Min haMuvhar

Refining our Messaging on Anti-Semitism

(This op ed piece by Rabbi Marc D. Angel appeared in the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, August 20, 2024.)

 

We are rightfully concerned with anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism and we are quick to publicize every instance of malice and injustice against our people. Our media decry the spread of Jew-hatred. Our various spokespeople lament the increase in anti-Semitic acts, especially since October 7.

It is important to expose and combat anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism with all our might.

But is our messaging unwittingly actually leading to an increase in Jew-hatred?

In his book, Subliminal, Dr. Leonard Mlodinow discusses a surprising phenomenon. Public service announcements sometimes backfire. For example, some ads urge visitors to national parks not to litter. In one controlled study, an ad denounced littering and this resulted in less littering. But another ad included the phrase “Americans will produce more litter than ever.” This ad actually led to an increase in littering. Dr. Mlodinow points out that the subliminal message of the latter ad is that it’s really okay to litter; everyone is doing it! (pp. 170-171).

When people are constantly told that anti-Israel sentiment is rampant, subliminally at least some of them will think: it’s okay to hate Israel, lots of people do.  If people are given statistics that anti-Semitic or anti-Israel acts are increasing dramatically, at least some of them will conclude: if so many people hate Jews and Israel, it’s okay for me to do so also. 

Publicizing anti-Israel and anti-Jewish behavior can be a double edged sword. We need the world to know what’s happening and rally good people to fight the injustices against us. But by highlighting how many people hate us, we actually may be encouraging closet anti-Semites to come out into the open with their venom. The more visibility anti-Semites have, the more they create a snowball effect drawing others into the hatred syndrome.

In another of his books (Emotional), Dr. Mlodinow writes about psychological contagion. Research is being done about “the spread of emotion from person to person or throughout an organization or even an entire society” (p. 184). When crowds get fired up against Israel and against Jews, the hatred can become “contagious.” It is difficult to combat this type of psychological contagion; but just condemning it will not make it disappear.

We fight the anti-Semites and anti-Zionists by strengthening our own communities; by insisting on prosecution of hate crimes; be electing pro-Israel officials; by working with good people to foster civil society. But we also have to promote positive messaging to the general public.

Instead of constantly publicizing the increase in anti-Jewish words and deeds, we ought to be emphasizing the many millions of people who admire and support Israel and Jews. Instead of giving front page attention to anti-Israel “celebrities” we ought to highlight the pro-Israel voices and reserve the bad actors for the back pages. 

The overwhelming majority of the public abhors terrorism. They resent “activists” i.e. haters who block highways, disrupt college campuses, vandalize businesses, attack innocent individuals on the basis of religion, race, nationality or other reasons. Instead of the media showering so much attention on the haters, we should be demanding even more attention on those who promote civility, mutual respect, and intergroup cooperation.

We certainly must condemn and fight anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. But our messaging must be positive and must draw on the goodwill of millions of people who appreciate the values of Israel and the Jewish People. 

 

Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism

Orthodox Judaism has a powerful, appealing, and sophisticated message for world Jewry—and for humanity at large. Basing ourselves on the divinely revealed Bible, the authoritative halakhic system, and a worldview rooted in compassion and justice, we have succeeded as a world religion for over 3,000 years. We have weathered physical and spiritual attacks from external enemies; and we have been victorious in sectarian battles within Judaism itself.

While other segments of Jewry stagnate or shrink due to assimilation, low birth rates, and defections from Judaism—Orthodoxy has proven to be remarkably resilient. It has created thriving communities, a positive birth rate, networks of schools, kashruth agencies, mikvaot, social service organizations, and so forth. Thousands of Jews have been attracted to an Orthodox way of life, and the “ba’al teshuva” schools and institutions continue to flourish dramatically.

With all its strengths and successes, though, Orthodoxy is being transformed into something more akin to a sect or cult than a world religion. The turn to the “right” has cast Orthodoxy into a dilemma. On the one hand, the growing Orthodox religious extremism stems from faith and spiritual vitality. It reflects an understandable rejection of the prevalent materialistic, hedonistic, and amoral/immoral values that pervade society at large. Right-wing Orthodoxy has chosen to insulate itself as much as possible from the corrosive forces of modern secular culture. By emphasizing strict religious observance and the centrality of Torah learning, it has sought to inure itself from what it perceives to be negative external pressures.

On the other hand, the turn to the right has manifested itself in some highly problematic features. The Hareidi (insular right-wing) communities are dominated by cult-like authoritarian leaders who control public opinion among their followers. Conformity is encouraged in thought, behavior, and manner of dress. People who are perceived to be threats to Hareidi values are vilified. The valid range of religious opinion, even within halakhic boundaries, has been sharply curtailed.

The Modern Orthodox community has largely been swept up in the move to the right. Its spokespeople are generally apologetic about the term “Modern Orthodox” and have tried alternative phrases such as Centrist Orthodoxy or Open Orthodoxy. An American organization that was avowedly proud of being “modern and Orthodox,” Edah, lasted less than ten years before closing its doors. In Israel, the Modern Orthodox are generally identified as Religious Zionists, although the two terms are not entirely synonymous. Israeli Religious Zionism is itself embroiled in a spiritual battle with Hareidism, and has ceded much authority to the Hareidi rabbinic leadership.

Yet, there are many thousands of Orthodox Jews scattered around the world who feel alienated by Hareidism and betrayed by Modern Orthodoxy. These Orthodox Jews share a vision of Judaism rooted in Torah and mitzvoth, a commitment to individual freedom and responsibility, a dedication to the highest ideals of social justice, and a responsive attitude to the challenges of the world.

This group of Orthodox Jews, in spite of the grandness of their religious commitment and vision, are relegated to the periphery of Orthodox life today. The “yeshiva world” is thoroughly dominated by Hareidi ideology. Whether in Israel, the United States, or other centers of Jewish life, key halakhic (Jewish law) and hashkafic (religious worldview) decisions are being made by proponents of the Hareidi viewpoints.

Halakhic authorities, known popularly as “gedolim” (great ones), are drawn almost exclusively from the Hareidi orbit. The Orthodox masses generally defer—whether willingly, sheepishly, or unwillingly—to Hareidi authorities in almost every area of Jewish religious life. The “gedolim” associated with Modern Orthodox institutions tend to present themselves in Hareidi terms. They may be more Zionistic and more receptive to secular studies, but—with a few notable exceptions—they have not fostered a clear independence from the dictates of the Hareidi world.

Whatever the historical and sociological reasons, the Orthodox pendulum has swung far to the right. Presumably, it will one day swing back; but meanwhile considerable damage is being done to Orthodoxy—and to the Jewish people in general—while Orthodoxy increasingly is being dominated by fundamentalist, obscurantist, authoritarian leaders and teachers.

We need a reasonable, intelligent, compassionate, and inclusive view of Orthodoxy—Classic Orthodoxy—that offers a legitimate Orthodox view of life different from that promoted by the Hareidi community. How can we achieve this?

As a prelude, let it be noted that Hareidim are not all the same; there is plenty of diversity within the Hareidi world. Let it also be noted that the Hareidim have as much right as anyone else to organize their communities as they see fit. Problems arise, though, when they impose their views on the rest of us and negate the legitimacy of differing views—even when the differing views are themselves soundly rooted in Jewish tradition.

In characterizing the negative features of Hareidism, the following list must be considered:

1. authoritarianism—relying on the rulings and opinions of cult-like leaders, whether those leaders are Hassidic rebbes, Lithuanian or Sephardic “gedolim,” or heads of yeshivot

2. conformity—following the “accepted” patterns of behavior and thought of the Hareidi world, with the subsequent constriction of valid religious options

3. fundamentalism—relying on the literal meanings of biblical and rabbinic texts, even when these texts contradict reason or the findings of science

4. obscurantism—relying on the traditional wisdom of Judaism as they understand it, and limiting exposure to new ideas and knowledge—especially if drawn from non-Jewish or non-religious sources

5. xenophobia—seeing the world almost exclusively in terms of Hareidism, with non-concern or even disdain for those who are not part of the Hareidi world

6. extremism—promoting the Hareidi worldview through extreme statements, suppression of those who dissent from the “establishment,” curses of enemies, and even physical violence

7. anti-Zionism or neutral-Zionism—refusing to recognize the religious significance of the State of Israel

8. restriction of women’s rights—insisting on a male-dominated social structure, and imposing restrictive “modesty” rules on females

These manifestations of Orthodoxy’s turn to the right are not mandated by the thousands of years of Jewish religious tradition. On the contrary, Hareidism should be viewed as a deviation from classic normative Judaism. It is time—well past time—to reclaim Orthodox Judaism.

Challenges of Modernity

The modern period has been extraordinarily difficult for the survival of the bearers of the Sinaitic Revelation. The Nazis and their collaborators murdered 6 million Jewish men, women, and children during World War II. One-third of world Jewry perished, and the other two-thirds were traumatized. Bastions of traditional religious life in Europe were wiped off the face of the earth.

Due to Arab animosity toward the newly established State of Israel, life became impossible for hundreds of thousands of Jews who had been living in Arab countries for many centuries. These Jews from Africa and Asia emigrated to Israel in vast numbers— and the traditional frameworks of their communities were shaken as they attempted to adapt to the new, secularized, modern Jewish State. If the State’s political and social “establishment” was largely composed of secularized Ashkenazim, its religious “establishment” was largely composed of Ashkenazic Orthodox rabbis. Whichever way the Sephardic newcomers turned, they risked losing the rich religious culture that had characterized their communities for generations.

While the Jewish people underwent these cataclysmic demographic changes, they also had to deal with disorienting sociological and spiritual changes. The process of modernity, already beginning in the late eighteenth century, led to a growing number of Jews who abandoned traditional religious beliefs and observances. Whether they opted out of Judaism altogether, or identified themselves with non-Orthodox patterns of life, millions of Jews stopped seeing themselves as heirs of the Revelation at Sinai. They became messengers who had forgotten their message—or who simply chose to quit being messengers.

Adherents of Jewish Orthodoxy felt embattled. How were they to maintain their beliefs and practices in a world that was increasingly non-religious, even anti-religious? How could they raise their children to be loyal to the Torah traditions when Jews were such a tiny minority in the world, and when so many Jews were moving away from religious traditionalism?

Two major approaches developed. The Hareidi view was that Orthodoxy had little chance of surviving in an open society; the forces of assimilation and secularization were simply too overwhelming. The best strategy was for Orthodox Jews to insulate their communities to the extent possible from the corrosive influences of the outside world. This could be accomplished by having adherents live in tightly knit neighborhoods, where Hareidim were a large percentage (preferably the clear majority) of residents; by maintaining a distinctive style of dress that separated Hareidim from other groups; by sending their children to Hareidi schools that sharply limited instruction in secular subjects; by not interacting in any official way with non-Orthodox movements or their leaders; by operating their own religious, social, and communal institutions so as to limit contacts with “outsiders”; and to use every possible sociological means to reinforce their beliefs and traditions. To be an “insider,” one had to conform to Hareidi standards. One who deviated in dress, practice, or belief was subject to being rejected, humiliated, and even physically attacked by Hareidi loyalists. It would be difficult for non-conformists to find spouses for their children among the fine Hareidi families.

The advantage of the Hareidi approach is that it generally has proven to be effective in maintaining a traditional way of life. People living within the system know that they are part of a larger Hareidi community that sees itself as God’s chosen group, that only they—through the wisdom and authority of their rabbinic leaders—are following the Torah of Sinai. The Hareidim have been growing in numbers, strength, and communal influence in Israel, and wherever they have communities in the Diaspora.

If the many thousands of Hareidim formed one ideal community characterized by perfect piety and righteousness, then perhaps the case for Hareidism would be more compelling. However, the Hareidim are fractured into many sub-groups, often at odds with each other. Rivalries and hatred among various Hassidic sects are rampant. The Lithuanian-style Hareidim have many bones of contention with Hassidic Hareidim. The Ashkenazic Hareidi “establishment” has fostered negative attitudes toward Sephardic Hareidim, even to the extent of limiting (or excluding) children of Sephardic background from their schools and not allowing their children to marry Sephardim. Sephardic Hareidim (a relatively new phenomenon) have their own share of rivalries among themselves and between themselves and the Ashkenazic Hareidim. The Hareidi press is notoriously vicious in its attacks on those it deems to be religiously deficient. In short, the Hareidi community is filled with all the strife, egotistical leadership, gossip, and backbiting that could be expected in any other human community. Hareidi leaders and political figures do not seem to be any more moral or honest than non-religious leaders and political figures.

For most Jews, including most Orthodox Jews, the Hareidi approach is not appealing. It is too narrow, too intellectually stifling, too authoritarian, too sectarian. So let us consider the Modern Orthodox approach.

In the Ashkenazic world, figures such as Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch of nineteenth-century Germany and Rabbi Bernard Revel of twentieth-century America emerged as representatives of an Orthodoxy that retained its traditionalism but also its commitment to live in the modern world. Rabbi Hirsch’s motto was “Torah im derekh erets,” Torah with culture. He argued that the ideal religious Jew should be steeped in Torah knowledge and observance, and also be comfortable interacting with the “outside” world. The Torah personality was viewed as a pious Jew, who was well mannered and cultured, familiar with the intellectual currents of the time. Similarly, Rabbi Revel adopted the motto of “Torah uMada,” Torah and Science (or better, Torah and general knowledge). In founding Yeshiva College (later to become Yeshiva University), Rabbi Revel strove to implement his view that Orthodox Jews could be pious and learned Torah scholars, while at the same time being lawyers and doctors and businesspeople. Although Yeshiva College did produce students who went on to become rabbis, the large majority of graduates entered other fields. They functioned as Orthodox Jews in the professions, in the workplace, and in the public arena. They were ambassadors of a Torah Judaism that lived “in” the world, and that did not seek to isolate itself within sectarian confines.

In the Sephardic world, figures such as Rabbis Eliyhahu Benamozegh, Eliyahu Hazan, and Benzion Uziel reflected a worldview imbued with religious tradition, but at the same time open to general knowledge. Sephardim did not splinter into religious movements, but managed to maintain a traditional communal structure even as individuals adopted different levels of belief and observance. The Sephardic model, though, diminished in influence as Sephardim came increasingly under the sway of Ashkenazic models.

Moderation: Weakness or Virtue?

The Modern Orthodox perspective has been criticized by its antagonists as being unprincipled, wishy-washy, and religiously dubious. It has been charged with compromising with modernity, selling out on basic religious tenets, looking for the most lenient halakhic rulings. Yet, Modern Orthodoxy sees itself in quite different terms. It is highly principled, highly idealistic, and highly sensitive to the needs of the Jewish public. Indeed, it is the ideal expression of religious Orthodoxy.

A rabbinic teaching has it that the way of the Torah is a narrow path. On the right is fire, and on the left is ice. One who veers from the path is doomed to be burnt or frozen. The Torah way of life is balanced, harmonious and sensible. It imbues life with depth, meaning, and true happiness. To be fulfilled properly, it must maintain its balance on the narrow path.

Veering to the left freezes the soul of Judaism. It robs the Torah of warmth and harmony. Abandoning or watering down Jewish belief and religious observance is a turn toward ice, a spiritless charade of religion.

Veering to the right leads to the dangers of fire—excessive zeal, extremism, fanaticism. Losing the harmony of the true path of Torah, the extremists pursue a xenophobic ghettoized Judaism that is hostile to or suspicious of the outside world.

“Her ways are the ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace (Proverbs 3:17).” Classic rabbinic literature takes this verse as a descriptive view of Torah. The Torah way of life is characterized by kindness, harmony, and sweetness. The verse is also prescriptive: It reminds us that religious life must take into consideration the qualities of pleasantness and peace.

The Talmud (Yoma 86a) offers the insight of the great sage Abbaye, that the Torah’s commandment to love God entails “that the name of God be beloved because of you. If someone studies Scripture and Mishnah, and attends on the disciples of the wise, is honest in business, and speaks pleasantly to persons, what do people then say concerning him? ‘Happy the parent who taught him Torah, happy the teacher who taught him Torah; woe unto those who have not studied the Torah; for this man has studied the Torah—look how fine are his ways, how righteous his deeds.’ On the other hand, if a person studies Torah and yet behaves in an unpleasant, unrighteous manner, people will say: ‘Woe unto him who studied the Torah, woe unto his father who taught him Torah; woe unto his teacher who taught him Torah. This man studied the Torah: look how corrupt are his deeds, how ugly his ways.’”

Maimonides (Yesodei haTorah 5:11) notes that if a Torah scholar, known for piety, does things that make people talk against him—even though these things are not sins—he thereby profanes the Name of God. One’s conduct is expected to be impeccable, free from any taint of inappropriateness.

If the scholar has been scrupulous in his conduct, gentle in his conversation, sociable, and receiving fellow men cheerfully, without insulting those who embarrass him, but showing courtesy to all, even to those who treat him disrespectfully, and conducting his business affairs with integrity…traits for which he is admired and loved by all who desire to follow his example, he sanctifies the Name of God.

Pleasantness and peace matter. They are not peripheral adornments to the Torah way of life, but are essential and central ingredients. Without these qualities, Orthodoxy is false to its mission and misrepresents the ideal Torah way of life.

Moderation, good manners, gentleness in dealing with others—these are not compromise positions, but are the mainstream foundations of Torah Judaism. Those who live according to these ideals are in fact walking piously on the Torah path, avoiding the ice on the left and the fire on the right.

Rabbinic Responsibility: Talmidei Hakhamim Marbim Shalom BaOlam

The role and responsibility of rabbinic leadership is central to a discussion of the state of Orthodoxy. Let us consider several classic rabbinic texts that relate to our topic.

“Rabbi Elazar said in the name of Rabbi Haninah: Rabbinic scholars increase peace in the world” (end of tractate Berakhot). The hallmark of a rabbi must be the commitment to increase peace and harmony among the Jewish people and within society at large. Without this guiding focus, rabbinic scholars betray their responsibility.

How do rabbis go about “increasing peace in the world”? How is this general truism translated into specific action? The answer may be found in the commentary of the Maharsha on the closing passages in Berakhot and Yebamoth. The Maharsha states that rabbis are obliged to bring peace between the people of Israel and their God. By teaching Torah, the prayers and blessings, as well as by imbuing reverence and love of God, rabbis thereby lead Jews to find peace in their relationship with God. The rabbinic mission demands a spiritual outlook, an overwhelming desire to bring Jews closer to their God and Torah. This mission can only be properly fulfilled in a spirit of love, compassion, inclusivity—and much patience.

The rabbi must see himself—and must be seen by others—as a selfless religious leader who places the public’s interests before his own. He must not be a self-serving, manipulative bureaucrat who is more interested in advancing his own career than in serving the public in truth.

The Maharsha points to another rabbinic characteristic that results in increasing peace in the world. That is the application of halakha in a way that reflects understanding and sensitivity to the human predicament. Our talmudic sages, for example, offered lenient rulings in order to save women from suffering the plight of an agunah. They were willing to deviate from the technical letter of the law—even to be oker davar min haTorah (to uproot a Torah law)—when they felt this was necessary. Rabbi Yohanan taught in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yehozadak: “It is proper that a letter be rooted out of the Torah so that thereby the heavenly Name shall be publicly hallowed” (Yebamoth 79a). The sages recognized overarching principles which guided halakhic rulings—principles such as sanctifying God’s Name; avoiding desecration of God’s name; making decisions based on the fact that the ways of Torah are pleasant, and all its paths are peace.

To increase peace in the world, rabbinical scholars must be sensitive to the needs of the public and must see themselves as integral members of the public. In addressing his rabbinic colleagues at a 1919 conference in Jerusalem, Rabbi Benzion Uziel underscored the responsibility of rabbis to lead the community “with words of pleasantness, and with love of each individual Jew.” Rabbis are not to isolate themselves in their study halls. “Let us walk on our path together with all the people and among the people, to love and appreciate, to learn and to teach the Torah of Israel in the presence of all.”

Kamtsa and Bar Kamtsa

The Talmud records a poignant story relating to the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE. Although historians describe various political, sociological, and military explanations for the Roman war against the Jews, the Talmud—through the story of Kamtsa and Bar Kamtsa—points to a moral/spiritual cause of the destruction:

R. Johanan said: The destruction of Jerusalem came through Kamtsa and Bar Kamtsa in this way. A certain man had a friend Kamtsa and an enemy Bar Kamtsa. He once made a party and said to his servant, Go and bring Kamtsa. The man went and brought Bar Kamtsa. When the man [who gave the party] found him there he said, See, you tell tales about me; what are you doing here? Get out. Said the other: Since I am here, let me stay and I will pay you for whatever I eat and drink. He said, I won't. Then let me give you half the cost of the party. No, said the other. Then let me pay for the whole party. He still said, No, and he took him by the hand and put him out. Said the other, Since the rabbis were sitting there and did not stop him, this shows that they agreed with him. I will go and inform against them to the Government. He went and said to the Emperor, The Jews are rebelling against you. He said, How can I tell? He said to him: Send them an offering and see whether they will offer it [on the altar]. So he sent with him a fine calf. While on the way he [Bar Kamtsa] made a blemish on its upper lip, or as some say on the white of its eye, in a place where we [Jews] count it a blemish but they [the Romans] do not. The rabbis were inclined to offer it in order not to offend the Government. Said R. Zechariah b. Abkulas to them: People will say that blemished animals are offered on the altar. They then proposed to kill Bar Kamtsa so that he should not go and inform against them, but R. Zechariah b. Abkulas said to them, Is one who makes a blemish on consecrated animals to be put to death? R. Johanan thereupon remarked: Through the scrupulousness of R. Zechariah b. Abkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land. (Gittin 55b–56a)

The story tells of a host—apparently a wealthy man—who throws a party and wants his friend Kamtsa to be brought to it. The servant makes a mistake and brings Bar Kamtsa—a person the host despises. When the host sees Bar Kamtsa, he orders him to leave. Even though Bar Kamtsa pleads not to be humiliated by being sent away, the host is unbending. Bar Kamtsa offers to pay for whatever he eats, for half the expenses of the entire party, for the entire party—but the host unceremoniously leads Bar Kamtsa out of his home.

The story reflects a lack of peace among the Jewish community in Jerusalem. The antagonism between the host and Bar Kamtsa is palpable. The unpleasant scene at the party was witnessed by others—including “the rabbis”; obviously, “the rabbis” were included on the party’s guest list. They were part of the host’s social network. When Bar Kamtsa was ejected from the party, he did not express rage at the host. Rather, he was deeply wounded by the fact that rabbis had been silent in the face of the humiliation he had suffered: “Since the rabbis were sitting there and did not stop him, this shows that they agreed with him.” He might have understood the host’s uncouth behavior, since the host hated him. But he could not understand why the rabbis, through their silence, would go along with the host. Why didn’t they stand up and protest on behalf of Bar Kamtsa? Why didn’t they attempt to increase peace? Bar Kamtsa was so disgusted with the rabbis that he decided to stir up the Roman Emperor against the Jewish people. If the rabbinic leadership itself was corrupt, then the entire community had to suffer.

Why didn’t the rabbis speak up on behalf of Bar Kamtsa?

Apparently, the rabbis kept silent because they did not want to offend their host. If the host wanted to expel a mistakenly invited person, that was his business—not theirs. The host seems to have been a wealthy patron of the rabbis; he obviously wanted them included on his invitation list. Why should the rabbis offend their patron, in defense of an enemy of their patron? That might jeopardize their relationship with the host and could cost them future patronage.

The rabbis kept silent because they thought it socially and economically prudent for their own interests. They could not muster the courage to confront the host and try to intervene on behalf of Bar Kamtsa. By looking out for their own selfish interests, the rabbis chose to look the other way when Bar Kamtsa was publicly humiliated.

Rabbi Binyamin Lau, in his review of the rabbinical and historical sources of that period, came to the inescapable conclusion that “the rabbis were supported by the wealthy [members of the community], and consequently were unable to oppose their deeds. There is here a situation of economic pressure that enslaved the elders of the generation to the officials and the wealthy….The Torah infrastructure depended on the generosity of the rich.”

When rabbis lost the spirit of independence, they also lost their moral compass. They were beholden to the rich, and could not afford to antagonize their patrons. They remained silent even when their patrons behaved badly, even when their silence allowed their patrons to humiliate others. Bar Kamtsa was outraged by the moral cowardice of the rabbis to such an extent that he turned traitor against the entire Jewish people.

The story goes on to say that Bar Kamtsa told the Emperor that the Jews were rebelling. To verify this, the Emperor sent an offering to be sacrificed in the Temple. If the Jews offered it up, that proved they were not rebelling. If the Jews refused to offer it up, this meant that they were defying the Emperor and were rising in rebellion. Bar Kamtsa took a fine calf on behalf of the Emperor, and put a slight blemish on it. He was learned enough to know that this blemish—while of no consequence to the Romans—would disqualify the animal from being offered according to Jewish law.

When Bar Kamtsa presented the offering at the Temple, the rabbis were inclined to allow it to be offered. They fully realized that if they rejected it, this would be construed by the Emperor as a sign of disloyalty and rebellion. Since there was so much at stake, the rabbis preferred to offer a blemished animal rather than incur the Emperor’s wrath. This was a sound, prudent course of action. But one of the rabbis, Zecharyah b, Abkulas, objected. He insisted that the rabbis follow the letter of the law and not allow the offering of a blemished animal. He cited public opinion (“people will say”) that the rabbis did not adhere to the law and therefore allowed a forbidden offering. The rabbis then considered the extreme possibility of murdering Bar Kamtsa, so that this traitor would not be able to return to the Emperor to report that the offering had been refused. Again, Zecharyah b. Abkulas objected. The halakha does not allow the death penalty for one who brings a blemished offering for sacrifice in the Temple. Murdering Bar Kamtsa, thus, would be unjustified and illegal. This was “check mate.” The rabbis offered no further ideas on how to avoid antagonizing the Emperor. The offering was rejected, and Bar Kamtsa reported this to the Emperor. The result was the Roman destruction of Jerusalem and razing of the Temple. “R. Johanan thereupon remarked: Through the scrupulousness of R. Zechariah b. Abkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land.”

Rabbi Johanan casts R. Zecharyah b. Abkulas as the villain of the story. R. Zecharyah was overly scrupulous in insisting on the letter of the law, and he lost sight of the larger issues involved. He did not factor in the consequences of his halakhic ruling; or if he did, he thought it was better to suffer the consequences rather than to violate the halakha. Rabbi Johanan blames R. Zecharyah’s “scrupulousness” for the destruction of Jerusalem, the razing of the Temple, and the exile of the Jewish people. The moral of the story, according to Rabbi Johanan, is that rabbis need to have a grander vision when making halakhic decisions. It is not proper—and can be very dangerous—to rule purely on the basis of the letter of the law, without taking into consideration the larger issues and the consequences of these decisions. Technical correctness does not always make a halakhic ruling correct. On the contrary, technical correctness can lead to catastrophic results. To follow the precedent of Rabbi Zecharyah b. Abkulas is a dangerous mistake.

Yes, Rabbi Zecharyah b. Abkulas was overly scrupulous in his application of halakha, when other larger considerations should have been factored in. His narrow commitment to legal technicalities caused inexpressible suffering and destruction for the Jewish people. But is he the real villain of the story?

Rabbi Zecharyah was only one man. The other rabbis formed the majority. Why didn’t they overrule Rabbi Zecharyah? The rabbis surely realized the implications of rejecting the Emperor’s offering. They were even willing to commit murder to keep Bar Kamtsa from returning to the Emperor with a negative report. Why did the majority of the rabbis submit to Rabbi Zecharyah’s “scrupulousness”?

The story is teaching not only about the mistaken attitude of Rabbi Zecharyah b. Abkulas, but about the weakness and cowardice of the rest of the rabbis. The other rabbis were intimidated by Rabbi Zecharyah. They were afraid that people would accuse them of being laxer in halakha than Rabbi Zecharyah. They worried lest their halakhic credibility would be called into question. Rabbi Zecharyah might be perceived by the public as the “really religious” rabbi, or the “fervently religious” rabbi; the other rabbis would be perceived as compromisers, as religiously defective. They recognized that Rabbi Zecharyah, after all, had technical halakhic justification for his positions. On the other hand, they would have to be innovative and utilize meta-halakhic considerations to justify their rulings. That approach—even if ultimately correct—requires considerable confidence in one’s ability to make rulings that go beyond the letter of the law. Rabbi Zecharyah’s position was safe: it had support in the halakhic texts and traditions. The rabbis’ position was risky: it required breaking new ground, making innovative rulings based on extreme circumstances. The rabbis simply were not up to the challenge. They deferred to Rabbi Zecharyah because they lacked the courage and confidence to take responsibility for bold halakhic decision-making.

When Rabbis Do Not Increase Peace in the World

When rabbis lose sight of their core responsibility to bring peace into the world, the consequences are profoundly troubling. The public’s respect for religion and religious leadership decreases. The rabbis themselves become narrower in outlook, more authoritarian, more identified with a rabbinic/political bureaucracy than with idealistic rabbinic service. They become agents of the status quo, curriers of favor from the rich and politically well-connected.
When rabbis lack independence and moral courage, the tendencies toward conformity and extremism arise. They adopt the strictest and most fundamentalist positions, because they do not want to appear “less fervent” than the extremist rabbinic authorities.

When rabbis fear to express moral indignation so as not to jeopardize their financial or political situation, then the forces of injustice and disharmony increase. When rabbis adopt the narrow halakhic vision of Rabbi Zecharyah b. Abkulas, they invite catastrophe on the community. When the “silent majority” of rabbis allow the R. Zecharyahs to prevail, they forfeit their responsibility as religious leaders.

The contemporary Hareidization of Orthodox Judaism, both in Israel and the Diaspora, has tended to foster a narrow and extreme approach to halakha. This phenomenon has been accompanied by a widespread acquiescence on the part of Orthodox rabbis who are afraid to stand up against the growing extremism.

In the summer of 1984, I met with Rabbi Haim David Halevy, then Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv. He was a particularly independent thinker, who much regretted the narrowness and extremism that had arisen within Orthodox rabbinic circles. He lamented what he called the rabbinic “mafia” that served as a thought police, rooting out and ostracizing rabbis who did not go along with the official policies of a small group of “gedolim,” rabbinic authorities who are thought to have the ultimate power to decide halakhic policies. When honest discussion and diversity of opinion are quashed, the religious enterprise suffers.

The Orthodox rabbinic establishment in Israel, through the offices of the Chief Rabbinate, has had the sole official religious authority to determine matters relating to Jewish identity, conversion, marriage, and divorce. It has also wielded its authority in kashruth supervision and other areas of religious law relating to Jewish life in the State of Israel. This religious “monopoly” has been in place since the State of Israel was established in 1948. With so much power at their disposal, one would have expected—and might have hoped—that the rabbinate would have won a warm and respectful attitude among the population at large. The rabbis, after all, are charged with increasing peace between the people of Israel and their God; with applying halakha in a spirit of love, compassion, and understanding; with creating within the Jewish public a recognition that the rabbis are public servants working in the public’s interest.

Regrettably, these things have not transpired. Although the Chief Rabbinate began with the creative leadership of Rabbis Benzion Uziel and Yitzchak Herzog, it gradually sank into a bureaucratic mire, in which rabbis struggled to gain political power and financial reward for themselves and/or for the institutions they represent. The Chief Rabbinate is not held as the ultimate religious authority in Israel by the Hareidi population. It is not respected by the non-Orthodox public. It has scant support within the Religious Zionist camp, since the Chief Rabbinate seems more interested in pandering to Hareidi interests than in promoting a genuine Religious Zionist vision and program for the Jewish State.

Recent polls in Israel have reflected a growing backlash against the Hareidization of religious life and against the political/social/religious coercion that has been fostered by Hareidi leadership. Seventy percent of Jewish Israelis are opposed to new religious legislation. Fifty-three pecert oppose all religiously coercive legislation. Forty-two percent believe that the tension between the Hareidim and the general public is the most serious internal schism in Israeli Jewish society—nearly twice as many as those who think the most serious tension is between the political left and political right. Sixty-five percent think the tensions between Hareidim and the general public are the most serious, or second most serious, problem facing the Israeli Jewish community. An increasing number of Israelis are in favor of a complete separation of religion and State, reflecting growing frustration with the religious status quo. The Jerusalem Post (November 24, 2010) reported on a poll taken by the Smith Institute for the Hiddush Foundation in Israel: 80 percent of Israelis are dissatisfied with the government’s policies on religion and state. A significant majority favor a government coalition that eliminates the Hareidi religious parties. Clearly, the Orthodox rabbinate has not won the hearts and minds of many of the citizens of Israel, and has also alienated large segments of the Jewish Diaspora.

Narrow and Hurtful Policies

In 2006, the Israeli Chief Rabbinate declared that it would no longer accept the validity of conversions performed by Orthodox rabbis in the Diaspora, unless the rabbis were approved by them and adhered to their—Hareidi—standards. In one fell swoop, the Chief Rabbis disenfranchised their most reliable allies in the Diaspora, Modern Orthodox rabbis whose conversions had always been accepted in Israel in prior years.

The Hareidization process went further. Some Israeli rabbinic courts invalidated conversions performed by various Orthodox rabbis in Israel; invalidated conversions retroactively, even many years after the conversions took place; raised questions about the validity of conversions performed by Orthodox rabbis in the Israeli military forces; raised questions about conversions performed by Israeli Orthodox rabbis under the government’s own conversion authority. This undermining of the conversion process has had a chilling effect on Orthodox rabbis worldwide, who now either avoid performing conversions or feel compelled to follow the needlessly stringent views of the Hareidi rabbinic establishment. They fear that if they do not bend to Hareidi pressure, their conversions will not be accepted by the Israeli Chief Rabbinate and its rabbinic courts.

The Hareidi policies are demonstrably refuted by centuries of halakhic tradition. These policies represent a clinging to the narrowest, most xenophobic elements of rabbinic thought—and the setting aside of the vast corpus of mainstream halakhic tradition. It has been clearly shown that halakha allows for an inclusive, compassionate approach to conversion. Indeed, Israel’s first Sephardic Chief Rabbi, Benzion Uziel, gave far-reaching halakhic decisions that insisted on the rabbinic responsibility to perform conversions, even when it was expected the converts would not be fully observant of Jewish law. He had a halakhic vision that took into consideration the needs of the converts, the children of the converts, and the wellbeing of the Jewish people as a whole.

The currently prevailing policies of the Hareidi-dominated Orthodox rabbinic establishment are not only halakhically misguided, but serve to alienate large numbers of Jews and potential Jews from Judaism and the Jewish people. The rabbis who promote and enforce these policies are surely not increasing peace in the world, and are not applying Torah law in a way that is true to the spirit of pleasantness and peace. They inflict needless suffering on thousands of converts, children of converts, and potential converts. Instead of recognizing the historic obligation of drawing on the power of halakha to resolve the serious issues relating to conversion, the rabbinic establishment has become even more obstinate and obstructionist. And while the rabbinic establishment follows the mindset of R. Zecharyah b. Abkulas, much of the Orthodox rabbinate remains silent, afraid to lose its own perceived rabbinic credibility. Like the silent rabbis in the days of Bar Kamtsa, the rabbis look on at injustice—and do not object.

If the situation relating to conversion is problematic, the situation concerning agunot is also heartbreaking. Organizations such as Mavoi Satum and the Center for Women’s Justice deal on a regular basis with a rabbinic bureaucracy that not only does not solve the problem in a systemic way, but exacerbates the problem by causing many agunot to suffer unnecessarily. It is reported (and I have personally dealt with this phenomenon) that rabbis encourage agunot to pay off their husbands, or give up their rights, in order to receive a get (religious bill of divorce)—even if the husbands had been abusive and don’t deserve any “rewards” for their improper behavior. There are cases where agunot have waited years in order to receive a get. How can such women ever be repaid for their suffering, and for their loss of productive years of married life to a new husband? How can they—or anyone who knows of their plight—feel kindly toward the rabbinate? How many have been turned away from the Torah due to the injustices and humiliations perpetrated against agunot?

The rabbinic establishment can enforce prenuptial agreements; can implement various halakhic proposals to free agunot from recalcitrant husbands; can launch a serious and thorough educational program in every yeshiva on the sin of withholding a get or of blackmailing a wife into paying ransom to receive a get when a marriage has broken down; can see to it that the public is warned not to deal with recalcitrant husbands; can dismiss rabbinic judges who demonstrate insensitivity to agunot and/or who encourage women to pay off their husbands for a get. A strong, unequivocal commitment to solving this problem must be a priority responsibility of the rabbinic establishment. As long as this problem festers, the public is left to believe either that the rabbis do not want to solve the problem, or that halakha is incapable of dealing with this problem in a meaningful way. Every agunah case is an indictment of the halakhic system and the rabbis who claim to uphold it.

Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism

The Hareidi rabbinic establishment has thrived largely through its success in the political sphere. Because Israeli government coalitions have needed the votes of the Hareidi parties, they have had to cede certain benefits to the Hareidi establishment in return for those votes. The result is that Hareidi institutions receive substantial funding from the State; Hareidi yeshiva students are given exemptions from service in the Israeli military; Hareidi rabbinic figures are pandered to by political candidates seeking the Hareidi vote. Knesset bills that promote religious freedom, and that are seen as a threat by the Hareidi rabbinic/political leadership, are routinely killed. The Israeli political system, which the Hareidi parties have mastered so successfully, allows an unpopular minority group to wield a disproportionate amount of power. Although the overwhelming majority of Israeli Jews are not Hareidim and disapprove of Hareidi religious coercion, the Hareidi stranglehold continues unabated.

Rabbi Haim David Halevy, writing in 1954, already warned against the reliance on political coercion to advance religion in the State of Israel. Although one could not completely discount the importance of religious political parties, Rabbi Halevy thought that “this is not the way of the Torah, and not in this way will we succeed.” Rather, the religious agenda must be based on persuasion, not coercion. We must teach Torah in a way that draws people closer to our religious observances and values. We must demonstrate that the ideals and practices of Torah Judaism represent the best fulfillment of human life for the Jewish people. Political coercion—even if it appears to be successful temporarily—ultimately evokes a strong backlash, and turns people further and further from the teachings of Torah.

As the Hareidi political power in Israel increased, so did its overall influence in Orthodoxy throughout the world. Instead of being viewed as a fringe group on the extreme right, Hareidim have become Orthodoxy’s most visible power brokers and opinion makers. Their institutions in Israel thrive on government-provided grants. Their institutions worldwide draw support from Jews—many of whom are not themselves Hareidi or even Orthodox—who feel Hareidim represent authentic Jewish religiosity.

The Hareidi community has provided a cadre of rabbis and teachers who staff Orthodox schools, supervise kashruth, control the rabbinic court system—and fill so many other roles in religious life. These personnel bring Hareidi teachings and values to their work, promoting a narrow, authoritarian, and obscurantist vision of Judaism. They follow the stringent halakhic rulings of their “gedolim”; they negate the halakhic authority of non-Hareidi scholars and teachers.

How can the situation be altered for the better? How can an intellectually vibrant, compassionate, and inclusive Orthodox Judaism assert its leadership and religious worldview? How can the Hareidization of Orthodoxy—with its concomitant negative consequences for the entire Jewish people—be stemmed? How can we reclaim an Orthodoxy that avoids extremism, authoritarianism, religious coercion, and unnecessary stringencies in halakha—an Orthodoxy that sees itself in a positive relationship with all Jews, Orthodox or not? How can we reclaim a halakhic/hashkafic program that promotes a grand vision of Judaism that sees Orthodox Judaism as a dynamic religious worldview, rather than as a narrow expression relevant only to a self-enclosed sect?

The answers to these questions will need to be found within the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community, which best represents the ideals we have been discussing in this essay. While not all Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist individuals think alike, just as not all Hareidi individuals fit the same mold, the essential components of an Orthodox religious renaissance are best manifested in the values and teachings of Modern Orthodoxy/Religious Zionism.

To reclaim Orthodox Judaism, we first need to transform the intellectual climate within Orthodoxy—to foster an intellectually vibrant, compassionate, and inclusive Orthodoxy that sees Judaism as a world religion with world responsibilities. We need to halt the slide to the right, and to battle fundamentalism, authoritarianism, and obscurantism in our homes, our schools, in our communal life. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must awaken itself to the challenges of our time, must organize and re-energize itself, and must engage in practical efforts to alter the negative features of the Orthodox status quo in Israel and the Diaspora.

Efforts to create a wiser and grander vision of Orthodoxy must entail active steps on the part of the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community:

1. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must re-assert its leadership in all areas of religious life; must create a religious climate that values commitment to the entire Jewish people in general, and to the State of Israel in particular; that fosters intellectual vibrancy, legitimate diversity of opinion, compassion, and inclusiveness.

2. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist rabbinic leadership must make a clear distinction between its vision of Orthodoxy and that of the Hareidi rabbinic leadership; must promote independence among its own rabbinic scholars; must not be intimidated by the spirit of R. Zecharyah ben Abkulas, but rather must have the courage to offer halakhic rulings that take into consideration the broad needs of the Jewish people.

3. Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist rabbis and teachers must take more active responsibility in schools, rabbinic courts, and in all areas that require Orthodox religious leadership. Rabbis and rabbinic judges must be appointed who are clearly dedicated to the State of Israel, and who seek to apply halakha for the benefit of the entire public, not just for their particularistic communities.

4. The Hareidi stranglehold on political/religious power bases must be broken loose. If the Israeli government, and private donors in the Diaspora, will cut funding to Hareidi institutions, this will lead to a dramatic reduction in their influence. If Hareidim have to support themselves and their own religious infrastructure, they will need to find gainful employment for their men and women, and train their children accordingly. The culture of “we are entitled to be supported by society” will be curbed.

5. Coalition governments in Israel must be formed that can operate successfully without depending on Hareidi political parties. As Hareidi political power in Israel wanes, Hareidism will become less attractive to Orthodox Jews both in Israel and the Diaspora.

6. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must recognize the responsibility to teach Torah Judaism in an intellectually open society; must not employ coercion—political or otherwise—to compel people to accept Orthodox teachings and practices; must be confident that the message of Torah is powerful enough to attract many minds and hearts, and that we need not fear competition in the marketplace of ideas.

7. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must demand that the State of Israel—and all Orthodox institutions in the Diaspora—recognize the validity of conversions performed by duly ordained and recognized Orthodox rabbis. Orthodox rabbis must be authorized to perform conversions according to their evaluation of each case, and to draw on the full range of halakhic opinion—not just the extremely rigid position imposed by the Hareidi rabbinic establishment. The Chief Rabbinate (or any other Orthodox rabbinic body) must not have the authority to invalidate any conversion performed by a Bet Din of Orthodox rabbis, nor may a halakhic conversion ever be annulled retroactively. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist rabbinate must become actively involved in guiding non-Jews who wish to convert to Judaism, helping them to achieve the goal of conversion if they genuinely seek to become members of the Jewish people.

8. The Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must demand immediate resolution of all current agunah cases, in Israel and the Diaspora, and must utilize every halakhic means to accomplish this goal. We must not be intimidated by those who take the approach of R. Zecharyah b. Abkulas, but must see the larger picture of what is at stake.

9. Finally, the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist community must insist on the immediate implementation of policies that will address serious social and educational problems exacerbated by the current Hareidization of Orthodoxy in Israel and the Diaspora.

Some will argue that suggestions 7 and 8 will lead to disunity and to halakhic chaos. What, they ask, is the point of creating a group of converts or freed agunot whose halakhic status is rejected by the Hareidi “gedolim”? Won’t this cause more problems than it solves?

The answer is: we do not and should not cede halakhic authority to the Hareidi “gedolim” but should make responsible halakhic decisions within the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist rabbinic leadership. If the Hareidim do not accept our rulings, that is their problem; this should not prevent us from doing what is right and proper. If Hareidim prefer to live in their sect-like communes and turn away our converts and freed agunot, the burden of responsibility and sin falls on them—not on us. We must remember that ancient Jerusalem was destroyed not only due to the narrow halakhic vision of R. Zecharyah b. Abkulas, but due to the acquiescence of the majority of rabbis who were afraid to stand up for a grander, more responsible vision.

Conclusion

In recent decades, Orthodox Judaism has become increasingly narrow, authoritarian, and sectarian. In this essay, we have discussed some of the negative ramifications of the growing Hareidization of Orthodoxy. We have argued that the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist communities must energize themselves to reclaim Orthodoxy as an intellectually vibrant, compassionate, and inclusive lifestyle that has a meaningful message for all Jews—and for humanity as a whole.

While working to improve the spiritual climate in Israel and the Diaspora, we must concurrently foster specific policies that increase our representation in rabbinic roles, in lay leadership, in Jewish education—and indeed in general involvement in our societies. We must demonstrate our unflinching determination to resolve the halakhic controversies surrounding geirut, agunot, and other problems—by employing the full range of halakhic options, and by keeping in mind the ethical and national dimensions of our decisions.

The ways of the Torah are ways of pleasantness; all its pathways are peace. Orthodox Judaism must cling to this principle, and demonstrate to itself and to the world that the Torah way of life is sweet and beautiful, and that Torah scholars indeed increase peace and harmony in the world.

Notes

1. For a discussion of the situation of American Orthodoxy, see Samuel Heilman, Sliding to the Right, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2006.
2. For a discussion of the struggles within nineteenth-century European Orthodoxy, see Adam Ferziger, Exclusion and Hierarchy, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, 2005.
3. For serious discussions of the Hareidim, see Amnon Levy, he-Hareidim. Keter Publishing House, Jerusalem, 1988; and Samuel Heilman, Defenders of the Faith. Schocken Books, New York, 1992.
4. See my books Voices in Exile: A Study in Sephardic Intellectual History, Ktav Publishing House, Hoboken, 1991; and Foundations of Sephardic Spirituality: The Inner Life of Jews of the Ottoman Empire, Jewish Lights, Woodstock, 2006.
5. Benzion Uziel, Mikhmanei Uziel, Tel Aviv, HaPoel HaMizrahi, 5699, p. 329.
6. Binyamin Lau, Hakhamim, vol. 1, Jerusalem, Beit Morashah, 2006, p. 263.
7. As reported in the “Israel Religion and State Index, Spring 2010,” published by Hiddush.
8. See my book, Choosing to Be Jewish: The Orthodox Road to Conversion, Ktav, 2005; and my article “Conversion to Judaism: Halakha, Hashkafa, and Historic Challenge,” in Hakira, vol. 7, Winter 2009, pp. 25–49, reprinted in this volume; Zvi Zohar and Avi Sagi, Giyyur veZehut Yehudit, Shalom Hartman Institute and Mosad Bialik, Jerusalem, 1997; Zvi Zohar and Avi Sagi, Transforming Identity, Continuum Press, London and New York, 2007. See also the monumental volumes of Rabbi Haim Amselem, Zera Yisrael and Mekor Yisrael, Jerusalem, 5770, where he cites an impressive array of halakhic authorities throughout the ages whose writings foster a much wider and more liberal view on conversion than that current among the Hareidi rabbinic establishment of today. Rabbi Amselem also published an important pamphlet demonstrating the halakhic objections to invalidating a conversion performed by a halakhic Bet Din, Libi leHokekei Yisrael, Jerusalem, 5770.
9. See my book, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel, Jason Aronson, Northvale, 1999, chapter 7.
10. Bein Yisrael le-Amim, Jerusalem, 5714, p. 82. See a fuller discussion of Rabbi Halevy’s views on religious coercion in Marc D. Angel and Hayyim Angel, Rabbi Haim David Halevy: Gentle Scholar and Courageous Thinker, Urim Publications, Jerusalem, 2006, pp. 72–75.

An Israeli Peace Initiative?

An Israeli Peace Initiative

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(This opinion piece appeared in the Jerusalem Post, August 25, 2024.)

 

Maimonides described messianic times as an era when Israel would simply be left alone in peace. In his Mishnei Torah, in the “Laws of Kings and Wars (12:4)” he writes: “The Sages and the prophets did not yearn for the messianic era in order to have dominion over the entire world, to rule over the gentiles, to be exalted by the nations, or to eat, drink, and celebrate. Rather, they desired to be free to involve themselves in Torah and wisdom without any pressures or disturbances, so that they would merit the world to come.”

Imagine a time when Israel – and the Jewish people as a whole – would not be subject to hatred, violence, terrorism, or war. Imagine a time when we could devote all our energies to our minds and spirits, to maintaining a righteous and prosperous society. Unfortunately, we still live in an unredeemed world, and the messianic dream seems further away than ever. But we must not give up on this goal.

At present, Israel is engaged in conflict with Hamas, various Palestinian terror groups, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and, of course, Iran. The Jewish state is also confronted with a growing number of countries that are choosing to recognize a Palestinian state without due concern for Israel’s vital interests. Jews in the Diaspora are facing antisemitism in the media, on college campuses, and by pro-Palestinian mobs.

How can we dream of a time of peace when our current reality is very far from being peaceful? The answer is that we must not abandon our dream, regardless of all the negative elements in our world. We must envision – and work for – a new era of peace.

However, it appears hopelessly naïve to speak of peace at a time like this. The haters are not interested in peace, unashamedly calling for the annihilation of Israel and the murder of Jews. Islamic fundamentalism and Palestinian nationalism fan the hatred. Iran uses its power and money to foster violence against Israel. The animosity seems intractable.

Does it make sense to plan for the “day after” when that day seems so remote? On the other hand: Does it make sense not to plan for the “day after”?

Combating hatred

Our real enemy is hatred. 

It is hatred that fuels Iran, Palestinian terrorists, and antisemites in general. It isn’t likely that we’ll be able to eradicate all hatred, but we can make inroads and turn the tide.

Dr. Leonard Mlodinow of Cal Tech, in his book Emotional, discusses “psychological contagion” through which attitudes are transmitted. He reports on research regarding “the spread of emotion from person to person or throughout an organization or even an entire society” (p. 184). A psychological climate emerges that draws people into the “contagion.”  Certain ideas and attitudes take on a snowball effect. The contagion cannot be staunched unless a powerful “counter-contagion” takes hold.

When crowds get fired up against Israel and against Jews, the hatred is “contagious.”  Haters are emboldened when others are drawn into their group. The more haters, the more people are driven to commit violent acts and speak malicious words.

Israel needs to undertake a serious peace offensive. 

It has demonstrated its amazing military prowess and must continue to be as powerful as possible. At the same time, it can help create positive “psychological contagion” that will draw people to its vision for a peaceful future.

Israel has already made dramatic strides forward with the Abraham Accords. It would be significant if Israeli leaders would publicly meet with the leaders of the Arab countries included in the accords. The world needs to see that Israel and Arab nations respect and cooperate with each other. 

People need to sense that a wider network of peaceful relations is possible.

THE WORLD also needs to hear from Israeli Arabs who are demonstrating allegiance to Israel and working with Israeli Jews to build a better society. Israeli Arabs are successful in so many ways. Their stories are very important.

Israel and Saudi Arabia have been considering a path toward mutual recognition. If this can be achieved, it will be a dramatic step on the path to a wider regional détente.

At present, the ayatollahs have firm control in Iran, but it is possible that, at some point, the opposition will rise and topple the regime. If Iran can be freed of Islamic fundamentalist rule, there can be an opening for civil relations with Israel. We must make it clear – loudly and often – that we have no interest in war with Iran.

As Israel promotes a serious peace initiative, it will need to relate to the Palestinian people. The status quo of ongoing terrorism and war is certainly not in the interest of Israel, and not in the interest of the Palestinians. It does seem almost impossible at this time to find a responsible Palestinian leadership that will negotiate reasonably with Israel; there have been so many failed attempts in the past. But our long-term vision must transcend the current realities and plan strategically for a long-term détente with the Palestinians.

A serious peace initiative is in Israel’s interest. It will help turn back the anti-Israel and antisemitic psychological contagion and replace it with a growing respect and support for Israel and the Jewish people.

Maimonides taught that our goal for messianic times is simply to be left in peace, to be free of hatred and wars. We need to keep this goal in mind – and work to bring this vision into reality.

 

Bernice Angel Schotten: In Memoriam

Bernice Angel Schotten: In Memoriam

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

As we mark the end of the "sheloshim" mourning period for my sister Bernice, here are some words in her memory.

   Bernice Angel Schotten passed away unexpectedly at the age of 77. She had been active pretty much until the day she died. She and her late husband Peter lived in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for 50 years, where Peter taught Political Science at Augustana College. After Peter's death a few years ago, Bernice decided to relocate to Brookline, MA, to live closer to her daughter. 
   Bernice was one of four siblings in our family, the only daughter. Although third-born, she was the first of us to pass away. The mourning symbol of "Keriah" comes to mind. We tear a garment as a sign of grief--but really as a sign of a tear in the fabric of our lives. The deceased has gone on to the world beyond, but the survivors feel the loss. Mourners learn to heal, but the tear leaves a permanent scar. 
    We grew up together in Seattle with wonderful parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins--a large network of family and friends. From her earliest years, Bernice was bright, energetic, thoughtful, and independent. She attended the Seattle Hebrew Day School, Franklin High School and the University of Washington and was a leader and activist in various school clubs and youth groups.  She met Peter at U of W.  Peter continued his PhD studies in Claremont, Ca., and he and Bernice lived there for a while before moving to Sioux Falls.
   Although she lived much of her life far away from us, she maintained ongoing relationships with her siblings and other family members.  She remembered birthdays; she loved when family members visited her in Sioux Falls; and she enjoyed traveling to join us for family celebrations and reunions. The last time I saw Bernice in person was in January 2024 when she came from Brookline to attend the wedding of our grandson Max and Rena.
    But the Jewish mourning practices go beyond Keriah. Mourners recite Kaddish. Significantly, the Kaddish prayer has nothing whatsoever to do with death. Rather it is a dramatic expression of God's greatness, beyond any words of praise we can possibly utter.  In praising God, we are acknowledging our faith in the ultimate wisdom of God's ways. When we tear Keriah, we bless God as the dayan ha-emet, the True Judge. It is a blessing of resignation. We don't understand the mysteries of life and death, the passing of the generations, the ongoing meaning of life in the face of death. But we bow our heads and praise God. At a time when we sense our own mortality and vulnerability, we express trust in the ultimate value of our God-given existence.
   When we observe the "shiva" and "sheloshim" mourning periods, we reminisce. We remember the wonderful times--the family celebrations, picnics, vacations, parties of all kinds. Bernice had so much for which to be grateful--and she was truly grateful. When she had to face some difficult times and troubles, she demonstrated an amazing strength of character. In one of my last phone conversations with Bernice, I told her she was gutsy and resilient in adjusting to her new life in Brookline. But she was gutsy and resilient throughout her life.
    In her years in Sioux Falls, she was an active leader of the small Jewish community there. She taught in the Sunday School. She was part of an ongoing Torah study group with the Chabad rabbi of Sioux Falls. She was a proud and active Jewish leader...principled, generous, loving, devoted.
   Her memory will be a blessing, source of strength and happiness to her daughter, her siblings, her extended family, her many friends in Sioux Falls, Seattle, Brookline and around the country.
    "The Lord has given, and the Lord has taken away; may the Name of the Lord be blessed."

Beyond Victimhood: A Positive Jewish Message

The Holocaust, understandably, haunts the Jewish people. We can never forget the millions of Jews who were tortured and murdered by the Germans and their collaborators. Whenever a crisis erupts that threatens Jews, there is an almost visceral reaction to call up the memory of the Holocaust.

After the Hamas massacre of Israelis on October 7, Jewish media was quick to report that this was the highest number of Jews murdered in a single day since the Holocaust.

In attempting to combat antisemitism in New York, a program was initiated to bring all eighth-grade students to the Museum of Jewish Heritage, where they could learn about the Holocaust. When international leaders visit Israel, a visit to Yad Vashem is almost always part of the itinerary.

The prevailing wisdom is that when people – especially young people – learn about the horrors of the Holocaust, they will become more sympathetic toward Jews and aware of the dangers of religious and racial hatred. With more knowledge about the Holocaust, it is assumed that people will be less prone to antisemitic attitudes and behaviors.

The various efforts at Holocaust education have had a positive impact on many. And yet, Holocaust education – unless handled very well – can have negative consequences. For those steeped in anti-Jewish hatred, the Holocaust may actually encourage their antisemitism. They view Jews as a despised minority group that is an easy target for hatred and violence. They see that millions of Jews were systematically slaughtered while much of the world stood aside. In the minds of rabid Jew-haters, the Holocaust is an ideal, not a disaster.

While maintaining the memory of the Holocaust is surely very important, we need also to project a positive image of Jews, Judaism, and Zionism. Much of the antisemitism we face today is directly related to anti-Zionism. We need to focus on conveying the historical connection of the Jewish people to our land going back to biblical days.

Even after being exiled from the Land of Israel several times over the millennia, in the last instance at the hands of the Romans in 70 CE, the Jewish People have continued to live in, pray for, and dream of a return to their historic homeland.

After nearly 1,900 years, the Jews gained sovereignty over their land with the establishment of the modern State of Israel. This is one of the most amazing adventures in human history. For an ancient people to return to their historic homeland and build a dynamic, democratic society is an unprecedented story of courage, faith, and persistence.

Our story is truly inspiring and full of hope, spirituality, creativity, courage, and resilience. Despite all the hurdles we have had to face – and still face – the Jews are a strong and vibrant people. We need to tell our story in a confident voice – not as propaganda, not in sound bites – in a sophisticated and intelligent way that will convey the power of the Jewish experience.

The re-emergence of a sovereign Jewish state is a remarkable historic achievement. Yet, as we know, it has not been received with love or understanding by many in the Arab world. In particular, we face those who foster the Hamas ideology that negates the Jewish right to our own land.

The goal of the haters, by their own admission, is the destruction of Israel. And while wars on the battlefield can achieve military victories for Israel, ultimate victory will come only when the ideology of hatred is defeated. Just as Israel devotes so much courage and brilliance to its physical defense, it needs to devote equal – and more – courage and brilliance to fighting the murderous ideology that has infected many beyond Hamas.

To combat this ideology of hatred, we need more than Holocaust education.

We need a powerful, positive presentation of Jewish history, Jewish connection to the land of Israel, Jewish idealism, and Jewish striving for peace and mutual understanding.

We would do well to remember the prophecy of Isaiah (42:6) who relates God’s wondrous promise to the people of Israel that they will become “a light unto the nations.” We need to focus on the light; on what we have given, are giving, and can give to the world.

Isaiah (51:3) foresaw a time like ours when the wasteland that was Israel turned into a beautiful and thriving country: “For the Lord comforts Zion; He comforts all her waste places and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song.”

That is Zionism that is Judaism, that is the aspiration of the Jewish people.

 

Short Term, Long Term: Thoughts on Israel and the Jewish Future

In the short term, things look very difficult. Israel is in the midst of military confrontations with Hamas, Hezbollah and Iran. In spite of the remarkable achievements of IDF in Gaza, the war lingers on with no clear end in sight. Israel faces increasing international censure from the United Nations, the International Court, and from political leaders around the world. American college campuses are rife with anti-Israel activity. Radical Hamas supporters unashamedly call for the destruction of Israel and the murder of Jews.

We all feel the pain and the pressure.  We are going through a protracted nightmare. And it won’t likely get better in the short term.

But the crisis will pass, sooner (hopefully!) or later. How can things change for the better in the long term?

Israel must conclude its war in Gaza as quickly and effectively as possible. It must work with allies to put into place a responsible Palestinian leadership that will eschew ongoing warfare and that will work peacefully with Israel for the benefit of all. It cannot ignore the Palestinian issue or let it fester endlessly. 

Israel has taken great strides forward through the Abraham Accords. The more Arab and Muslim countries recognize Israel, the more secure Israel becomes. Formal diplomatic relations with Saudi Arabia would be a potential game changer in the Middle East. Aside from the political and economic benefits, it would undercut the hateful voices that call for Israel’s destruction. It would make it clear that Israel is strong, creative, and a genuine partner with other nations seeking a harmonious region.

While short term challenges must be faced courageously, we need to focus on long term resolutions of problems. It isn’t realistic to expect that the deep hatred of our enemies will dissipate overnight. The ugly anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism that have exploded in recent months will not suddenly cease. But visionary leadership can help us move gradually and intelligently beyond the problematic status quo. In spite of all the battles and threats, we need to formulate sensible strategies to bring us to a lasting peace.

We need to be strong to defend ourselves from our enemies; but we need special strength and blessing to work for and attain peace.  Indeed, it may well be more difficult to achieve peace than to win wars. 

“The Lord gives strength to His people, may the Lord bless His people with peace.”

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.


 

The Hatred Syndrome

It is a strange feeling to be hated by people who don’t know you and don’t want to know you. It is perplexing to hear people calling for your death and the death of all your people without ever considering your humanity, your goodness, your contributions to society.

Haters don’t see their victims as fellow human beings. They create and foster ugly stereotypes. They promote outrageous conspiracy theories that dehumanize their targets.

Hatred is an ugly thing. It not only promotes hatred of the perceived enemy, but it distorts the lives of the haters themselves. Energy and resources that could be utilized to build compassionate societies are instead diverted to hatred, weaponry, death and destruction.

We have always been aware of an under-current of antisemitic and anti-Israel attitudes, but things today seem qualitatively and quantitatively different. We witness throngs of people throughout the United States and throughout the world who brazenly and unabashedly call for the annihilation of Israel and the murder of Jews. The public display of raw hatred is alarming.

I suspect that almost all of those spewing hatred of Israel and Jews don’t even know Israelis or Jews in person. They don’t hate actual Jews: they hate stereotypes of Jews. They are indoctrinated with propaganda and are fed a stream of lies about Israel and about Jews. The haters are steeped in their hateful ideology and are not interested in civil dialogue and relationship with actual Jews and Israelis. They know little or nothing about the connection of Jews to the land of Israel going back thousands of years, from Biblical times to the present.

So why do so many haters take aim at Jews and Israel? Some of this hatred stems from anti-Jewish religious teachings. Some of it stems from jealousy at the phenomenal success of such a tiny group. Some people spew hatred as a way of making themselves seem important, as though picking on Jews somehow makes them appear stronger and braver.

Erich Fromm has written of the syndrome of decay that “prompts men to destroy for the sake of destruction and to hate for the sake of hate.” Many people poison their own lives with hatred and only feel truly alive and validated when they express hatred of others.

When societies allow hatred to flourish, they are sowing the seeds of their own destruction. When universities, media and political forums condone blatantly anti-Jewish intimidation and violence, the infection spreads well beyond Jews. Civil discourse is threatened. Respectful dialogue is quashed.

All who stand for a civil society must not be intimidated by the haters, bullies and supporters of terrorism. The syndrome of hate eats away at the foundations of society. It must not be allowed to prevail.

Rav Nahman of Bratslav taught: The whole world is a narrow bridge (precarious), but the essential thing is not to be afraid, not to be afraid at all.


 


 

Louis Jacobs and the Quest for a Contemporary Jewish Theology

Miri Freud-Kandel, Louis Jacobs and the Quest for a Contemporary Jewish Theology," The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization in Association with Liverpool University Press, 2023.

Review Essay by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

For some Jews, faith is not a problem. God gave us the Torah at Mount Sinai; we have an unbroken tradition of law and ethics authorized by the great sages of every generation. We do not merely believe in God as an abstract entity; we feel God’s presence. Fulfilling God’s commandments keeps us in constant relationship with God.

For some Jews, faith is irrelevant.  Life is lived without reference to God. The Torah and mitzvoth are not on the agenda. Such Jews are Jewish by birth, by fate, be ethnicity, by emotional attachment…but not by faith in God, nor through the mitzvoth, nor by deference to the great sages of the Jewish People.

For some Jews, faith is a basic component of life but faces nagging questions. Yes, the Torah is from Heaven…but what exactly is meant by that? Yes, the mitzvoth are commandments…but how does an eternal incorporeal God communicate commandments to people? Yes, our sages were great… but they had many disputes among themselves on basic issues of faith and religious observance. What is truth, what is conjecture, what are our options?

While the first two groups are relatively comfortable with their religious worldviews, the third group must negotiate conflicting pressures. Traditional faith is confronted with Bible criticism, modern scholarship and theologies, and an anti-authoritarian zeitgeist. 

Let’s talk about the third group.

These are thinking people deeply respectful of traditional Jewish beliefs and practices. They are religiously observant. Many—probably most—of them attended university and were exposed to scholarship that challenged or denied the foundations of their faith. They consider themselves to be religious Jews but they find that they must find ways to reconfigure classic principles of Jewish faith in light of the challenges of modernity.

Louis Jacobs (1920-2006) was a leading figure in British Jewry who belonged to the third group and who wrote significant works dealing with their concerns. Born in Manchester, he studied at Manchester Yeshiva and then at the kolel in Gateshead.  A devout Orthodox Jew, he later attended University College in London, earning a PhD. He served as rabbi of congregations in Manchester and London and became Moral Tutor at Jews’ College where he taught Talmud. He was in line to become head of Jews’ College but Chief Rabbi Israel Brodie blocked the appointment. He felt that Jacobs’ religious views had moved him outside of Orthodoxy. The “Jacobs’ Affair” pitted the religious establishment against Jacobs’ followers. When Jacobs was invited to his previous Orthodox pulpit, Chief Rabbi Brodie blocked the appointment. Jacobs’ followers then established their own synagogue and launched the Masorti movement in England.

Miri Freud-Kandel, Lecturer in Modern Judaism in the Faculty of Theology and Religion at the University of Oxford, has authored a volume exploring the teachings and influence of Rabbi Louis Jacobs. Entitled Louis Jacobs and the Quest for a Contemporary Jewish Theology, it is published by the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization in association with Liverpool University Press, 2023.

Freud-Kandel provides a generous selection of quotations from Jacobs’ various volumes, allowing the reader to “hear” Jacobs’ own voice. But she also provides her own analysis, and points out strengths and weaknesses in Jacobs’ theological positions.

Jacobs believed that “the ancestral faith becomes meaningless unless it finds its response in the depths of the individual soul.” Moreover, “for a philosophy to be true it must be ‘true for me’….The life of faith demands our total commitment.” For Jacobs, faith was not an inherited system that one simply adopted; rather it was an internal spiritual process requiring considerable effort.

Jacobs did not believe it was possible to “prove” the truth about God, since God ultimately is far beyond human comprehension. But he thought that it was possible to approach a genuine faith by factoring in various arguments from reason, personal intuition, mystical insights. Jacobs wrote: “Few believers have arrived at belief in God by starting from the beginning to work it all out by reasoned argument.”  The individual Jew—thinking, processing, feeling, praying—must build a personal theology that leads to a meaningful faith in God.

Jacobs suggested a “liberal supernaturalism” that recognized the divine nature of Torah but that the Torah was mediated through human voices. He rejected the view, listed by Maimonides as one of the 13 principles of faith, that God literally dictated the Torah word for word as Moses copied it down.  Given the findings of Biblical criticism, Jacobs felt it necessary to posit a less literal way of understanding Torah min Hashamayim (Torah from Heaven). He bolstered his argument by citing various rabbinic texts that entertained the view that not every word of the Torah was written by Moses. His basic approach was to indicate multiple “kosher” ways of understanding Revelation that did not entail a literalist interpretation. He wrote: “To point to the human element in revelation is a far cry from implying that God is not the Creator of the Torah. On the contrary, it is God who makes Himself known through the human process of redaction. How this can be is a tremendous mystery, but then, so is how God can be in control of His universe and yet leave room for human freedom and human creativity.”

Jacobs’ interest was not so much in how the Torah came into being but how it was experienced as a spiritually powerful text that brought people closer to God. Similarly, mitzvoth are “commandments” in the sense that we find our way to the divine by observing them. Although this is circular reasoning, it reflects his desire to harmonize traditional beliefs with modern thought.

Jacobs did not claim that he had achieved the definitive Jewish theology but rather that he was expressing his own thinking. He insisted that contemporary Jews need to know what Judaism says to them now, not merely what our ancient and medieval rabbis taught. As Freud-Kandel summarizes: “Jacobs’ account of how God, Torah and Israel were to be understood in their different ways was intended to encourage Jews to work on their faith, to pursue their own individual quest, and to find meaning in Judaism through individual paths” (p. 211).

Freud-Kandel not only presents and evaluates Jacobs’ work, she also points to some of its shortcomings. She reviews various attempts made by other thinkers who tackled the issues that troubled Jacobs. But no one has written the absolutely final theology…and no one actually can do so. Each of us needs to think through the issues on our own.

Miri Freud-Kandel has written an important book that not only sheds light on the thinking of Louis Jacobs but helps readers gain a deeper understanding of what is at stake when traditional Jewish faith comes into relationship with modern and post-modern challenges. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thoughts on the Writings of Primo Levi

   

   One of the great writers of the 20th century, a Holocaust survivor, was Primo Levi (July 31,1919-April 11,1987). In his book, Other Peoples’ Trades, he reminisces about his childhood home in Turin, Italy. In his nostalgic description, he remembers how his father would enter the house and put his umbrella or cane in a receptacle near the front door. In providing other details of the entrance way to the house, Levi mentions that for many years “there hung from a nail a large key whose purpose everyone had forgotten but which nobody dared throw away” (p. 13).

     Haven’t we all had keys like that? Haven’t we all faced the mystery of an unknown key! What door will it open? What treasures will it unlock? We do not know where the key fits…but we are reluctant to toss it out. We suspect that if we did discard the key, we would later discover its use; we would then need it but no longer have it!

     The key might be viewed as a parable to life. It is a gateway to our past, our childhood homes, our families, our old schools, old friends. Over the years, we have forgotten a lot…but we also remember a lot. We dare not throw away the key that opens up our memories, even if we are not always certain where those memories will lead us.

     Primo Levi’s memories led to a happy childhood in a solidly secular Italian Jewish family. He was a bright child, an avid reader, and by his early teens he developed a keen interest in chemistry. In 1937 he entered the University of Turin. But in 1938, fascist laws went into place that prohibited Jews from being educated in state-sponsored schools. Since he had already been enrolled, he was exempt from the new laws, but still felt the impact of being a pariah Jew in a fascist state. Remembering that strange time, Levi wrote: “My Christian classmates were civil people; none of them, nor any of the teachers, had directed at me a hostile word or gesture, but I could feel them withdraw and, following an ancient pattern, I withdrew as well; every look exchanged between me and them was accompanied by a miniscule but perceptible flash of mistrust and suspicion” (The Periodic Table, p. 40).

     He was able to complete his studies and graduated with honors in chemistry in 1941. His diploma noted that he was “of Jewish race” and this, of course, made it very difficult for him to find employment. Levi’s father died in 1942. His mother and sister went into hiding at a home in the nearby hills, in order to avoid persecution.

     In 1943, Levi and family fled to northern Italy, and he joined an Italian resistance group. He and his group were arrested by Fascist forces later that year, and Levi was sent to an Italian prison camp in January 1944. The next month, he was deported to Auschwitz and branded with the number 174517. Because he was a chemist, he was put to work in a rubber factory, and thus was spared from immediate execution by the Nazis. When Auschwitz was liberated in January 1945, Levi journeyed back home to Turin. Of the more than 7,000 Italian Jews who had been deported to concentration camps during the war, Levi was one of fewer than 700 who survived.

     Back in Turin, he was employed in a paint factory. But his experiences in Auschwitz drove him to tell his story, and he began to write. His first book, If This Is a Man (later published as Survival in Auschwitz), was published in October 1947, but reached only a small audience.

     He married, continued his work as a chemist…and continued to write his memoirs, poetry, short stories and fiction. In 1975, he published The Periodic Table, a collection of autobiographical stories, each one using a chemical element as a starting point. By 1977, he retired from the paint factory and devoted his full time to writing, becoming one of the most famous authors in Italy. When the first American edition of The Periodic Table was published in 1984, it was hailed as a masterpiece by Saul Bellow and many literary critics. Levi went on to publish many other important works, and he gained international prominence for his work.

      He died on April 11, 1987, and his body was found by the concierge of his apartment building at the bottom of the stairwell. The death was ruled a suicide, although others have maintained that Levi had an accidental fall. Was he a belated victim of Auschwitz?

     Primo Levi quoted Jean Amery, an Austrian philosopher who was tortured by the Gestapo because he was active in the Belgian resistance, and was deported to Auschwitz because he was Jewish: “Anyone who has been tortured remains tortured….Anyone who has suffered torture never again will be able to be at ease in the world, the abomination of the annihilation is never extinguished. Faith in humanity, already cracked by the first slap in the face, then demolished by torture, is never acquired again” (The Drowned and the Saved, p. 15).

     Primo Levi understood personally what it meant to be isolated, tortured, dehumanized. And he wrote at length about the Holocaust. But somehow, he retained within himself a calm and wise humaneness. “I must admit that if I had in front of me one of our persecutors of those days, certain known faces, certain old lies, I would be tempted to hate, and with violence too; but exactly because I am not a Fascist or a Nazi, I refuse to give way to this temptation. I believe in reason and in discussion as supreme instruments of progress, and therefore I repress hatred even within myself: I prefer justice” (If This is a Man, p. 457).  He prided himself on his reason. In an interview, he stated: “I hardly ever lose control. Hatred per se, as I’ve written and as I ask again here, what end does it serve? It gets confused with a desire for justice, but they are two different things….I said that paradoxically I am sometimes ashamed not to be able to hate, but in fact I’m quite happy not to” (The Voice of Memory, p. 145).

     Although he overcame feelings of hatred, the experience of the Holocaust left lasting scars. It demonstrated that people can act without reason. Leaders can lie and be applauded for their lies. Tyrants can order senseless massacres of innocent people…and be obeyed. Levi thought that “if you look at recent history, you cannot but feel confusion in the face of slaughter for its own sake, with no private or collective purpose, triggered only by a form of zoological or biological hatred and, what is more, a hatred acclaimed, inculcated and praised as such” (Ibid., p. 180). The Holocaust demonstrates the depths of perversity of which humanity is capable. Tyranny, oppression, hatred…they all lead in one direction. “In every part of the world, wherever you begin by denying the fundamental liberties of mankind, and equality among people, you move towards the concentration camp system, and it is a road on which it is difficult to halt” (If This is a Man, p. 469).

     Primo Levi translated Kafka’s The Trial into Italian, and found the experience painful. “I fell ill doing it. I finished the translation in a deep depression that lasted six months. It’s a pathogenic book. Like an onion, one layer after another. Each of us could be tried and condemned and executed, without ever knowing why. It was as if it predicted the time when it was a crime simply to be a Jew” (The Voice of Memory, p. 10). Levi identified personally with Josef K. “The Trial opens with a surprise and unjustified arrest and my career, too, opened with a surprise and unjustified arrest. Kafka is an author I admire—I do not love him, I admire him, I fear him, like a great machine that crashes in on you, like the prophet who tells you the day you will die” (Ibid., p.156). Kafka intuited that violence comes from bureaucracy…and that modern society was becoming increasingly controlled by impersonal—dangerous—bureaucracies. Kafka “understands the world (his, and even better ours of today) with a clairvoyance that astonishes and wounds like a too intense light” (The Mirror Maker, p. 107).

     Primo Levi, like Kafka, wrote with perception and clairvoyance. But unlike Kafka, he offered a calm wisdom that offered a glimmer of hope for troubled humanity.

                                           *     *     *

          Primo Levi identified as a Jew but claimed not to be religious at all. “I envy believers, all believers. But I cannot do anything about it. Faith is something you either have or you don’t” (The Voice of Memory, p. 273). He did not have faith in God. His faith in humanity was certainly shaky. He was a scientist who placed high value on reason and careful observation. He suggested that people learn from the tragedies of the past and from the evils of Fascism and Nazism. If only people, especially leaders, could be more scientific, more reasonable, more careful in their plans.

      He wished that we would all live like chess players, “meditating before moving, even though knowing that the time allowed for each move is limited; remembering that every move of ours provokes another by the opponent, difficult but not impossible to foresee; and paying for wrong moves” (The Periodic Table, p. 146).

          Alas, not all human beings live like chess players who carefully think about the consequences of their thoughts and actions. But Primo Levi pointed humanity in the right direction. We can still avoid check mate.

References

The Drowned and the Saved, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1986.

If Not Now, When? Penguin Books, New York, 1985.

If This is a Man, Everyman’s Library, London, 2000.

The Mirror Maker, Schocken Books, New York, 1989.

The Monkey’s Wrench, Penguin Books, New York, 1987.

Other People’s Trades, Summit Books, New York, 1989.

The Periodic Table, Schocken Books, New York, 1984.

The Reawakening, Collier Books, New York, 1987.

Survival in Auschwitz, Summit Books, New York, 1986.

A Tranquil Star, W.W. Norton and Company, New York, 2007.

The Voice of Memory: Primo Levi, Marco Belpoliti and Robert Gordon, eds., Polity Press, Cambridge, 2001.