... And from them (=the non-Jewish nations) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests (=to assist the priests and Levites with attending roles), said the Lord.

3. Amos Hakham: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord.... And from them (=the non-Jewish nations) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests (=I will consider Gentiles who bring sacrifices as though they were priests), said the Lord.

Isaiah 19:18–25

Israel and the Nations are Chosen People When They Serve God

In that day, there shall be several towns in the land of Egypt speaking the language of Canaan and swearing loyalty to the Lord of Hosts; one shall be called Town of Heres. In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border…In that day, Israel shall be a third partner with Egypt and Assyria as a blessing on earth; for the Lord of Hosts will bless them, saying, “Blessed be My people Egypt, My handiwork Assyria, and My very own Israel.” (Isaiah 19:18–25)

            Isaiah prophetically envisions Egypt and (evidently) Assyria accepting God in the future. This is the only place in the Bible where God explicitly refers to a foreign nation as “My nation.” All humanity may become chosen by choosing God through proper worship (generally understood as commitment to the seven Noahide Laws).

            Several interpreters reject the notion that any other nation can become God’s chosen people. For example, Targum Jonathan, Rashi, and Rabbi Isaiah of Trani reinterpret the verse as referring exclusively to Israel’s chosenness: Blessed be My nation [Israel whom I chose in] Egypt, and [to whom I showed miracles with] Assyria.

            Those who understand the verse as referring to God’s choosing Egypt and Assyria generally still give Israel a distinctive advantage. Ibn Ezra, Radak, and Abarbanel explain that all three nations will be chosen by God, but Israel is God’s inheritance (nahalah), enjoying the longest standing and permanent intimate relationship with God.

Amos Hakham recognizes the equality of the three nations in the verse, but suggests that Israel is mentioned last as the most beloved nation of God (aharon aharon haviv).[8] However, the smoothest reading of the verse appears to equate the nations as having chosen status when they embrace God in the future.

Ezekiel 47:21–23

Do Resident Aliens Receive Land in Israel?

This land you shall divide for yourselves among the tribes of Israel. You shall allot it as a heritage for yourselves and for the strangers who reside among you, who have begotten children among you. You shall treat them as Israelite citizens; they shall receive allotments along with you among the tribes of Israel. You shall give the stranger an allotment within the tribe where he resides—declares the Lord God. (Ezekiel 47:21–23)

            Ezekiel envisions a renewed map of Israel in his prophecy of redemption in chapters 47–48. All twelve tribes will return to Israel and live west of the Jordan River. The tribal allotments no longer will follow the ancient distribution from the time of Joshua.

            One of the striking differences between the original world order in biblical Israel and Ezekiel’s prophetic forecast for the ideal future is the allotment of land to gerim. As I discussed in my article on the resident alien, all biblical instances of ger refer to the resident alien, known in halakha as the ger toshav. Therefore, it appears that Ezekiel’s prophecy allots land to all decent people who live in Israel in the future.

            Because the Torah does not allocate land to the resident alien, Sifrei Numbers 10:29 reinterprets Ezekiel’s prophecy as referring either to atonement or burial, not to land acquisition.

Several commentators explain that the ger in Ezekiel’s prophecy is the ger tzedek, or righteous convert. In their reading, those who convert to Judaism prior to the messianic era will in fact obtain land in the messianic era (Rashi, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, Abarbanel).

The smoothest reading of the verses, however, allocates land for resident aliens in the future.

Joel 3:1

Will Israelites and Non-Israelites Prophesy?

After that, I will pour out My spirit on all flesh (kol basar); your sons and daughters shall prophesy; your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. (Joel 3:1–2)

            Joel prophesies that in the future, God will pour His spirit on all flesh (kol basar). The ensuing words refer to various manifestations of prophetic inspiration. If Joel says that all humanity will prophesy in the future, this would be a unique prophecy in the Bible.

            However, Ibn Ezra and Radak observe that Joel refers to your sons and daughters. Interpreting the verse as referring to the same group, they maintain that Israelites will prophesy in the future, and Joel does not refer to all humanity.[9] In this reading, Joel’s prophecy is parallel to that of Ezekiel:

I will never again hide My face from them, for I will pour out My spirit upon the House of Israel—declares the Lord God. (Ezekiel 39:29)

            Abarbanel splits the verse into two components. Kol basar in the first half of the verse refers to all humanity, who will recognize and serve God. Abarbanel likens Joel’s prophecy to Zephaniah’s prophecy discussed earlier that all nations will speak with a pure speech to serve God (Zephaniah 3:9). The second half of the verse refers to Jews, who will attain actual prophecy (ve-nibbe’u).

            Although Joel’s prophecy does not appear to predict universal prophetic revelation, it calls to mind a Midrash which teaches the core value that all worthy human beings may attain prophecy:

I call to witness the heavens and earth, that whether a Gentile or Jew, man or woman, servant or maidservant; all is according to one’s actions, and to that degree divine inspiration rests upon him. (Tanna Devei Eliyahu 10)

Conclusion

We have considered prophecies of redemption that illustrate aspects of the future relationship between Israel and righteous Gentiles.

Zephaniah 3:9 envisions a united humanity serving God properly (Rambam, Abarbanel), thereby undoing the damage represented by the Tower of Babel (Abarbanel).

Isaiah 2:2–4 predicts the worldwide recognition and service of God in Jerusalem, the ideal metropolitan center. Israel’s living up to its role as a model nation of priests inspires the nations to join them.

Isaiah 56:3–7 combats any discriminatory attitudes Jews might have toward righteous Gentiles. All God-fearing individuals have a place in the future Temple (Ibn Ezra, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency).

Isaiah 66:18–21 envisages the nations of the world recognizing God’s glory, and bringing Jewish exiles with them to Jerusalem and the Temple. Commentators debate whether the passage predicts that Jewish priests and Levites will be allowed to serve in the Temple despite their assimilationist tendencies while in exile (Rashi), whether righteous Gentiles will serve as attendants for the priests and Levites (Rabbi Joseph Kimhi), or whether they will bring sacrifices and God will view them as though they were priests in the Temple (Amos Hakham). It is possible to read the prophecy as referring to righteous Gentiles to actually serve as priests in the Temple. If this is the text’s meaning, it would be a unique prophecy in the Bible. It also would contradict laws in the Torah that outlaw all non-Aaronides from encroaching on the Temple space.

Isaiah 19:18–25 foresees a future age when other nations accept God and will resume being chosen nations alongside Israel. Several commentators assume that only Jews can be a chosen people (Targum, Rashi), but others interpret the prophecy to mean that nations that accept God are chosen, and this appears to be the plain sense of the text (Ibn Ezra, Amos Hakham).

Ezekiel 47:21–23 uniquely forecasts that resident aliens will receive land alongside the Jews in the messianic era. Many commentators assume that this prophecy refers to righteous converts to Judaism (Rashi, Abarbanel), but the simple meaning pertains to resident aliens, who will own land in a newly redrawn map of Israel.

Although Joel 3:1–2 initially sounded like a unique prediction of universal prophecy, it appears more likely that the prophecy is limited to Jews (Ibn Ezra, Radak). However, a Midrash (Tanna Devei Eliyahu 10) stresses that all worthy people are eligible to receive prophecy.

May we further our own building of a model community, and may we inspire many others to this vision of a united, diverse, God-fearing moral society.

Postscript

            Although this study has focused on biblical prophecies, it is appropriate to note the debate in Jewish thought between Rambam and his opponents. Professor Menachem Kellner has written extensively on this subject.[10] Many great Jewish thinkers, including Rabbi Judah Halevi in his Kuzari, followed by the Maharal of Prague, Rabbi Shneuer Zalman of Lyady, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the author of the Zohar, and others, believe in ontological essentialism. In plain English, these thinkers assert that Jews are essentially distinct and superior to non-Jews. This position leads its adherents to maintain that converts to Judaism are lesser than born Jews, since they were born with inferior souls. Additionally, this viewpoint generally rejects the possibility that non-Jews can attain prophecy.

It must be stressed that there is no biblical precedent for these ideas, nor is there much in classical rabbinic literature to support their contention. Kellner maintains that the degraded state of Jews in many medieval communities promoted this attitude as a means of maintaining self-esteem.

            In contrast to this widespread view, Rambam insists that there is no essential difference between Jew and non-Jew. All people must develop their intellect to know God and act morally. God chose Abraham because Abraham chose God, not because of any preexisting metaphysical superiority of Abraham. God gave the Torah to the people of Israel because of that choice, and not as a consequence of any inherent property in the people of Israel.

            This outlook leads Rambam to view converts to Judaism as true equals, rather than as inferior people born with lesser souls. After all, the Jewish people began as “converts” as well. Rambam also maintains that in principle, Jews and non-Jews may attain prophetic revelation if they develop themselves properly.

            Rambam’s stance on these issues dovetails the biblical portrait of Israel’s relationship with the nations.

Notes

        About a decade ago, I noticed a blog post detailing harassment of Jewish students at an elite Ivy League women's college.  Duty bound, I forwarded the story to dear friend, a long time alumnus of that school. At first, she was disbelieving.  In time, she became irritated, then angry. Could this be the college she had attended?  Yet what then seemed shocking, now seems almost routine.  It has become common for Jewish students attending American institutions of high education to feel bullied, threatened, intimidated or silenced.  What should be done?  What can be done? 

     The current manifestation of anti-Jewish bias on American campuses is not the traditional disdain for Jews that had existed in higher education in an earlier time.  Jewish quotas at elite educational institutions before World War II were rooted in a kind of country club anti-Jewish animus.  Jews were pictured as pushy, foreign, untrustworthy or strangely alien.  Their achievements and tenacity threatened the good-old-boy Protestant, white upper class ruling establishment.   Hence, restrictions on the numbers of Jews admitted to ivy league colleges were often maintained and sometimes even openly pronounced.  This prejudiced attitude toward Jews proved increasingly difficult to retain given the political progress toward increasing equality and justice evidenced in the United States in the second half of the twentieth century. Fortunately, this form of anti-Jewish prejudice has become a relic of the past.

     Today's higher education anti-Jewish animus is of a different stripe. It is fueled by the claim of injustice and oppression.  That claim--sometimes subtle and sometimes overt--resounds all over campus.  Classrooms have been increasingly dominated by professors who dogmatically condemn Israel (and usually only Israel, or only Israel and the United States).  Although reasonable people can dispute the extent of overlap between anti-Israel and anti-Jewish bias, these attitudes are most certainly far more than distant cousins.  Meanwhile, Pro-Palestinian and anti-Israeli student groups such as BDS set the tone and fuel the political energy for campus politics.  They are supported by top and often middle-level administrators, whose careers to some extent depend upon their evident and continuous commitment to social justice.

    For Jewish students, it sometimes appears that there is no place to hide.  Hillel and Chabad can provide sanctuaries, but these shelters are often insufficient to withstand the political storm outside. Jewish community is an affirmative response to opposition and harassment, but the Jewish establishment often do not always speak forcefully or directly enough to the accusation that Jews embody or support unjust causes.  The question is: what else can be done to support the Jewish student who feels marginalized or attacked?   

     It is time, I suggest, for Jewish educators to help formulate a response to the charges of injustice and oppression frequently hurled against Jewish college students.  These students need to possess a knowledge of the facts that accurately defines contemporary Jewish reality. The truth about how and where Jews live today--in Israel, in the United States and in the various nations of the world--constitutes essential present and past knowledge necessary to counter the narrative that Jews are responsible for the uniquely predatory and repressive actions of the world's single Jewish state.  

     Hebrew school education about Jews in the contemporary world most often focuses on two broad themes.  The tragedy of the Holocaust is almost always taught and is often a centerpiece.  Jewish catastrophe, unfortunately, has been a recurrent Jewish concern throughout history.  The Holocaust raised the possibility of the eradication of Jewish life worldwide. The questions associated with it are endless.  What malevolency can explain such a possibility?  Why did it happen?  Why was more not done to resist it?  And how can an educator communicate to students of any age the incommunicable?

    A second theme of Jewish education about today's world has to do with the founding and flourishing of Israel.  The event's importance to Jewish life is self-evident. A possible end to the Diaspora is no small accomplishment.  Furthermore, there are other reasons to celebrate this achievement.  Israel's founding was a significant contributor to many Jews' sense of identity and pride worldwide.  If the Holocaust made Jews victims by turning them into corpses, Israel's founding, survival and continuous independence constitutes an enduring source of comfort and satisfaction for many Jews today.

       Unfortunately, these defining events in Jewish history prove largely irrelevant to the political battles waged upon today's campuses.  Said more precisely, the Holocaust and Israel's founding do not provide the Jewish student sufficient self-knowledge and factual awareness to equip them to withstand the withering opposition they often encounter.  Jewish students today gain little sympathy because of the Holocaust and past victimhood their people once experienced.  For this generation of students (both Jewish and non-Jewish) who live their lives so much in the present, even the appropriate sense of that horror has been largely lost. For that reason, a person's understanding and relationship to the Holocaust today no longer constitutes a basic element of most Jewish students' sense of self-identity, 

     Regarding the founding and prospering of Israel, the situation is even worse.  Israel may have been greatly admired in its founding but now that admiration is far from universal. As Joshua Muravchik put it in a well-known book title, with the passage of time David somehow became Goliath.   With growing power has come increased censure.  Condemnation of Israel has become the focal point of much modern day anti-Judaism, particularly on college campuses.  Increasingly, Jews are not identified with the positive achievements of a small, determined democratic nation but rather with an imperialist, racist state that deserves condemnation. In short, Jews are accused of supporting and governing a fundamentally immoral country.

    That Jews have been the unique object of total extermination, or that Israel was founded on noble ideals, does not do much to address or settle the current rounds of anti-Israeli criticism. The essence of that criticism is reflected in the application of a phrase repeated endlessly today.  The phrase is diversity, inclusion and equity. The mantra is repeated endlessly by politicians, by human resource department heads of major corporations and by big media.  Its effect is almost hypnotic. It is a shorthand formulation of how one achieves egalitarian justice.  The inclusive and diverse workplace is the ideal workplace.  The nation that has achieved true diversity and inclusion is both tolerant and fair.  This term even has replaced the traditional American standard for good government.  As stated in the Declaration of Independence, legitimate government had traditionally been defined as an entity that secures citizens' rights and governs according to their consent.  Essentially, it proclaims that citizens are free to make their way in the world and pursue their own course and their own happiness. The new standard is more radical, often prescribing outcomes rather than liberties.  Also, it is important to recognize that diversity, inclusion and equity are both goals and standards.  Their achievement is important, perhaps necessary. Governments and organizations must be held accountable.

     Admittedly, such standards are controversial and open to all sorts of objections.  But that is a different set of arguments deserving extended consideration elsewhere.  For now, the important point to realize is that this mindset has been taught to this generation of college students.  Increasingly, it has become the lens through which they evaluate social reality.  When looking at an Israel governed and supported by Jews, many will inevitably ask: Is it diverse?  Is it inclusive?  Does the society produce equitable results for all its citizens?  In other words, should I support or oppose it? A good number of these students will not be hard core opponents of the Jewish state.  Rather, they are likely to be open-minded and genuinely undecided, asking questions and seeking answers. Jews--and Jewish students-- must be better prepared to engage them.  The stakes are high.

     Examining Israel and contemporary Jewish life worldwide from this perspective will, I think, persuasively and objectively refute many of the harshest charges levied against Israel while correcting misperceptions about Jews and about Israel's moral status in the world.  It is important to understand to the extent such a teaching will supplement--rather than replace--different peoples' rationales for Israel's legitimacy and for protecting the fundamental human rights of Jews everywhere.  Nothing in this educational approach necessarily contradicts or negates deeply held positive beliefs about Israel or Jews.  One can still believe that Jews' claim to Israel is divinely ordained or historically determined. Or, alternatively, a person can still defend Israel's founding and policies according to the precepts of international law. Nor is the conviction that Jews everywhere are entitled to fundamental rights and decent treatment undermined by applying broad applied diversity and inclusion standards. As long as equity is understood as fundamental fairness, and not strict numerical representation, any diversity and inclusion discussion should prove non-threatening.

    The obvious advantage of this sort of education is that it arms Jewish students in their confrontation with campus critics.  But there is another, more subtle benefit to be gained from such an educational approach.  The study of diversity and inclusion--in Israel and around the world--is rooted in practice.  It focuses upon what nations actually do and how people live and have lived and how they have been treated.  What can we expect and observe about how diversity and inclusion actually functions in the world? This real world emphasis avoids a common failure of much academic theory, which tends to adopt  utopian standards and programs and then selectively apply them to disfavored policies or nations. 

     Finally, a word about definitions.  The, discussion of diversity and inclusiveness are here couched in their most popular and appealing sense (as they seem to an idealistic student).  Diversity simply means being understanding of cultural, racial and other differences.  It suggests, in other words, that a person is open, non-prejudiced and tolerant.  Inclusion implies that no one is to be denied respect or opportunity. Equity, as we already noted, means fairness and due process. Therefore, American law and politics equity  often is taken to mean the strict representation of groups regarding the distribution of rewards (and penalties). That is not the way the term is used here. 

    We are also concerned that these terms, once so defined, be applied consistently, holding all nations and peoples to similar standards.  Such a requirement is important because of the emotional and seemingly semi- hypnotic response yielded by these ideas. Fashioned into a negative critique applied against the Jewish state, these terms can take the form of a radical indictment.  When this occurs, Israel stands accused of imperialism, apartheid, racial and religious bigotry and sometimes even genocide.  These are among the most grievous violations of the diversity, inclusion and equity standard imaginable.  BDS and related organizations repeat such charges endlessly and these accusations are today commonly echoed on college campuses. 

     Jewish education needs to address this critique head on, before Jewish students pursue higher education.  So far, this has not been done effectively.  What is required is a curriculum, or perhaps at least a class, that addresses these concerns by describing the ways Jews actually live in the world today.  Their actions and practices need to be seen in an international and historical context.  And, of course, as was previously noted, consistent moral standards need to be applied. 

     What would such a course of study look like?  No doubt, its creation represents a challenge to leading Jewish educators.  What follows is one possible formulation. It represents a very brief and sketchy outline of what such an education might look like:

Course of Study: Diversity, Inclusion and Judaism: Then and Now

Part I: Overview.  Three points need to be made here.  First, terms like diversity and inclusion are contemporary reformulations of traditionally important concepts in western thought and within Judaism, namely  the equal dignity of all human beings.  Second, while often proclaimed, the actual achievement of these goals throughout history has proven elusive.  Failure has been the rule, success the exception.   Third, Jews have suffered particularly because of this failure.  Anti-Judaism (i. e.. anti-Semitism) remains an enduring legacy. As Robert Goldwin has written, "Jews had suffered persecution almost everywhere in the world for Millennia."  Continuing, he observes, "they have been beaten, tortured, murdered, and hounded from country to country and even from continent to continent."

Part II: Jews in the United States. First, demographically and statistically, what do we know about Jews and contemporary Jewish life in America?  What (geographic, cultural, political , etc.) differences and similarities characterize the lives of Jewish citizens (e. g. Reform, Orthodox and secular Jews)?  What about the relationship between Jews and non-Jews? (The issue of assimilation could be considered here).  Finally, what social, economic or political trends are today noteworthy ? (The current spate of attacks on Jews might be mentioned).

     Second, what is the legal and political structure of the United States in respect to Jews? At the time of the Constitution's adoption, Jewish life in the states was surprisingly tolerant by contemporary-worldwide standards.  Yet Jews (and interestingly Catholics in Protestant states and Protestants in Catholic states) were not treated equally at the time of the Constitution's writing.  In many, there existed state churches, religious tests and other discriminatory practices. By contrast, the United States Constitution prohibited such religious oaths in the newly created government, a remarkable but much overlooked guarantee protecting freedom of conscience. In time, the two religion clauses of the First Amendment also became important protections of the right of Jews in the United States to practice their religion.

Part III: Jews in Israel. The creation of the modern state of Israel needs to be described.  Also the ethnic, racial and ethnic (and even religious) differences among Israeli Jews need to be explained.  Particular emphasis should be placed between the different Mizrahi/Sephardic and West European origins of the Israeli people.  Jewish emigration--especially from Russia and Ethiopia--might be highlighted.  Various religious movements among practicing Jews and secular Jews will also need to be recounted.  This diversity within Judaism and among Jews points to a different kind of diversity: that between Jews and non-Jews who are Israeli citizens.  Most predominantly, these include Christians, Druze and Arab Muslims.  This two part analysis should refute the too popular stereotype that Israel is a monolithic nation.  Rather, pointing to the multiple diversities that characterize Israel today raises the following question: given this great amount of diversity, how does a successful nation-state like Israel try to provide for inclusion?  Contemporary issues and challenges could be discussed and analyzed here.

   Next, there exists the need to the explain Israel's political and legal system and structure as a continuing effort to reconcile diversity and inclusion --in other words, to attempt the creation of a single community out of its many disparate parts.  Also this would be an appropriate place to describe and analyze the recent debate within Israel regarding the appropriateness of declaring itself to be a Jewish state.

Part IV: Jews in Arab Lands.  The number of Jews living in Middle Eastern Arab land has declined precipitously mid-twentieth century.  In some nations, almost all traces of Jews and Judaism have been eradicated, a phenomenon explained in detail by authors such as Bernard Lewis and Lyn Julius.  The contrast between the Israeli attempt to accommodate and integrate its Arab population and these Arab states' persecution of their Jewish residents is striking. The difference is highly significant and has been underappreciated, particularly by Jewish students.  An interesting example is what is now essentially a Jewish-free Egypt and the collapse of political influence and sheer numbers during the 20th century. 

   A short examination of why this happened--particularly an analysis of social, political and religious influences within Arab Middle East nations--could help explain how and why Jewish life and influence vanished from many of these countries. 

Part V: Jews in European Nations.  The pre and post Holocaust history of the treatment of Jewish populations in various European nations help provide a more rounded and complete picture of Jews' battle for respect and inclusion--first in a Christian society and then in the modern secular state.   Special emphasis upon England, Germany and France should be given.  Social and economic influences prove particularly important.  The resurgence of left and right wing anti-Judaism today should be pointed out.  Governmental and legal responses (such as the passage of hate crime legislation) could be explained and examined.

Part VI: Jews Elsewhere: Here there is room for a variety of Jewish experiences throughout the world.  For example, the Jewish immigration to Shanghai might be contrasted with the history of Jews in Ethiopia to give some idea of the rich and diverse history of Jews throughout the world and through time.  Although such a topic may seem remote to American students, there exists a wealth of information and research that can serve as a basis for an intelligent and illuminating discussion of the many variants of Jewish life.

Part VII:  What is a Jew? Even the question of who is Jewish is a profound and perplexing.  What is a Jew asked Rabbi Morris Kertzer some seventy years ago, hardly raising a new question. Is Judaism primarily a matter of birth?   If so, what or who counts?  Is having a Jewish mother or at least one Jewish parent essential?  If one chooses to consider oneself Jewish, is it merely a matter of self-definition or must the affiliation be formalized.  If so, how?  Who exactly are the Jews?  Certainly not a race.  But perhaps, to some extent, one or several ethnic identities.  Or maybe what is special about Jews is that they so strongly identify with the land (Israel)?  Could it be that they are a people?  If so, what constitutes their peoplehood?  Is it shared historical experiences or shared books?  Or is it a belief in a single God or perhaps in revelation itself?  If so, what do we make of those who declare themselves Jewish atheists? Was Spinoza really a Jewish thinker?  What about Karl Marx? Is Woody Allen a Jewish comedian? What is significant about this question of Jewish identity is its complexity.  Its many nuances speak to an important kind of diversity within Jewish thought itself.  And it stands in sharp contrast to the recurrent anti-Jewish caricature of "The Jew".  

    This vile image of the Jew--or something akin to it--has not gone away in our time.  Its strangest--and perhaps one of its most frightening  aspects--is its emergence full blown on American college campuses.  The evil Jew-- manifested most fully by allegedly imperialist, racist, colonial Israel, has today become little more than a vile campus cliché. Many older American Jews find the situation shocking.  Most Jewish students--to the extent they embrace their identity--are woefully unprepared to confront this challenge. That needs to change.  It is both a challenge and a task for Jewish education and Jewish educators.   Presented for your consideration above is a bare outline of what such an effort might look like. It is a small first step.  But, I hope, it is a step forward.