National Scholar Updates

Rabbi Hayyim Angel served as scholar-in-residence in Pittsburgh

Over Shabbat, May 16-17, Rabbi Hayyim Angel served as scholar-in-residence in Congregation Shaare Torah, in Pittsburgh, PA. He delivered four talks, blending the synthesis of traditional and academic approaches to Tanakh and also highlighting how learning more about Sephardic and Ashkenazic (and other) customs enriches us all. This Shabbat was yet another opportunity to reach communities nation-wide with our outlook and ideology at the Institute.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel's next stops will be: Congregation Shaare Tefillah, Teaneck, NJ; and Young Israel of Oak Park, Michigan. Stay tuned for more information!

Editorials by David Suissa


(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, September 21, 2024)


When we discuss Israel’s image, we rarely mention the obvious: Since the founding of
the state, Israel’s image has been dominated by white Ashkenazim: From Ben Gurion to
Weitzmann to Dayan to Golda to Peres to Begin to Rabin to Herzog to Sharon to Olmert to Livni
to Bennett to Lapid to Gantz to Gallant to Smotrich to Levin and, of course, to Netanyahu and
countless others, the white Ashkenazic Jew has been front and center in the global media
coverage of Israel.


This is absolutely not a criticism; it’s more of an observation.
But it’s also a missed opportunity for those who worry about improving Israel’s image.
There’s a tendency among those in the “hasbara” world to take the idea of image
figuratively. That is, when they talk about Israel’s image, they don’t mean a real image; they
mean a general perception of Israel that needs to be improved.


This is how we end up obsessed with talking points and arguments. We need facts! We
need education! We need to correct the lies!


Yes, but somehow, no one ever says we need new pictures.


We assume, in other words, that the best way to fix Israel’s image is through words and
arguments rather than through actual images.


The irony is that as we exert ourselves to correct the lies against Israel, one epic lie
remains untouched: The lie that Israel is a white country. But where do we think this lie comes
from? It comes mostly from Israel itself, from the simple fact that virtually every person who
represents Israel in the media is a white Ashkenazi. The good news is that this can be fixed by
being more accurate and recognizing the multicultural diversity that makes Israeli society so
vibrant.


“Only about 30% of Israeli Jews are Ashkenazic, or the descendants of European Jews,”
Hen Mazzig wrote a few years ago in The Los Angeles Times. “I am baffled as to why
mainstream media and politicians around the world ignore or misrepresent these facts and the
Mizrahi story. Perhaps it’s because our history shatters a stereotype about the identity of my
country and my people.”


Very true, but let’s recognize that this stereotype is also what Israel presents to the world.
It would be a lot harder for the mainstream media to ignore Israel’s multicultural nature if
Mizrahim and other Israelis of color would be fully integrated in its media relations.
I was reminded of this at a talk last Friday by Dr. Duygu Atlas, a Muslim-Israeli historian
who lives in Tel Aviv. She was discussing a new initiative, Muslims Connect with Israel (MCI),
that she hopes will change the way Israelis are perceived and understood by Muslim societies.

She kept coming back to this key point: The best way to talk about Israel and break down
stereotypes is to show its cultural and ethnic diversity.
In an ideal colorblind world, maybe none of this would matter. But that’s not the world
we live in. Color matters. Culture matters. Diversity matters. If Israel is so ethnically diverse,
why not show it?


(Indeed, the same applies to American Jewry and its leadership: If Jews in America today
are so ethnically diverse, why not show it? Why not integrate Mizrahim and Jews of color in the
communal leadership? We like to go on about the importance of diversity and inclusion, but
what are we doing at the leadership level to show a more diverse and accurate Jewish face in the
mainstream media?)


Here’s a suggestion for pro-Israel activists on social media: Fewer words, more pictures.
In addition to your regular talking points, blast your networks with hundreds of images of Israelis
from all corners of the globe who are anything but the white Jewish stereotype people see in the
media.


Same goes for philanthropists who buy billboards and advertising to “make the case for
Israel”; a picture is worth a thousand clever phrases. Use striking images that celebrate the ethnic
kaleidoscope of the Jewish state. Title it “Israel in Living Color.” Nothing breaks the ice like true
ethnic diversity.


For the Israeli government, if they want their communication to have more impact,
there’s no better place to start than to have “spokespeople in living color.”
“In living color” is the true face of Israel and the Jewish people. White is not. “In living
color” adds complexity and nuance to the conversation about Israel and the many challenges
facing the Jewish world.


“I am Mizrahi,” Mazzig wrote, “as are the majority of Jews in Israel today. We are of
Middle Eastern and North African descent.”
After 76 years of conveying one image based mostly on one ethnicity, it’s high time
Israel and world Jewry show their true colors to the world.

Israel Defends the Cult of Life


(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 1, 2024)
If you want a deeper understanding of Israel’s situation in the Middle East, a good place
to start is the website of the Jaffa Hotel in Tel Aviv, which came up recently under a list of the
world’s finest hotels. The Jaffa was the only entry from Israel.


What caught my eye was that in the charming area of Jaffa where the hotel is located, two
terrorists murdered seven civilians and wounded 17 others in the deadliest terror attack since
Oct. 7. The assault occurred on Tuesday evening, just as Iran was launching hundreds of ballistic
missiles at Israel.


Here in America, it’s easy to get morally confused in the fogs of war. When bombs are
flying everywhere and people are dying everywhere, whether in Gaza or Lebanon or Tel Aviv,
things tend to blur. People with big hearts like to call on all sides to just stop the killing.
This moral blurring, however, is not just wrong but dangerous, especially for the side that
didn’t start the killing.

The missiles from Iran and its terror proxies are not the same as the Iron Dome missiles
from Israel. The soldiers from Israel’s army are not the same as the terrorist soldiers from Hamas
or Hezbollah. Aiming to murder civilians is not the same as aiming to kill terrorists.
When Israel is at war, a Cult of Life is forced to defend itself against a Cult of Death.
It’s astonishing that this even needs to be said, given that it’s been true for so long and
that Israel’s enemies have never pretended to be anything but an anti-Israel death cult.
For decades now, Iran, Hezbollah, and Hamas have made clear that their primary mission
is not to build fancy hotels, charming tourist districts, schools, and hospitals that will improve the
lives of their people.


It’s to get rid of Israel.


Israel left Lebanon in 2000 and Gaza in 2005 and has never occupied an inch of Iranian
territory. The attacks on the Jewish state are based not on Israeli provocations but on a pure
hatred that aims to destroy.


This ugly moral truth can easily get lost when Israel is involved, as demonstrated most
sharply by the blatant double-standards applied to the Jewish state at the United Nations.
The ugliness of pure hatred also gets lost with sophisticated and academic thinking.
Perhaps the truth is too raw, too clear, too moral. Elite thinkers, by definition, must bring nuance
and complexity to their analyses. They must weigh tactics and strategies and envision the
geopolitical future. This has intellectual merit, but it tends to hide moral ugliness.
Israelis, on the other hand, know the ugliness well. What they worry about most is not
geopolitics but the location of the nearest bomb shelter. Indeed, these bomb shelters are a
poignant reminder of how much Israelis value life.


When they’re not running to bomb shelters, Israelis are busy building one of the most
vibrant, creative, and innovative societies on earth. This also can get lost in the noise of the loud
civic protests against the government, the political infighting, and the constant need to defend
against terrorism. But the vibrancy and the resilience are there. Ask any visitor.
The genius of Israel is that despite being under siege since its birth, it has never satisfied
itself only with physical security. It always aimed to thrive rather than just survive.


I felt that vibrancy and resiliency and love of life when I checked out the website of the
Jaffa hotel, a magnificent tribute to ancient elegance:
[The hotel] stands as a prestigious 5-star establishment situated within a meticulously
restored 19th-century complex, once the home of Jaffa’s French Hospital.
Ideally positioned near the Mediterranean Sea and the historic port of Jaffa, it grants
effortless access to attractions such as the Shuk Hapishpeshim flea market, the city of old
Jaffa’s art galleries, and charming local boutiques, all just a short stroll away.


Our signature chef restaurant, Giardino, showcases culinary creations inspired by the
flavors of the Northern Mediterranean, following a unique ‘port-to-table’ philosophy.
Alternatively, relish elevated Israeli cuisine at Golda’s at The Jaffa. Experience serenity
at the L.RAPHAEL Spa and indulge in the personalized luxury of our 120 opulent rooms
and suites, thoughtfully appointed by the renowned designer, John Pawson. Allow our
dedicated concierge team to meticulously orchestrate every aspect of your stay, renew
your spirit, and ignite your imagination.

If anything can renew our spirits in the midst of a war in Lebanon and ballistic missiles
from Iran and enemies sworn to Israel’s destruction, it is this little corner of Israel that refuses to
lose its imagination.

Can Jews Handle Being Different


(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 9, 2024)


There are so many lessons Jews have taken on the first anniversary of October 7. These
lessons reflect the shock, the grieving and the trauma that still linger in Jewish hearts from the
biggest disaster in Israeli history.


But in this whirlwind of emotions, let’s not forget another ancient lesson that Oct. 7 has
brought home: Jews are treated differently.


Consider just the fact that after 1,200 Israelis were massacred on that Black Sabbath, a
global movement began to attack…the Jews! That’s right. Before Israel launched any military
activity in Gaza, the Jew-haters were mobilizing to blame the Jews for the massacre of Jews.
Blaming the Jews, of course, is old hat, but seeing it in the wake of the Oct. 7 atrocities
stunned even the cynics. It’s as if Jews were not allowed to be victims, so Jew-haters doubled
down on the oppressor narrative.


Meanwhile, one never heard a peep on college campuses about the Chinese government’s
ongoing genocide of the Uyghurs; or Russia’s kidnapping of an estimated 20,000 to 25,000
Ukrainian children; or the nightmarish oppression of women by the Taliban; or the daily
executions in Iran; or the slavery and child marriages being reintroduced by the Houthis; or the
horrific massacres of Black African ethnic groups in Sudan, echoing the Darfur genocide two
decades ago, and on and on.


And lest you think that pro-Hamas protesters care about Palestinians, you’ll never hear
them complain about the squalid state of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and Jordan. Why?
Because Jews are not involved. 


These campus haters take their lead from global forces of hypocrisy, most notably at the
United Nations, where the Jewish state receives more condemnations than all other nations
combined. Why? Because it’s the Jewish state.


Jews get special treatment. It’s as old as the Bible.


Maybe the world could never forgive us for being the first ones to talk to God, or for
stubbornly holding on to our tradition for millennia, or for always figuring out ways to prevail
and succeed despite centuries of persecution. 


Is it possible that the world treats Jews differently because we are, in fact, different? Sure,
Jews may be incredibly diverse and argumentative, but as far as the world is concerned, they see
us as one united bunch.


Jew-haters, for example, don’t care whether we’re Reform or Orthodox, Republican or
Democrat, progressive or conservative, Ashkenazic or Sephardic. They hate us all just the same.
They believe in Jewish unity.


This unity also applies to those who love and admire us—we are a successful and
remarkable tribe that punches way above its weight.


“If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one quarter of one percent of the human
race,” Mark Twain wrote in 1897. He continues,

It suggests a nebulous puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly, the
Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of.  He is as
prominent on the planet as any other people, and his importance is extravagantly out of
proportion to the smallness of his bulk. 

His contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art,
music, finance, medicine and abstruse learning are also very out of proportion to the
weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world in all ages; and
has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself and be excused
for it. The Egyptians, the Babylonians and the Persians rose, filled the planet with sound
and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greeks and Romans
followed and made a vast noise, and they were gone; other people have sprung up and
held their torch high for a time but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, and have
vanished.


The Jew saw them all, survived them all, and is now what he always was,
exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of
his energies, no dulling of his alert but aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the
Jews; all other forces pass, but he remains.  What is the secret of his immortality?
We don’t need to be arrogant or triumphalist to embrace our difference. We can be
engaged with the world and embrace our own diversity while still owning our Jewish identity.
Just as other ethnic groups show pride in their differences, why can’t Jews do the same?
Ultimately, we are all individuals with independent minds, but as Jews, we also have a
shared history and a shared destiny that bring us together.


Maybe now, in the wake of a lingering Oct. 7 trauma we will never forget, it’s time to
embrace the bonds that have kept us going for millennia.

Fighting Antisemitism by Winning


(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 15, 2024)


When I meet a Jewish college student who has encountered some of the anti-Jewish and
anti-Israel venom spreading through many campuses, I have a favorite line of questioning:
Did you miss any final exams because of the protests?


Did you miss any assignments?
How did you do this semester?


In most cases, the answer is that the ugly protests, however annoying and frightening,
have not hurt their academic performance. This is encouraging. It doesn’t mean, of course, that
Jews should stop fighting the forces of hate and focus only on their education.


What it does mean is that sometimes the best way to fight haters is to focus on improving
ourselves. Throughout our checkered history of facing hate and persecution, Jews have prevailed
by playing the long game, never abandoning the essential values of learning and personal
growth.


It wasn’t easy to focus on ourselves during the Ten Days of Repentance. We entered
Yom Kippur consumed with the multiple dangers of a post-Oct. 7 world; naturally, many of the
sermons we heard dealt with those dangers and how to confront them. 

But those exterior threats, as urgent and consequential as they are, have little to do with
the intimacy of our lives.


I can fight for Israel all day long but forget to call my mother to bring her a little joy.
I can join an activist group but fail to visit a sick uncle in the hospital.


I can follow current events but fail to attend an important event for a friend.


No matter how loud and urgent the outside noise, we can’t allow it to stifle our inner
selves. The hostility toward Jews is bad enough; when we allow it to interfere with our personal
growth is when we lose.


I have a dark theory about Jew-haters. It’s not just the Jews they hate—it’s also what
Jews represent. They hate the aura of success that surrounds Jews. 


For all I know much of their anger may be rooted in their wanting what Jews have.
Just as the extraordinary success of Israel has attracted resentment among its hostile
neighbors, the perennial success of American Jews has attracted envy among those disinclined to
admire people who work their way up.


A movement that has turned “success” into “white privilege” has only made things worse
for Jews, most of whom are conditioned from childhood to strive to constantly improve. 
The answer is not to seek sympathy by playing for victim points. We’ve learned the hard
way that Jew-hatred is flexible enough to adapt to any condition—whether Jews are weak or
strong, rich or poor, left or right, and so on. 


The point is this: Since the haters will hate Jews no matter what, we might as well win in
the game of life.  

 
Let the protesters win the yelling game. Let them damage their vocal cords to show
support for Hamas. Let them invest thousands of hours playing wannabe Che Guevaras. The
returns on that investment are bound to be illusionary, like gorging on cotton candy. 
Jew haters must know deep down how safe and predictable it is to side with the
Palestinians, the world’s most coddled victims. The true rebels today, those who go against the
grain, are the Zionists. That is the courageous choice.


It’s also the winning one. Losers define winning by how much noise they make. Winners
define winning by how much they accomplish. By that metric, Jews have been humanity’s
winners since time immemorial.


No other group in America has contributed more to the country than the Jews, in fields
ranging from science, literature and social justice to culture, comedy and journalism.
The winds of hate that have accelerated since Oct. 7 have cast a shadow on this image of
the winning Jew. Faced with the need to defend ourselves, we’ve tended to look weak and
defensive. And given that victims are America’s new power brokers, we’ve also been made to
feel guilty about our success. 


This is neither good for the Jews nor for America. An America that elevates victimhood
over success is a nation headed for the abyss. Jews shouldn’t hide their success. Indeed, they
should resuscitate and revalorize the very notion of success, walking not just as proud Jews but
as proud successful Jews.


In the long run, success is our strongest weapon in the fight against antisemitism. Let the
haters scream on the streets and play victim. Jews have better things to do, like going to class and
learning how to win.

Lessons from Sephardic Traditions

 

JIMENA (Jews Indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa) was founded in 2001 by
Jewish refugees from the Middle East and North Africa, amidst the aftermath of the September
11 th attacks and the ongoing second Intifada in Israel. Driven by a commitment to preserving
their families’ personal stories, the founders sought to raise awareness about the religious and
political persecution that led to their displacement, material losses, and fractured identities.
JIMENA has spearheaded numerous campaigns to ensure that the history of Jewish
refugees from Arab countries is thoroughly documented and incorporated into discussions about
Middle Eastern refugees. Members of JIMENA’s Speakers Bureau have shared their experiences
with the UN Human Rights Council, the U.S. Congressional Human Rights Caucus, the Israeli
Knesset, the British House of Lords, over 100 universities across North America, and hundreds
of organizations. As a principal North America advocate for Jewish refugees from Arab
countries and Iran, JIMENA is recognized by the Israeli government as a central leader in
advancing international initiatives on this important issue. 


Recently, JIMENA has increased its efforts to promote Mizrahi and Sephardic education
by developing various projects that enhance educational experiences for both Jewish and non-
Jewish settings. Last year, JIMENA assisted the White House’s U.S. National Strategy to
Counter Antisemitism, impacting its strategic goal to ensure that “students should learn about
global histories of antisemitism. This should include histories of antisemitism experienced by
Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews—who trace their ancestry to Spain, the Middle East, and North
Africa—and their stories of exclusion, persecution, and expulsion.” In response, our team created
a series of lesson plans for public schools that align with state standards and provide resources
for public school educators, as well as Jewish community and religious schools. JIMENA also
leads adult education series and formed AIMEE: Advocates for Inclusive Middle Eastern
Education to promote a deeper understanding of Middle Eastern Jewish heritage and combating
antisemitism in public education and beyond.


To draw on the diverse expertise of our communities, JIMENA established the Sephardic
Leadership Institute, comprising over 60 members from various fields, including rabbinical
leadership, grassroots organizations, education, women’s leadership, and arts and culture, which
significantly shaped our educational endeavors. JIMENA has hosted five fellowships featuring
training sessions led by prominent Sephardic and Mizrahi rabbis, scholars, educators, and
authors. These six-month programs, held bi-monthly, delve into topics such as Sephardic
pedagogy, rabbinic thought, antisemitism, Israel, and Jewish literature. JIMENA has offered both
in-person programs for Jewish professionals in San Francisco and Los Angeles, and remote
programs for the National Fellowship, the Campus Professional Fellowship, and the current
Senior Jewish Educators Cohort.


This year, JIMENA launched the Sephardi and Mizrahi Education Toolkit—a
comprehensive resource for K–12 educators. The Toolkit offers a wide range of resources,
including school assessments, leadership recommendations, and classroom materials that

integrate the experiences of Jews from Muslim-majority countries into subjects such as Tanakh,
halakha, science, Israel, the Holocaust, Jewish literature, and more, providing a fuller picture of
the entire Jewish experience. By reaching schools, libraries, summer camps, and community
organizations, JIMENA aims to make Sephardi and Mizrahi studies a foundational element of
Jewish education, reshaping how Jewish heritage is taught and celebrated.
Since its launch, the Toolkit has reached over 4,500 individuals worldwide, with teachers,
authors, and Jewish professionals participating in JIMENA-led trainings hosted by Jewish and
non-Jewish organizations like PJ Library, Bar-Ilan University’s Lookstein Center, Hebrew Union
College, and Fairfax County Public School in District in Washington, D.C. JIMENA is currently
providing direct support to administrators and educators at over 40 schools and Jewish
organizations to integrate these resources into their curricula. The Toolkit’s impact has been
widely recognized, with coverage in publications like eJewish Philanthropy, The Times of Israel,
Tablet Magazine, The Jerusalem Post, and the Jewish Women’s Archive.


JIMENA recently concluded a pioneering needs assessment of Jewish Day Schools in
New York, identifying essential requirements, challenges, and opportunities for enhancing the
inclusion of Sephardic content and students. Simultaneously, we are conducting a parallel study
in Los Angeles. The final report from the New York study outlines a comprehensive set of
recommendations that is guiding the development of innovative new JIMENA projects tailored
to address these findings. Additionally, JIMENA completed outreach to 50 state departments of
education, sharing our state-approved resources for teaching Middle Eastern Jewish history and
antisemitism. Our efforts have received significant interest from many of their offices to bring
these resources into public school curricula, which is a crucial step in broadening the narrative of
Jewish history and combating antisemitism nationwide.


Through JIMENA’s literary publication, Distinctions: A Sephardi and Mizrahi Journal,
our organization has showcased the work, creativity, and scholarship of Jewish leaders from our
communities. The first issues have focused on the themes of antisemitism, unity for Israel, the
diaspora, and resilience through transmission. The articles within the journal highlight the
contributions of rabbis, academics, artists, campus professionals, and others who are dedicated to
advancing our understanding of Jewish life. These pieces illustrate both the difficult
circumstances and the successful opportunities that our families and institutions have and
continue to confront and ensure that our stories are honored and heard.


Following the October 7 th massacre and the ongoing war in Israel, JIMENA immediately
addressed the mental health needs of over 100 community members, including former refugees
and college students. Partnering with Cross Cultural Expressions, JIMENA provided bi-weekly,
culturally competent group therapy sessions, offering specialized support for college students
while addressing challenges like antisemitism and isolation. These sessions provided critical
relief to students and survivors of Middle Eastern antisemitism, helping them cope with both
present and past traumas. Additionally, JIMENA recommended reputable charities in Israel and
raised emergency funds to secure temporary housing for 100 displaced individuals, prioritizing
families with children.


These achievements in education and outreach are building a more inclusive global
Jewish community—one that authentically reflects and integrates the contemporary histories,
vibrant cultures, and invaluable perspectives of Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews. Through our efforts
working with public schools and partnering with other Middle Eastern minorities, JIMENA
strives to share our “light to the nations” and foster a love of Jews and Israel within our own
schools, organizations, and communities.

“Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.” —Devarim 4:6

Book Review: Rabbi Moshe Taragin on Rabbi Yehuda Amital

Book Review

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

 

Rabbi Moshe Taragin, To Be Holy but Human: Reflections Upon My Rebbe, HaRav Yehuda Amital (Kodesh Press, 2025)

 

          Rabbi Yehuda Amital (1924-2010) was a leading Rosh Yeshiva in Israel, founding and building Yeshivat Har Etzion, a premier Hesder Yeshivah which combines Torah study with service in the Israel Defense Forces. Rabbi Moshe Taragin, a leading educator in his own right and a dedicated student of Rabbi Amital (as well as Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, who co-led Yeshivat Har Etzion), offers a strikingly personal glimpse into Rabbi Amital’s unique personality.

          Rabbi Taragin’s book is comprised of two sections: One relates personal stories that offer a window into Rabbi Amital’s outlook, and the other focuses on aspects of Rabbi Amital’s ideology. The ideological essays are valuable in their own right, outlining the religious worldview of a master educator, communal leader, and model of Modern Orthodoxy and Religious Zionism. Personally, I find the stories even more illuminating, as they present elements of the inner world of Rabbi Amital. Here are just a few examples that speak to Rabbi Amital’s core values.

          Rabbi Amital stressed that people must develop a healthy personality before trying to become Torah scholars or communal leaders. He rejected a popular adage, often attributed to Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (1810-1883): “First, I tried to change the world. When that didn’t go as planned, I focused on changing my family. And when that didn’t work, I retreated inward to change my own inner life.” Rabbi Amital dismissed this lesson, insisting that the opposite is true. When people fail to change themselves, they often shift focus to changing the world. They use external success as self-proclaimed visionaries as a substitute for self-development or meaningful family relationships (93).

          Similarly, Rabbi Amital objected when, at a relative’s circumcision, people referred to the infant as “Yankele Iluy” (Torah genius) during their speeches. They explained that they wanted him to grow into that role and therefore called him a Torah genius from infancy. Rabbi Amital objected strongly: “Just grow up to be a happy, well-adjusted balabus (layperson).” One first must focus on being a well-adjusted person committed to Torah, before thinking of becoming a Torah prodigy (47).

          Rabbi Amital instructed his own daughter, in fourth grade at the time, to fail a test. Her teacher was placing far too much pressure on the students to excel, and Rabbi Amital wanted to teach his daughter that academic success should not overshadow emotional well-being (260).

          Rabbi Amital had a profound sense of reality and humility. He was famed for changing his mind, even on the most important topics. For example, he initially saw little value in Talmud education for girls, since his own mother and grandmother had been pious without it. Only a couple of years later, when addressing a women’s learning program, he remarked, “You know, I used to think that Talmud study for women was unnecessary, but now I think it is absolutely essential.” He also had evolving views on the religious centrality of the Land of Israel. Initially, he was influenced by Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook’s position that the land was at the very heart of the Zionist mission. Over time, however, Rabbi Amital came to realize that too much focus was on the land itself, and not enough attention was on people and the tenor of Israeli society (116-117).

          Rabbi Amital valued creating students who can think for themselves (talmidim), rather than clones who mimic their teachers (hasidim). He once participated in a panel discussion with his illustrious student, Rabbi Yuval Cherlow. Rabbi Cherlow nervously explained to the audience that “Everything I am about to say stems from Rav Amital’s inspiration, but it completely contradicts what Rav Amital himself believes.” Rabbi Amital stood up and announced, “Ah, finally, I have a talmid!” (75).

          A particularly poignant story reflects Rabbi Amital’s Torah leadership through his personal involvement. Once, there was a terrible snowstorm in Gush Etzion, leaving its residents without heat. A kibbutznik arrived on Shabbat, and told Rabbi Amital that the electricity in the hothouse where baby chicks were being raised had failed. If they did not restore the heat, the chicks would die. Rabbi Amital immediately put on his coat and walked through the storm to the kibbutz to offer his ruling. When he returned, people asked why he went, instead of simply asking more questions and then giving a ruling. He explained that Torah is to be lived in the real world, and is not simply book knowledge. He wanted to hear the cry of the chicks himself before issuing his ruling (28-29).

          Rabbi Taragin’s book title derives from a lesson Rabbi Amital frequently quoted from the Hasidic Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Kotzk (1757-1859). The Kotzker interpreted a verse, “Ve-anshei kodesh tihyun li” (you shall be holy people to Me, Exodus 22:30). While we strive to elevate ourselves by being holy, we must embrace the fact that we also are anashim, humans. We serve God precisely by recognizing our humanity, rather than falsely pursuing an angelic life (123).

          Through these and so many other anecdotes, Rabbi Taragin provides readers with a means of learning transformative lessons from one of the great rabbinic figures of the previous generation. 

 

Politics, International Justice, and the Responsibility of Jews to Behave Morally and Protect Their Interests

 

The recent Iron Swords War has highlighted many flaws with the political order in general and the international criminal justice system in particular. Attempts to indict Israeli leaders in the International Criminal Court alongside preposterous accusations of genocide have led many to conclude that the politicized system is built on a (anti-Semitic?) bias against Israel. In this article, I hope to show how these well-founded concerns were already raised by rabbinic scholars in the earliest days of the League of Nations. I further argue that these problems have continued to confound many Jews who were otherwise tempted to support a system that promised a new world order.

 

Jewish Internationalists and Dreams of a New World Order

 

On November 12, 1917, while World War I continued to rage, R. Avraham Yitzchak Hakohen Kook sent a letter to his son R. Tzvi Yehuda: God’s light has finally pierced into our dark world. The redemption has begun.[1]

What inspired this proclamation? Ten days earlier, the British foreign minister issued the Balfour Declaration establishing support for the “establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people.” The British soon afterward conquered Palestine from the Turks, ending 400 years of Ottoman control of the Holy Land and raising hopes of Zionists around the world. 

R. Kook had been waiting for this moment. Now dwelling in London, he had been delivering Bible-laced sermons praising British patriotism and their fight against Germany.[2] With the declaration of the world’s great power, he wrote to Seidel, the messianic process has begun! The Lord, who is “master of battles and sprouts salvations,” had delivered.[3] It’s true, he conceded, the bloody war had revealed the depravity of modernity and its European delegates. God, however, had now made it possible for people of uplifted spirit to bring about a new era. 

A few years later, the Balfour Declaration was incorporated by the newly established League of Nations into its broad mandate system that would govern territories of collapsed empires. Belgium controlled Rwanda and Burundi; the French oversaw Syria and Lebanon; and the British governed Palestine and Transjordan, to name a few prominent examples. The goal of the mandate system, at least as proclaimed by its founders, was to end the colonialist era of exploitation. At the base level, this would entail protecting the rights of the local inhabitants through a system of international law. More ambitiously, the mandate system would facilitate the founding of new states. Concomitantly, various treaties were enacted to ensure minority rights in all nation-states, new and old. Taken together, a new world order was sought to preserve peace between states and prevent persecution of minorities within them.

Many Jews, including some avowed Zionists, were deeply involved in these movements.[4] One such figure was a rising academic star and legal activist, the Polish-born Hirsch Tzvi Lauterpacht (1897–1960). In the days after World War I, Lauterpacht had witnessed the horrible November 1918 pogrom in Lemberg, a contested city within the newly independent Poland. The war was over, yet Jews continued to be slaughtered.[5]

As borders were getting drawn anew across the globe, Lauterpacht dedicated his life to providing protections for minorities in these new states. He believed that Britain could use its imperial power to bring lasting peace, including support for both Jewish nationalism in Palestine and rights for Jews and other minorities throughout Europe.[6] Lauterpacht would become a leading law professor at Cambridge and later a judge on the International Court of Justice. He is credited with establishing that international law prohibited territorial conquest through warfare; that’s precisely the expansionist “discretionary wars,” to use rabbinic terms, that Kook wanted to end. Lauterpacht also helped establish that those who waged aggressive warfare could be placed on trial. His advocacy directly led to the Nuremberg trials against Nazi figures after World War II. This was a deeply personal case for Lauterpacht. His parents, siblings, and extended family were all killed in the Holocaust.[7]

Another prominent international jurist who escaped Europe before the war and worked with Lauterpacht on the Nuremberg trials was Jacob Robinson (1889–1977). Robinson was born in a small village in the Russian empire to an Orthodox Jewish family from distinguished rabbinic lineage. Like many others, he sought solutions to the “Jewish problem” after the antisemitic violence in Kishinev and elsewhere. After earning his law degree, he was drafted into the Russian army in 1914. He was captured by the Germans and spent the next three years in eight different German POW camps. Somehow surviving, he returned home to the newly independent Lithuania, where he not only led a Hebrew-language school but was also elected to the Lithuanian parliament. Robinson became a renowned advocate for national minority rights, playing critical advocacy roles in the Congress of European National Minorities and at the League of Nations. Throughout the 1920s, he promoted a “pan-Europa” transnational community that would allow minorities to peacefully live within whatever national borders they found themselves.[8] At the same time, he was also the de facto leader of Lithuanian Zionism. Ben-Gurion even deemed him as “the most important man in Lithuania.”[9]

For many Jews, international governance presented an enticing alternative to pacifism toward achieving the prophetic visions of a new world order. We don’t need to naively declare that violence is never justified. Instead, we can work to create an institutional system that will find alternative methods for conflict resolution. If peace efforts fail, then these bodies will act to ensure that any belligerent aggressors face justice. The world can together agree upon what military actions are acceptable. They will provide direction for moral dilemmas alongside clarity for determining which sides were right or wrong. For many, this was, and is, an alluring vision of prophetic proportions.[10] 

Yet could international governance deliver on these high hopes? Could world powers, in fact, now provide justice for the Jewish people and other persecuted groups? 

 

Two Excommunicated Rabbis and the Changing Self-Image of the Jew 

 

In August 1920, a book ban was issued by the leaders of the ultra-Orthodox community of Jerusalem. The author of the prohibited book was none other than Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, who had recently returned from London to assume the position of the Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem. Once settled, R. Tzvi Yehuda published his father’s major treatise, Orot (Lights), which included his reflections on the Great War from Switzerland and his hopes for a new era in international relations. 

What raised the ire of his critics to ban this book? R. Kook had equated the spiritual merits accrued by youthful physical training to those gained by piously reciting Psalms or mystical enchantments. This was not the first time R. Kook had aroused controversy for praising the ethos of self-defense. In the first years of the twentieth century, Jews—usually immigrants fleeing from the pogroms in Russia—founded different groups to build character based on physical toil and exercise. “Muscular Jews” could work the land and fight for themselves. Kook wrote enthusiastically about the importance of Jewish self-defense, viewing the phenomenon as “heartwarming.”[11] While recognizing that these groups were led by secular Jews, he embraced their efforts. He mourned for two that were killed in 1911 as “holy martyrs,” despite the fact that both had abandoned the religious lifestyles of their upbringing.[12] For R. Kook, physical strength was a sign of renewed Jewish vigor to develop the homeland and instill fear in its enemies.

Yet his latest expression of praise for profane labor and physical strength—comparing it to a classic religious act of beseeching God for assistance—was too much for those who viewed the Jewish hero as pious, pensive, and passive. They wanted R. Kook out of Palestine. The controversy quickly spread throughout the Jewish world, with competing images of Jews and Judaism at stake.[13] 

Unlike several of R. Kook’s apologetic defenders, one of his most strident supporters felt that R. Kook didn’t go far enough. What’s the benefit, he asked, of simply reciting Psalms as a protective charm or incantation? 

 

It is unquestionable that to strengthen Jewish boys to enable them to defend themselves against their pursuers (with God’s help) is a greater mitzvah (religious deed) than reciting Psalms.… Reciting Psalms is the task of the indolent; calisthenics is the task of the industrious. 

 

Prayer, he added, can have a valuable role, but only alongside self-defense training. He further accused R. Kook’s critics of timidity and suggested they instead go back to Europe. Their cowardice was only causing fear among the Jewish residents from antisemitic Arabs, who looked upon diffident Jewish neighbors as “dead meat.”[14] 

R. Kook’s defender, Rabbi Hayim Hirschensohn (1857–1935), knew something about rabbinic bans. He himself had left Jerusalem two decades earlier following controversies over his own publications. Unlike most of the prominent Zionists of this era, Hirschensohn was born in the Land of Israel. His parents were proto-Zionists (ĥovevei Tziyon) who had immigrated from Pinsk in 1847. They helped develop Jewish settlement in the cities of Safed and Jerusalem before Herzl was even born. The younger Hirschensohn followed in their footsteps by organizing the acquisition and development of properties around the country. He later became a founding member of the religious Zionist movement, Mizrachi. 

As a scholar, R. Hirschensohn aroused the ire of traditionalists in Jerusalem. This was partly because of his outspoken advocacy for reviving Hebrew as a spoken language, including his founding, with Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, of an organization toward that goal. (He and Ben-Yehuda were the first two families to enforce Hebrew-speaking in their homes). He also displayed openness toward analyzing classic rabbinic texts from a critical historical lens. These factors, among others, led to his formal excommunication by the old-school rabbis of Jerusalem. Needing to make a living, Hirschensohn was forced to leave his birthplace. 

So, in 1904, the same year that R. Kook immigrated to Jaffa, R. Hirschensohn made it to Hoboken, New Jersey, where he served as a rabbi for the rest of his life. During World War I and its aftermath, he attests, he was deeply engrossed in pastoral work with veterans and their families, for which he received a letter of commendation. R. Hirschensohn remained active in various Zionist organizations and maintained correspondence with the great rabbinic figures in Palestine. Yet he died in relative obscurity, with his writings becoming well-known only in the past couple of decades. His works remain particularly important because in the wake of the horrors of World War I and the excitement of the Balfour Declaration, he wrote several books dedicated to establishing the legal groundwork for a democratic state within Jewish thought, including addressing the dilemmas of war and conquest.[15] 

 

The Jewish Legion and the Hasmonean Spirit of Self-Determination 

 

The 1920 excommunication controversy was not the first time that Rabbis Kook and Hirschensohn had supported Jews taking up arms. Both men had endorsed enlistment during World War I in the so-called Jewish Legion, battalions within the British army composed of Jewish volunteers from England, North America, and other countries to fight in Palestine. They were created upon the initiative of Joseph Trumpeldor and Vladimir Jabotinsky. Trumpeldor was a veteran of the Russo-Japanese War in which he lost his left arm and received four medals of bravery, making him the most decorated Jewish veteran of the Russian Army. Jabotinsky was a Russian writer who made Bialik’s poem on the Kishinev pogrom famous by translating it into Russian. More significantly, he had been an organizer of Jewish self-defense organizations and an advocate for minority rights in Europe, seeking to protect the Jewish people with both law and shield.[16] 

During World War I, Trumpeldor and Jabotinsky sought British permission for Jews to fight the Ottomans in Palestine. After protracted negotiations, including those of Chaim Weizmann, the Legion finally formed and played a minor role in completing the British conquest of Palestine in 1918. Its fighters included David Ben-Gurion, later Israel’s first prime minister; Eliyahu Golomb, the founder of the pre-state Haganah defense force; and Berl Katznelson, a future labor leader. 

The Legion did not accomplish much and soon disbanded, yet it transformed the image of the Jew into someone who could fight for himself and his homeland. The chaplain of the Legion was Reverend Leib Falk (1889–1957), who grew up in Boisk and studied in the school of R. Kook and Seidel. In a Hanukka holiday sermon, Falk reflected on the significance of the first Jewish military corps that had fought in nearly eighteen hundred years: 

The whole world was watching [and] were looking on us, but they see now the Maccabean spirit revived, they see now that Israel is not only powerful with his voice, but he has also a mighty arm.... The Jewish soldier upholds now the honour of our nation. The Jewish warrior saved our national honour which was at stake.[17]

 

While the troops were still in England, R. Kook visited Falk and his men. Previously, R. Kook had opposed the enlistment of yeshiva students (frequently new immigrants from eastern Europe) into the British army because of their inability to maintain a religious lifestyle.[18] Yet he bestowed Jewish Legion fighters with blessings of strength while deeming them as the bearers of the beginning of salvation.[19] Years later, when the Jewish Legion’s flag was brought to Palestine for a grand ceremony, R. Kook compared it to the banners that the Israelites used in the desert on their way to conquering the Land of Israel.[20]

Yet it was R. Hirschensohn who penned the most extensive treatise in support of the Legion. Even though Jews were fighting within a foreign army, he nonetheless deemed fighting in Palestine as within the category of an “obligatory war” for the liberation of the homeland. Earlier rabbinic Zionist figures were concerned that military activity may violate talmudic oaths that prohibited the Jews during their exile period from “rebelling against the nations” or “rising up together in force.” [21] They thus advocated for a peaceful settlement through land acquisitions. R. Hirschensohn was not deterred by this talmudic prohibition; it applied, in his mind, only to rebellions in foreign lands, not to conquering the Holy Land. This was especially true since the British had recognized the right of the Jews to establish a state in Palestine. This was not treason, but rather a deeply honorable fight by soldiers for their homeland which had been taken from their people centuries beforehand. Most significant about his declaration was the negation of the talmudic impulses against militarism as binding on the Jewish people in the current era. It was a holy deed, in his mind, not just to settle the land, but to fight for it.[22] 

 

A Temple of Peace Without Sacrifices?

 

Renewed Jewish warfare naturally meant that Jews would need to think about the legacy of biblical warfare. Like R. Kook, R. Hirschensohn sought to neutralize the ethos behind the Bible’s total wars, albeit more radically. First, he contended, any remnant of the Canaanite nations has long been lost, thereby making the commandments irrelevant. Second, while the commandment to conquer the land is eternal, the clause to “leave no one alive” among the land’s inhabitants was only applicable to Joshua’s generation, when such military tactics were necessary to conquer the land and remove the fears of the Israelite people. Once completed, however, no such clause existed; as such, we don’t find Kings David or Solomon fighting total wars against the local inhabitants.[23]

Even if we could identify the seven Canaanite nations, he further argued, we would not wipe them out because such behavior is morally unacceptable in our era. “It is prohibited to violate international law that regulates the conduct of war by charter. God forbid that Israel be regarded by the nations as barbaric murderers who violate international law and the norms of civilization.”[24] The continued history of biblical warfare—alongside our moral intuitions—proves that this biblical verse was a temporary provision, not a permanent commandment. 

Given his embrace of the norms of civilization to reject this biblical model of warfare, one might expect that R. Hirschensohn would be enthusiastic about the postwar treaties to prevent armed conflicts. Yet R. Hirschensohn expressed doubts that these proposals to resolve international conflicts would be more successful than earlier treaties. [25] Those rules, which governed hostile conduct, seemed utterly ineffective during the Great War. Hirschensohn was skeptical that the efforts of American president Woodrow Wilson and the League of Nations, meant to prevent the outbreak of war, would be any more effective. Ultimately, these bodies were subject to the political interests of powerful nations, which would thwart any real attempt at justice. 

Indeed, an early glimpse of this problem emerged in the aftermath of the post-war Lemberg pogrom. Wilson initially pushed hard for strict provisions of minority rights as a condition for Polish sovereignty. He pulled back when a related measure was proposed that would possibly sanction racial segregation in America.[26] Protecting minority rights was important, but only if it didn’t endanger American interests. 

Instead of a politicized court, R. Hirschensohn desired to build, in the spirit of the prophets, a new house of worship on Jerusalem’s Temple Mount. It would feature song and prayer but leave out the animal sacrifices mandated in the Bible. The Temple would serve as a “House of Peace” to advocate for each nation to thrive within its own borders without succumbing to the evil excesses of nationalism. He penned an extensive essay to resolving how Jews could walk onto the Temple Mount in light of heavy ritual restrictions against treading on its sanctified grounds. Hirschensohn sought to ensure that Zionism would have a center for religious and moral development that would guide Jewish nationalism. It would also serve as a model for nationalist movements around the world.[27]

Yet he also had a political agenda: If the Jews did not develop the Temple Mount, it would not remain closed to all. Instead, it would be controlled by foreigners and Arab Muslims. The Jews would be left standing, as they had throughout centuries of exile, by the Dung Gate, with all that this name entails. 

R. Kook rejected this proposal. While agreeing that Jewish nationalism must be rooted in a religious spirit, he disallowed stepping on the Temple Mount, let alone building on it. He further criticized R. Hirschensohn for eliminating the use of animal sacrifices. Hirschensohn had written that the restoration of the sacrifices “would make us the object of ridicule before all the nations of the world. Instead of being a light to the nations, they would think of us as an unenlightened people who walk in darkness.”[28] In R. Kook’s mind, this was a religious reform corrupted by the ideals of European philosophy. We should leave the Temple Mount alone and instead build a synagogue next to the Western Wall that could serve as a house of prayer and peace.[29] 

R. Hirschensohn, in reply, accused Kook of making a religious and political error that was equivalent to the 1903 “Uganda plan” to grant the Jews a state in Eastern Africa. Just as you can’t temporarily replace the Holy Land with some other territory, you can’t replace the heart of the Temple Mount with its outer western wall! Either Jews settle their territory or someone else will. As for R. Kook’s jibe that he was overly influenced by Western norms, R. Hirschensohn replied that there is no doubt that the Great War had shown the failings of European culture. Nonetheless, the prophets repeatedly asserted that God did not truly desire animal sacrifices.[30] With all the failings of Western culture, knowledge and wisdom would not recede backward, or as he put it, that “which is uncivilized will not suddenly become civilized!”[31] In any case, the mission of the hour was to purchase all holy sites toward ensuring our political and spiritual future.[32]

 

The Value of Treaties 

 

R. Herschensohn’s idyllic visions for a “Temple of Peace” are stirring yet fantastical. He also does not offer a sufficient answer as to how it would avoid the politicization that plagues other international bodies. It’s possible that this was more a theoretical exercise than an actual plan.[33] 

Nonetheless, his writing reflects a deep ambivalence on the potential success of international bodies to execute justice in a world of competing nationalistic claims. On the one hand, there is a genuine desire to promote humanistic values that will avoid a repetition of the unnecessary bloodshed of the Great War. On the other hand, R. Hirschensohn recognizes that political interests will dominate international bodies. Therefore, to achieve equity, Jews need to take hold of what belongs to them, such as the Temple Mount, based on their own values and interests. Otherwise, someone else will decide based on their interests, not justice. 

This weariness toward international political bodies is also reflected in R. Herschensohn’s extended 1926 treatise on the standing of international treaties. Nations should be careful before signing treaties, he believed, because once they commit, they are liable to punishment for breaking their word. This is why the Israelites were punished by God for violating the covenant at Sinai and breaking His law. So too, he asserted, Germany got its due in World War I because Kaiser Wilhelm had treated the 1839 Treaty of London that granted sovereignty and neutrality to Belgium as “a scrap of paper.”[34] The Allies were justified in resisting Germany since treaties are only binding when they are reciprocally observed.[35] 

Yet treaties are not the only obligations that are binding on the Jewish people. So, too, are the ethical practices of “civilizations.”[36] While he doesn’t fully translate that term, it seems that he has in mind the widespread moral sentiments of modern civilized nations.[37] Violating these standards, in his mind, constitutes a grave desecration of the reputation of God and His people. Considering these beliefs, we can further understand his rejection of the models of fighting against Amalek and the Canaanite nations. Whether or not there is a treaty against total war or genocide, Jews must hold themselves to the highest standards of morality and build a stellar reputation.[38] 

So what would a Jewish state do in this era of treaties? R. Hirschensohn argued that it should make accords with as many foreign nations as possible—in Europe, America, and Africa. Like R. Kook, R. Hirschensohn asserted that imperialist excursions beyond Israel’s borders had no place in contemporary Jewish law and that all wars required moral justification.[39] Nations must stick to their own borders. As such, there was a confluence here between the religious value of international peace and Jewish national interests. 

What about Arabs living within Palestine? R. Hirschensohn claimed that permanently ceding territory in the Holy Land would violate the biblical mandate to conquer the land. He also believed that Jews should not quickly initiate negotiations that would put them in a position of weakness.[40] Yet he recognized that despite the Jewish historical claim to the land and the Balfour Declaration, there was an Arab population who had legitimate conflicting claims to the same territory. This was primarily because they were residents in the land. At the end of the day, the strongest claim to any territory is based on settlement. Given these competing legitimate claims, he suggests that Jews should form long-term peaceful accords with their neighbors. One day, he hoped, the Jews could peacefully get full control of the territory. In the meantime, it was in the interests of all parties involved to have peaceful relations.[41]

Independent of one’s assessment of R. Hirschensohn’s particular strategy, the framework of his analysis is particularly striking. On the one hand, he embraces positive developments in international mores. Judaism is a peace-promoting religion that should support all initiatives to reduce animosity and bloodshed, even with those competing for hold of the Holy Land. This entails integrating new values—including democracy, minority rights, and conventions to limit the horrors of war—by finding support for them in traditional Jewish texts. 

On the other hand, he understood that it was far from clear that international institutions will have the ability to promote and enforce these values. There are too many national interests at stake to make this possible.[42] Thus, Jews must wisely develop a strategy that will endorse refined values while actively promoting their own political interests. In his time, this meant taking hold of their homeland through the purchase of holy locations and the settlement of the Land of Israel. 

 

Arab Riots in Palestine and the Triumph of British Political Interests 

 

The most pressing question, however, was whether force would also be necessary to reestablish Jewish sovereignty in Palestine. Both Rabbis Kook and Hirschensohn hoped that a combination of Jewish political initiatives and international diplomacy would be sufficient. Yet this was not meant to be. In March 1920, Trumpeldor was sent to help protect Tel Hai, an upper Galilean settlement that ended up under French control in the unstable period after World War I, leaving those Jewish settlers suddenly outside of British auspices. In a chaotic confrontation with Arab Bedouins from Syria, Trumpeldor was killed, alongside five other Jews, including a couple of other Jewish Legion veterans. His alleged dying words become immortalized as the fighting spirit of the new Jew: “No matter, it is worth dying for the country.”[43] 

Trumpeldor would become lionized by Zionist writers like Hayim Yosef Brenner, who eulogized this “symbol of pure heroism” for teaching that it is good to die for the national cause. Tamares the pacifist had opposed the Jewish Legion and saw Trumpeldor’s legacy as the embodiment of force and ultranationalism, but his views were hardly noticed.[44] The self-image of Jews was being transformed. A few years later, Jabotinsky would break away from the Zionist Organization and establish the revisionist Zionist organization “Betar.” The name commemorated the last fighting ground of the Jewish people in the second century, but also paid homage to the fallen hero of Tel Hai, with the letters of Betar standing for “the covenant of Joseph Trumpeldor.” 

Jewish-Arab tensions were also rising in Jerusalem. Jabotinsky warned the local British military governor of an upcoming slaughter, this time by Arabs against their Jewish neighbors. Jabotinsky and other founders of the Jewish Legion had been busy training the Jews in calisthenics and self-defense; it was their group, among others, for whom Kook’s praise in Orot had earned him the scorn of the local ultra-Orthodox leaders just a few months later. When the riots started in Jerusalem’s Old City, however, his men were not around. Several Jews were killed and over two hundred more were wounded. Two sisters were raped. 

Long aware of the self-defense groups, the British governor nonetheless arrested Jabotinsky and his men for carrying illegal weapons, with Jabotinsky receiving a fifteen-year jail sentence. Hirschensohn, from afar, would cite the case as an example of the ways in which a civilized justice system can become corrupt.[45]

R. Kook joined others in demanding Jabotinsky’s release as he and his comrades threatened to go on a hunger strike. R. Kook saluted their brave efforts but warned that Jewish law strictly prohibits taking such drastic protest measures.[46] Jabotinsky stopped the hunger strike. Soon afterward, his sentence was commuted, alongside those of many of the Arab rioters. R. Kook protested to the British high commissioner that the Arabs should be punished politically for the violence, but to no avail.[47] 

For now, the international community stayed the course with British plans for Palestine and affirmed the Balfour Declaration in the San Remo conference a month later. Yet Arab-Jewish tensions remained high and in May 1921, riots would break out again, this time in Jaffa. Forty-seven Jews were killed, and over 140 more wounded. Among the dead was the writer Brenner, who had been busy editing the letters of Trumpeldor. 

Yet the biggest turning point was 1929. Arab-Jewish tensions over control of the Western Wall had existed for several years but escalated after a march in Jerusalem’s Old City on Tisha B’Av, Judaism’s annual day of mourning for the Temple’s destruction. R. Kook, who had protested restrictions on Jewish access to the wall for several years, supported the march, telling a local newspaper that the youth had demonstrated “national pride and Maccabean zealousness” toward defending Jewish rights to the holy site.[48] Arab riots soon broke out in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, and other locations. 

The riots left the Jewish community particularly vulnerable since most of its leadership was in Zurich for the sixteenth Zionist Congress. Beyond working with the remaining Zionist authorities to secure British protection for the Jewish settlements, R. Kook sent a brief letter through the head of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “To the entire Jewish world: All of the Jewish community in the Land of Israel is in danger. Act to save us in any way you can as fast as you can.”[49] The sense of urgency was palpable. 

Robinson and other activists organized mass rallies, sent urgent telegrams, and penned editorials to get the League of Nations to act. They called on the mandate’s commission to protect the Jewish people, noting their centuries-long connection to the Holy Land. They further demanded the removal of British officials who had not come to their rescue. No response came. In the end, more than 130 Jews were killed over two hot August weeks. 

Lauterpacht, the rising jurist now teaching at University College of London, lamented the tepid British response and its failure to ascribe full blame to the Arab side. Why did the British fail to protect the Jews? Lauterpacht’s answer was telling: even the mighty British empire had to cower before the prospect of a religious war with all of Islam. Britain cares about minority rights. But it had to take into consideration its own political interests in placating the feelings of the millions of Muslims that lived within its empire.[50]

Lauterpacht’s conclusion was reached after the publication of the findings of the Shaw Commission that investigated the riots. The Muslim mufti, Haj Amin al Husseini, blamed the Jews for provoking the rioters. Kook forcefully retorted these claims and accused the Husseini of incitement. While expressing hope and belief that most of the Arabs wanted to continue to live in peace with the Jews, he insisted on Jewish rights to their holy sites and encouraged their settlement.[51] A similar sentiment was expressed by Hirschensohn, who further encouraged Jews to learn Arabic so that they could build personal relations with their Arab neighbors and thereby circumvent the incitement of their leaders. 

After their investigations, the Shaw commission concluded that the Arabs were the guilty instigators. Nonetheless, they argued that the broader cause of the violence was Jewish immigration. How could the British recognize that the Arabs were guilty of violence yet punish the Jews politically? Many in Britain had concluded that the Balfour Declaration was a mistake and against their interests. The solution came in the White Paper issued by Colonial Secretary Passfield in October 1930. Britain must restrict Jewish immigration and land purchases to ensure that the Jews remain a minority and do not negatively impact the Arab economy – or broader Arab support for Britain. R. Kook, for his part, condemned Britain for its treachery. He wondered aloud if his Majesty’s government had abandoned its esteemed role in the world’s redemption. Deliverance, he asserted, would come in other ways.[52] 

It certainly didn’t come from Britain. Ultimately, after another extended period of violence later in the decade, the British would issue, on the eve of the Holocaust, an even more restrictive immigration policy (the 1939 “white paper”) which essentially undermined the Balfour Declaration and their entire mandate. Weizmann appealed to the League of Nations, but to no avail. 

Stung by the betrayal of the British, Zionists learned what R. Hirschensohn had declared several years beforehand: when it comes to international politics, interests will trump justice. 

 

“The Generation Is Not Ready”: The Education of Jacob Robinson 

 

If the mandate failed to protect Jews in Palestine, it did little better in Europe. The idea behind the minority rights treaties was a sense of reciprocity between different states: “I protect your minority; you protect my minority.” Yet as the interwar period progressed, it became clear that attempts to protect minority rights in Europe were no guarantee to help the stateless Jews. Jewish loyalty was regularly suspect in these new ethnic states, with Jews suffering discrimination and persecution in Hungary, Poland, Romania, and elsewhere. As Robinson darkly quipped about the interwar period, European reciprocity meant “I hit my Jews, you hit your Jews.”[53] Recognizing the failure of the interwar treaties to protect Jews or other minorities, Robinson recognized that the only real solution for European Jewry was to emigrate to Palestine, or as in his case, to flee to America.

While Lauterpacht would continue to promote international legal protections as a judge on the International Court of Justice, his colleague Robinson became more skeptical of its potential efficacy. After Israel’s founding, Robinson served as a leading adviser on diplomacy and international law to the Israeli delegation at the United Nations. He was weary of the prospects of the UN providing real solutions to human rights problems. Its Genocide Convention, developed in the wake of the Holocaust, was too vague and lacked any enforcement mechanism that would make it efficient. Moreover, it and other UN initiatives would be manipulated by Israel’s Arab neighbors and minorities to attack the Jewish state, even as these countries would do nothing to respect the human rights of minorities in their own lands. 

While he remained a prominent, albeit somewhat reluctant, international jurist, Robinson understood that national interests and politics would forever play a problematic role in international law. Toward the end of his life, he would assert that while local protections for minorities remained important, the globalized system had failed. Recalling his childhood yeshiva education, he cited the talmudic expression lo ikhshar dara (the generation is not prepared) to assert that the world had been insufficiently ready to weave minority rights into its social fabric.[54] 

In the coming decades, rabbinic scholars would collectively take a similarly ambivalent but increasingly critical view of such international bodies.[55] Many were thankful for the essential role of the UN in the eventual establishment of the State of Israel after World War II. This was despite it coming way too late to save the six million Jews killed in the Holocaust and not preventing the Jews from still having to go to war to gain what the international community had been promising for over thirty years.[56] Going beyond particular Jewish interests, others appreciated the attempt by international organizations to reduce warfare and limit the atrocities committed when war occurs. They further noted that despite the imbalance of power between strong nations and weak ones, the United Nations and other bodies still promote the important idea that even the smallest of nations have basic rights that should not be trampled upon.[57]

One scholar, Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli, even went so far as to assert that Jewish law would obligate Israel to observe all international treaties limiting warfare—including a total ban on war—provided that all parties equally respect these obligations. In the meantime, he noted, lo ikhshar dara, the generation is not ready to reciprocally implement such measures.[58] 

Aspirations are not a measure of success. The criteria must be whether treaties are loyally followed by their signatories and if international bodies prevent moral mayhems. In the years that have passed since R. Hirschensohn wrote, these institutions were entirely ineffective in preventing the continued pogroms in Europe after World War I, the horror of the Holocaust, and the forced migration of 850,000 Jewish residents from Arab countries in the 1950s and 1960s, to name just a few egregious examples. When preparing to attack Israel in May 1967, the Egyptian army demanded that UN peacekeeping forces immediately leave the Sinai area; the UN forces hastily left without even an appeal by the UN secretary-general to Egyptian leaders.[59] In 1975, the UN General Assembly passed a resolution declaring that “Zionism is a form of racism,” with the support of the USSR, Arab- and Muslim-majority countries, and many African countries, essentially rejecting, again, the justice of the Balfour Declaration. (The resolution was repealed only in 1991.) Many observers also accuse these bodies of unfairly singling out Israel for censure in its complex and protracted struggle with Palestinians while ignoring many travesties around the world.[60] This alleged bias has, in part, led many rabbis and Zionists to severely question whether these international bodies can ever provide justice in the Middle East and around the world.[61] 

 

Rwanda, Syria, and the Education of Samantha Power

 

The “failure to protect” critique against international bodies has extended well beyond Jews and Israel. It has also been leveled against Pol Pot’s terror in Cambodia, Saddam Hussein’s destruction of the Kurds in northern Iraq, the Bosnian Serbs’ eradication of non-Serbs, the Rwandan Hutus’ systematic extermination of the Tutsi minority, and the systematic killing of ethnic Darfuri people in Western Sudan. There are many reasons given for these failures. Some assert that the diffusion of responsibilities to prevent war crimes absolves too many specific international players of taking the lead.[62] Yet it’s also clear that the politics of these bodies regularly prevents them from acting. To take the most obvious example, the UN Security Council, with veto power given to its five permanent members, is helpless in addressing Chinese human rights abuses or the 2014 Russian invasion of Crimea and its subsequent invasion of all of Ukraine. As historian Paul Kennedy has documented, the granting of additional privileges to great powers is inherent to the UN system and, more fundamentally, to any international body that is dependent on its member-states to provide its funding and soldiers.[63] Despite its improvements over the League of Nations, the UN cannot circumvent the political nature of any international body.       

There was no greater critic of the Western response to these twentieth-century atrocities than Samantha Power. Her award-winning, best-selling book “A Problem from Hell”: America and the Age of Genocide extensively documented these cases, including the 1994 ethnic cleansing in Rwanda. Power showed how political considerations led the Clinton administration to ignore the plight of the hundreds of thousands of Tutsis who were killed and raped over four months. U.S. officials, for example, purposely avoided utilizing the “G-word” (genocide) in describing the atrocities because that might obligate them—morally, if not legally—to intervene under the 1948 Genocide Convention. This treaty, whose potential effectiveness was doubted by Robinson, as we noted, was the culmination of years of work by Lauterpacht and especially Raphael Lemkin, another European Jew who had fled Europe and became a leading international jurist. They believed it would succeed in committing countries to prevent and punish “crimes against humanity,” a term coined by Lauterpacht.[64] It was signed and affirmed by well over a hundred nations, including leading superpowers. None of those signatures helped when the Hutus began their slaughter. 

Power singled out senior administration officials like National Security Adviser Anthony Lake, who had written a well-known critique of immoral realpolitik considerations in previous eras of American foreign policy yet had now fallen into the same trap. Power’s book helped inspire the 2005 “Responsibility to Protect” declaration of all UN member states to prevent genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity. 

Two decades later, Power became the American ambassador to the United Nations under President Barack Obama. A civil war was raging in Syria, with the UN Security Council unable to act because Russia vetoed any measures against the Syrian government. Then Syria used chemical weapons against her own citizens. Such weapons have long been banned under international law with a nearly universal and unprecedented endorsement from countries around the world. This had been a declared “red line” of Obama, even as he was wary of an unpopular excursion of American troops into another bloody Middle East conflict. According to one aide, Obama even noted, “People always say never again, but they never want to do anything.” [65]

Yet Power wanted to act. She declared in the UN that the international system had broken down in Syria, with one side being gassed and the other feeling it could get away with it. Claiming that all alternative options were exhausted, she called for limited military strikes. “If violation of a universal agreement to ban chemical weapons is not met with the meaningful response, other regimes will seek to acquire or use them to protect or extend their power.”[66] At stake, in other words, was whether treaties had teeth or were just another scrap of paper. 

In the end, Obama called off airstrikes, instead electing to work with the Russians to get the Syrians to give up their chemical weapons. Subsequently, Obama’s aides have testified about the many political and strategic considerations that led the White House to abandon this limited military action. Some have further asserted that Obama did not want to risk ruining negotiations with the Iranians over their nuclear ambitions.[67] Whatever the reason, America, followed by others, backed away. Syria, with Russian support in both the UN and on the battlefield, continued to commit atrocities in places like Aleppo, including the repeated use of chemical weapons it hid from international inspectors. 

Power, for her part, was left to Twitter to share her indignation while delivering scathing speeches at the Security Council against the Russians. “Aleppo will join the ranks of those events in world history that define modern evil, that stain our conscience decades later. Halabja, Rwanda, Srebrenica, and now, Aleppo.… Are you truly incapable of shame?” Powerful words, but international treaties were meant to be backed by more than speeches and 140-character tweets. The Russian ambassador retorted by calling her Mother Theresa and called it a day. Since then, critics of American policy have labeled Power a hypocrite and questioned whether she should have resigned.[68] 

In her memoir, aptly titled The Education of an Idealist, Power admirably lays out her conflicting feelings. Perhaps American intervention would have failed and uselessly endangered American soldiers. Or perhaps the administration, and the entire system, simply failed. 

The ultimate result was pretty bad: the Syrian regime, with Russian and Iranian support, massacred hundreds of thousands more while causing a flood of refugees which has left them homeless and Europe politically unstable. Western inaction also left the roughly 30 million Kurds quite vulnerable to the whims of the despotic leaders of four countries in which they reside, one hundred years after the 1920 Treaty of Sèvres, signed between the Allies and the defeated Ottomans, called for an independence referendum in their territory. Despite all the treaties and promises they were given over the century, they have neither a state nor minority rights. 

These examples only strengthen R. Hirschensohn’s basic claim: International laws and treaties provide no guarantee that justice will be executed or that the innocent will be protected. Sometimes they will help, which is a good thing, but many times they will not. Even people with the best of intentions like Lake and Power fall into the trap of allowing power and politics to color, if not shape, international legal bodies. 

This sad but important truth does not mean that we should simply dismiss the ethics that international law aspires to implement. While displaying great skepticism about the efficacy of the system, R. Hirschensohn affirmed many of the values of “civilized society.” He sought to prove how Judaism may incorporate concepts like democracy and minority rights in order to make them valuable to Jews on their own terms, independent of their enforcement in broader international society. If, for example, forsaking total war tactics is an upright decision, then Jews should integrate and implement those values for integral reasons, let alone for preserving our reputation as an ethical people.[69] 

At the same time, Jews should not be naive about the prospects of international bodies providing them with support or protection. In practice, self-help is the prevailing rule of world affairs. Jews cannot wait for others to deliver justice. In an international order deeply impacted, if not driven, by interests, then Jews need to proactively do what it takes to protect themselves. 

 

Notes


 


[1] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 3, no. 852, 131–33. See Yitzhak Krauss, “HaTeguvot HaTeologiyot al Hatzharat Balfour,” Sefer Bar Ilan 28/29 (5761): 81–104. 

[2] See Ginzei HaRaayah, Iggerot, 157–59. See also Ari Schwat, “Sibot Erekh HaGvurah HaFizit VeHaTzvait BaMishnat HaRav Kook,” in Nero Yair (Mitzpeh Yericho, 5773), 353–394. 

[3] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 3, no. 871, 155–159.

[4] James Loeffler and Moria Paz, eds., The Law of Strangers: Jewish Lawyers and International Law in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge, 2019).

[5] See Jeffrey Veidlinger, In the Midst of Civilized Europe (Metropolitan, 2021).

[6] James Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans: Jews and Human Rights in the Twentieth Century (New Haven, 2018), 22–27.

[7] Oona A. Hathaway and Scott J. Shapiro, The Internationalists (New York, 2018), 298–305.

[8] Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans, 31–50.

[9] Omry Kaplan-Feuereisen and Richard Mann, “At the Service of the Jewish Nation: Jacob Robinson and International Law,” Osteuropa 58:8/10 (August-October 2008): 164.

[10] See Lauterpacht’s May 1950 speech given in Jerusalem, cited by Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans, 176. 

[11] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 2, 54. 

[12] Maamarei HaRaayah, vol. 1, 89–93. See Hagi Ben-Artzi, HeĤadash Yitkadesh (Tel Aviv, 2010), 70–73.

[13] On the controversy, Mirsky, Rav Kook, 167–169, and the introduction to Orot, trans. Bezalel Naor (Jerusalem, 2015). 

[14] Ĥiddushei HaRav Hayim Hirschensohn LaMasekhta Horayot, vol. 3, 33a (letter 23). The letter is dated November 1924. On Hirschensohn’s letter and Kook’s reply, see Naor’s introduction to Orot

[15] Luz, Wresting with an Angel, 222, regards Hirschensohn as the only religious-Zionist thinker who was systematically engaging in political thinking.

[16] Colin Schindler, The Rise of the Israeli Right: From Odessa to Hebrew (Cambridge, 2015), chapter 7.

[17] Cited in Michael Keren and Shlomit Keren, We are Coming, Unafraid: The Jewish Legions and the Promised Land in the First World War (Lanham, MD, 2010), 116.

[18] Kook’s letter to Chief Rabbi Hertz is found in Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 3, no. 859. See Rosenak, HaRav Kook, 156–160.

[19] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 3, no. 974. Kook further advised Falk on how to maintain standards of dietary law observance. 

[20] Ari Shvat, Leharim et HaDegel, chapter 11.

[21] Warren Ze’ev Harvey, “Rabbi Reines on the Conquest of Canaan and Zionism,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites, ed. Katell Berthelot et al. (Oxford, 2014), 386–398.

[22] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 1, 18–22, 142–163.

[23] Hayim Hirschensohn, Eleh Divrei HaBrit, 70, 79. Kook had also tentatively suggested this idea but ultimately rejected it. See Kook, Tov Ro’i: Sota, 22. For another openly apologetic attempt to limit the meaning of this commandment to not require annihilation, see Rabbi Tzvi Mecklenberg, HaKetav VeHaKabbala on Deuteronomy 20:16.

[24] Hirschensohn, Eleh Divrei HaBrit, 70.

[25] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 1, 15–16.

[26] Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans, 14–15.

[27] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 2, 5–31 (which includes part of Kook’s letter), especially pp. 26–28.

[28] Ibid., vol. 1, 11. 

[29] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 4, 23–25. Also printed in Malki BaKodesh, vol. 4, 4–5. On the relation of these passages to the depiction of a future Temple in Herzl’s utopian novel, Old-New Land, see Eyal Ben-Eliyahu, “Lehakim Binyan Ĥadash?” Cathedra 128 (Tamuz 5768), 101–112. 

[30] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 1, 62–64. See also p. 56.

[31] Ibid., vol. 4, 8.

[32] Ibid., vol. 2, 28. He emphasizes that these holy sites should be utilized for the search of wisdom, not extremism. On the history of Jewish attempts to purchase holy sites in Palestine, including areas around the Temple Mount, see Dotan Goren, UVa LeTziyon Goel (Beit El, 2017).

[33] This is implied in Hirschensohn’s follow-up letter.

[34] Hirschensohn, Eleh Divrei HaBrit, introduction.

[35] Ibid., 8. The importance of reciprocity is made explicit in Midrash Shoĥer Tov on Psalms 60:2 regarding the wartime behavior of King David. 

[36] Hirschensohn, Eleh Divrei HaBrit, 13–14. 

[37] Hirschensohn may have in mind the notion of the “standards of civilization” that circulated since the nineteenth century within international legal circles and has made a recent revival. See David P. Fidler, “The Return of the Standard of Civilization,” Chicago Journal of International Law 2:1 (2001): 137–157.

[38] This might even mean upholding agreements made under false pretenses. Following talmudic precedent, he noted that Joshua chose to maintain his peace treaty with the Gibeonites, one of the Canaanite nations, in spite of the fact they had fooled the Israelites into thinking that they came from distant lands. While the treaty was not compulsory, the Israelites kept their promise since others would think they don’t keep their word. See Hirschensohn, Eleh Divrei HaBrit, 71–72.

[39] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 1, 143–149.

[40] Eleh Divrei HaBrit, 175–176.

[41] Ibid., 37–38.

[42] For a similar attitude in more recent writing, see Rabbi Yaakov Ariel, Halakha BeYamenu (Ashkelon, Machon HaTorah VeHaAretz, 5770), 378.

43 Regarding the veracity of this final statement and Trumpeldor’s broader relationship to Judaism, see Moshe Nahmani, HaGibbor HaLeumi: Perakim BeĤayav shel Yosef Trumpeldor (2020), 131–256.

[44] See Tamares, Shelosha Zivugim Bilti Hagunim (Pietrkow, 1930), 9, 40, 60–61.

[45] Malki BaKodesh, vol. 2, 159–160.

[46] Otzrot HaRaayah, vol. 1, 393–395.

[47] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 5, 333.

[48] As cited in Hillel Cohen, 1929: Year Zero of the Arab-Israeli Conflict (Brandeis, 2015), Kindle location 1755. See also Kook’s testimony to the British investigation commission published in Otzrot HaRaayah, ed. Moshe Tzuriel, vol. 2, 359–360. On Kook’s reaction to the 1929 riots, see Yosef Sharvit, “HaRav Kook UMeoraot 5689,” Sinai 97 (5745): 153–185.

[49] Central Zionist Archives, A176/11.

[50] Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans, 28–30, 49–50.

[51] Iggerot HaRaayah, vol. 5, 143 and Maamarei HaRaayah, 252–53. See also Mirsky, Rav Kook, 196–202 and Shtamler, Ayin BeAyin, 199–201. R. Kook also told that Zionist Congress that he regretted how the fight over the Western Wall became such a flash point. See Cohen, 1929, Kindle location 4665–4680, based on documents found in Central Zionist Archives S100/10. 

[52] Kook, Ĥazon HaGeula (Jerusalem, 5701), 46–47.

[53] Ibid., 56–57.

[54] Jacob Robinson, “International Protection of Minorities: A Global View,” Israeli Yearbook on Human Rights (1971): 61–91. See Loeffler, Rooted Cosmopolitans, 171–201 and Gil Rubin, “The End of Minority Rights: Jacob Robinson and the ‘Jewish Question’ in World War II,” Simon Dubnow Institute Yearbook 11 (2012): 55–71. Rubin dubs Robinson’s later career as one of a “reluctant internationalist.” See his article, “A State of Their Own: Jewish Internationalism and Human Rights,” Marginalia, June 6, 2018. 

[55] For a survey of positions, see Amos Israel-Vleeschhouwer, “Yaĥas HaHalakha LaMishpat HaBeinleumi” (unpublished PhD diss., Tel Aviv University, 2011).

[56] See Soloveitchik, Kol Dodi Dofek, 31–32.

[57] See Rabbi Hayim David HaLevi, Dat UMedina, 21–22, 37–38.

[58] Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli, Amud HaYemini, siman 16, 195.

[59] Michael B. Oren, Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East, 67–75.

[60] See, for example, Dore Gold, Tower of Babble: How the United Nations Has Fueled Global Chaos (Forum, 2004); Justin S. Gruenberg, “An Analysis of United Nations Security Council Resolutions: Are All Countries Treated Equally?,” Case Western Reserve Journal of International Law 513 (2009): 41. Gerald M. Steinberg, “The UN, the ICJ and the Separation Barrier: War by Other Means,” Israel Law Review 38:1–2 (Winter-Spring 2005): 331–347.

[61] See, for example, Rabbi Avraham Sharir, “Etika Tzeva’it al pi Halakhah,” Teĥumin 25 (5765), 436 and Rabbi Avraham Sherman, “HaMishpat HaBeinleumi (BaMilĥama) LeOhr Mishpetei HaTorah,” Torah SheBe’al Peh 44 (5764), 74. See also Rabbi Yaakov Ariel, Halakha BeYamenu, 378.

[62] André Nollkaemper, “‘Failures to Protect’ in International Law,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Use of Force in International Law, ed. Marc Weller (Oxford, 2015), 439.  

[63] Paul Kennedy, The Parliament of Man (Vintage, 2007), Kindle Location 495.

[64] See Ana Filipa Vrdoljak, “Human Rights and Genocide: The Work of Lauterpacht and Lemkin in Modern International Law,” The European Journal of International Law 20:4 (2010): 1163–1194. 

[65] Ben Rhodes, “Inside the White House During the Syrian ‘Red Line’ Crisis,” Atlantic, June 3, 2018.

[66] “The Ambassador to the UN’s Case against the UN,” Atlantic, Sept 6, 2013; “Samantha Power’s Case for Striking Syria,” Washington Post, Sept 7, 2013.

[67] See Natasha Bertrand and Michael B Kelley, “The Startlingly Simple Reason Obama Ignores Syria,” Business Insider, June 4, 2015.

[68] See, for example, Tony Badran, “‘Ambassador Samantha Power Lied to My Face about Syria,’ by Kassem Eid,” Tablet, February 27, 2018 and Steve Bloomfield, “The Obama Administration’s Misadventures in Foreign Policy,” Prospect Magazine, November 2019.

[69] An exemplar of this idea was Israel’s first Ashkenazic chief rabbi, Yitzhak Herzog, who wrote about Jewish law while in dialogue with international norms and ethical standards. See R. Herzog’s essay on minority rights in Israel, “Zehuyot HaMi’utim Lefi HaHalakha,” Tehumin 2, 169–179. 

Book Review: Michelle J. Levine on Ramban

Book Review

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

 

Michelle J. Levine, Navigating Wilderness: Ramban’s Commentary on the Exodus and Numbers Narratives (Kodesh Press, 2025)

 

          In a book review essay I wrote over twenty years ago on a Memorial Volume for Professor Nehama Leibowitz (Pirkei Nehama), I outlined a fundamental difference that generally exists between those who study Tanakh as the primary text, and those who focus on the work of a particular commentator:

In line with all traditional exegesis, Professor Nehama Leibowitz emphasized that we must scrutinize the meaning and significance of each word and passage in the Torah, and perceive its messages as communicated directly to us. We accomplish these daunting tasks by consulting the teachings of the Sages and later commentators. In effect, they serve as our eyes through which we understand the biblical text in its multifaceted and ever-applicable glory. Of course, their opinions must be painstakingly evaluated against the biblical text...

          To those studying parshanut as a discipline, whether for methodological approaches or in historical context, Midrashim and commentators are no longer secondary to the biblical text. They are three-dimensional people living in specific times and places. Parshanut scholarship investigates how a given exegete approached the text, and what influenced him, such as Midrashim and earlier commentaries, intellectual currents of his time, and other historical considerations beyond purely textual motivations. The student of Tanakh views commentary as secondary literature, while the student of parshanut or history treats exegetes as primary sources. These contrasting perspectives almost necessarily will yield different understandings of the comments of our commentators (Tradition 38:4, Winter 2004, pp. 112-113).

 

          Professor Michelle J. Levine’s recently published volume on Ramban’s interpretation of the wilderness narratives in the books of Exodus and Numbers is a remarkable exception to the aforementioned dichotomy. She takes readers on a journey through the biblical narratives through the eyes of one exceptional commentator, Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nahman, Spain-Israel 1194-1270). Levine’s expertise in Ramban’s commentary and the secondary scholarly literature on Ramban’s work shine forth on every page and in her learned footnotes. Strikingly, Levine provides a holistic approach on how Ramban learns the biblical texts.

          Ramban composed a three-tiered commentary, exploring the layers of peshat (plain sense, contextual meaning), derash (deeper meaning, homiletical teachings), and mysticism. Ramban navigates his own path guided by Midrash, Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Rambam, Radak, and Rabbi Joseph Bekhor Shor. Transcending the works of his illustrious predecessors, Ramban also “often groups many biblical verses together to develop a wide-all-encompassing analysis that seeks to educe their integration as a literary unit and to extrapolate their fundamental motifs and concepts” (5). Ramban stresses that while God revealed the Torah and it is true, it is vital to focus on how God, as Narrator, relates the story. The literary form of the narratives contribute substantially to the meaning of the Torah (8). These overarching premises of Ramban’s commentary remain relevant and illuminating to this very day.

          For example, Ramban observes that after Pharaoh decrees that Egyptians must drown baby Israelite boys, two Levites get married and have a son:

Then Pharaoh charged all his people, saying, “Every boy that is born you shall throw into the Nile, but let every girl live.” A certain man of the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw how beautiful he was, she hid him for three months (Exodus 1:22-2:2).

 

These Levites, whom we later learn are Amram and Jochebed, just gave birth to Moses. We also learn later that Moses already has an older brother, Aaron, and Moses’ sister (generally, but not universally, understood to be Miriam) watched over him in the ensuing narrative. From the impression given by the narrative, however, it would appear that Moses was born right after his parents’ marriage, as there is no notification of the births of Miriam and Aaron.

          One midrashic reading (Sotah 12a-13a) assumes that after Pharaoh’s evil decree to drown all baby Israelite boys, Amram and Jochebed separated since there was a 50% chance of having a boy who would be drowned. They were filled with despair and helplessness. It was their precocious daughter Miriam who persuaded them to resume having children so there would be a chance to have girls and thereby perpetuate the nation of Israel. The Torah presents Moses’ birth after his parents’ marriage since Moses was born after the remarriage of his parents.

          Ramban disagrees with this reading. The juxtaposition of Pharaoh’s decree and Moses’ parents’ marriage serves to highlight the moral courage and heroism of Amram and Jochebed who challenged Pharaoh’s decree. The Torah does not mention the births of Miriam and Aaron at this juncture, since Pharaoh issued his decree after they already were born. The Torah wants to focus the reader’s attention on the heroism of Moses’ parents and on the birth of Moses.

          Ramban notes further that Jochebed also acts courageously by attempting to save Moses. Ramban then connects this narrative to the exceptional virtue of Pharaoh’s daughter, who rescued and adopted Moses, defying her own father’s evil decree. Ramban even surmises that Pharaoh’s daughter subsequently persuaded her father to repeal his wicked decree. Levine concludes, 

Thus, Ramban’s commentary spotlights how Moses is surrounded by central personages who act with intent, purpose, and focus in order to be vehicles for salvation from a situation of oppression. With this in mind, readers can better appreciate when Moses himself initiates his own parallel actions to save others from injustices (37).

 

          Through this and countless other examples, Professor Levine’s volume is a truly welcome contribution, enabling readers to have a sustained focus on Ramban’s singular contributions to Tanakh learning and its religious meaning.

 

Theology and Ethics in Modern Orthodoxy

The great figures in Modern Orthodoxy, such as Azriel Hildesheimer, Samson Raphael Hirsch, Abraham Isaac Kook, and Joseph Soloveitchik were all concerned with theological and ethical as well as halakhic issues. These thinkers understood that Orthodox Jews had to carve out a place for themselves in the modern world, and this meant that they needed to be educated in modern philosophy and science even as they were required to study Talmud and apply halakha to the new problems that modernity posed. These thinkers believed that Judaism could be a beacon of religious observance and ethical idealism in the modern world. They, of course, focused on Torah study in the yeshiva and halakhic observance throughout the Jewish community; but they also sought to use modern philosophy to find new ways to explain both to Jews and non-Jews, the meaning and role of Torah in modernity.

However, something has happened in late modernity or what some call “postmodernity” that has changed the relationship between Orthodox Judaism within and without the Jewish community. Increasingly, it appears that Orthodox Jews are abandoning the world for the safe confines of the yeshiva and the four cubits of halakha alone. This has led to the adoption of all sorts of halakhic strictures and a hyper-sensitivity to fulfilling minute details of halakha as the sole criterion of Jewish authenticity and allegiance to God. It has also led to the strange phenomenon of the self-ghettoization by Jews in Western countries and Israel, despite the fact that these countries are largely open to Judaism and give Jews freedom of religion. The self-ghettoization of the observant community has also brought with it an aversion to pursuing careers in the secular world. This in turn has led to a situation of self-inflicted poverty that requires increasing numbers of Jews to become dependent on hand-outs from the very secular States that they loathe and deride. As these communities continue to grow while at the same time liberal forms of Judaism are shrinking in appalling numbers, responsibility for an intelligent, theologically and morally sophisticated observant Judaism falls upon Modern Orthodoxy. However, given that modern Orthodoxy itself is moving toward Hareidi forms of Judaism, it is not clear that Modern Orthodoxy will be up to the challenge that faces it.

Postmodern Hyper-Secularism

Certainly the world has changed radically since the heyday of Modern Orthodoxy in the mid-twentieth century. The world has become more secular, more focused on individualism and less on family and community, more permissive of all kinds of activities that the Torah prohibits, and also less open to the advice that traditional religion offers. The traditional values of respect for authority, personal humility, self-restraint, and communal loyalty have been replaced by a culture of emotional release, self-expression, and radical individualism that looks askance at any structures that would limit the personal quest for gratification and fulfillment. What was impossible to show and say in popular media in the 1950s and 1960s is now commonplace. Cable television and the internet open up ever-new portals to the expression and celebration of sex, greed, vice, and violence with a peculiar fascination with vampires, zombies, and the occult. The pace of the process of assimilation and intermarriage in the larger American Jewish community continues to increase; and what is most alarming here is that most non-Orthodox Jews do not really seem to care. Unfortunately, our treasured State of Israel is very much part of the postmodern global world and is therefore just as vulnerable to global postmodern culture as the United States is. Given these realities, it is understandable that Orthodox Jews are closing themselves off from the larger world and turning more and more inward. This has led to the growth in Hareidi forms of Judaism in both the Diaspora and in Israel. As members of these forms of Judaism retreat from the world, they have rejected precisely those theological and ethical elements in Modern Orthodoxy that sought to connect observant Jews to modern philosophy, ethics, politics, and culture.

In my recent book, The Future of Jewish Theology (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), I argue that Judaism cannot afford to abandon the world. I try to show that the Torah requires Jews to live up to a standard of holiness in which both ritual and moral purity are paramount. Furthermore, I argue that moral purity does not mean focusing on helping only fellow Jews but non-Jews as well. It is therefore neither an Orthodox nor Reform idea, neither a religious nor a secular Zionist idea that Jews should act for the sake of the world. Indeed, it is a divine imperative that forces Jews out of the safe and secure confines of their communities to act to redeem the world. And I would venture to say that one of the real misunderstandings of holiness or kedusha is the belief that one can be holy by focusing on ritual purity alone; it is one of Judaism’s unholy temptations to think that one can fulfill the manifold mitzvoth of kedusha by focusing on ritual observance alone. Certainly, Jews must live according to the dictates of halakha; but following these dictates must include a consciousness of Who commands them and what Hakadosh Barukh Hu wants observance of His laws to bring about. And that involves not only the holiness of the Jewish community as a goy kadosh, a holy nation, but the redemption of the entire world.

In my book I also argue that Judaism today is particularly in need of a theology to explain to both Jews and non-Jews what its central beliefs and doctrines are. This is especially necessary in a pluralistic world where Judaism competes with multiple religious, philosophical, and secular ideologies in what has been called the global “supermarket of meaning.” A good Jewish theology is necessary for Judaism, for Jews often are unclear about what their beliefs are and they then have difficulty explaining to themselves, let alone, others what Judaism requires them to believe.

In another situation of pluralism, in Muslim Spain, Maimonides faced a similar problem to the one we see today, and this is one reason he wrote both the Mishneh Torah and the Guide of the Perplexed. In a certainly novel move for a book on Jewish law, Rambam began his Mishneh Torah, his “Repetition of the Law,” with theology.

The foundation of all foundations and the pillar of wisdom is to know that there is a Primary Being who brought into being all existence. All the beings of the heavens, the earth, and what is between them came into existence only from the truth of His Being. (Maimonides, 1982, Knowledge: Foundations of the Torah 1:1)

To say that the “foundation of foundations” of all existence is God is to say that God is not only the foundation of Torah and Israel, it is to acknowledge that God is the foundation of all that is; and this includes both the physical world of the heavens and the earth and the spiritual world of religion, knowledge, and truth. The scope of God’s creative being and concern thus reaches well beyond the Jewish community to the larger horizons of the earth and heavens. And as His goy kadosh, his holy people, Jews must recognize the near infinite scope of their concerns. This infinite scope is there precisely because God is infinite and beyond limits. In addition to celebrating God’s infinite power and concerns, Maimonides went on to paint a picture of God as infinite in wisdom, transcendent of all materiality, One and unique among all that is. In his Guide of the Perplexed each of these aspects of God were carefully delineated through the use of both logic and verses from the Torah.

Maimonides followed the theological beginning of the Mishneh Torah with a section on “moral dispositions” and ethical conduct. Here, he adopted Aristotle’s “character ethics” to the Jewish system of halakha, arguing that doing mitzvoth was a form of habituation that cultivated Jewish moral virtues and produced a uniquely Jewish moral character. The combination of theology and ethics that begins Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah suggests a marriage of theology and ethics in Judaism that culminates in the modern world with the notion that Judaism is a religion of “Ethical Monotheism.” Here the Jewish belief One God is coupled with the manifold ethical commandments and prophetic ethical ideals to suggest that Judaism can play a leading role in representing and motivating ethical action in the modern world.

Ethical Monotheism had an enormous impact on both modern Jewish thought and practical Jewish life in the modern period. Ethical Monotheism set the terms and concepts and language through which much of European, American and Israeli Jewish thought and theology was developed. In the area of Jewish practice one of the great products of Ethical Monotheism was the Pentateuch and Haftorahs of J.H. Hertz. Hertz was Chief Rabbi of the UK and in the latter half of the twentieth century his tall blue Humash could be found in both Orthodox and Conservative Synagogues throughout the English speaking world (and even some Reform Congregations)—thus giving expression to a theology that was common to Kelal Yisrael. This book combined commentaries from Hazal, parashanut, philosophy, theology, literature and politics—Jewish and non-Jewish—to suggest that Judaism, as “Ethical Monotheism,” had played and could continue to play a central role in the ethical project of modernity.

Times have changed making both Ethical Monotheism and the Hertz Chumash seem dated, although Jewish theology and ethics and the notion of Kelal Israel are certainly not dated. Indeed, I would argue that the need for compelling expressions of these notions are all the more needed in our contemporary world. It must be said however, that the overly rational and universalizing moves of Ethical Monotheism were never totally adequate to comprehending and expressing the particularity and depth of the communal, textual, legal, and liturgical aspects of Judaism. The theology of Ethical Monotheism, schooled in Greek metaphysics as it was, stressed the distance and transcendence of God over His immanent and personal characteristics thus rendering him unapproachable to the everyday Jew. In some modern expressions of Ethical Monotheism, universal ethics instead of monotheism came to dominate, thus robbing Judaism of both its connections to the Jewish people and to God. This led, particularly in modern liberal forms of Judaism, to leaving Jewish peoplehood and God behind and focusing on social and political ethics in the world alone. One the other hand, the overly intellectual and conceptual character of Ethical Monotheism gave it a kind of elite character that removed Jewish theology from the people, favoring individuals with philosophical training. Ethical Monotheism also supported the modern focus on the individual over the community. Therefore, one could say that whereas Ethical Monotheism facilitated the relationship of Jews to the modern world it did not bring Jews very deeply into the spiritual heart of Judaism and the Jewish community.

The Medieval Response of Halevi

Already in the Medieval period there developed a response to the austere and utterly transcendent God of Maimonides. Here, the central philosophical opponent was Yehudah Halevi, (1075–1141) the Spanish Jewish poet, philosopher, and theologian. In his Kuzari in which a rabbi has a dialogue with the King of the Khazars to convince him of the superiority of Judaism over other religions and philosophies, the rabbi points out that the God of Israel is certainly El Elyon, God on High, but He is also “the God of the ancestors, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Halevi, 1964, 58). This is the God of a family and a people. Halevi points out the central problem of a purely philosophical approach to God. The doctrine of the perfect God of the philosophers “leads them to teach of a Supreme Being which neither benefits nor injures, and knows nothing of our prayers, offerings, obedience or disobedience” (Halevi, 1964, 201). Indeed, how does one pray to the God of Ethical Monotheism? How find solace in His utter transcendence and awful power? How does one even address Him? How call on Him? Halevi tells us that the pious ones of the Torah had to comprehend God by means of “intermediaries,” and he calls these intermediaries: glory, kavod, presence, shekhinah, dominion, malkhut fire, esh cloud, anan, likeness, tzelem, and form d’mut. These intermediaries Halevi says “proved to them that He had spoken to them, and they styled it Kavod HaShem: Glory of God” (Halevi, 1964, 200).

Kedusha-Holiness: The Missing Link

In my book I summarize the limitations of Ethical Monotheism by arguing that it overlooks the Torah’s concern with issues of kedusha.[1] Kedusha or holiness is a dynamic concept that includes both ritual and ethical concerns. Kedusha is a goal set for the entire Jewish community, kol adat Israel, and requires a community to be achieved. Kedusha is centered in God as the common designation for God, HaKadosh Barukh Hu, The Holy One Blessed Be He, suggests. Yet although kedusha ultimately resides in God, His mitzvot supply the conduits and intermediary structures that bring holiness into the very body individual and body politic of Judaism. Kedusha traces out a domain that encompasses both God’s transcendence and immanence, and assures that at every moment the Jew can be in contact with God. That the mitzvot intend to supply conduits to bring kedusha into the human sphere is articulated clearly in the basic formula of the berakhah or blessing: Barukh Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh HaOlam asher Kiddeshanu Bemitzvotav. “Blessed art You, LORD, Our God, King of the universe, Who has made us holy through his commandments.”

In focusing on kedusha, I mean to both uphold the rich theological and ethical traditions of Ethical Monotheism and correct its overly intellectual approach by highlighting the importance of halahkic, ritual, and communal structures of Judaism. Since kedusha as it is presented in the Torah has both ritual and ethical qualities, a focus on it has the capacity to bring Jewish concerns with ritual observance and social and political concerns for the moral state of the world. In this sense I hope that a focus on kedusha can served to revive the original theological and ethical spirit of Modern Orthodoxy. However, given the recent turn in Orthodox Judaism toward intense halakhic study and ritual observance one hardly needs to argue to Orthodox Jews that Judaism concerns this issue. So what I will do in this essay now is to make the case that seems to have been lost in the recent turn inward in Orthodoxy, and that is the case for the ethical dimension of kedusha.

Leviticus19: Kedoshim Tiheyu

To make my case that a concern with kedusha requires Jews to be concerned with ethical issues, I take as my central text Leviticus 19 Kedoshim Tiheyu: You Shall Be Holy. Sitting in the middle of the third book of the Torah, the first chapter of Parashat Kedoshim, is found close to the middle of the Torah. Given its comprehensive scope, many rabbinic commentators have spoken of it as containing a condensed summary of all of Torah. Rashi reiterates the words of the Sifra when he says of chapter 19 that “the essentials of the Torah are dependent on it” (Rashi on Lev 19:1). And R. Levi in Midrash Vayikra Rabba says that most of the commandments of the Decalogue are included in chapter 19.[2]

Chapter 19 begins with requirements of the sacrificial cult and then moves outward to include how one deals with every form of social relation. The vision is at once ideal and practical, religious and secular, moral and spiritual. In his commentary on Leviticus, Jacob Milgrom stresses that what we have in this text is a full recipe or rule for the holy life. “Its unique placement here underscores the importance of the prescriptions that follow: they are quintessentially the means by which Israel can become a holy nation” (2000,1603).

The combination of ritual and ethical directives as they are presented in Leviticus 19 will become a model for the rabbinic Judaism that follows the Israelite religion of the Bible and creates one of the distinctive marks of Judaism as it develops into the modern period. That the ethical commandments have the same status as the ritual commandments means that holiness can never be purely a matter of ritual purity or other-worldly spiritual engagement. That the ethical commandments are included along with the ritual commandments in a code of holiness means that there is a holy dimension to ethics and an ethical dimension to holiness. Because God commands both ethical and ritual purity, Jewish theology can neither be only about ritual nor about ethics, but must deal with both equally. This gives Jewish theology its embodied social and political form. And because Leviticus 19 is not only a list of ethical and theological commands, but includes matters of ritual, economic, and everyday life, that is, because Leviticus 19 presents the holy life in a comprehensive life pattern, this means that Jewish theology is not simply a series of ideas and moral laws, but has a systematic quality that aims to penetrate all aspects of life.

One of the most famous lines of Torah is found in Leviticus 19:18 “You shall love your fellow/neighbor as yourself,” v’ahavta l’reakhah kamokha.” The commandment “Love your neighbor as yourself” requires great personal insight as it requires one to at once put oneself in the shoes of the other and to see the other one like ourselves. Rabbi Akiba called this commandment, the “great rule of the Torah.” It is a kind of Kantian categorical imperative of Judaism. And we can take it as the ultimate rule for the holy life. Note that it is not an abstract rule but a very concrete and living one that requires an inward act of imagining the other as a self, indeed, as oneself. This rule is essentially different from the moral laws of the Decalogue in that it requires something like an act of introspection before one acts in relation to other humans. The rule supplies a kind of moral rationale that we do not find in the Decalogue. There we are told, “Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not covet.” And here, in Leviticus, we are told why: because the other is a human self like you! But Leviticus 19 also pushes the holy person beyond his neighbor.

When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not wrong him. The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the Lord am your God (Lev 19:33–34).

Here, the stranger is brought into the code that rules the holiness of the community. The ethical standards given to the kinsperson are extended to the stranger. He and she are to be regarded “like one of your citizens” and even like yourself! And the text gives us the reason: “for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” With this statement, the moral import of the experience of the people in Egypt becomes clear. Israel was made to experience slavery, homelessness, and strangeness “in a strange land” so that she could understand and have compassion for the stranger in her midst.

The Torah text of Leviticus 19 stands as a central text of an extensive ethical discussion of what the holy life requires of Jews. It is a clear portrait of the Torah’s sense that holiness is “not in heaven” (lo ba-shamayim hi ( Deut 30:12) but on earth and embedded in the everyday relations of family, friends, and work life. Rabbi Israel Salanter, (1810-1883) the great Lithuanian Musar (Ethics) scholar, stresses the “earthly” quality of holiness. He says that although it is commonly “accepted in the [Jewish] world to associate the holy person with one who is great in Torah and Fear (of God), according to hazal (the rabbinic sages) there is another aspect to holiness—how one deals in money matters.” Rabbi Salanter argues that holiness involves our daily interactions in “commerce, work, and interpersonal relations.”[3] Referring to Leviticus 19 he says, it “establishes that the conditions for holiness are: do not steal, do not lie, you shall not do an injustice in judgment.” He supports his reading by the following interpretation of Leviticus 19:2: “You shall be holy for I, the LORD, your God, am holy.” “I, God, am holy, so to speak, in heaven, so if I require holiness of you, my intent is that you be holy in earthly, material matters.” [4]

The model that Leviticus 19 establishes for holiness follows the dictate of the command in Exodus that Israel “Shall be a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation.” This means that no aspect of life can escape the exacting standards of holiness so that the profane sphere of everyday life is just as open to holiness as the sphere of the sanctuary. The ethical vision of the priests in the “Holiness Code” of Leviticus means, too, that the Holy God is never far off from any human action. Indeed, the fact that God declares his presence “I am the LORD, Your God,” at the end of almost every one of His ethical commands, suggests that He wants to insert Himself at the nexus of all human actions and all human relations. And this means, too, that every “horizontal” relation that humans have with humans includes a “vertical” relation with God.

Holier Than Thou

The holy life is like a sacred ladder that one climbs through much personal sacrifice and hard moral discipline and spiritual work. Rising up in the ladder of holiness, the religious searcher can easily come to look down upon those who they perceive to be below them or those who do not even try to make the climb. And thus we have the common phenomenon of the religious person who regards himself “holier than thou.” Because halakha carefully delineates a system of the holy and the profane, the pure and impure, it is easy to get caught up in the intricacies of what can and cannot be eaten, what can and cannot be touched, and the when and how of the performance of mitzvoth and thereby forget the spiritual and ethical goal of the fulfillment of mitzvoth.

Prophetic Holiness and Ethics

It is well known that the classic yeshiva curriculum is dominated by the Talmud, not by the Torah and its rabbinic and philosophical exegetes. When Torah is studied, it is largely limited by a focus on Humash, or Pentateuch, and does not go beyond this to the Ketuvim (Writings) and Neviim, (Prophets). Given the theological and ethical treasures in these books, it is certainly a shame and a loss to the observant world. It is also somewhat odd that these texts are not systematically studied, given that we read from these books in the Haftarot every Shabbat and Festival. Of the many Haftarot that we read, the book that we read most often is Yeshayahu or Isaiah. If Orthodox Judaism ignores Isaiah, Devarim Rabba places Isaiah alongside Moses as the greatest of the prophets (2:4). Isaiah has a central standing among the prophets of Israel and it is noteworthy, given our concerns with kedusha that the most common epithet for God that Isaiah uses is K’dosh Yisrael “The Holy One of Israel” (Is 1:4).

According to Isaiah and most of the other classical prophets, holiness is articulated in terms of social justice and political ethics. In focusing on social morality, the prophets, at times, appear to be opposing the centrality of the cult and issues of ritual purity. Despite this however, Jewish critics like Yehezkel Kaufmannn, Moshe Weinfeld and Shalom Paul, argue that the prophets did not seek the end of sacrifices and traditions or ritual purity any more than they wanted the monarchy to end. Rather, they were critics of these institutions who sought to rid them of corruption and place them in their rightful place in service to God. That Isaiah’s vision of the angels proclaiming God’s holiness: Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh, occurred in the Temple (Is 6:3) and that the prophet Ezekiel was himself a priest, certainly suggests that the prophets did not intend to do away with the priesthood. However, with Isaiah, we do have one of the most forceful critics of excessive concern for the intricacies of ritual purity and holiness alone. That Isaiah refers to God as “the Holy One of Israel” and uses this appellation consistently throughout his text, suggests that ethics is not only required by the Holy One of Israel, but that the Holy One Himself is morally righteous and that human righteousness is grounded in God. In verse 5:16 Isaiah says: “And God the Holy One is sanctified through righteousness” (Holy Scriptures, JPS translation,1950); or an alternative translation could be “The holy God shall make Himself holy (n’qadesh b’tzedeq ) through righteousness.” So Isaiah’s view, following the Torah’s view, is that the moral law is underpinned and founded in God. Let us hear the words of Isaiah, which as he says, are the word of God.
Hear the word of the Lord…
“What need have I of all your sacrifices?”
Says the Lord.
“I am sated with the burnt offerings of rams,
And suet of fatlings,
And blood of bulls…
Who asked that of you?
Trample my courts no more;
Bringing oblations is futile,
Incense is offensive to me,
New moon and Sabbath
Proclaiming solemnities
Assemblies with iniquity
I cannot abide. …
Though you pray at length,
I will not listen
Your hands are full of blood—
Wash yourselves clean
Put your evil doings
Away from My sight,
Cease to do evil,
Learn to do good
Devote yourselves to justice;
Aid the wronged,
Uphold the rights of the orphan;
Defend the cause of the widow.”
IS 1:10-17

The words of Isaiah here, uttered with so few Hebrew words are a wonder to behold. Isaiah rips through the fabric of sacrificial life, the very nexus of the relationship with God established by the Levitical priests, “Your hands are full of blood.” Here, the expiatory power of the blood of sacrifice is mocked and the line seems to suggest instead that there is an excess of bloodshed. The extent of the verbal charge against the sacrificial cult is comprehensive, from daily sacrifice, to Shabbat, to the festivals, and even unto verbal prayer. “What need have I of all this? Who asked this of you?” The answer could be easy: “What do you mean?” the people might say. “Certainly, it was You, God, who asked this of us. It was You, God, who established the sacrificial cult, who determined the rules of Shabbat and the festivals as the very vehicle to make us holy. Now you are telling us you have no use for it all!” Without answering these questions, God uses the language of purity, “wash yourselves clean,” and directs it in a thoroughly moral and non-ritual direction. Here, Isaiah makes a move that we often see in the prophets, to use ritual purity, as a metaphor for moral purity.

Then, through Isaiah, God presents the people with what simply could be called an ethical manifesto, which, following the short form of the Hebrew, could be put this way.

Cease evil,
Learn good
Seek justice;
Correct oppression,
Defend orphans,
Plead for widows.

Here, in short, is an ethical doctrine which begins in stopping evil in oneself, moves to education in the ways of goodness, and then extends human efforts outward to seek justice. Justice, here, is seen in countering oppression against those that are powerless, the orphan and the widow, thereby representing all who are marginal and have no obvious figures of power to protect them.

Isaiah is not alone in speaking the words of social ethics. His contemporary Amos, who prophesied in the Northern Kingdom, also put forth a doctrine of social justice:

Hear this, you who trample on the needy
And bring the poor of the land to an end,
Saying when will the new moon be over
That we may sell grain?
And the Sabbath that we may offer wheat for sale
That we may make the ephah small and the shekel great,
And deal deceitfully with false balances,
That we may buy the poor for silver,
And the needy for a pair of sandals,

I will make the sun set at noon,
I will darken the earth on a sunny day
I will turn your festivals into mourning
(Amos 8:4-10).

Is this a new instruction, a new Torah replacing the old? Is this a new way to holiness dispensing with all the laws of sacrifice, of Shabbat, of the festivals, and of dietary laws and ritual purity? Certainly, this is the position of Protestant Christianity.

Yet here I would suggest that the prophets are speaking to their contemporary moment in the strongest way possible. They mean to correct abuses in Israelite religious life and the cult, and were not attempting to abolish its institutions and structures. Certainly, from the position of rabbinic tradition, the Torah and its rituals laws of holiness and purity will never be abrogated. The Torah is given as an eternal covenant, berit olam, between God and Israel, and all of rabbinic Judaism is built on the divinely sanctioned status of the laws and rituals that are given in the Torah.

The great Jewish biblical critic, Yehezkel Kaufmannn, while recognizing real innovation in the texts of Isaiah and the classical prophets, argues that Isaiah works upon already existing moral themes in the Torah. Kaufmannn states that “the prophetic demands for social justice echo, for the most part, the ancient covenant laws” (1960, 365). He reminds us that, in the flood story, God dooms a whole society for moral corruption.” Sodom and Gomorrah were also destroyed for lacking ten righteous men, and the Canaanites lost their land because of their corrupt sexual ways” (1960, 366).

However, if Kaufmannn believes that the prophets did not want to abolish sacrifices and the cult, he is also clear that what we have in the classic Israelite prophets is not just a repetition of the morality of the Torah but an innovation beyond it. Here, Kaufmann argues that the prophets offer a heightened sense of morality. Where the Torah equated destruction of Israel with the heinous sins of idolatry and incest committed by a large group of people, we see that God “threatens national doom and exile for everyday social sins” (1960, 366). Kaufmannn states that it is remarkable how few times Isaiah refers to the sin of idolatry and how sensitive he is to moral slights to the poor and the powerless. Indeed, it is these “small sins” of social justice that bother the prophets and not the “venal sins” of murder, idolatry, incest, and inhuman cruelty that the Pentateuch is concerned with.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel also points us to the heightened moral sensitivity of the prophets. “Indeed, the sort of crimes and even the amount of delinquency that fill the prophets of Israel with dismay do not go beyond that which we regard as normal, as typical ingredients of social dynamics. To us a single act of injustice—cheating in business, exploitation of the poor—is slight; to the prophets, a disaster. To us injustice is injurious to the welfare of the people; to the prophets it s a deathblow to existence: to us an episode; to them, a catastrophe, a threat to the world” (1962, 4).

As to why the prophet is so sensitive to what appears to be trivial moral concerns, Heschel sees this as a reflection of the acute moral sensitivity and highest moral standards of God. The God of the prophets is concerned with the details of little human lives, his compassion is so great that he is fundamentally concerned with the seemingly insignificant poor. “Prophecy is the voice that God has lent to the silent agony, a voice to the plundered poor, to the profaned riches of the world” (1962, 5).

It is a shame that the curriculum of our Orthodox yeshivot do not include intensive, sophisticated study of the Neviim and have left these texts of the written Torah to the Liberal Jewish Seminaries and the Christians. For the words of the Prophets are no less words of Torah and divrei Elokim than are the words of the Humash and Psalms and the Mishna and Gemara.

In the pre-modern world where Jews were excluded by Christians and Muslims alike from working and participating in their host cultures, there were good reasons why Jews kept to themselves. In those times when Jews were often persecuted and Judaism derided as a dead or false religion, one can also understand that there was Jewish fear and antipathy toward non-Jews. Today, however, where Jews have civil and political rights especially in the West, the continued self-ghettoization of the Jews and negative remarks one sometimes hears uttered by some Jews and even their rabbis toward non-Jews are morally and spiritually reprehensible. When one hears of a group of Orthodox Rabbis in Israel who issue public prohibitions against renting apartments to Arabs, or “religious” Jews in the old city who spit on Catholic Priests, one wonders why these Jews, who so devoutly study Talmud, manage to miss these words of the great Tosafist, Rabbenu Tam. “One should be envious of the pious and more than these of the penitents, and more than these of those who…from their youth have been diligent in the service of the Lord, blessed be He…And one should be envious of the nations of the world who serve God in awe, fear, and submission.” [5] And our devout co-religionists might also learn from the words of Bahya ibn Pakuda, who said in his introduction to Hovot haLevavot, The Duties of the Heart.

I quote from the dicta of the philosophers and the ethical teachings of
the ascetics and their praiseworthy customs. In this connection our Rabbis
of blessed memory already remarked (Sanhedrin 39b): In one verse it is
said “after the ordinances of the nations round about you, you have done (Ezek 11:12); while in another, it is said “After the ordinances of those around you , you have not done (Ezek. 5:7). How is this contradiction to be reconciled? As follows: Their good ordinances you have not copied; their evil ones you have followed.” The Rabbis further said (Megillah 16a). “Whoever utters a wise word, even if he belongs to the gentiles, is called a sage.”[6]

The Orthodox community is where many Jews look for “authentic” Judaism. The Orthodox community is where Jews seek and expect to find our Tzaddkim and our Kedoshim, our righteous and holy ones. And one can say, too, that what the religious world needs most today are precisely these kind of exemplars of the righteous and holy life. Yet precisely at his moment of great need, Torah Sages are retreating from the world and advising their students and followers to do the same. This is tantamount to taking Torah and God out of the world at the time when the world most needs Torah and God. So my plea in my book and in this article is that Orthodox Jews live up to the challenge of the great figures of modern Orthodoxy and the command of God in the Torah. Kedoshim Tiheyu: Be holy in mind, in deed, in ritual and behavior, in the synagogue, in court and field. We must be exemplars of the Torah way of life, committed to performance of the ritual mitzvoth as well as the mitzvoth of justice, righteousness, compassion and derekh erets.

[1] My book also offers a philosophical defense of religious language in which I use contemporary philosophies of language taken from the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein (see Kepnes, 2013, Ch.1, “Addendum.”) and Paul Ricoeur (ch.7, 176ff). Contemporary philosophies of language, with their focus on text, narrative, metaphor, and religions as “language games” offer a different basis than Greek philosophy which is built on propositions, concepts and syllogistic logic. These Greek tools are not really native to the language and rhetoric of Torah so that Jewish philosophers who use them are constantly involved in processes of translation of Torah terms into Greek terms. Torah and rabbinic literature naturally swims in the language of text, metaphor, parable, and analogy. I therefore would suggest that the turn to language in contemporary philosophy supplies an alternative paradigm that can serve Modern Orthodoxy well as it searches for a new “non-Greek” basis beyond Maimonides and classical Ethical Monotheism, to ground its claims to truth and wisdom and supply a connection to the postmodern world.
[2] See Ibn Ezra’s commentary on Leviticus 19 for a quick and handy list of parallels between Leviticus 19 and Exodus 20.
[3] Salanter’s on Vayiqra 19 in Itorei Torah, The translation is by Walter Herzberg.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Sefer Hayashar Book of Righteousness (Jerusalem: Eshkol, 1967), 43.
[6] Bachya ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, Duties of the Heart, Trans. Moses Hymanson (Jerusalem: Feldheim, 1970), 45.

REFERENCES

Bachya ben Joseph, ibn Pakuda, (1970) Duties of the Heart, Trans. Moses
Hymanson . Jerusalem: Feldheim,

Greenberg, A (1996) Itorei Torah [Hebrew]. Tel Aviv, Yavneh.

HaLevi, Yehuda (1964) The Kuzari. New York: Schocken Books.
Heschel, A. J. (1962) The Prophets. New York: Harper & Row.
Kepnes, Steven (2013) The Future of Jewish Theology. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Kaufmann, Y. (1960). The Religion of Israel. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Maimonides, M., & Pines, S. (1963). The Guide of the Perplexed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Maimonides, M., & Klein, I. (1982). The Code of Maimonides: Mishneh Torah. New Haven: Yale Univ. Press.
Milgrom, J. (2000). Leviticus 17-22. New York: Doubleday.

Tam, Rabbenu (Jacob ben Meir) (1964) Sefer Hayashar. Book of Righteousness.
Jerusalem: Eshkol.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel to run the next Foundations Minyan on May 10

On Shabbat, May 10, from 10:00-11:30 am ET, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will lead the next Foundations Minyan. Foundations is a full-length service, and features explanations on the weekly Torah reading from Rabbi Hayyim Angel.

The service is free and open to the public. It is located at Congregation Beth Aaron, 950 Queen Anne Road, Teaneck, New Jersey.

 

 

 

 

 

Everyday Kiddush Hashem: The Power of the Personal Model

 

            I’ll never forget what happened on my first trip to Israel.

            It was the summer I turned 25, and I had been working on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. At the time, I had been invited to join a parliamentary fact-finding mission organized by the Canadian Jewish community through the Canada-Israel Committee. 

            I had joined the trip having been raised a Christian in rural Canada—a world that can feel light years away from the Jewish community, let alone the Middle East. It was my first trip overseas and, suffice to say, I would experience many “I’m not in Kansas anymore” moments in our brief but packed time in Israel.

            Of all the remarkable sights, people, and conversations I would encounter, one that still resonates took place at the Kotel. A small group of us—all Canadians who were not Jewish—were standing in the men’s section of the plaza, observing this fascinating world in which we found ourselves. An Orthodox Israeli said something to us, possibly in Hebrew, and our guide responded to him. Apparently, he had asked if we were Jewish and would like to borrow tefillin, to which our guide politely responded that the group wasn’t Jewish. 

            The Orthodox man quickly and warmly responded in English: “Welcome to Israel!”

            Three simple words in an encounter I’m sure he would forget momentarily, and one that he no doubt had experienced many times before. But for me, it spoke volumes. 

            Here we were at a site of extraordinary holiness to a man who, by all appearances, took the holy very seriously. We were tourists soaking it all in and standing out in the crowd with our awkward, cardboard kippot.

            And yet, he made us feel welcome. Like we belonged there.

            When I share my story of choosing to become Jewish, I always speak of the power of that trip—and so many other serendipitous events that would draw me to discover the beauty of Am Yisrael and the beauty of our precious Torah. Little did I know back then that an unexpected moment at the Kotel would be a milestone on a journey into Zionism, Judaism, and ultimately dedicating my career to serving the Jewish people as an advocacy and communications professional. 

            In the years that followed, my spiritual path went hand-in-hand with my career path. I took a job at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA—the advocacy agency of Canada’s Jewish Federations) and, later, UJA Federation of Greater Toronto. In a world where Jews and Israel are so often misunderstood, if not outright maligned, I was passionate to make a difference. And I felt that my personal and professional background could make for a unique contribution. 

            So, too, my training in public opinion research—developed at a consulting firm I had joined after Parliament Hill—would give me a window into how Canadians view Jews, Israel, and antisemitism. Over the years, I would have the privilege of working on the research teams conducting some of the most important studies of Canadian public opinion on these issues, uncovering data trends and messaging proven to open minds and win allies for our cause.

            Those years of research, including data gathered in the wake of the heinous October 7th attacks, revealed a wide range of nuanced findings that are perhaps best left to another essay. But in the context of the title topic of this article, I am reminded of a few findings that offer compelling evidence of the power of the personal model—the power of Kiddush Hashem—in shaping views of Jews beyond our community.

            In Canada, home to the Diaspora’s third-largest Jewish community, Jews constitute roughly one percent of the general population. Broadly speaking, the research is fairly consistent in terms of how Canadians perceive us. 

            When it comes to views of different religions, Judaism is among the most positively regarded, with favorability scores similar to Protestant Christianity. The only religion that typically surpasses Judaism in popularity among Canadians is Buddhism. Every other religion, including Catholicism and Evangelical Christianity, enjoys lower favorability scores than Judaism.

            But to be Jewish is, of course, also to be part of a people. And when it comes to views of Canadians of different ethnic or cultural backgrounds, Jews are similarly seen in very positive terms. The proportion of Canadians who have positive views of Jews is comparable to those who have a positive view of people of British or French origin, the two groups with the highest such scores in Canada (which is no doubt indicative of their relatively large representation within Canadian demography). Across studies, there is a consistent majority of Canadians who feel that Jews make a positive contribution to Canadian society. 

            On the other side of the ledger, the research certainly shows that antisemitism exists in Canada. Based on all of the studies I’ve worked on or reviewed, I would estimate that somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of Canadians hold clearly antisemitic views. Depending on the antisemitic trope being tested by a pollster, the numbers climb disturbingly higher than that threshold on particular questions. Most Canadians have little understanding or opinion either way when asked about antisemitic tropes. The issue is largely tabula rasa to a public that has devoted minimal consideration to a topic that appears to have no meaningful connection to their lives. However, as a general rule, when asked whether a respondent agrees with a particular antisemitic trope or conspiracy theory, for every one Canadian who agrees with such a hateful statement, there are approximately two Canadians who strongly disagree with these views. 

            A two-to-one ratio is, of course, an encouraging sign if one is marketing a product or a political party. But that’s not what we’re doing when we advocate for Jews, Israel, and—for that matter—fundamental human rights. Experience suggests that it doesn’t require a hateful majority for a society to cross an antisemitic Rubicon. It simply requires the forces of moderation to remain silent and preoccupied with other matters, while a loud and aggressive fringe dominates the discourse and shatters the boundaries of what’s socially acceptable—increasingly marginalizing and threatening Jews in the process. Of the many lessons we Diaspora Jews should urgently internalize from the post-October 7th experience, it’s the danger posed by this dynamic. The question is: How do we combat it? 

            In 2022, I was privileged to be part of a team that conducted a public opinion study as a collaboration of CIJA, Federation CJA of Montreal, and UJA Federation of Greater Toronto. In addition to asking Canadians what they thought of Jews, Israel, antisemitism, and various related issues, we asked the question: Do you have a close Jewish friend or colleague? Nearly one in five respondents answered in the affirmative. We examined their views in depth, and the results were remarkable.

            Respondents who had a close Jewish friend or colleague were two times more likely to say that Jews make a positive contribution to Canadian society, as compared to those who did not have a personal connection to Jews. Similarly, those with a close Jewish friend or colleague were twice as likely to strongly oppose antisemitism, again compared to those without a personal relationship to a Jew.

            Prior to my conversion, I once spoke to a group of Jewish students in Ottawa, with whom I shared that they would be wise to see themselves as ambassadors for the Jewish people. Having grown up in a rural area where there are virtually no Jews, I shared with them that they may be the first and only Jew that someone meets—and that this comes with both opportunity and responsibility. Years later, I was seeing this principle come to life in the data before my eyes. The results were a stunning demonstration that, just as they say that all politics is local, the personal is powerful when it comes to how we understand people from different lived realities. 

            “Sanctifying the Name,”[i] a characteristically thoughtful essay by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, zt”l, unpacks how the principle of Kiddush Hashem (sanctifying the divine name) has been interpreted by rabbonim throughout history. He notes that martyrdom is, of course, core to our understanding of Kiddush Hashem, citing the willingness of Jews to sacrifice themselves for their faith—be it at the hands of the Seleucid Greeks, the Romans, or the Crusaders. But Rabbi Sacks goes on to cite a passage from Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, which has powerful import for our daily lives:

 

If a sage “speaks pleasantly to others, is affable and gracious, receives people pleasantly, never humiliates others even though they humiliate him and honors others even though they disrespect him…with the result that all praise him, love him, and approve of his deeds—such a person sanctifies God’s name. Of him, Scripture (Is. 49:3) says: “And He said to me: Israel, you are my servant, in whom I will be glorified.”

 

            Like most of us, I cannot credibly speak of what it means to be a sage. But as Jews who live in a free and democratic society—a society in which we can express our authentic selves to the world around us—we each have an opportunity to infuse the underlying principles of Kiddush Hashem in our daily lives. In this regard, the data seems to paint a compelling picture. By simply being openly Jewish and a good, relatable person, one has the power to strengthen the “brand” of the Jewish people and reduce antisemitism among their peers.

            To be sure, this is not to suggest a singular solution to antisemitism. Nor is it to imply that the same kindness and personal connection that creates allies among people of goodwill can somehow transform a hardened antisemite or protect our community from those who wish us harm. But it is to say that, in the fight against antisemitism, if we are solely focused on those who hate us, we are ignoring those who—with the right outreach—will stand with us and on the right side of history. 

            I would also argue that effective ally-building doesn’t begin by telling people beyond our community what they should think. Rather, as the data suggests, it begins by simply showing up as a good person—as reliable friend or colleague—who is openly Jewish, and therefore brings credit to the Jewish people.

            In today’s environment, it also seems clear that it isn’t enough to simply show up. At a time when antisemites are attempting to defame what it is to be Jewish, we need to own and define our identity—and not only for ourselves. We need to warmly share our experiences—our Passover sedarim, our Shabbat dinners, our Chanukah parties, our family histories, our photos and stories from our last trip to Israel, and so much more—because the humanization of the Jewish experience is a powerful antidote to the dehumanization of Jews. And as someone who has lived that journey of discovering the beautiful world of Jewish life, I have seen firsthand how we look from the outside in—and we need to open those windows wider than ever if we want a society of allies rather than bystanders.

            And last but not least, humanizing the Jewish experience also means humanizing the impact of the hate we’re facing. There is compelling psychological research to demonstrate the power of personal anecdotes. We can and must talk about history, hate crime statistics, and the geopolitical threats facing Israel and Jews. But if we talk in abstract terms—if we fail to share the personal impact of antisemitism on our families and communities—we risk giving the impression that this is an academic matter, rather than a threat that’s harming and hurting the people they care about: their close Jewish friends and colleagues.

            Welcome to Israel. If three simple words from a stranger can shift a paradigm and enter the heart, one can only begin to imagine the power of our personal example—through everyday acts in the spirit of Kiddush Hashem—on the lives of those around us.


 


[i] Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, “Sanctifying the Name,” in Covenant & Conversation, Leviticus: The Book of Holiness (New Milford, CT: Maggid Books & The Orthodox Union, 2015), 321. 

Rabbi Hayyim Angel to teach four-part Zoom series on Ezra-Nehemiah

On Wednesdays, May 7,14, 21, and 28, from 8:30-9:30 pm ET, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a four-part Zoom series on the biblical book of Ezra-Nehemiah. We will consider the central themes of the book, and consider how strikingly relevant the book is to today's times.

 

The classes are sponsored by the Jewish Center of New York, and are free and open to the public.

 

Registration is required to join the class and receive the Zoom links, and sponsorship opportunities are available. To register and for more information, please go to this link:

https://www.jewishcenter.org/event/Ezra%20and%20Nehemiah