National Scholar Updates

The ideal for prayer... is kedusha or holiness... If ten women so desire, they may organize a minyan and conduct tefillah betzibur, public services; and in such a case, if men straggle in to such a synagogue, it is they who are guests sitting behind the mehitzah. I am told that in Boston there is a group of young Orthodox students, all girls, who are highly concerned about their role in Judaism, and have decided to pray every morning while donning the tefillin. I have no objection to that, and would encourage them. There was a time that (according to Rema) such behavior was frowned upon as yuharah, or arrogance, but that was because it was an act of exhibitionism by an individual. However, the case is far different when a whole community of women has decided to accept such a mitzvah. More power to them![1]

Who said this and when? It surely sounds like a quote from a rabbi on the fringes of Orthodoxy in 2013. Think again. This quotation is from a sermon delivered and written by Rabbi Norman Lamm in April 1972, as he courageously railed against 1,200 Orthodox rabbis who condemned the passing of the Equal Rights Amendment. His original vision was correct—that equal rights in the workplace did not undermine a synagogue's right to a mehitza or pose a threat to single-gender religious schools. More importantly, Rabbi Lamm posited that according to the Torah, "Men and women are of equal metaphysical value." He goes on to say:

We have not yet worked out sufficiently all the issues with the role of women in Judaism....There are times when Jewish law does reveal what seems to be a discriminatory attitude against women. What we must do is research, and find out to what extent such problems can be ameliorated.

Ten years later, Israeli intellectual, Yeshayahu Liebowitz wrote:

The question of women and Judaism is more crucial than all the political problems of the people and its state. Failure to deal with it seriously threatens the viability of the Judaism of Torah and Mitzvoth in the contemporary world. [2]

Over 30 years have passed since these words were written. Have we come a long way or are we stumbling along?

I guess that depends on your perspective. Unlike in Israel, the synagogue in North America is a center for the Jewish community, not only a place to pray, which is why a woman’s experience in her synagogue is such a significant issue here. Since 1972, Women's Tefillah groups have proliferated; women's learning has expanded beyond Sarah Schenirer's [3] dreams; Rabba Sarah Hurwitz fully functions as clergy in an Orthodox shul; and there are several female congregational interns in Modern Orthodox shuls. Although we continue to debate whether or not women can or should be rabbis, it seems that this ship is sailing. The Orthodox community calls their female leaders Maharat, Rabba, or congregational intern, while the rest of the world calls them rabbis. Much like the rabbi of a synagogue who delegates leadership of prayer services to male congregants or the cantor, these women do what most pulpit rabbis do: They deliver sermons, teach, counsel, officiate at life cycle events, and give advice regarding Jewish law.

Outside synagogue walls, there is a movement within Israel proposing greater female religious leadership. Aliza Lavie, a member of the Yesh Atid political party, is calling for a “female religious figure to serve alongside” the Chief Rabbis of Israel.[4] As these positions and possibilities expand, female clergy members provide women congregants with a positive role model and a source of Jewish authority with whom to connect, and from whom they can learn and draw personal inspiration. Whether a woman’s ability to serve in this capacity is a halakhic issue or a sociological one will have to be solved by courageous and serious scholars. As for expanding roles for female congregants, many synagogues have taken small steps to find ways to include women in the Shabbat morning services, by adding a prayer for the agunah once a month—even designating a woman to read it for the congregation—or inviting women to deliver a devar Torah. For some, these developments represent a radical and "slippery slope" to some ambiguous evil at the end of the slide—as if having more committed, learned, and observant women is dangerous—but for others, it is too little, too slow, too late.

When the former Chief Rabbi of France (1981–1988), Rabbi Rene-Samuel Sirat, spoke in Stamford, Connecticut over a decade ago, he called for the removal of the blessing, “she-lo asani isha”—thanking God for not making me a woman—from the liturgy and by extension, from shuls. I approached him afterward and asked him why he would suggest something that would face strong objections and thereby hinder its consideration, not to mention its implementation. He asked me what I would suggest. I thought that people would be more willing to agree that it should be said silently. And then he said something that changed my perspective forever: “Maspik Bishvilech?” (Is that enough for you?) “Yes,” I answered. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Lo Bishvili.” (Not for me.) He was willing to go the extra mile for what he believed to be right, and I was resigned to asking for less for fear of a negative response. Rabbi Sirat’s suggestion (made before and since by many others) is just one example of some of the ways that Modern Orthodox synagogues may be more inclusive of women. For example, women can be invited to say the Prayer for the Government, The Prayer for the State of Israel, the Prayer for the Israel Defense Forces, and new mothers should be able to recite the gomel blessing in their own voices. There are suggestions that the space for women in shul should be more accommodating—space for children to play quietly, comfortable chairs with adequate room. In the shul I belong to, the chapel where Kabbalat Shabbat, the daily minyan, and Shabbat morning early minyan take place has tables for some men to sit at: Other men sit around a large table in a room off the women’s section. The women have no tables, no space for children, and can’t even use that room on their own side of the mehitzah. It is no wonder that articles titled, “Why Women Don’t Go to Shul” are popping up in Times of Israel and on the Web.

And, Shabbat is not the only time we can be more inclusive of women. More and more women are reciting Kaddish; they need to be welcomed. In fact, there are longstanding halakhic opinions that expressly support women who want to recite Kaddish with a minyan. [5] The women’s section has to be ready, with the lights on, at every service. In addition, the wedding ceremony is ripe with opportunity, from having a woman read the Ketubah, to reading the English translation of the sheva berakhot. For a more balanced experience, I have heard of having the groom encircle the bride either at the bedeken or during the celebration after the huppa; I have personally seen two female friends of the bride called up along with two male witnesses. While it was made quietly clear under the huppa that then men were the witnesses, this is another way to share the public roles (if not responsibilities) with women.

There is so much more that we could do—within the framework of halakha—but it is demoralizing to continually have to ask to be included, to wait for rabbis to “get back to us” with either their own ruling on these ideas or to be put on hold by the veiled delay of having to discuss it with the ritual committee. I once heard of a therapist training other therapists about treating couples in a situation where one partner is engaged in the dance of the relationship while the other was not. He illustrated this by having one student throw a ball at him, which he let hit his chest as the ball dropped to the ground. The student repeated this three or four times until the teacher’s point was made: It takes two to engage. It is clear that when women keep throwing the ball waiting for someone to catch it and the synagogue rabbis just metaphorically stand there, women will eventually stop participating too.

Is this what we want for committed women who want an active role in the synagogue experience to stop participating? That would be a major crisis in the Modern Orthodox community. Right now, the bleachers (and the balcony) have fewer and fewer people sitting in them. The thinning attendance may be imperceptible because as rabbis have told me, “The davening is not technically different at all if women are not present.” And while I am aware that many are quite content as quiet spectators in the synagogue theater, the minority opinion has always mattered in Judaism, and this growing minority cannot be ignored. It may well be the case that by now, this discontent represents the majority opinion. Consider this from Shira Hecht Koller’s article in The Jewish Week, February 15, 2013:

When professional and intellectual women are barred from any meaningful role in shul, it is not the women who suffer, but the integrity of the shul experience. Women have never found a real place within Orthodox shuls, because Orthodox shuls have never found a real place for women. Increasingly, women choose to disengage rather than attend as passive observers. I experience this on Friday nights when my daughter and I are among the few women in the women’s section. As she grows more intelligent and sensitive, it is becoming more challenging to convince her that this is worthwhile. Is it better for women to stay at home and read contemporary magazines on the couch rather than take part in a meaningful religious experience?

Women are staying home in greater numbers, despite a number of steps that could be implemented to enrich women’s experiences and create a culture of inclusion. After speaking to women across the country and in Israel, and scouring articles on the internet, it is clear that rather than spending intellectual capital on what we can do, our rabbis are investing their time and scholarship on what is forbidden, what cannot be done, and almost no time whatsoever on the alternatives. In turn, the rabbis who advocate for innovative halakhic solutions spend their time defending their positions—and sadly, few, if any of them, are pulpit rabbis where they can implement the very views they support.

I believe that both an institutional and grassroots response to this looming crisis is an imperative. In a world where women are still barred from officially serving as synagogue presidents by the National Council of Young Israel, and all senior rabbis of Orthodox synagogues are men, maybe it is unreasonable to keep asking them to rethink their position, their power, and their comfort. Maybe it is unreasonable to expect that in the absence of heavy pressure from major donors and multiple community influencers that any of the suggestions for a change in culture will happen. Women, as Sheryl Sandberg has reminded us, have neglected to “lean in,” to ask for the permissible to be to be permitted. And neither have many of the men. It seems to me to bring about change we need a dual course of action: Pressing for change in the synagogue by and for those men and women who are comfortable with small, incremental modifications in synagogue and ritual services as well as a full court press to build new spaces for congregations whose “tzibur” not only tolerates but seeks out inclusion and empowerment for both men and women, such as the Partnership Minyan model. This congregation is lay-led, with a commitment to halakha and joint spiritual leadership between men and women. It is not an egalitarian service, as women do not lead shaharit, minha, musaf, or maariv. Women do lead pesukei deZimra, kabbalat Shabbat, and the end of the Shabbat morning service, and both men and women receive aliyot and read from the Torah—each from their own side of the mehitzah. It is one of the only current viable scenarios for the women who are slowly disappearing from shul as regular attendees or others, who begrudgingly attend, feeling uninspired and irrelevant.

To move forward we need to stop waiting for the blessing of a particular rabbi, and stop bowing to their criticism on this matter. I cannot enter the legal debate on partnership minyanim, which is taking place in blogs, in newspapers, and from synagogue pulpits. The issues extend from kol isha, modesty, obligation vs. no obligation, kavod haTzibur and kavod haBeriot, to the rulings on what is halakhically forbidden and what is permissible. I choose to abide by the rabbinic charge to “Make for yourself a rabbi and acquire for yourself a friend” (Pirkei Avot). Well-respected rabbis such as Daniel Sperber, David Hartman, z”l, Zev Farber, and many more who were ordained at Orthodox institutions support this paradigm. All of these men qualify as good choices when making for oneself a rabbi. In fact, I have prayed at partnership minyanim with many rabbis ordained by both Yeshiva University and Yeshivat Chovevei Torah. As is always the case, there is a long list of others who oppose, who forbid, who say no; rabbis who weigh in with stringency on this issue, deciding law about women without really involving or consulting with the women over whom they exert control. It is frustrating to note that all the rabbis who weigh in with stringency on this issue are deciding law about women without really involving the women over whom they exert control. Our tradition has always valued these kinds of debates for the sake of heaven, and the minority opinion is not necessarily wrong.

It is a moving experience to pray with hundreds of people at Shira Hadasha in Jerusalem, Darchei Noam in Modi’in, Darkhei Noam in New York City, and even with the dozens at the small start-up minyan in Stamford, Connecticut. These minyanim maximize the participation of women within the framework of halakha, and in fact, maximize the participation of the men, as well. Those who attend are committed and observant Jews, passionate about halakha, meaningful, participatory prayer, and ritual observance. Partnership minyanim are growing, which one can see on the list that JOFA has published listing over 20 in North America and beyond. While the debate rages in print, people are voting with their presence. Let’s remember that Sarah Schenirer started her movement for Torah study for women with fewer than 20 girls in 1917. In just 20 years, that number grew to over 25,000. I have no doubt that she initially faced criticism in an uphill battle. The attacks on partnership minyan and its credibility reflect more on the emotional threat these minyanim pose rather than the halakhic issues. We know that traditional Judaism experiences much fear and anxiety when faced with a new model that it perceives as a threat or as being inauthentic. When Hassidism was emerging, it was widely condemned and criticized by great scholars, such as the Vilna Gaon. He could not or did not want to imagine the kind of future that Hassidut has come to realize. Similarly, these minyanim are viewed as a threat as they represent a shift in the existing power structure of institutional synagogues and in addition, openly reveal women as deeply spiritual, scholarly, and religiously passionate. In reality, they do not represent a threat or real change at all; partnership minyanim and broadening roles for women within traditional synagogues is not a call for equality or egalitarianism. It is a call for increased choices and greater accessibility, as is currently provided by teen minyanim, Sephardic minyanim and women’s tefillah groups. It is a call for halakhic and spiritual justice.

We’ve come a long way. We can’t be discouraged by the rabbis who won’t catch the ball. There is too much at stake for the Jewish people. As the Midrash stated, “If it were not for the righteous women (in Egypt), we would never have been redeemed.” The same is true for us and future generations.

[1] “As If Things Weren’t Bad Enough”, April 8, 1972,
available from http://brussels.mc.yu.edu/gsdl/collect/lammserm/index/assoc/HASH5498.dir/doc.pdf
[2] Yeshayahu Liebowitz, Judaism, Human Values and the Jewish State, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), p.128.
[3] Sarah Schenirer was the founder of the Bais Yakov schools for girls.
[4] April 18, 2013, available from
http://blogs.forward.com/forward-thinking/175051/a-woman-among-the-chief-rabbis/
[5] For an exploration of sources see A Daughter’s Recitation of Mourner’s Kaddish, (NY: JOFA, 2011).

Please join us for an exploration of religious/moral themes in literature, that enlarge our understanding of religion in general and Judaism in particular. Initial authors to be studied are Ralph Waldo Emerson, Matthew Arnold, George Eliot and Miguel de Unamuno.

The classes will be held on Wednesday mornings, beginning February 17, from 8:30 to 9:15 am Eastern Standard Time. You may register on this link. A reading list will be provided for those who register.

Is having a natural birth advisable, inadvisable, or a value-free decision?

Natural childbirth generally refers to going through labor and delivery without aid of medications and pain relievers such as epidurals. Each woman needs to decide what would be best for herself. Prime consideration must be for her own health and the healthy delivery of her baby. For some women, natural childbirth is a wonderful experience, especially if they had taken suitable classes during pregnancy. Others, though, will prefer to benefit from the advances in medicine that diminish pain.

Natural childbirth classes generally want the father, as well as the mother, to prepare for the upcoming birth. It is advised that the husband be with his wife throughout the labor and delivery.

Although some have raised halakhic objections to a husband’s presence, Rabbi Haim David Halevy, late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, offered halakhic justification (Asei Lekha Rav 4:58). Modern research has found that the husband's presence can indeed be helpful to his wife during delivery. Although our mothers and grandmothers were perfectly able to have children without their husbands being present, it is possible that contemporary women may feel the absolute need for their husbands to be present during delivery. Without their husbands there, the women of today may feel that they will suffer greater pain and will be in greater danger. Therefore, for women who feel this way, Rabbi Halevy believes that the husbands should be present in the delivery room since this is a matter bordering on pikuah nefesh, saving another person's life.

Is it ever appropriate to get drunk?

The Talmud (Megillah 7b) quotes Rava’s opinion that one must become drunk on Purim so as to be unable to tell the difference between “cursed be Haman” and “blessed be Mordecai.” But the same passage goes on to report that Rabba and Rav Zeira became so drunk on Purim that Rabba slaughtered Rav Zeira with a knife. The latter was revived only by a miracle. When Rabba invited Rav Zeira to a Purim celebration the following year, Rav Zeira wisely declined.

Some people read this passage but stop right after Rava’s opinion that one must become drunk on Purim. Others correctly read the entire passage and recognize that the anecdote is a blatant refutation of Rava. The Talmud’s lesson is: don’t get drunk; terrible things can happen if you become intoxicated.

Drunkenness is a shameful state. Maimonides (Hilkhot De’ot 5:3) states: “One who becomes intoxicated is a sinner and is despicable, and loses his wisdom. If he [a wise person] becomes drunk in the presence of common folk, he has thereby desecrated the Name.” In his section on the Laws of Holiday Rest (6:20), Maimonides rules: “When one eats, drinks and celebrates on a festival, he should not allow himself to become overly drawn to drinking wine, amusement and silliness…for drunkenness and excessive amusement and silliness are not rejoicing; they are frivolity and foolishness.”

Not only does drunkenness impair one’s judgment, it demeans a person in the eyes of others and in the eyes of God.

Should a frum Jew believe the sun goes around Earth if the Rambam says it does?

In his “Letter on Astrology,” Rambam taught a vital lesson:  “A person should never cast reason behind, for the eyes are set in front—not in back.” He insisted on the pursuit of truth. As a philosopher and scientist himself, Rambam brilliantly applied the best knowledge of his time to the understanding of Torah.

Our knowledge today has been dramatically enhanced by centuries of scientific advances.  We now know that the earth orbits the sun, as do the other planets. We now know that the earth is a tiny planet in a vast galaxy, which itself is only one of many galaxies in the universe. There is no credible controversy over these facts. If Rambam were alive today, he would not cast his reason behind; he would embrace new knowledge with the alacrity of a brilliant mind.

I think Rambam would be deeply embarrassed by those who posit that the sun goes around the earth based on Rambam’s own writings. Such obscurantists lock themselves into medieval scientific thought rather than opening their minds to the ongoing advances in science. One of the great dangers for religion—and for human progress in general—is for people to cling to discredited theories and outdated knowledge. Those who cast reason behind, thereby cast truth behind. And Truth is the seal of the Almighty.

While most books containing commentaries on the bible either focus on all five books of the Torah or just one of the five books, and then gives only the commentaries of about a dozen commentators as well as that of the author of the volume, Koren Mikraot Hadarot offers much more. It is part of a forthcoming series of 55 volumes. Five of the books of Exodus have been already been published, including this one on the portion read in synagogues on Shabbat February 6, 2021, called Yitro, as well as part of it is read in synagogue services during the evening of January 30 and the morning services of February 1 and 4. Each volume contains abridged excerpts from more than forty commentators from Philo (25 BCE-50 CE} and the early Midrashim until the present day.

The books are divided in to two parts. Opening the Yitro book from the right side are 43 pages with the Hebrew Torah text of Yitro, a new much improved translation of the Torah portion by the late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, the commentary of Rashi in Hebrew with a new very readable English translation by Rabbi Sacks, such as rendering eyl kana in 20:5 not as “a jealous God,” but as “for I the Lord your God demand absolute loyalty,” a three-page discussion on the translation of Rashi, a page with the Ten Commandments with Taam Elyon (an alternate version for how the musical notes are in the prior Hebrew text), and the haftarah for Yitro in Hebrew and English translation. Readers will be delighted to find that Rabbi Sack’s translations make the biblical and Rashi texts clearer than in other volumes because Rabbi Sacks often adds words to clarify what the Bible and Rashi are saying. For example, Rashi’s Hebrew explanation why God stated He rested is unclear. Rabbi Sacks adds in brackets a clarifying sentence: “If God, who neither requires nor takes any respite, nevertheless is said to rest, then certainly people who strive and toil to exhaustion should rest on the Sabbath.”   

Opening the book from the left side readers will find an additional 216 pages divided into four sections. (1) Commentaries from the early time of the sages. (2) The classic commentators. (3) Confronting modernity. (4) Three essays surveying some of the previously mentioned remarks. Each of the first three sections begins with a chart showing the dates of the commentators. The commentaries are translated by Rabbi Jonathan Mishkin.

The first section has the ideas of 17 commentators from Philo, the Talmuds, and over a dozen different Midrashim from the beginning of the Common Era until the thirteenth century. Among the many comments is the view of Midrash Lekah Tov that the Torah was revealed to the Israelites at Sinai on a Shabbat. This Midrash also says that Mount Sinai was given this name because nations of the world were jealous and hated (sina) Israel who received the Torah while they did not. Mekhilta Derabbi Shimon states that there are two distinct prohibition in the Ten Commandments, one forbidding craving and another desiring. Philo contends that male and female servants must be given a rest on the Sabbath to teach them not to despair of better times that lay ahead when they will be free.

The second section contains interpretations from 14 sources from 1040 until 1619 such as Ramban (Nachmanides) saying that the opening words of the Ten Commandments “I am the Lord your God” is a positive command to know about God. Sforno writes that the Decalogue’s prohibition against making an image exists even if the image is not worshipped. Maimonides’ son explains “six days you shall work” does not require people to work, it only gives them permission to do so.

The third section has commentaries from ten sources from the eighteenth century to the present time. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, for example, states that when the Decalogue says “six days you shall work” the work should be viewed and performed as divine service. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik writes that the temple altar must not be made of hewn stones; it must contain imperfections that reflect the people offering sacrifices upon it.

In summary, this new series offers readers what could be called an encyclopedia of abridged interpretations from over 40 sources on a single biblical portion. While the original more detailed version of each source would give even more information, and it would have even been nicer if some other sages such as the teachings of the great Maimonides was included, and readers will not always agree with the comments of the sages who are included, what we are given is an enormous gift that will undoubtedly open our eyes and minds to the many ideas in the Torah and Jewish tradition, and will give us a delightful book to read on Shabbat.

January 2021

Despite the COVID-19 era, we are grateful to continue to provide meaningful content via Zoom, publications, and other venues.

I am excited to give a three-part series on Israel and the Bible. The Zoom classes will be held on Thursdays: December 31, January 7, and January 14, from 12:00-1:00pm. The classes are free but advanced registration is required. Please register here: https://www.jewishideas.org/article/zoom-class-rabbi-hayyim-angel-israel-bible

These classes also are being held in honor of the publication of my recent book, Cornerstones: The Bible and Jewish Ideology. The book contains twelve essays that explore aspects of our core values at the Institute.

The book is available at amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cornerstones-Jewish-Ideology-Hayyim-Angel/dp/1947857436/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=hayyim+angel&qid=1603212552&sr=8-1

On Monday, December 28, I will be giving a teacher’s training class to the Bible Faculty at Naaleh High School in Fair Lawn, NJ. Teacher’s trainings continue to be one of the most effective ways of promoting our ideology into the community, as a result of the multiplier effect when teachers transmit these values to their students.

I am teaching a series of classes on the Book of Psalms with the Beit Midrash of Teaneck. For more information and to join the Zoom sessions please contact Leah Feldman at [email protected]. These classes are free.

We are working on Conversations 37, which contains an excellent array of essays on Judaism and Critical Thinking—values cherished by our Institute! Stay tuned for its upcoming release in the spring.

As always, I profoundly thank the members and supporters of our Institute for enabling us to disseminate our vision around the globe. We are constantly corresponding with interested people and are making a genuine impact with our classes and publications.

May God bless us all with good health,

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

A three-part Zoom series with Rabbi Hayyim Angel on Israel in the Bible. The series serves as a celebration of his newly published book: Cornerstones: The Bible and Jewish Ideology.

The series will be held on Thursdays: Dec 31, Jan 7, Jan 14, from 12-1 pm EST.

To join, please register here: https://www.jewishideas.org/rabbi-hayyim-angel-israel-bible

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AS WE CELEBRATE OUR THIRTEENTH ANNIVERSARY, YOUR PARTNERSHIP IS VITAL.

If you are already a member of the Institute, please consider making an additional gift at this time. If you are not yet a member, please join our growing community. Each contribution is a vote for a revitalized, intelligent, active and diverse Orthodoxy.

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Since the beginning of the modern era, the halakhic community and its decisors have had to grapple with the question of what halakhic status to give to the majority of Jews who were now non-observant. The Talmud (Eiruvin 69b) had ruled that a public desecrator of Shabbat was considered invalid to perform certain halakhic acts and Rambam (Laws of Shabbat 30:15; Laws of Divorce 3:15) declared that he was categorically invalid, going so far as to state that such a person was to be considered like a non-Jew in all areas of halakha.

What, then, was to be done in the period following the Haskalah, when most Jews were no longer Sabbath observers? Were the large majority of the Jewish people to be considered halakhically as non-Jews? While a number of decisors did, and continue to, rule in such a way, other great decisors found halakhic means to adopt a more inclusive policy.

The groundbreaking responsum on this issue was penned in 1861 by Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger, teacher of Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer and Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, and author of the Arukh La-Ner. Rabbi Ettlinger posits using the principle of tinok she’nishba, the infant taken captive and brought up in a non-Jewish household, and who, as an adult, is unaware of his Jewish identity. The Talmud (Shabbat 68b) had ruled that such a person was not to be held liable for his transgressions, and Rambam, later in his life (gloss to Mishna Commentary, Hullin 1:2, gloss to Laws of Rebels 3:3), had applied this category to Karaites who grew up in Karaite homes and could thus not be held responsible for not adhering to Rabbinic beliefs and commitments. [It is worth noting that in those passages Rambam only ruled that we were not to seek out their destruction, and did not actually use this principle to argue for genuine inclusion. See, however, his responsum #449, where he does promote a proactive inclusive policy in regards to Karaites.] While Rambam’s ruling had been debated, it was by-and-large accepted by later decisors (see, for example, Mishneh Berurah 385:1). On the basis of this precedent, Rabbi Ettlinger ruled that the children of the Reformers who had broken away from traditional Judaism, but who themselves had been raised in a Reform household and did not know any better, should be placed in the category of tinok she’nishba (Binyan Tzion HaHadashot 23).

Following his lead, almost all poskim who have adopted a more inclusive position have used the principle of tinok she’nishba to justify their rulings. While the tinok she’nishba category would seem to exclude a now-secular person who was raised in an observant household, Rav Kook called for a welcoming and inclusive stance here as well, using the principle of ‘ones, involuntary compulsion, and stating that even such people have been seduced by the almost irresistible cultural and intellectual forces of the larger society (Iggrot Reayah I:138). It would seem, then, that for those wishing to adopt a more inclusive policy, the halakhic groundwork has been well laid and firmly established, and no more conceptual grappling or deliberations are left to be done.

This is not the case. For while the desired end result has been achieved, the path that has brought us there and the resultant discourse that we have created is less than ideal. Is not the use of tinok she’nishba vis-à-vis our coreligionists patronizing and infantilizing? Imagine if the situation were reversed. Consider a responsum from one of the other denominations deliberating on whether it was appropriate to count an Orthodox Jew towards a zimmun, or whether one could fulfill one’s obligation of keriat megilah if the megilah were read by an Orthodox Jew. Given that Orthodox Jews affirm such “unethical” religious institutions as mehitsah, mamzerut and agunah, this responsum would argue, they should be excluded from performing such religious functions. This imaginary responsum (and responsa such as this do, in fact, exist) would conclude, however, that Orthodox Jews are indeed valid inasmuch as they cannot be held responsible for their “unethical” beliefs, as they are all tinokot she’nishbu.

What would be our reaction to such inclusiveness? Would it be satisfaction with the end result, or anger and frustration over how our beliefs and commitments had been trivialized? The truth is, that if non-Orthodox Jews are tinokot she’nishbu as a result of their education and upbringing, then Orthodox Jews are as well. Indeed, every person on this planet is a tinok she’nishba, to the degree that his or her beliefs and commitments are historically, societally, and environmentally conditioned. If we are prepared to make this claim regarding others, we must make it regarding ourselves.

Both out of self- respect for my own convictions, and out of respect for the differing convictions of others, I, for one, am profoundly reluctant to use the category of tinok she’nishba or its related category of ‘ones. Whether these are the arguments we give to our congregants and colleagues, or whether they are just the arguments we articulate to ourselves, they produce a discourse that does not do justice to a truly inclusive and respectful approach towards our fellow Jews.

What other justifications for inclusion, then, are available? Interestingly, in Rabbi Ettlinger’s responsum two other justifications appear before he posits the tinok she’nishba category. Those two arguments warrant revisiting. The penultimate argument he gives is that in the past, Sabbath observance was a critical boundary issue because to violate the Sabbath was to deny God and Creation (see Rashi, Hullin 5a. See also Rambam Laws of Shabbat 30:15). Today, he argued, Sabbath violation does not necessarily reflect a rejection of these faith principles, as many non-Sabbath observers recognize Shabbat in some way and may, regardless, believe in God. Such Jews, then, should not be halakhically excluded.

This approach, which recognizes the religious beliefs of other Jews, produces a very different discourse. It is a discourse which is inherently validating rather than patronizing, and one that is much to be preferred (there is some precedence to this approach in discussions regarding Karaites – see Responsa Radvaz 2:796. See, also, Ramban Bemidbar 15:22, regarding an alternate belief system embraced by a community.) It is, however, more limited in scope, in that it would not warrant inclusiveness regarding Jews who avowedly do not believe in God or in Creation. Here we must turn to Rabbi Ettlinger’s first argument. The Talmud in a number of places deals with the phenomenon of omer mutar, one who believes that a given forbidden act is permissible. The Talmud (Shabbat 72b, Makkot 7b and 9a) at times relates to such a person as ‘ones, free from any blame, at times as shogeg, negligent, and at times as shogeg karov le’meizid, negligent on the verge of willful violation. The difference seems to be the degree to which one can say that such a person should have known better (see Tosafot Makkot 9a s.v. d’omer and Ramban, Makkot 7b, s.v. prat). Rabbi Ettlinger accurately described the non-Sabbath-observant Jews of modernity as omer mutar.

Here was an entire category of Jews – the majority of the Jewish people – who did not believe that the traditional categories of prohibited work on Shabbat were binding. What status of omer mutar should apply to them? In dealing with first-generation Reformers, Rabbi Ettlinger considered them as karov le’meizid­­ – they should have known better. However, in our current post-advent-of-Modernity reality, where religious truths have completely lost their taken-for-granted nature, it is impossible to argue that anyone who is not observant – even someone who grew up observant – should have known better than to hold his beliefs. It is true that such a person may very well know what the beliefs of observant Jews are, and may well know that observant Jews believe that he is also obligated, but how can we argue that he should have known well enough to have adopted this belief as his own? No matter how strongly we personally aver our own beliefs and convictions, is it not – in today’s world – just as reasonable for a person not to believe as to believe? A look at the ratio of non-observant Jews to observant-Jews should certainly clear up any lingering doubt in this matter.

This argument, then, is structurally similar to that of tinok she’nishba, but in terms of the discourse it is drastically different. Rather than taking a patronizing stance vis-à-vis other Jews, we are actually adopting a more humble and self-aware position. We recognize – we are saying – that since the advent of Modernity there is no presumption of the truth of a given community’s religious claims. As such, while we firmly believe in our religious truths, we have no expectations that someone else would believe them to be binding.

We must, however, ask ourselves how our halakhic system treats people who do not believe, and are not expected to believe, that this system applies to them. To this, our answer is that such people are not to be held liable or excluded as a result of their non-compliance with this system. Omer mutar accurately describes today’s reality of the multiple and competing faith claims (and non-faith claims) that exist within Judaism. It is perfectly descriptive and non-judgmental, and should be a major part of our inclusive discourse.

The use of these two arguments, then, is an important and critical part of reshaping our discourse of inclusion. Recognizing that many non-Orthodox Jews are also believers in God and Creation, and approaching the non-observance of other Jews in descriptive, and not judgmental or patronizing, language, is necessary if we are to create an inclusive discourse that is also a discourse of respect. What these two arguments share is an affirming of the traditional halakhic boundaries of the community (belief and observance), but succeeds in including those who might otherwise be considered outside of those boundaries (by recognizing shared belief, or by not judging non-observance). What remains unexplored in this article is the possibility of defining the boundaries of the community in other ways, in ways which would be inclusive in the very drawing of the boundaries themselves. The discussion of this approach – both the halakhic feasibility of it and the pragmatic and religious costs and benefits that it entails – will have to await a future article.

Hasidic song expressed exultation in the Lord. It seemed to celebrate Israel’s marriage to God…

When Russia occupied Poland in 1792, few Jews knew the Russian language. Once a Cossack visited a Jewish homeowner and asked him, “Are you the khazyayen [the owner]?”

The Jew did not understand. His wife translated wrongly: “The Cossack says: ‘Are you a cantor [a hazan]? Sing for me.’”

So the Jew began singing the chant “The sons of the Temple.”

The Cossack lost his temper and began to beat him.

So his wife explained: “He obviously doesn’t like that song. He wants another one! A new song!”

—A Passion for Truth, pp. 284–285

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“I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder and You gave it to me.”

—Abraham Joshua Heschel

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“The central thought of Judaism is the living God. It is the perspective from which all other issues are seen. And the supreme problem in any philosophy of Judaism is: What are grounds for man's believing in the realness of the living God?”

—God in Search of Man, pp. 25–26

These words, penned by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, summarize one of the great challenges facing contemporary Jews. How can one achieve spirituality? Of course, there is the problem of how to properly define spirituality. Heschel does an excellent job when he considers the “realness of the living God.” The essential problem is the difficulty in feeling the proximity of God in our lives.

Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907–1972) was born in Warsaw, Poland, in 1907 to a family of Hassidic rabbis. Following a traditional Jewish education in Warsaw, Heschel went to Berlin, where he studied at the university. He earned his PhD degree in 1933.

In 1938, Heschel arrived in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he joined the faculty of Hebrew Union College in 1940. He later became professor of Jewish ethics and mysticism at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York City. Heschel was married to concert pianist Sylvia Straus, and they had one daughter, Susannah. Heschel remained at the Jewish Theological Seminary until his death in New York City on December 23, 1972.

Heschel was a pioneer of Jewish involvement in the civil rights demonstrations of the 1960s and early 1970s to end discrimination against African Americans. He spoke out against the war in Vietnam. Heschel met with Pope Paul VI at the Vatican to discuss Jewish feelings concerning Vatican Council II.

Rabbi Heschel presents a blueprint of how to live a life feeling the realness of God. It is a program that is simple to understand, and, at the same time, is quite profound. It is not a simplistic program, as it grapples with serious theological questions and requires considerable thought. It may best be described as “the longer shorter way” based on a story in the Talmud (Eruvin 53b) and popularized by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Lyadi in the Introduction to his classic work, Tanya. The phrase “the longer shorter way” represents an approach that requires hard work, but will, in the long run, lead to success in helping individuals develop a relationship with God, as opposed to a quick fix that is short lived.

Immediately upon attempting to offer a way to God, Heschel first stops to consider, and then rejects, the possibility that feeling the realness of God is based solely on belief in events of the past. For Heschel, such an approach is too distant and does not reveal the “realness of the living God.”

Heschel asks:

Is it true that Judaism derived its religious vitality exclusively from loyalty to events that

occurred in the days of Moses and from obedience to Scripture in which those events

occurred? Such an assumption seems to overlook the nature of man and faith. A great

event, miraculous as it may be, if it happened only once, will hardly be able to dominate

forever a mind of man.” (God in Search of Man, p. 26)

Heschel distinguishes between memory and personal insight in terms of ways of religious thinking. Both, says Heschel, are required modes for religious development. Heschel does distinguish and even prioritize, when he suggests that first comes the personal insight, helping a person arrive at “This is my God” (personal insight), which subsequently leads to: “He is the God of my father” (memory).

Heschel’s approach to spirituality can be contrasted to the approach presented by his contemporary, Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits. According to Berkovits, while the prophets were able to personally encounter God, non-prophets are left with the memory of those encounters as recorded in our sacred literature. Those encounters and their records are powerful enough to craft faith. (It is interesting to note that they both speak of the “Paradox” of the encounter with God as described in the Bible and wonder how it is possible for a human being to survive such an encounter. Their answers are remarkably similar as well).

Heschel was not satisfied with a faith based on someone else’s encounter with God, and he goes to great lengths to devise a system in which a direct encounter with the Divine is available to all. In trying to define real faith, Heschel notes:

What does having faith mean? To follow the path of your ancestors? To carry out what is contained in a creed? Such simple faith is the backbone of all religions. After all, hundreds of generations of Jews have borne testimony to the existence of God. So one may accept their words, their beliefs. Yet the Kotzker refused to be a follower, living on spiritual crumbs left by the princes of the past…” (A Passion for Truth, pp. 187–188)

According to Heschel, faith could not be inherited; every person has to earn it. He warns against settling even on our own ideas and conceptions. Not only must we be original, our very originality must be challenged and fine-tuned.

It is impossible to be at ease and to repose on ideas which have turned into habits, on canned theories in which our own or other people's insights are preserved. We can never leave behind our concern in the safe-deposit of opinions, nor delegate its force to others and so attain vicarious insights. We must keep our own amazement, our own eagerness alive.” (Man Is Not Alone, p. 14)

It is often the case that educators and rabbis direct students to focus on the approaches and insights of others in terms of forming the basis of faith and closeness to God. Heschel is suggesting that in order to experience closeness to God one must be empowered and encouraged to find one's unique and specialized path.

This may be true in the realm of Torah study as well. Perhaps more time can be spent on developing the personal interpretations of Jewish texts, not as a means of supplanting traditional interpretation, but as a means toward greater connection to the text.

The idea that each person has a unique connection to Torah is expressed in the law that mandates a teacher go with his students to an Ir Miklat—a city of refuge when the student kills inadvertently. This is precisely because once the student has found a teacher he can successfully learn from, the halakha is hesitant to separate them.

A similar idea may be behind the prayer “grant us our share in your Torah” that is part of the concluding supplication of the amidah, among other prayers. It also expresses that individuals have a specific “share” or portion in Torah.

In the realm of spirituality, individuals can be given license to develop their unique route to feeling the realness of God. Once that is accomplished, connection via prayer and study may be attainable. Often the reverse method is used, in that individuals are expected to initially connect to God via prayer and study. This is not to suggest that people should not be taught how to pray until they acknowledge a connection to God. Rather, it can serve as a reminder that prayer may not serve the purpose of connecting a person to God. Once a person has developed a relationship to God based on personal insight, meaningful prayer may simply be the symptom of that relationship or a means to rekindle it after a period of diminution.

In focusing on the importance of individual and unique spiritual development, Heschel is echoing a classic Hassidic approach made popular by Shneuer Zalman of Lyadi in Tanya. In the introduction to that work, Rav Shneuer Zalman explains that one of the shortcomings of the written word is that people have different approaches to spirituality and will thereby not necessarily find inspiration in a book written for a general audience. He points out that the challenge of a leader is to be able to relate to the unique personality of each individual. He also notes that the blessing said upon seeing a group of 600,000 people—“knower of secrets”—points to idea that every person is distinctive. All of this boils down to the need for individuals to develop their own spiritual path.

It is important to point out that although Heschel saw the development of the personal God (“This is my God”) as coming before other’s appreciation of God, (“The God of my fathers”), he very much considered the mitzvoth and Torah study as the path to a personal relationship with God.

A heretic, the Talmud reports, chided the Jews for the rashness in which he claimed they persisted. “First you should have listened; if the commandments were within your power of fulfillment, you should have accepted them; if beyond your power, rejected them.”…Do we not always maintain that we must first explore a system before we decide to accept it? This order of inquiry is valid in regard to pure theory…but it has limitations when applied to realms where thought and fact...theory and experience are inseparable. It would be futile, for example, to explore the meaning of music and abstain for listening to music. It would be just as futile to explore Jewish thought from a distance, in self-detachment. Jewish thought is disclosed in Jewish living. (God in Search of Man, p. 282)

Wonder and Radical Amazement

Heschel's key idea in terms of a relationship with God built on personal insight is the notion of wonder or radical amazement. Personal insight as far a feeling God's realness is dependent on wonder.

Rabbi Heschel uses a familiar Midrash as a means to understanding wonder.

How did Abraham arrive at his certainty that there is God who is concerned with the world? According to the Rabbis, Abraham may be “compared to a man who was traveling from place to place when he saw a palace full of light (birah ahat doleket). “Is it possible that there is no one who cares for the palace?” he wondered. Until the owner of the palace looked at him and said, “I am the owner of the palace.” Similarly, Abraham our father wondered, “Is it conceivable that the world is without a guide?” The Holy One, blessed be He, looked out and said. “I am the guide, the sovereign of the world.” It was in wonder that Abraham's quest for God began. (God in Search of Man, p. 112)

Lift up your eyes on high. Religion is the result of what man does with his ultimate wonder, with moments of awe, with the sense of mystery. Heschel warns us not to waste moments of wonder.

It is interesting to note that elsewhere Rabbi Heschel uses this very same Midrash to deal with the problem of evil. He does so by changing his interpretation of the phrase birah ahat doleket, from a “palace full of light,” to a “palace in flames.”

In many ways, Heschel's response to the problem of Evil is the flip side of the coin of his doctrine of wonder. For Heschel, the existence of evil in the world, “living as we do in a civilization where factories were established in order to exterminate millions of men, women and children...” is the result of what can be termed the absence of negative wonder, or what Heschel refers to as “the loss of our sense of horror.” Heschel lays the blame for the Shoah squarely at the feet of humanity when he notes in his rewording of the above Midrash: “The world is in flames, consumed by evil. Is it possible that there is no one who cares?” It is God who declares: “I am the Guide, the sovereign of the world” (God in Search of Man, p. 367).

Divine Care and the Human Encounter

All of reality was a source of amazement for Heschel as every encounter with the world was by definition an encounter with God. “Awe is a way of being in rapport with the mystery of all reality” (God in Search of Man, p. 74).

This is especially true when it comes to the encounter with human beings. Heschel demonstrates exceptional spiritual sensitivity when he depicts the nature of human encounter. 

The awe that we sense or ought to sense when standing in the presence of a human being is a moment of intuition for the likeness of God which is concealed in his essence…The secret of every being is the Divine care and concern that are invested in it. Something sacred is at stake in every event. (Ibid., p.74).

Wonder and Science

Heschel is quick to remind us that he is not referring to the well-known argument from design. “Depth-Theology” is the term he uses to hone in on the distinction between wonder and science. In explaining “Depth-Theology” Heschel writes: “To apprehend the depth of religious faith we will try to ascertain not so much what the person is able to express as that which he is unable to express, the insights that no language can declare.” Heschel quotes F. P. Ramsey and notes that: “We must keep in mind that ‘the chief danger to philosophy, apart from laziness and woolliness, is scholasticism, the essence of which is treating what is vague as if it were precise and trying to fit it into an exact logical category.’”

The difference between science and wonder is that for the prophets “wonder is a form of thinking” and that “the fact that there are facts at all” creates a sense of “perpetual surprise.”

Petition and Thanksgiving in Prayer: Rabbi Heschel and Rabbi Soloveitichik

         The central place of wonder in the thought of Rabbi Heschel is made clear when considering his focus on praise and thanksgiving as the central motif of prayer. The importance of praise and thanksgiving in the prayer scheme of Rabbi Heschel is illuminated when contrasted with the approach of Rabbi Joseph Dov Soloveitchik.

         Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik sees petition as the foundation of prayer. He makes this point with great clarity and force in his essay: Prayer, Redemption and Talmud Torah. In this essay Rabbi Soloveitchik defines the ability to cry out to God as a medium toward redemption as well as being a symbol of a free existence.

         Related to the centrality of petitional prayer, Rabbi Soloveitchik remarks:

Therefore, prayer in Judaism, unlike the prayer of classical mysticism, is bound up with the human needs, wants, drives and urges, which make man suffer. Prayer is the doctrine of human needs. Prayer tells the individual, as well as the community, what his, or its, genuine needs are, what he should, or should not, petition God about. Of the nineteen benedictions in our Amidah, thirteen are concerned with basic human needs, individual as well as social-national. Even two of the last three benedictions are of a petitional nature. The person in need is summoned to pray. Prayer and Tsa’ar (trouble) are inseparably linked. Who prays? Only the sufferer prays. If man does not find himself in narrow straits, if he is not troubled by anything, if he knows not what Tsara is, then he need not pray. To a happy man, to contented man, the secret of prayer was not revealed. God needs neither thanks nor hymns. He wants to hear the outcry of man, confronted with a ruthless reality. (Rabbi Joseph B. Solovetichik, Prayer, Redemption and Talmud Torah)

         Rabbi Heschel offers a different focus of prayer.

To worship God means to forget the self; an extremely difficult, thought possible, act. What takes place in a moment of prayer may be described as a shift of the center of living—from self-consciousness to self-surrender. This implies, I believe, an important indication of the nature of man. Prayer begins as an “it-He” relationship. I am not ready to accept the ancient concept of prayer as dialogue. Who are we to enter a dialogue with God?” (“Prayer as Discipline” in The Insecurity of Freedom, pp. 255–256)

This conception of humanity in relation to God leads Rabbi Heschel to conclude that priority in prayer must be given to praise.

This is why in Jewish liturgy primacy is given to prayer of praise. One must never begin with supplication. One begins with praise because praise is the prerequisite and essence of prayer. To praise means to make Him present.... (Ibid.)

         Heschel strengthens his point when he argues that not only is wonder the central religious mood of a Jew, it also requires daily maintenance.

The profound and personal awareness of the wonder of being has become a part of the religious consciousness of the Jew. Three times a day we pray:

                   We thank thee…

                   For thy miracles which are daily with us,

                   For thy continual marvels…

Every evening we recite: “He creates light and makes dark.” Twice a day we say: “He is one.” What is the meaning of such repetition? A scientific theory, once it is announced and accepted, does not have to be repeated twice a day. The insights of wonder must be constantly kept alive. Since there is a need for daily wonder, there is need for daily worship.” (God in Search of Man, pp. 48–49)

How Do We Know?

         One of the basic issue Rabbi Heschel deals with in terms of wonder is the question of how do we know we have experienced it. Interestingly, for Rabbi Heschel, the characteristic of a spiritually developed person is the ability to “draw a distinction between the utterable and the unutterable, to be stunned by that which is but cannot be put into words” (Man is Not Alone, p. 4).

         We are often taught that one can only claim to understand something when it can be put into words. This may be true of knowledge; it is not so, according to Rabbi Heschel when it comes to experiences. “Always we are chasing words, and always words recede. But the greatest experiences are those for which we have no expression...To become aware of the ineffable is to part company with words” (Ibid., pp. 15–16).

Our Challenges

For Heschel there are two fundamental reasons why it is so hard for human beings to experience the “realness of God.” He first turns his attention to the “Dogma of Man’s Self Sufficiency.” He views both social reforms and technological advance as having failed to replace belief in revelation of God’s will. The development of human power and social awareness are not enough to pacify the human drive to cruelty. We need God, argues Heschel, because we are not great and because God is great. The Dogma of Man’s Self Sufficiency in not only based on the overestimation of humanity's greatness, but on the underestimation of God’s greatness. For the so-called self-sufficient man, the only thing not known is when all will be known. Ultimately, all mysteries will be solved and all obscurities made apparent.

Heschel refers to the perception of humanity’s unworthiness to be in a relationship with God. Referencing the Shoah, Heschel argues that it seems impossible that God wishes any relationship with a species capable of such fantastic horrors. It is the very physical strength of humanity that calls for a spiritual response. In fact, the one being powerful enough to respond to the destructive power of humanity is God. In short, although humanity may not be worthy of a relationship with God, God imposes it, in order to save humanity form itself.

Here too, humanity’s distance from God is based on an inability to recognize greatness. This time, however, it is not God’s greatness that is overlooked, but human greatness in the guise of potential, and in Heschel’s lifetime, realized destructiveness.

In Heschel's comments on wonder and the problem of evil, one can sense a concern for the general inability to experience strong passion. Underlying both radical amazement and the loss of the sense of horror is a generic “Hardness of Heart” as Heschel calls it. For Heschel, it is impossible to ignore a world so full of the magnificence of God and the dreadfulness of humanity.

Seeing the Ultimate

Heschel uses a powerful illustration in regard to living in radical amazement.

Let us take a loaf of bread. It is the product of climate, soil and the work of the farmer, merchant and baker. If it were our intention to extol the forces that concurred in producing a loaf of bread, we would have to give praise to the sun and the rain, to the soil and the intelligence of man. However, it is not these we praise before breaking bread. We say, “Blessed be Thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” Empirically speaking, would it not be more correct to give credit to the farmer, the merchant and the baker? To our eyes, it is they who bring forth the bread… It is not possible to dwell each time on what bread is empirically. It is important to dwell each time on what bread is ultimately. (God in Search of Man, p. 63)

Who Moved?

Paradoxically, although God desires to be in relationship with the world, humanity’s refusal to reciprocate causes God to depart.

Man was the first to hide himself from God, after having eaten of the forbidden fruit. The will of God is to be here, manifest and near; but when the doors of the world are slammed on Him, His truth betrayed, His will defied, He withdraws, leaving man to himself. God did not depart of his own volition; He was expelled. God is in exile. (Man Is Not Alone, p. 153)

The real God is not the hiding God, but the discovered God. Humanity has worked itself into a terrible problem. The challenge for humanity is how to reintroduce God to the world. Heschel offers an important understanding of God’s place in the world: God’s place in the world depends on humanity—not God. He begins with the radical statement that God is lost in His world.

God who created the world is not at home in the world…. Of Noah it is said, Noah walked with God, and to Abraham the Lord said Walk before Me. Said the midrash: 'Noah might be compared to a king’s friend who was plunging about in the dark alleys, and when the king looked out and saw him, he said to him, Instead of plunging about in dark alleys, come and walk with me. But Abraham’s case is rather to be compared to that of a king who was sinking in dark alleys, and when his friend saw him he shone a light from him through the window. Said he to him, Instead of lighting me through the window, come and show a light before me. (God in Search of Man, p.156)

The dilemma is summed up well in the following analysis of the approaches of the Baal Shem Tov and Rav Menachem Mendl of Kotzk.

The Baal Shem constantly reminds us how close God is to man and all things. Reb Mendl perennially recalls how alienated, how estranged man is from truth, from God. The Baal Shem discloses the presence of God, the Creator of the Universe, within the world; he brings heaven nearer to man. But for what purpose; says Reb Mendl, since man’s corruption spurns the Divine…When asked where God dwelt, the Baal Shem answered, everywhere, the Kotzker, where he is allowed to enter…” (A Passion for Truth, pp. 32–33)

Heschel desired to help the world realize the contemporary existence of these two paths. God so very much desires to be in the world and for all intents and purposes God is close to man, but humanity has spurned God’s advances so we must light the path for Him to return.

God and Torah

Heschel points to another potential pitfall in one’s quest to feel the realness of God—halakha.

Through sheer punctiliousness in observing the law one may become oblivious of the living presence and forget that the law is not for its own sake, but for the sake of God. Indeed, the essence of observance has, at ties, become encrusted with so many customs and conventions that the Jewel was lost in the setting. Outward compliance with externalities of the law took the place of the engagement of the whole person to the living God. What is the ultimate purpose of observance if not to become sensitive to the spirit of Him, in whose ways the mitzvoth are signposts? (God in Search of Man, p. 326)

In this passage, Heschel enters into the debate surrounding the telos of the mitzvoth and he comes down clearly on the side of those who believe that the telos of the commandments can be ascertained.

As an antidote to this potential problem, Heschel offers the study of aggada. For Heschel, aggada can save God from halakha.

The preciousness and fundamental importance of aggada is categorically set forth in the following statements of the ancient Rabbis: ‘If you desire to know Him at whose word the universe came into being, study aggada for thereby will you recognize the Holy One and cleave unto his ways’…The collections of aggada that have been preserved contain an almost inexhaustible wealth of religious insight and feeling, for in the aggada the religious consciousness with its motivations, difficulties, perplexities and longings came to immediate and imaginative expression. (God in Search of Man, p.324)

The study of aggada, then, becomes another way to achieve wonder.

Heschel goes so far as to identify an “anti-aggadic” strain within Jewish teaching.

The outstanding expression of the anti-aggadic attitude is contained in a classical rabbinic question with which Rashi opens his famous commentary on the Book of Genesis. “Rabbi Isaac said: The Torah should have commenced with chapter 12 of Exodus, since prior to that chapter hardly any laws are set forth.” The premise and implications of this question are staggering. The Bible should have omitted such non-legal chapters as those on creation, the sins of Adam and Cain, the flood, the Tower of Babel, the lives of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the lives of the twelve tribes, the suffering and miracles in Egypt.” (God in Search of Man, p. 328)

 In a fascinating modification of the positive notion of “lifnim mishurat haDin” generally understood as a legalistic term encouraging additional stricture than those minimally required by law, Heschel writes that this dictum is referring to an aggadic approach to Torah—to not just fulfilling the mitzvoth, but fulfilling them with God in mind.

Is It Possible?

How is wonder supposed to help us overcome the decisive religious and theological questions that we often grapple with? For Heschel, the sense of wonder is so overwhelming that it conquers our doubts and questions about evil and meaning in a world that often seems absurd. Significantly, Heschel is not on a quest to ultimate solutions, but rather “to find ourselves as part of a context of meaning.”

Heschel is willing to let absurdity and wonder go head to head.

We do not need to drink the whole ocean to know what kind of water it contains. One drop yields its salty flavor. Our very existence exposes us to the challenge of wonder and radical amazement at the universe despite the absurdities we encounter. It is possible on the basis of personal experience to arrive at the conclusion that the human situation as far as one can see is absurd. However, to stand face to face with the infinite world of stars and galaxies and to declare all of this absurd would be idiotic. (A Passion for Truth, pp. 294–295)

Potential for All

According to Heshcel perceiving God is a phenomenon, “of which all men are at all times capable.” Feeling the realness of God is not something reserved for the religious genius. In fact, he argues that the absence of radical amazement represents a shortcoming and lack of effort. Subjectivity is the absence, not the presence, of radical amazement. Such lack or absence is a sign of a half-hearted, listless mind, of an undeveloped sense for the depth of things” (Man Is Not Alone, p. 21).

It is important for Heschel to make this point as he is attempting to construct a theology and approach to God that can be implemented. He is concerned with the spirit of humanity and the dangers faced by a society that does not live in the presence of God. In a way, Heshcel suggests that his program is quite simple for those who are willing to be open to a relationship with God as such a relationship is available to us in “every perception, every act of thinking and every enjoyment of valuation of reality” (Ibid., p. 20).

Partial Reading List of Works by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

A Passion for Truth, Jewish Lights Publishing, 1995

God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1955

I Asked For Wonder: A Spiritual Anthology, Abraham Joshua Heschel and Samuel H. Dresner, The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1983

Man Is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1951

The Earth Is The Lord’s, Jewish Lights Publishing, 1995

The Ineffable Name of God: Man: Poems, Morton M. Leifman (Translator) Continuum; Bilingual edition, 2005

The Prophets, Hendrickson Publishers, 1962

The Sabbath, Farrar Straus Giroux, 1975

Biography

Edward K. Kaplan and Prof. Samuel H. Dresner, Abraham Joshua Heschel: Prophetic Witness, Yale University Press, 2007

Edward K. Kaplan, Spiritual Radical: Abraham Joshua Heschel in America, 1940–1972, Yale University Press, 2007

Rabbi Dr. Sabato Morais (April 13, 1823-November 11, 1897) was described by a New York Yiddish newspaper as “without doubt…the greatest of all Orthodox rabbis in the United States.” This encomium was written several years after the death of Morais, when a full picture of his life and accomplishments could be written with historical perspective.

Few today remember this remarkable religious leader; even fewer see him as a model of enlightened Orthodox Judaism whose example might be followed by modern day Jews. Yet, Sabato Morais was a personality who deserves our attention…and our profound respect.

Born in Livorno, of Portuguese-Jewish background, he was raised in the Sephardic traditions of his community. As a young rabbi, he became the Director of the Orphan’s School of the Spanish and Portuguese Congregation of London where he served for five years. In 1851, he began service as rabbi of Congregation Mikveh Israel, the historic Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of Philadelphia. He remained with Mikveh Israel for nearly five decades, until his death toward the end of 1897.

Rabbi Dr. Alan Corre, who served as rabbi of Mikveh Israel from 1955 to 1963, wrote an appreciation of his early predecessor. He noted that “in everything he [Morais] writes and does, he comes across as a warm, loving, eminently humane individual, with self-respect, yet remarkably free of egotism for a man in public life who was the recipient of much honor, including an honorary degree from the University of Pennsylvania.” Rabbi Morais sought “to live as a Jew without qualifiers, one who revered and loved the Jewish tradition and desired greatly to perpetuate it.”

Dr. Corre has pointed out that Rabbi Morais is somewhat of an enigma to many, in the sense that he cannot be easily classified according to the ideologies and styles of the major branches of American Jewish life today. “Orthodox as he was in practice, he does not fulfill the role model of the Talmudic sage, and has about him a somewhat assimilated air at which the strictly Orthodox might well look askance. For the Conservative, he is insufficiently innovative, to unwilling to take religious risks. And of Reform, he was a life-long opponent.”

Rabbi Morais was a fine representative of the Western Sephardic rabbinic tradition of his time. Western Sephardim valued general culture, refinement, orderliness, social responsibility. They fostered a Judaism that was loyal to traditional ritual, while at the same time being worldly and intellectually open. Personal piety was to be humble, not ostentatious.

Rabbi Morais wrote: “True worship resides in the heart, and truly it is by purifying our hearts that we best worship God; still, the ordinances which we are enjoined to perform aim at this object: to sanctify our immortal soul, to make it worthy of its sublime origin.”

He laid great stress on ethical behavior, on compassion, on concern for others. He worked not only on behalf of the Jewish community, but showed concern for society as a whole. He was a vocal opponent of slavery and an avid admirer of President Abraham Lincoln. He supported the cause of American Indians; he spoke against the Chinese Exclusion Acts during the 1880s. He cried out against the persecution of Armenians in 1895. Working together with Jewish and non-Jewish clergy, he fostered an ecumenical outlook that called for all people to respect each other and to work for shared goals to improve the quality of life for everyone. In all of his work, Rabbi Morais did not seek glory or public recognition. He was compassionate, graceful and idealistic. Perhaps it was his self-effacing style that won him so much admiration and respect from so many. They saw him as an authentic religious personality, not as one who was serving his own ego.

Arthur Kiron, in a fascinating article that appeared in “American Jewish History,” September 1996, observed that “those who knew and loved Morais repeatedly referred to him in their memorial tributes in idealized terms, as a religious role model, a prophet like Jeremiah, a man of constancy, duty, absolute sincerity, piety and humility.”

One of Morais’s memorializers described him as follows: “For the critical eye of man [Morais] has left behind no visible monuments of great achievements, but to the eye of God he has reared a monument far greater than any of those famed by man. That greatness was his goodness, which in point of intrinsic merit will compare with the greatest wonders of genius. Were it possible for man to measure the amount of good he dispensed among the sorrowing and afflicted…the historian would not hesitate to enroll his name among the world’s truest and noblest immortals….To do good was the first duty of his creed, to do it in silence always, and in secrecy wherever possible, was his second.”

Rabbi Morais and his New York colleague Rabbi Henry Pereira Mendes were co-founders of the Jewish Theological Seminary. They had hoped that this institution would train American-born Orthodox rabbis to lead congregations throughout America. These two rabbis of the Spanish and Portuguese Congregations of Philadelphia and New York worked closely on other communal projects, always in a spirit of devotion to God and community. They both sought to promote a Judaism loyal to tradition, committed to social justice, marked by dignity and gravitas.

Orthodoxy of today is often characterized by increasing narrowness, obscurantism, authoritarianism, and xenophobia. Orthodox rabbis of the ilk of Rabbi Morais are a vanishing breed. The classic Western Sephardic religious worldview is on the verge of extinction. What a phenomenal loss this is for Judaism and the Jewish People!

Yet, as we remember the life of Rabbi Sabato Morais, we know that the memory of the righteous is a blessing. It continues to influence and inspire. The stature and vision of Rabbi Morais will emerge to guide new generations in an Orthodox Judaism that is faithful to tradition, cultured, refined, genuinely pious, humane, and humble. “Happy the man who has found wisdom, the man who has obtained understanding.”