Min haMuvhar

Religion and Politics in America, by Joseph Lieberman

I confess I also like a good introduction, so I thank you, President Samuelson, for such a generous one, and for inviting me to be with you this morning. I have the greatest admiration for this university’s work in educating minds, ennobling spirits, and inspiring in your students a commitment to the words etched in stone at the entrance to this great campus: “Enter to learn, go forth to serve.” There is a warm ecumenical spirit that flows through this campus, and I feel a strong connection to BYU because of the core principles it stands for, which are at once rooted in the tradition of the Mormon faith, but also in the fundamental values that are shared by all Americans and all people of faith.

In this vein, I am reminded of something that happened to me almost exactly three years ago, during the last presidential election. As many of you know, I made the decision back in 2008 to support my friend John McCain for president, even though he was a Republican and I am a Democrat. The most intense and stressful period in any presidential campaign is the final stretch—and I was traveling around the country, trying to rally support for John and his running mate, Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. It was the eve of the vice presidential debate that would pit Governor Palin against Barack Obama’s running mate, Joe Biden, and the McCain team was increasingly nervous. I had been the Democratic vice presidential nominee in 2000, when Al Gore was running for President against George W. Bush, and so the McCain team asked me to go to Philadelphia, where Governor Palin was practicing for the debate, to see if I could help her prepare. When I arrived at the Westin Hotel in downtown Philadelphia for the debate prep session, Governor Palin seemed tired and frustrated, and the McCain team was fast approaching a full-blown panic.

One advisor turned to me and said: “Senator, we need your help. Please go in there and talk to her. You have something in common with Governor Palin that none of the rest of us has. You are both religious people.”

Now, this was a wonderful moment, I thought, because although Sarah Palin is Christian and I am Jewish, this advisor sensed there might be a special bond between us based on our religious beliefs and observance. And I discovered that there was. I began our conversation by asking her if she was familiar with the biblical story of Queen Esther, in which the young queen is called upon to consider her destiny and, with tremendous courage and faith, stand up to the genocidal Haman and save the Jewish people. Governor Palin was indeed very familiar with the story—and I suspect many of you may be as well—so, I reminded her that, as people of faith, we share a belief that we are not here by accident— that we are here on earth for a reason and a purpose. Like Queen Esther, Governor Palin was at a moment of personal destiny. “You have been given a big opportunity,” I said, “and you have a choice to make about whether or not you will seize it and your destiny. So be yourself and have faith, and God will see you through this.”

Governor Palin told me that my words meant a lot to her. The conversation meant a lot to me too because it reminded me that irrespective of theological or political differences, there is a common bond between people of faith. Indeed, people of faith have a shared gratitude for what we have been given—beginning first and foremost with our lives. We also believe what both the Bible and the Declaration of Independence tell us: that each and every one of us is a child of God, and that as such, every person enjoys certain basic rights, liberties, capabilities, and responsibilities. We believe that each of us has his or her own destiny, and that this great nation that we are all part of has a destiny too.

In this spirit, the subject I would like to discuss with you this morning is the relationship between religion and politics in America, a subject that is very personal to me. You see, my Jewish faith is central to my life, including my career in politics. My faith has provided me with a foundation, an order, and indeed a purpose, and has so much to do with the way I navigate through each day, both personally and professionally, in ways both large and small. It also means that, like you, I observe the Sabbath, or Shabbat, as it is called in Hebrew. This means that, for me and other observant Jews, from before sunset on Friday until after sunset on Saturday, I turn off my Blackberry. I do not drive or ride in a car. If there is a vote in the Senate, I will walk there from my home a few miles away.

My observance of the Sabbath is also the subject of the book I recently wrote. Now, I know some people may wonder why a United States Senator would write a book about a religious subject like the Sabbath. The reason is simple: I love the Sabbath and believe that it is at once and commandment we must keep, but also a gift from God that “keeps” and nurtures those of us who observe it. That has certainly been true for me, and I wrote this book because I want to share the Sabbath with everyone, in the hope that they will grow to love it as much as I do.

Before I talk about my own spiritual path and career in politics, however, I think it is important to put all of this in a broader context. Of course, we are at the start of another presidential campaign, one in which discussions and debates about the relationship between politics and religion have already played a prominent role. But in fact, these are questions that are very old—going all the way back to the Founders of our country, who wrote the Declaration of Independence and later the Constitution. The vision of our Founders is relevant because it reminds us that, from the beginning, America has been a nation that has been defined not by our borders, but by our values. One of those founding values was a belief in a higher power—a belief in God. The United States was formed, as the Declaration of Independence says, to secure for the people of this country the “inalienable rights” of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” that were endowed by our Creator. In that way, the United States of America was and is a faith-based initiative. What is equally striking and remarkable is that although our Founders were overwhelmingly men of the same Christian faith, the founding documents they bequeathed us guarantee religious freedom, including the right of every American to hold elective office regardless of his or her religion.

It is Article VI of our great Constitution that explicitly bans religious tests for elective officials, allowing Americans to hold office irrespective of their faith. And it is the First Amendment of our Constitution that prohibits the “establishment” of an official religion, ensuring for every American the right to worship—or not to worship—as he or she so chooses. Succeeding generations have been inspired by this founding vision and endeavored to make real its full promise, which I have always believed is a promise of freedom of religion, not freedom from religion. America’s religious freedom has created a unique public square in which there is no establishment of one religion but freedom for all religions. And that means there is tolerance for different religions throughout our country and in our public life. Perhaps that is why from 1776 to today, America has been a uniquely religious country.

Alexis de Tocqueville, the famous French student of America, noted the remarkable religiosity of Americans in his definitive account of the United States in the nineteenth century. He wrote that there is no country in which religion “retains greater influence over the souls of men than in America,” and added that “there can be no greater proof of its utility and its conformity to human nature than that its influence is powerfully felt over the most enlightened and free nation on earth.” This observation is still true today: Over 90 percent of Americans say they believe in God, and the majority of Americans regularly attend a house of worship. Tocqueville also observed that although Americans were divided by religious sects, “they all look upon their religion in the same light,” as he put it. He recognized that though characterized by different and diverse belief systems, there are universal values that unite all Americans, which is a second consequence of our country’s commitment to religious freedom. Indeed, religious freedom in America has given birth to the development of a set of shared religious values that constitute what President Abraham Lincoln called America’s “political religion” and Walt Whitman praised as “a sublime and serious Religious Democracy” in this nation.

In American history, the sublime and serious combination of religion and democracy has been a force for good in our public life. Some of the great movements of conscience in America emerged from the convictions of religious people and used the language and liturgy of faith to build support. It was this spirit that animated the abolitionist movement, which fought to end the evil of slavery in the mid-nineteenth century. It was this spirit that also animated the suffragist activists of the twentieth century who fought for the right of women to vote and participate in our civic life as equals. And it was this spirit that I was personally privileged to witness when I was in college at Yale in the early 1960s during the civil rights movement in America, which aimed to end racial discrimination and empower African Americans to reclaim their voting rights in southern states. I was inspired to join the civil rights movement because of the values it represented, which were deeply rooted in my faith: the values of equality, inclusiveness, tolerance, and service to others. The purpose of the movement was best expressed by the words of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in his soaring “I Have Dream” speech. This speech—which was a call for freedom, for justice, and for a return to America’s founding values—represented the culmination of the historic March on Washington, a movement I took part in, in which thousands of us, of all religions, races, and nationalities, joined together peacefully and powerfully to petition our government to right the wrong of racial bigotry.

For me, the March on Washington was America at its best. It was America as my family and faith had encouraged me to believe it could be.

During the early 1960s, I felt a boundless sense of hope and possibility about the future that lay ahead for our nation. It was also while I was at college that another important barrier was broken. It was in the fall of my freshman year that a Roman Catholic, John F. Kennedy, was elected to the presidency for the first time in American history. At the time, I felt a sense of possibility that because of President Kennedy's election, doors were going to open for me too and for others who were part of minority faiths, races, and ethnicities. President Kennedy’s historic election embodies the tolerance and respect Americans generally have for religions different from their own—religions whose adherents are a minority in our country.

In 2000, when Al Gore gave me the privilege of being the first Jewish American to be nominated for national office, I personally experienced the American people’s generosity of spirit, fairness, and acceptance of religious diversity. One African American minister said to me on the day I was nominated, “In America, when a barrier is broken for one group, the doors of opportunity open wider for every American.” I felt that warm sense of shared progress throughout the campaign. I also felt free—indeed I was encouraged—to talk about my religion and the central role observance plays in my life. I have some wonderful memories that make this clear in living anecdotes, several of which I write about in my book on the Sabbath. A veteran Secret Service agent who had worked several national campaigns told me he had never heard so many people say “God bless you” to a candidate. It was a reflection, I think, of how Americans embrace the faith that we share, even though we may be of different religions.

On another occasion, I remember once speaking to a rally of Latino Americans and seeing in the front row a woman who had created a poster which perhaps best expressed the sense of shared values and shared aspirations that I am speaking about now in two powerful words that I don't think ever appeared together before: "Viva Chutzpah!" These Americans, like so many others across the country, were moved by the fundamental American principle of equal opportunity and respect for diversity of religious belief that has been at the heart of our American story from the beginning. In the end, the Gore-Lieberman ticket received over a half-million more votes than the Bush-Cheney ticket. I do not cite these matters to relitigate the nettlesome matter of Florida’s electoral votes, but rather as unambiguous proof that our ticket was judged on our qualifications and policies, not on the basis of my religion. That’s the way our Founders wanted it to be and the way it should be.

As we begin the 2012 presidential election cycle, faith and politics have once again become a source of some interest, controversy and perhaps apprehension. For instance, some have expressed anxiety about open professions of faith by a few of the candidates in the Republican primary. I do not share these anxieties. First, a candidate does not give up his or her freedom to exercise freedom of speech during a presidential campaign. If a candidate wants to discuss his or her faith that is their right, just as it is everyone else’s right to decide how they feel about those expressions of faith. I welcome the opportunity to hear about a candidate’s faith; I find it helpful, in fact, because it tells me more about the kind of leader he or she would be. Now we also have two Mormon candidates running for president in 2012, and one of them, Governor Mitt Romney, a distinguished graduate of this university, may well end up as the Republican nominee. If that happens, a new barrier will be broken—and the door of opportunity in our country will once again be wider for all of us. I also hope that no candidate will be judged solely on the basis of his or her faith. Our national candidates should be judged in the best American way—that is, on the basis of their capabilities and policies, their experience, and their vision.

In 1960, when John F. Kennedy was running for president, it was at a time when there was still significant anti-Catholic prejudice in the country. On the eve of the vote, he spoke about this challenge, and his words remain as true today as they did then. He said, “If this election is decided on the basis that 40 million Americans lost their chance of being president on the day they were baptized then it is the whole nation that will be the loser—in the eyes of Catholics and non-Catholics around the world, in the eyes of history, and in the eyes of our own people.”

The same will be true if Americans judge Governor Romney and Governor Huntsman based on their Mormon faith alone. In America, there cannot be a religious test for serving in elective office and I hope and believe that Americans of all faiths—and of no faith—will not base their votes on the fact that Governor Romney’s Mormon faith is different from their own. Just as Americans rose above differences when John F. Kennedy’s Roman Catholic faith was “different” in 1960, and 16 years later when Jimmy Carter’s Christian evangelical faith was “different,” and again in 2000 when my Jewish faith was “different,” Governor Romney must be judged on his personal qualities, his leadership, his experience, and his ideas for America’s future. My experience in 2000 gives me great confidence that the American people will again reject any sectarian religious tests for office and show their strong character, instinctive fairness and steadfast belief in our Declaration of Independence and in our Constitution. That truly is the American way.

Let me conclude by saying that there is one more way in which I believe that the religion of the American people is profoundly important to the current time of American life: a time when millions of Americans can't find work; when millions of Americans are worried about whether they will have their jobs next year; when millions of Americans are pessimistic about America's future; and when people all over the world worry or, in the case of our opponents and enemies, hope that America has begun an irreversible decline. I don’t buy into this pessimism about America's future at all. I believe that this twenty-first century will be another great century for America. One of the big reasons for my optimism is those numbers I cited earlier—that more than 90 percent of the American people believe in God and more than half of Americans regularly attend a house of worship. Now why is that important? It is important because faith in God, love of Country, a sense of unity, and confidence in the power of every individual have carried America through crises greater than the one we face today and will, I am sure, propel us forward again.

People of faith are also strengthened by their faith in God to make clear and proper distinctions and choices. This view is antithetical to moral relativism—it is a positive, affirmative worldview that is not only deeply American, but that is a crucial ingredient to any culture that aspires to be free and prosperous. After all, the greatest source of America’s strength and hope is not in the divisive politics of Washington. It is in the broadly shared values of the American people and the unity of action so many of us derive from the strength we find in the varied houses of worship we attend. My time here with you at BYU has also made me optimistic about the future and the great American century that lies ahead. You inspire optimism in me because I am confident that when you go forth from these gates, guided by your faith, your service will help to make America the more perfect union it has always aspired to be.

Israel Should Offer its Own Peace Plan

An Israeli Peace Plan?

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(This op ed appears in the Jerusalem Post, March 25, 2024)

As Israel is in the midst of a bitter war, it is difficult to be thinking about a peace plan. The government of Israel is adamantly opposed to the American push for a Palestinian State. This is seen as a reward for terrorism and a betrayal of the principle of direct negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians.

Agreed.

But the status quo is obviously not satisfactory, not for Israel and not for the Palestinians. Much of the world, even those countries most friendly to Israel, want to see an end to the endless conflicts in the region. The longer the war goes, the greater is the world's pressure to recognize a Palestinian State. 

What if Israel came forth with a realistic peace plan of its own? What if Israel would not only agree to a Palestinian State but would be the first to recognize it? What if Israel, instead of constantly being seen as an obstruction to peace, was actually the foremost promoter of a peace plan?

The precondition of such a plan would be that Israel will only negotiate with Palestinian leadership that fully recognizes Israel’s right to exist; that commits itself to maintaining peaceful relations with Israel; that makes a concerted effort to eliminate anti-Israel and anti-Jewish propaganda, educational material. In short, Israel should very much want a peaceful neighbor free of Hamas and Hamas-like ideologies.

If the United States and its Arab allies could find and encourage such a Palestinian leadership, this would be a great blessing to Israel and the Palestinians. If Israel would produce a peace plan that would put the onus on Palestinians to agree to peace, this would be a dramatic step forward.

We pray that Israel’s current war with Hamas will end with as great a victory as possible for Israel. The victory must be not only military, but also political and diplomatic. The amazing courage and sacrifices of Tsahal are awe-inspiring. Their victory on the battlefield should be followed by victories for Israel in the areas of diplomacy and politics.

Yes, it seems highly unrealistic to find a congenial Palestinian leadership able and willing to negotiate seriously with Israel. It also seems highly unrealistic for the current Israeli government even to consider a peace gesture. But moving forward will require visionary and courageous leadership. It is easy to dismiss peace talk as being in the realm of fantasy.

 David Ben Gurion is reported to have told his advisors: “We don’t need experts to tell us it’s impossible; we need experts to tell us how to achieve the impossible.” Israel has always been able to achieve the impossible in the past: it can strive to do so now.

         

Biblical Criticism, Historical Truth

Book Review by Rabbi Hayyim  Angel

 

Joshua Berman, Ani Maamin: Biblical Criticism, Historical Truth, and the Thirteen Principles of Faith (Maggid, 2020), 321 pages

              Joshua Berman has written a much-needed book for those in the Orthodox community who have read popular works on Bible criticism but who lack the tools to evaluate the merits of various theories or the religious implications of these theories. Informed by decades of research into both traditional and academic methods, Berman is uniquely qualified to address the religious and academic issues in the first book-length study of its kind.[i]

Berman’s primary argument in the first half of his book is that most purported faith-science conflicts arise from misunderstandings of the nature of academic truth. There are several influential academic Bible theories, such as the documentary hypothesis, which posits multiple human authors of the Torah to account for the contradictions and redundancies in the Torah, or arguments that many narratives lack archaeological corroboration and therefore are fictional and irrelevant. Berman posits that these are based on anachronistic assumptions about literature, history, and law, rather than on the world of ideas in ancient Near Eastern texts and contexts. It is therefore critical from a scholarly perspective to shed these assumptions, and to attempt to understand the Torah as a literary creation of the ancient world. By doing so, we also may better appreciate the revolutionary religious and moral developments that the Hebrew Bible contributed to ancient Near Eastern culture and literature. These values transformed many areas of world culture.

Many of Berman’s arguments in the first half of his book are summaries of his two earlier academic books published by Oxford University Press: Inconsistency in the Torah: Ancient Literary Convention and the Limits of Source Criticism (2017), and Created Equal: How the Bible Broke from Ancient Political Thought (2008). Because Ani Maamin is primarily addressed to the Orthodox community, Berman is careful to demonstrate the continuity of his ideas and methodology with classical rabbinic sources. For example, he cites Maimonides and Gersonides when discussing the literary and historical context of the Torah, and he explores the thought of Netziv and Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin on the relationship between the Written and Oral Law.

Berman does an admirable job in challenging the central assumptions of the documentary hypothesis. For example, proponents of that foundational theory of biblical criticism maintain that Deuteronomy was written as a new version of history and law intended to replace the earlier books of the Torah. Berman notes many examples, however, where Deuteronomy clearly relies on the earlier Torah narratives and laws, and cannot be read as a stand-alone work. Berman asks why the Torah would retain conflicting narratives and laws. The source critics who proposed the documentary hypothesis respond that the Torah is an anthology of competing traditions that were brought together by later redactors. Berman argues, however, that the Torah’s laws are not a compromise between different communities that had different laws, as the source critics argue. Rather, the collections of laws in the Torah are replete with conflicts without having their differences synthesized. “The sine qua non of a compromise document…is that it will iron out conflict and contradiction so that the community can proceed following one authoritative voice” (134). There are also no known ancient Near Eastern narrative anthologies of combined sources, nor compromise legal documents, to serve as precedents to this hypothesis. Finally, “why would the later author of Deuteronomy compose laws designed to replace laws spoken by God in Exodus, and replace them with laws whose authority is only that of Moses?” (135).

Regarding the documentary hypothesis theory of two spliced documents to create the Noah narrative, Berman identifies the many textual and methodological holes in that theory. Once again, there are no known examples of interwoven texts in the ancient Near East. Most strikingly, the complete flood narrative in the Torah features 17 elements that are parallel with the Babylonian flood narrative, the Epic of Gilgamesh. Each purported document in the Noah narrative contains only some of these elements, whereas only the combined accounts (i.e., Genesis 6–9) contain all 17 elements, in the same order as Gilgamesh. Based on these and several other arguments, Berman states that “the two-source hypothesis… should be rejected entirely on academic grounds, because it collapses under the weight of its own deficiencies” (126).

The architects of the documentary hypothesis mistakenly read the narratives of the Torah as they would evaluate modern histories, and therefore concluded that the Torah’s contradictions must have arisen from the hands of different authors. However, Tanakh has no concept of history in the way that we think of that discipline today. The authors of ancient literature, including Tanakh, harnessed accepted historical details for the purpose of exhortation. Pre-modern writers did not sift sources to paint as accurate a picture of the past as possible, but rather used what was known about the past to inspire and instruct. The listener would engage with these texts to learn the lessons those texts come to teach:

 

The Tanakh is a valuable account of the past, not because all it records is fact. It is a valuable account of the past because of the divine authority behind it; it is valuable because it casts the events of the past in a way that ensures that we come away with the most important messages those events have to teach. Our modern environment tells us we should read the news or learn about past events and then process the facts for ourselves, determine their meaning on our own. Our sacred sources insist that we come to the sacred texts in submission with the belief and commitment that this alone is the best way to understand the meaning and lessons of the events that are portrayed. This is how God has authorized that we relate to these events (25).

 

Berman warns that we should not fall into today’s historical bias, that “facts” that are considered “historical” are more valuable than other forms of teaching.

In this vein, Berman devotes a chapter to the historicity of the exodus from Egypt. Although we cannot hope to corroborate every point of the Torah’s narrative from extant Egyptian records, the Torah’s account contains several significant parallels to contemporaneous Egyptian artifacts and literary records that demonstrate the Torah’s deep cultural familiarity with Egypt at the time of the exodus.[ii] The Torah built a series of religious and moral lessons upon a historical core.

Tanakh did break rank with other ancient foundational narratives of surrounding ancient Near Eastern cultures. Tanakh presents a historical continuum and depicts real people and events that occurred in known geographical settings. Ancient Near Eastern myth is generally set in places not easily identified by their readers, addresses realities of human existence, focuses on a small number of figures, and typically employs supernatural events and figures. In stark contrast, God’s interaction with people in Tanakh is dynamic, and relates to many people over a long period of time. Berman observes that these fundamental differences reflect the different genre established by Tanakh:

 

The Tanakh is… a record of how God responds to Israel’s actions across the history of their relationship in covenant…. The surrounding cultures of the ancient Near East believed that there was no force that unilaterally controlled world events; the gods were in tension with one another, and this tension played out in the chaotic turns of world events. By contrast, the Tanakh posits that the world is controlled by a God who purposefully directs human—that is to say historical—affairs according to His will… Writing in this new convention makes sense only if the Tanakh assumes that it is telling us about individuals that really lived and events that really happened. (37–38)

 

Hazal and classical commentaries generally assume that biblical stories are historical, but there is meaningful debate on that subject as well. The primary endeavor of traditional commentary is to uncover the religious meaning of our sacred texts, and that is precisely what the original prophetic authors intended for their audiences.[iii]

In addition to bringing their anachronistic sense of history into their analyses, the source critics who created the documentary hypothesis, influenced by Aristotle, also imposed an expectation of consistency. Since there are contradictions in the Torah, these critics argued, the Torah must be a literary product of different hands, as a single author would not contradict himself. Berman, however, challenges this assumption. Can we be certain that the authors of biblical Israel shared Aristotle’s notion that wise people do not contradict themselves? Shalom Carmy and David Shatz argue that

 

The Bible obviously deviates, in many features, from what philosophers (especially those trained in the analytic tradition) have come to regard as philosophy…. Philosophers try to avoid contradicting themselves. When contradictions appear, they are either a source of embarrassment or a spur to developing a higher order dialectic to accommodate the tension between the theses. The Bible, by contrast, often juxtaposes contradictory ideas, without explanation or apology.[iv]

 

To account for the narrative discrepancies between Deuteronomy and the other books of the Torah, Berman appeals to analogies with Hittite vassal treaties. They often made treaties between themselves as suzerain (the more powerful king) and vassal nations (subordinate countries who depended on the suzerain for protection in exchange for loyalty and taxation). Among the numerous similarities between Hittite treaties and the covenant of the Torah, Hittite kings used updated language in their treaties to suggest changes in terms of the relationship between the suzerain and vassal. Hittites did not want the earlier versions of the treaty to be forgotten or supplanted. Rather, they retold stories with differences, and those differences were critical for understanding the change in the standing of the vassal. The vassal would understand these changes in this manner, specifically by reading the earlier and updated versions together. Imagine a cuneiform version of “show track changes.” Berman concludes that

 

The Hittite kings “updated” the past to serve the needs of the moment…. There was no desire to forget now the story had been told in previous generations. Rather, the retention of the previous telling of the history was crucial, even as that history was rewritten.… Only by accessing the previous version of the history between the two kings would the vassal fully grasp the nuance of the new version of those events and properly digest the diplomatic signaling inherent in the telling.… Every change in nuance between the accounts was carefully measured. (101)

 

Similarly, Deuteronomy is a renewal treaty between God and Israel, who has been a rebellious vassal. The retold history highlights rebellions, leaving Israel on different terms with God as the people are about to enter the land. Deuteronomy is intended to be read along with the other, earlier biblical books, not to replace them. Deuteronomy does not present a stand-alone recap of all Israel’s history, but rather reviews only several critical points of the covenantal history from Sinai onward, often highlighting Israel’s intransigence. Readers are expected to discern the nuanced differences to ascertain the change in Israel’s standing before God after a generation of rebellions.

While Berman’s critique of the documentary hypothesis is persuasive, and his alternative hypothesis is consistent with a contemporaneous ancient treaty-making technique, one might ask the same question that Berman levels effectively against the source critics: If Deuteronomy is a royal upgrade of a suzerain-vassal treaty where the nuanced differences redefine the relationship, why is the book largely presented in the mouth of Moses? Shouldn’t God as sovereign be the one to restate the treaty? Berman maintains that Moses acts as God’s agent to tell them to recall the covenant, but it is unclear why God should not command Israel to recall that covenant.

The conventional position adopted by classical commentaries appears closer to what is suggested in Deuteronomy: At the end of his life, Moses reviewed certain seminal elements of the God-Israel relationship and gave them the tools for success in the Land of Israel in their relationship with God. Moses made rhetorical adjustments for his religious exhortation, and focused on events that strengthened the God-Israel relationship for future generations. This position arrives at the same approach as that proposed by Berman. We should read the narratives in the other books of the Torah alongside the accounts in Deuteronomy, paying close attention to the similarities and differences to ascertain the meaning of each passage. At the same time, this approach avoids making a complete analogy between Hittite treaties and the Torah, given that Moses is the speaker in Deuteronomy.

            Regarding the legal verses in the Torah, Berman rejects the source critics’ assumption that contradictions suggest different authors, with Deuteronomy intended as a comprehensive legal code to replace earlier codes. The critics’ theory is based on another modern assumption that the Torah and other ancient Near Eastern legal texts are comprehensive codes. This assumption is rooted in the usage of statutory law in America, England, and Germany that became prevalent in the nineteenth century. Statutory law is a comprehensive system that supersedes all earlier laws and is binding on the courts. However, until the early nineteenth century, a majority of Germans, English, and Americans used common law. In a common law system, judges arrive at decisions based on the mores and spirit of the community. Written laws serve as resources for making decisions, but are neither comprehensive nor binding on the courts. Law in the Torah is common law, as are the other law collections of the ancient Near East. The Torah never instructs judges to use the written law, nor does it provide a comprehensive code of laws. For example, there are no laws governing how to get married in the Torah, even though Judaism recognizes marriage as an institution governed by Torah law itself. Contradictions reflect different parts of an ongoing legal process and require a complementary Oral Law from the very beginning, since there is no way to use the Written Law exclusively to govern a society. Berman submits that Deuteronomy is Moses’ restatement and new application of earlier teachings of the Torah in anticipation of the people’s entry to the Land of Israel.

Although the critics’ theories are again weakened by Berman’s analysis, one still may wonder why Hazal and classical commentaries, living in ages when common law was widespread, viewed contradictions between legal verses in the Torah as requiring resolution. While they would agree with Berman that we require an Oral Law and that the Written Torah is not a comprehensive legal code, it appears that they did view the Written Law as somewhat more binding on the legal system than what Berman’s analysis yields. Additionally, in the real time of Exodus and Leviticus, the people expected to enter the land shortly after Sinai, since the sin of the spies and God’s decree of 40 years of wandering had not yet occurred. Why would these collections of laws not reflect a similar emphasis as Deuteronomy? Further study is required of the relationship between the laws in Deuteronomy and the other law collections in the Torah.

Having presented the usage of history and law in the Torah as following ancient Near Eastern conventions rather than modern conceptions, Berman identifies the revolutionary ideas of the Torah from within its ancient context. After enumerating several of the central innovations of the Torah, Berman concludes,

 

Throughout the ancient world, the truth was self-evident: all men were not created equal.… [The world they created] was ordered around a rigid hierarchy, where everyone knew his station in life, each according to his class. For the first time in history, the Torah presented a vision… with a radically different understanding of God and man. It introduced new understandings of the law, of political office, of military power, of taxation, of social welfare.… What we find in the Torah is a platform for social order marked with the imprint of divinity. (178)

 

The Torah’s religious and moral sense so vastly eclipses anything produced by its neighbors that one can better appreciate what God wanted Israel and humanity to recognize:

 

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)[v]

 

Berman’s book is vital for understanding the relationship between faith and academic Bible study, where we can benefit from those texts as useful tools in learning and appreciate the staggering revolution of the Torah within its ancient context. We should not impose our modern Western notions of history or Aristotelian consistency onto the Torah, nor should we impose our modern sentiments of statutory law onto the Torah. By focusing on the Torah’s eternal lessons, by attuning ourselves to differences between narratives to refine our understanding of the message of each passage, by recognizing that the Written Law was never intended as a comprehensive code of law but always required an Oral Law, we can maintain complete faith in revelation without hiding from the beneficial aspects of contemporary scholarship.

            In the second half his book, Berman places Maimonides’ formulation of the 13 principles in Helek (the final chapter of Tractate Sanhedrin) into its historical context, noting that Maimonides was the first Jewish thinker who included God’s revelation of the Torah through the uniquely superior prophecy of Moses as essential aspects of Jewish belief. This fact alone explains the rabbinic views that allow for minor narrative additions to the Torah through later prophets. Significantly, Maimonides does not include these elements of belief when ruling on who is a heretic in Hilkhot Teshuva (The Laws of Repentance). Berman analyzes the sources and concludes that Maimonides would consider one who believes that God revealed parts of the Torah to later prophets to be mistaken, but not a heretic:

 

The Rambam’s view in Hilkhot Teshuva is that one must believe that all of the Torah is from Heaven. If one believes that at God’s behest another prophet added to the narrative portions of the Torah, then for the Rambam, that person is erroneous in his belief, but not deemed a kofer baTorah [a heretic]. (240)

 

Berman further argues that later halakhic decisors did not use Maimonides’s 13 principles of faith to exclude people from the community when they were otherwise mitzvah-observant.

            I leave it to the experts in pesak and Maimonidean studies to evaluate Berman’s arguments regarding the fate of the misguided. If Berman is correct, he makes a significant contribution to our understanding of the halakhic status, in Maimonides’ view, of much of contemporary Jewry, including many within the Orthodox community. Given Maimonides’ prestige and widespread acceptance as the primary source of the principles of Jewish faith, Berman’s analysis is exceptionally valuable.

Another productive avenue to arrive at the same communal conclusion is the position of Menachem Kellner, who surveys classical Jewish thinkers and concludes that Maimonides’ dogmatic view is a minority position. The majority adopt the view that one is a heretic only when one willfully denies a tenet espoused by Jewish thought, or willfully accepts a tenet denied by Jewish thought. Otherwise, one is mistaken but not a heretic.[vi]

            Berman’s book is an important contribution to scholarship, and to our religious pursuit of truth in the context of Tanakh study. He challenges readers to examine critically the assumptions they bring to the text. Those who ignore ancient Near Eastern laws and narratives lose a vital tool to evaluate the eternal messages of the Torah. At the same time, it is possible to exaggerate the parallels and analogies between the Torah and other ancient Near Eastern texts. Regardless of the proper balance, Berman provides a fresh perspective on Deuteronomy and its relationship with the other books of the Torah, and expands our horizons in learning, methodology, and religious growth.

 

 

[i] Another important, recent book that addresses related issues is Amnon Bazak, Ad HaYom HaZeh [Until This Day: Fundamental Questions in Bible Teaching], (Yediot Aharonot-Tevunot, 2013); see also my Review Essay, “Faith and Scholarship Can Walk Together: Rabbi Amnon Bazak on the Challenges of Academic Bible Study in Traditional Learning,” Tradition 47 (2014), 78–88. Bazak surveys various religious and academic challenges that arise throughout Tanakh study and its encounter with academic theories. Berman’s book contributes meaningfully to this discussion by focusing primarily on the assumptions of ancient Near Eastern writers, determining where there is overlap with Tanakh, and where Tanakh was revolutionary in its context. In the process, Berman also deflates several pillars of certain academic theories that many perceive as challenges to faith, as will be discussed in this essay.

[ii] For further discussion, see, for example, James K. Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition (Oxford University Press, 1996); Kenneth A. Kitchen, On the Reliability of the Old Testament (Eerdmans, 2003).

[iii] See Hayyim Angel, Controversies Over the Historicity of Biblical Passages in Traditional Commentary,” in Angel, The Keys to the Palace: Essays Exploring the Religious Value of Reading the Bible (Kodesh Press, 2017), 115–131.

[iv] “The Bible as a Source for Philosophical Reflection,” in History of Jewish Philosophy, vol. 2, ed. Daniel H. Frank & Oliver Leaman (Routledge, 1997), 13–14. Cf. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Days of Deliverance: Essays on Purim and Hanukkah (Ktav, 2007), 29.

[v] See also Jeremiah Unterman, Justice for All: How the Jewish Bible Revolutionized Ethics (Jewish Publication Society, 2017).

[vi] Menachem Kellner, Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought: From Maimonides to Abravanel (Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1986); Menachem Kellner, Must a Jew Believe Anything? (Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1999). See also the review essay by David Berger, Tradition 33 (1999), 81–89. Kellner’s second edition of Must a Jew Believe Anything? (2006) contains a response to Berger’s review. See also Marc B. Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles Reappraised (Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004), and Hayyim Angel, “Dogma, Heresy, and Classical Debates: Creating Jewish Unity in an Age of Confusion,” in Increasing Peace through Balanced Torah Study. Conversations 27 (Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2017), 22–29.

The Chosen People: An Ethical Challenge

The concept of the Chosen People is fraught with difficulties. Historically, it has brought much grief upon the Jewish people. It also has led some Jews to develop chauvinistic attitudes toward non-Jews. Nonetheless, it is a central axiom in the Torah and rabbinic tradition, and we therefore have a responsibility to approach the subject forthrightly. In this essay, we will briefly consider the biblical and rabbinic evidence regarding chosenness.

The Book of Genesis

A major theme of the book of Genesis is the refining process of the Chosen People. The Torah begins its narrative of humanity with Adam and Eve, the first people created in the Image of God. The Torah’s understanding of humanity includes a state of potential given to every person to connect to God, and an expectation that living a moral life necessarily flows from that relationship with God.

Cain and Abel, the generation of Enosh, Noah, and the Patriarchs spontaneously brought offerings and prayed without any commandments from God to do so. God likewise held people responsible for their immoral acts without having warned them against such behaviors. Cain and the generation of the Flood could not appeal to the fact that they never received explicit divine commandments. God expected that they naturally would have known such conduct was unacceptable and punishable.

Adam and Eve failed by eating of the Tree of Knowledge, but they were not completely rejected by God, only exiled. Cain failed morally by murdering his brother—and he, too, was exiled. Their descendants became corrupt to the point where the entire human race was overwhelmed by immorality.

At this point, God rejected most of humanity and restarted human history with Noah—the "second Adam." After the Flood, God explicitly commanded certain moral laws (Genesis 9), which the Talmud understands as the "Seven Noahide Laws" (ethical monotheism). Noah should have taught these principles to all his descendants. Instead, the only recorded story of Noah’s final 350 years relates that he got drunk and cursed his grandson Canaan. Although Noah was described as a good and righteous man, his story ends in failure. He did not transmit his values to succeeding generations.

As the only narrative spanning the ten generations between Noah and Abraham, the story of the Tower of Babel represents a societal break from God. It marked the beginnings of paganism and unbridled human arrogance. At this point, God appears to have given up on having the entire world perfected, and instead chose Abraham—the "third Adam"—and his descendants to model ethical monotheism and teach humanity.

This synopsis of the first twelve chapters of Genesis is encapsulated by Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno (sixteenth-century Italy). Only after these three failures did God select Abraham’s family, but this was not God’s ideal plan:

It then teaches that when hope for the return of all humanity was removed, as it had successfully destroyed God’s constructive intent three times already, God selected the most pious of the species, and chose Abraham and his descendants to achieve His desired purpose for all humanity…. (Seforno, introduction to Genesis)

In The Nineteen Letters, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (nineteenth-century Germany) arrived at a similar conclusion.

Nor was there any genetic superiority ascribed to Abraham and his descendants. To the contrary, the common descent of all humanity from Adam and Eve precludes any racial differentiation, as understood by the Mishnah:

Furthermore, [Adam was created alone] for the sake of peace among men, that one might not say to his fellow, my father was greater than yours. (Sanhedrin 37a)

Abraham and descendants thus became the Chosen People—a nation expected to do and teach what all nations ideally should have been doing. Indeed, Abraham is singled out in the Torah as the first teacher of these values:

The Lord said, Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do, seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he has spoken of him. (Gen. 18:17–19)

The remainder of the book of Genesis revolves around the selection process within Abraham’s family. Not all branches would ultimately become Abraham’s spiritual heirs. By the end of Genesis, it is evident that the Chosen People is comprised of all Jacob’s sons and their future generations.

Although the book of Genesis specifies the role and identity of the Chosen People, two difficult questions remain. 1. Once Israel was chosen, was this chosenness guaranteed forever, or was it contingent on the religious-ethical behavior of later generations? Could a sinful Israel be rejected as were the builders of the Tower of Babel? 2. Since the time of the Tower of Babel, is chosenness exclusively limited to Israel (either biological descendants or converts), or can non-Jews again become chosen by becoming ethical monotheists (either on an individual or national level)?

Israel’s Eternal Chosenness

God addressed the first question as He was giving the Torah to Israel:

Now therefore, if you will obey My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own treasure among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine; And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which you shall speak to the people of Israel. (Ex. 19:5–6)

Thus, God’s covenant with Israel is a reciprocal agreement. If Israel does not uphold her side, it appears from these verses that she would cease to be God’s treasure. It is remarkable that the very beginning of Israel’s national identity is defined as conditional, rather than absolute.

Later prophets stress this message, as well. Amos states that Israel’s chosenness adds an element of responsibility and accountability. Infidelity to the covenant makes chosenness more dangerous than beneficial:

Hear this word that the Lord has spoken against you, O people of Israel, against the whole family which I brought up from the land of Egypt, saying: Only you have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities. (Amos 3:1–2)

Amos’s contemporary Hosea employed marriage imagery to demonstrate that Israel’s special relationship with God is contingent on her faithfulness to the covenant. As the Israelites were unfaithful in his time, God rejected them:

She conceived and bore a son. Then He said, "Name him "Lo-ammi"; for you are not My people, and I will not be your God. (Hos. 1:8–9)

However, this was not a permanent rejection from this eternal covenant. Rather, the alienation would approximate a separation for the sake of rehabilitating the marriage rather than a permanent divorce. The ongoing prophecy in the book of Hosea makes clear that God perpetually longs for Israel’s return to a permanent restored marriage:

And I will espouse you forever: I will espouse you with righteousness and justice, and with goodness and mercy, and I will espouse you with faithfulness; then you shall be devoted to the Lord. (Hos. 2:21–22)

The book of Isaiah makes the point even more explicit: there was no bill of divorce:

Thus says the Lord, Where is the bill of your mother’s divorcement, with which I have put her away? Or which of My creditors is it to whom I have sold you? Behold, for your iniquities have you sold yourselves, and for your transgressions your mother was put away. (Isa. 50:1)

At the time of the destruction of the Temple, Jeremiah took this imagery to a new level. There was a divorce, yet God still would take Israel back:

It is said, If a man sends away his wife, and she goes from him, and becomes another man’s, shall he return to her again? Shall not that land be greatly polluted? You have played the harlot with many lovers; yet return to me! says the Lord. (Jer. 3:1)

Jeremiah elsewhere stressed the eternality of the God-Israel relationship:

Thus said the Lord, Who established the sun for light by day, the laws of moon and stars for light by night, Who stirs up the sea into roaring waves, Whose name is Lord of Hosts: If these laws should ever be annulled by Me—declares the Lord —Only then would the offspring of Israel cease to be a nation before Me for all time. (Jer. 31:5–6)

To summarize, Israel’s chosenness is conditional on faithfulness to the covenant. However, failure to abide by God’s covenant leads to separation rather than divorce, and the door always remains open for Israel to return to God. The special relationship between God and Israel is eternal.

Righteous Gentiles Can Be Chosen

Let us now turn to the second question, pertaining to God’s rejection of the other nations after the Tower of Babel. Can these nations be chosen again by reaccepting ethical monotheism? The answer is a resounding "yes." Prophets look to an ideal future, when all nations can again become chosen:

In that day five cities in the land of Egypt shall speak the language of Canaan, and swear by the Lord of hosts; one shall be called, The city of destruction. In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a pillar at its border to the Lord... In that day shall Israel be the third with Egypt and with Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the land; Whom the Lord of hosts shall bless, saying, Blessed be Egypt My people, and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel My inheritance. (Isa. 19:18–25)

Similarly, Zephaniah envisions a time when all nations will speak "a clear language," thereby undoing the damage of Tower of Babel:

For then I will convert the peoples to a clear language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve Him with one accord. (Zeph. 3:9)

Thus, God’s rejection of the nations at the time of the Tower of Babel similarly was a separation for rehabilitation, not a permanent divorce. Were the nations to reaccept ethical monotheism, they too would be chosen.

In halakhic terminology, non-Jews who practice ethical monotheism are called "Righteous Gentiles" and have a share in the world to come (see Hullin 92a). According to Rambam, they must accept the divine imperative for the seven Noahide laws to qualify as Righteous Gentiles. If they act morally without accepting this divine imperative, they should instead be considered "Wise Gentiles":

[Non-Jews] who accept the seven [Noahide] commandments are considered Righteous Gentiles, and have a share in the World to Come. This is on condition that they observe these commandments because God commanded them in the Torah.... But if they observe them because of reason, they are not called Righteous Gentiles, but rather, elah (printed editions: and not even, ve-lo) Wise Gentiles. (Rambam, Laws of Kings, 8:11)

[Regarding those printed editions that say ve-lo instead of elah: this appears to be a faulty text, and Rambam intended elah, i.e., that they are indeed Wise Gentiles. See Rabbi Hayyim David Halevi, Asei Lekha Rav 1:53, p. 158; Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, Abraham’s Journey (2008), pp. 172–173; Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (Iggerot Ha-Ra’ayah 89, vol. 1, pp. 99–100, quoted in Shalom Rosenberg In the Footsteps of the Kuzari, 2007, vol. 1 p. 161.]

To summarize, then, one is chosen if one chooses God. For a Jew, that means commitment to the Torah and its commandments; for a non-Jew, that means commitment to the seven Noahide laws (see Mishnat Rabbi Eliezer 6, quoted in M. Greenberg, pp. 375–376). Non-Jews who are Righteous Gentiles are chosen without needing to convert to Judaism. God longs for the return of all humanity, and the messianic visions of the prophets constantly reiterate that aspiration.

Israel as a Nation of Priests

Although the door remains open for all descendants of Adam and Eve to choose God and therefore be chosen, Israel still occupies a unique role in this discussion. Israel was the first people to recognize God in this way. God calls Israel His "firstborn" (Ex. 4:22). Using the marriage imagery, Israel is God’s wife, which carries with that a special relationship.

Perhaps the most fitting analogy that summarizes the evidence is Non-Jew : Jew :: Jew : Priest. God employs this terminology at the Revelation at Sinai:

Now therefore, if you will obey My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own treasure among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine; And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which you shall speak to the people of Israel. (Ex. 19:5–6)

Being Jewish and being a priest both are genetic. A priest also is a bridge between the people and God and serves in the Temple on behalf of the people. Similarly, Israel is expected to guard the Temple and teach the word of God. Just as priests have more commandments than most Israelites; Israelites have more commandments than the nations of the world. The one critical distinction is that a non-Jew may convert to Judaism and is then viewed as though he or she were born into the nation. Nobody can convert to become a priest (though a nazirite bears certain resemblances to the priesthood).

When dedicating the first Temple, King Solomon explicitly understood that the Temple was intended for all who seek God, and not only Israelites:

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)

In their messianic visions, the prophets similarly envisioned that Israel would occupy a central role in Temple worship and teaching the nations. All are invited to serve God at 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. (Isa. 2:2–4)

Rather than serving primarily as an ethnic description, the Chosen People concept is deeply rooted in religious ethics. It is a constant prod to faithfulness to God and the Torah, and contains a universalistic message that belongs to the community of nations. All are descendants from Adam and Eve, created in God’s Image. God waits with open arms to choose all those who choose to pursue that sacred relationship with Him.

Dr. Norman Lamm observes that "a truly religious Jew, devoted to his own people in keen attachment to both their physical and spiritual welfare, must at the same time be deeply concerned with all human beings. Paradoxically, the more particularistic a Jew is, the more universal must be his concerns" (Shema, p. 35).

For further study, see:

Symposium on "The State of Jewish Belief," Commentary 42:2 (August 1966), pp. 71–160, especially the articles of Rabbis Eliezer Berkovits, Marvin Fox, Immanuel Jacobovits, Norman Lamm, and Aharon Lichtenstein.

         

nd Aharon Lichtenstein.

One People: Thoughts for Parashat Tsav

Angel for Shabbat—Tzav/Parah

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

This week’s Parasha opens with rules pertaining to a daily burnt-offering in the Mishkan, and later also in the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Rabbi Joseph Hertz pointed out that this offering was regarded as an atoning sacrifice for the community. The whole Jewish People, not just a few wealthy donors, shared in the cost.

The underlying theme of this practice stresses the wholeness of the Jewish People. The daily atonement offerings were a national expression of commitment. We come before God as one People; we seek atonement as one People; we each share responsibility for the wellbeing of the whole People.

Although we may have different views on many topics, we are one People. Even if we have strong competing factions on various issues, this ultimate oneness must not come into question. When any one of us is attacked, all of us are attacked. When the Jewish People is in peril, we set aside all differences in order to stand in defense of our People.

The Passover Haggada includes a passage about a rasha, the wicked child. What is the essence of this person’s wickedness? The rasha is so designated in the Haggada not for sins of violence or ritual infractions but for separating from the community. The rasha, although a Jew, does not identify with the destiny of the Jewish People. “What is this service of yours?  It belongs to you, not to me. I cut myself off from the unity of the People.”  The Haggada offers a reply to the rasha: if you had been a slave in ancient Egypt you would not have been redeemed. You would not have proven worthy to be part of our People because you chose not to feel part of our destiny. 

The message applies to all generations including our own. Those of Jewish ancestry who betray their People, especially at times of crisis, prove themselves unworthy of the future redemption of our People.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, in his “On Repentance,” offers a description of what it means for a Jew to identify with Kenesset Israel, the eternal Congregation of Israel:

“The Jew who believes in Kenesset Israel is the Jew who lives with Kenesset Israel where she may be and is prepared to die for her, who hurts with her pain and rejoices in her joy, who fights her wars, suffers in her defeats, and celebrates her victories. The Jew who believes in Kenesset Israel is the Jew who joins himself as an indestructible link not only to the Jewish people of this generation but to Kenesset Israel of all generations. How? Through Torah, which is and creates the continuity of all the generations of Israel for all time.”

This Shabbat is known as Shabbat Parah. Along with the regular Shabbat Torah reading, we read the passages relating to the red heifer. In ancient times, the ashes of the red heifer were used in a purification rite so that all Israelites would be ritually pure in time to celebrate Passover. Shabbat Parah is a reminder for all of us to purify ourselves so that we may be ready and worthy to celebrate the redemption that Passover represents. As we reaffirm our participation in the redemption of Kenesset Israel in olden days, we also reaffirm our commitment to Kenesset Israel today, tomorrow, and for all time.

 

CELEBRATING RABBI HAYYIM ANGEL'S 10TH ANNIVERSARY AS NATIONAL SCHOLAR OF OUR INSTITUTE

           CELEBRATING RABBI HAYYIM ANGEL’S 10TH ANNIVERSRY

       AS NATIONAL SCHOLAR OF THE INSTITUTE FOR JEWISH IDEAS AND IDEALS

 

In his over 10 years of service to our Institute, Rabbi Hayyim Angel has reached thousands of people through his classes, books, articles, YouTube programs and more. He has been an articulate and erudite voice for an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism.

In celebration of his 10th anniversary with our Institute, the autumn 2024 issue of Conversations will include a collection of his articles.  We invite you to join in honoring Rabbi Hayyim Angel by contributing to the Scroll of Honor that will be included in this issue of Conversations.

For inclusion in the Scroll of Honor, contributions are due no later than May 1, 2024. Checks should be mailed to Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2 West 70th Street, New York, NY 10023. You may contribute on our website jewishideas.org, and then let us know that the donation is in honor of Rabbi Hayyim Angel by emailing us at [email protected]

 

INSTITUTE ANGEL    $10,000 and above

BENEFACTOR             $5,000 to 9,999

SPONSOR                     $2,500 to 4,999

HAI SUPPORTER        $1,800 to 2,499

SAREI ELEF                 $1,000 to 1,799

WELL WISHERS          $210 to 999

 

Name____________________________________________________

 

Email address______________________________________________

 

Contributions may also be listed in honor or in memory of loved ones. 

In Honor of___________________________________________________

 

In Memory of ________________________________________________

 

Higher Education and Jewish Education: Knowledge is Power

        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.

 

 

 

    

 

   

     

    

 

 

 

   

    

    

    

 

    

 

Is the American Dream Imploding?

Is the American Dream Imploding?

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(This article appears in the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, March 13, 2024

 

My middle name is Dwight.

That name symbolizes a great American story.

My grandparents, born in Turkey and the island of Rhodes, arrived in the United States in the first decades of the 20th century. They settled in Seattle, Washington, in the emerging community of Judeo-Spanish-speaking Sephardic Jews.

My mother’s father was a barber. My father’s father had a shoe shine stand. They arrived in America with little money, little formal education, but great courage and hope. They left impoverished communities in the old world to raise their families in the land of freedom and opportunity.

Like most immigrants of that time, my grandparents wanted their families to adapt to America. Their children attended public school and grew up as a transition generation between the old world and the new. My generation were full-blooded Americans.

I was born in July 1945 and named after my maternal grandfather Marco Romey. But my mother added a middle name, Dwight, after General Dwight David Eisenhower. I was named after an American hero. I was an organic part of American life.

In school, we daily pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States. We learned about Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln. They were our forefathers. Our relatives served in the American military. Our mothers and aunts knitted clothes for American soldiers. We were in America not as guests but as equal members of society,

By my generation, almost all the grandchildren of immigrants, were well educated, hard-working and sincere believers in the American Dream. We were better educated and more affluent than our grandparents — exactly as they had hoped would happen. Our goal was to be constructive members of society and to contribute to the ongoing flourishing of America.

The virtues of America are often under-appreciated while the sins of America are highlighted and exaggerated. America is undergoing a spiritual, social and political implosion. It has become difficult to feel that we are “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” 

With our children and grandchildren, we thought that the American Dream would continue to thrive and expand. But it seems that American society is increasingly marred by antisemitism, racism and violence. The virus of hatred has infected political life, universities and businesses. The virtues of America are often under-appreciated while the sins of America are highlighted and exaggerated. America is undergoing a spiritual, social and political implosion. It has become difficult to feel that we are “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” The forces of hatred and divisiveness have become more brazen.

My middle name is Dwight, and I am proud to be a bearer of the American Dream. My name symbolizes the dream of immigrants to identify with America, to become full-blooded Americans. America is at risk of losing that dream. It needs to restore confidence and pride in America as a bastion of freedom and opportunity, a land where people of all religions and races can feel safe and secure, where everyone can work together for the betterment of society as a whole.

Let us not forget the American struggles for freedom, democracy and opportunity. Let us build on the American Dream for ourselves and for our future generations.

I want to believe in that future, sure as my middle name is Dwight.


 

Holiness: Thoughts for Parashat Vayikra

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Vayikra

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The book of Vayikra is known in the vernacular as Leviticus. This designation underscores that the book deals primarily with laws relating to the Levites…to the priesthood, Temple, sacrifices, purity laws. While this is a broad characterization, Vayikra covers many other topics relating to business, sexual morality, ethical principles etc.

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz has suggested that the general theme of Leviticus is holiness. “Holiness is not only what one does or does not do in the Temple, but something that applies even in places that have nothing at all to do with the ritual holiness of the Sanctuary of the Temple. It is a spiritual quality in its own right.”  Rabbi Steinsaltz understands holiness “to be a type of refinement, perfection, and exaltation, not necessarily limited to one particular point or area” (Talks on the Parasha, p. 193).

The essence of holiness is to place our lives in context with God. Whatever we do and wherever we are, holiness is a challenge for us to live up to our best selves. We are not only answerable to God; we are answerable to ourselves. Have we done our best? Have we lived up to our potential? Are we still aspiring to grow spiritually?

Holiness is a lifelong process that requires humility, persistence, and realism. We aren’t expected to be perfect, only to be as great as we possibly can be. This week’s parasha lists the various offerings that are to be brought for sins. The Torah acknowledges that we will sometimes fall short and it offers a way forward through repentance. Keep striving, keep growing, keep reaching beyond.

We sometimes hear educators and politicians telling young people: “You can be anything you want. You have unlimited potential.”  Although well intentioned, these statements are false. No matter how much one wants to be President of the United States or member of the Supreme Court, or a superstar athlete, or a gifted artist, or a mega-billionaire…very few will actually achieve these things no matter how hard they try. To tell students they can achieve anything they want is basically to set them up for failure.

A better message is: strive to live up to your own potential. Draw on your abilities to be the best person you can be.  Or, to put the message in Torah terms: be holy! Strive to live in context with the Divine. Live up to the talents that God has given you. Don’t squander your lives chasing false gods and false goals.

We live in a world where holiness seems to be out of fashion. Some live as though there is no God; others live believing in a god that condones hatred, violence, and falsehoods. 

The Torah reminds us and challenges us to be the best person we can be. Although it is difficult to block out all the negative static in our world, the quest for holiness keeps us human, humane and Godly.