National Scholar Updates

When Societies Implode: Thoughts for Parashat Noah

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Noah

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

The Torah describes the destruction of humanity in the days of Noah. It wasn’t due to idolatry or blasphemy but to the general breakdown in interpersonal relations. People were hedonistic and promiscuous. They robbed and cheated each other. 

The basic lesson of the Noah story is that humanity is capable of bringing on its own destruction. The deepening of corruption is insidious. A midrash suggests that thievery began on a seemingly small scale. People would take “free samples” of merchandise, not bothering to pay the merchant. They did not bother to consider that if all others were doing the same thing, the merchants would go broke and would be unable to provide goods in the future. People did not realize that theft—even on a small level—contributes to the overall breakdown of a society’s economic well-being.

The Torah alludes to the general breakdown in sexual morality. The strong and powerful took advantage of the weak. Women were treated as objects of gratification rather than as human beings with rights and feelings of their own.

A rabbinic teaching has it that Noah spent one hundred and twenty years building the ark. During this interval, he called upon people to repent their ways; but they ignored him or reviled him.

Societies (and empires) unravel when people lose trust in each other. This is seldom an abrupt dissolution, but—as in the times of Noah—a gradual breakdown in elementary decency. When cheating becomes rampant, when scammers fiendishly plot to rob others, when government officials and police take bribes to pervert justice—a society is in the throes of self-dissolution. Petty shop-lifting proliferates; smash and grab thieves grow ever more impudent; armed robbery and murder undermine society’s feeling of wellbeing. Law enforcement weakens, the justice system declines.

Societies implode slowly, almost without noticing, when sexual license becomes “normal”, when personal gratification becomes the main bond between humans. Often, the sexual license is promoted as a sign of liberation and freedom of expression. People can and do rationalize many negative things into positive. But that doesn’t change the underlying breakdown in social interaction.

When anyone calls attention to the factors leading to the implosion of society, he or she may feel like Noah building his ark. Few pay any attention. The corruption gets deeper and deeper until it eventually reaches a point of no return. The forces for good are simply overwhelmed.

The Torah describes the destruction of humanity as God’s punishment of pervasive immorality. But the ongoing lesson is that humanity is itself capable of bringing on its own demise. The Noah story is a warning to all future generations—including our own. If basic human decency, honesty and trust are lacking, the foundations of society dissolve. When cheaters cheat and exploiters exploit, they threaten all society. When a society allows the negative forces to prevail, it sows the seeds of its own destruction.

One Noah wasn’t able to turn his generation around, just as lone voices today are not able to stop the erosive trends. But if enough Noahs will stand strong, perhaps the negative forces can be set back.

Short Book Reviews

Book Reviews

Hayyim Angel

 

  • Rabbi Dr. Marc D. Angel, Sephardim Sephardism, and Jewish Peoplehood
  • Pesah and Sukkot: Insights from the Past, Present, and Future (The Habura)
  • Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy
  • The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel: Exodus

 

 

Rabbi Dr. Marc D. Angel, Sephardim Sephardism and Jewish Peoplehood (Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals: 2022), 266 pages.[1]

 

            Imagine an authentic vision of Judaism fully rooted in tradition. A vision that properly represents the particularistic covenant between God and Israel through the Torah and halakha. A vision that properly represents the universalistic aspect of God as Creator of the entire cosmos, where Israel has a vital role to play in the community of nations. A vision that learns from the best of traditional Jewish thinkers—Ashkenazic, Sephardic, and beyond, so that we may broaden our discourse in discussing complex contemporary issues. A vision that learns from the best of human wisdom. A vision that embraces the classical Jewish values of questioning, critical-mindedness, and diversity. A vision that demands that Jewish communal institutions be faithful to halakha, while incorporating all Jews, regardless of background or level of observance. A vision entirely true to the axioms of Judaism, while being humble enough to recognize that the rest of humanity may pursue its own religious worldviews. 

            For over half of a century, Rabbi Marc D. Angel has taught that we can realize this vision. After a long and distinguished career as Rabbi at Congregation Shearith Israel in New York, he founded the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals in 2007 to promote his religious worldview to a wider audience. 

All but one of the essays in this volume have been published previously in various books and journals. This collection reflects many of Rabbi Angel’s “greatest hits” in representing his grand religious worldview, his Sephardic role models, and the central tenets of the ideology that animate us at the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.

            Jewish diversity is celebrated by Jewish tradition, which mandates the blessing Barukh Hakham haRazim, the One who understands the inner thoughts of each individual, upon seeing throngs of Jews (Berakhot 58a). In contrast, the Talmud ascribes forced societal tyranny and conformity to the wicked city of Sodom, which used the notorious Procrustean bed on its visitors to ensure conformity (Sanhedrin 109b).

            Teaching Sephardic thinkers, customs, and history to all Jews is valuable on many levels. Halakhic decisors must consider the learned opinions of both Sephardic and Ashkenazic responsa before reaching conclusions on today’s complex halakhic questions. Educators must be informed of the rich diversity of Jewish traditions and convey them as part of the wholeness of the Jewish people. Rabbis and teachers cannot be expected to know every custom or legal opinion, but certainly can be held to the standard of teaching an openness to diversity and willingness to learn new ideas and customs. On the negative side, Rabbi Angel cites several painful personal experiences from when he was a student, where several rabbis and teachers negated the validity of long-standing Sephardic practices and traditions.

            When people shut down other valid opinions, Judaism itself is harmed and the Jewish community suffers. Overly dogmatic, authoritarian, or superstitious worldviews likewise compromise the grand religious tradition of the Torah which instills a pursuit of truth, embraces debate, teaches openness, critical-mindedness, and humility, and grows closer to God through arguments for the sake of Heaven.

            Many of Rabbi Angel’s articles were previously published in our own journal, Conversations, or in other publications largely of the Orthodox world. However, his reach extends far beyond that. One essay, entitled “Sephardim, Sephardism, and Jewish Peoplehood,” was published in a collection of essays by the Central Conference of American Rabbis of the Reform Movement. Rabbi Angel expresses the need for all Jews to highlight the strengths of their respective communities and come together under the Sephardic communal model where institutions are committed to halakha while people represent the range of observances. He even dares to dream that

 

The day will surely come when all Jews—of whatever background—will come to view each other as “us”—as one people with a shared history and shared destiny….I think that not only will ethnic divisions become increasingly irrelevant, but the division of Jews into religious “streams” will also decline. A century from now, I don’t think it will be important for Jews to identify as Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal or any other subdivision (16).

 

Another essay, entitled “Theological Unity,” is based on the remarks of Rabbi Angel at a conference at the United Nations on “Religious Pluralism and Tolerance” under the sponsorship of the Kingdom of Bahrain. We are part of one humanity, all created in God’s Image, who have much to learn and appreciate from one another.

            Through over 53 years in the rabbinate, Rabbi Angel has consistently advocated these principles and has articulated models of how the entire Jewish community can benefit from this worldview. This new collection of essays is a wonderful entry point into Rabbi Angel’s vision—and with that an entry point into several of the great luminaries and ideas that Judaism ever has produced. 

We thank all of our members and supporters at the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, for helping us promote and realize this vision in schools and communities worldwide.

            

 

Pesah: Insights from the Past, Present, and Future (The Habura, 2022)[2]

 

 

            It has been delightful becoming acquainted with The Habura, a recently founded England-based organization that has been promoting thoughtful Torah learning since 2020. It is headed by Rabbi Joseph Dweck, Senior Rabbi of the Spanish and Portuguese Community of the United Kingdom (see www.TheHabura.com).

            The Habura promotes the inclusion of Sephardic voices and ideas in Jewish discourse, coupled with an openness to the broad wisdom of the Jewish people and the world. In this regard, their work strongly dovetails ours at the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.

            Their recently published Pesah volume contains an array of 20 essays. The first two are by Sephardic visionaries of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Rabbis Benjamin Artom (1835–1879, Hakham of the Spanish and Portuguese Community of the United Kingdom) and Ben Zion Uziel (1880–1953, first Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel). The rest of the book is divided between contemporary rabbis and scholars, and younger scholars who participate in the learning of The Habura.

            The essays span a variety of topics pertaining to Pesah in the areas of Jewish thought, faith, halakha, and custom. The authors stress the need for different communities to remain faithful to their interpretive traditions. Too much of the observant Jewish world has capitulated to a stringency-seeking approach that ignores dissenting opinions and fosters conformity. The essays in this volume seek to rectify this outlook. Sephardim, Ashkenazim, and other communities should be true to their halakhic traditions and customs, and learn from one another instead of striving for conformity with the most restricted common denominators.

            In this brief review, I will summarize three of the essays I personally found most enlightening.

            Rabbi Dr. Samuel Lebens addresses a surprising formula early in the maggid section of the Haggadah: “If the Holy One, blessed be God, had not taken us out of Egypt, then we, our children, and our children’s children would have remained slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt.” On its surface, this claim seems unsustainable. After all, there is no Pharaoh today. Are we really to think we would be slaves to Pharaoh?

            No. We are supposed to pretend that we otherwise would still be slaves. This theme at the outset of the maggid relates to the statement toward the end of maggid, “In every generation, people are obligated to regard themselves as if they had come out of Egypt.” We must imagine that we ourselves were redeemed from Egypt, and we therefore experience the slavery and redemption in our Seder.

            Lebens argues that in addition to elements of faith and community-building, all religions have a component that arouses the imagination. Sometimes, we imagine based on a reality. For example, we believe God really did create the cosmos. However, it is imperative to also live our lives constantly seeing ourselves as God’s creations (see Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch on the first of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20). 

On other occasions, tradition demands that we pretend so that we live our lives in a certain way. It is insufficient to merely believe that God redeemed our ancestors from Egypt thousands of years ago. The Haggadah then demands that we imagine ourselves to have been enslaved and redeemed. If we do not invoke our imaginations, we remain distant from the identification required to transform our identity and actions. If we internalize the religious program of the Haggadah, we become more sensitive toward the underprivileged, since we too were enslaved and redeemed.

            Daniel Osen also exploits the Haggadah’s directive, “In every generation, people are obligated to regard themselves as if they had come out of Egypt.” He employs this concept to explain the puzzling omission of Moses in the Haggadah (Moses is mentioned once in passing in most contemporary versions of the Haggadah, but in earlier versions of the Haggadah even that reference was absent). 

This phenomenon is commonly explained as a means of highlighting God’s central role in the exodus. Osen adds a dimension by noting that we may experience the exodus better in our imaginations if we do not dwell on a specific historical person. This interpretation creates a direct relationship between God and the Jewish people of all generations.

            Rabbi Abraham Faur uses the Pesah narrative in the Torah to reflect on alarming contemporary trends toward tyranny in secular Western culture. A basic feature of utopian societies is that one is forbidden from criticizing the ruling class. To suspend critical thinking—the great threat to tyrants—the political elite will suppress anything that promotes scrutiny. 

            It is specifically the family unit promoted by the Torah that enables people to oppose tyranny. Faur quotes Frederick Engels, who wrote in 2015 that Marxism attempts “to end home and religious education, to dissolve monogamy in marriage…to shift mothers into factories, to move children into daycare nurseries…and, most of all, for society and the state to rear and educate children.”

            Tyrants recognize that promiscuous people with weak family bonds will become submissive citizens of the state. Contemporary “woke ideology…is an intentional attempt to promote values that contradict the family structure.”

            Jacob brought his family to Egypt ish u-beto, every man arrived with a family (Exodus 1:1). Pharaoh attempted to destroy Israelite families, first by enslavement, then through the secret murder of infant boys, and then finally publicly decreeing that Israelite boys be drowned. 

            Tyrants also control the information released to the public, and censor or punish anything that contradicts their narrative. The new Pharaoh suddenly forgot that Joseph had saved Egypt, and instead promoted fear and hysteria against the Israelites. A person raised in Egypt would not have known that there were alternatives to the enslavement and murder of the Israelites. In contrast, a strong family might be able to think critically, because it has access to traditions and memories older than the tyrannical state.

            Tyrannies often pretend to act for the best of the people, but critical-minded people see through their hypocrisy and lies. Pharaoh is a banner example of this evil: When Moses approached Pharaoh after the plague of hail, he demanded that all adults, children, and animals be released to the wilderness to serve God. Pharaoh responds, “may the Lord be with you, if I send you and your children; behold that evil is before you…the men may go and worship the Lord” (Exodus 10:10–11). Pharaoh presents the journey into the wilderness as dangerous for women and children, and therefore permits only the men to go. Pharaoh thereby postures as the protector of women and children.

            Of course, the family-oriented, critical-minded Israelite women saw through Pharaoh’s outrageous pretense as a defender of human rights, since Pharaoh had decreed the murder of their sons. He could not care less about the welfare of them or their children. They followed Moses into the wilderness with their children, and sought out God’s word at Sinai.

 

 

Sukkot: Insights from the Past, Present, and Future (The Habura, 2022)[3]

 

 

The Habura’s recently published Sukkot volume contains an array of 18 essays. The first two are by Sephardic rabbis of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Rabbis Abraham Pereira Mendes (1825–1893, Jamaica, England, and the United States) and Hayim David Halevi (1923–1998, Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv). The rest of the book is divided between contemporary rabbis and scholars, and younger upcoming scholars who participate in the learning of The Habura.

            The essays span a variety of topics pertaining to Sukkot in the areas of Jewish thought, faith, halakha, and custom. In this brief review, I will summarize three essays that I found most edifying.

 

            Rabbi Joseph Dweck explores the unusual commandment to rejoice on Sukkot (Deuteronomy 16:14). It is curious that other faith traditions viewed the changing of the seasons to autumn (in the northern hemisphere) as cause for bleaker holiday reactions. Roman Catholics observe All Soul’s Day, which appears in Mexico as the Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). This holiday translates to the more widespread Halloween. The Angel of Death is even nicknamed “The Grim Reaper,” reflecting the incoming gloom of winter that follows the harvest season. How does Sukkot become such a profoundly joyous time?

            A central theme of Sukkot is the fleetingness of the physical world. This realistic perspective enables us to experience joy while recognizing that it is temporary. Sigmund Freud wrote an essay entitled “On Transience,” in which he asserted that life’s transience helps us appreciate the preciousness and beauty of each experience.

            Rabbi Dweck believes that Freud has identified the root of our joy on Sukkot and concludes, “When we can come to this understanding about the world, we can truly come to embrace and accept life on its own terms—and in doing that, we can truly know happiness.”

            Pursuing a different angle into the theme of joy on Sukkot, Gershon Engel explains that nowadays, we emphasize our dependence on God rather than relying on the permanence of our homes (e.g., Rabbi Yitzhak Aboab, Menorat HaMa’or III, 4:6). Of course, the biblical Sukkot revolved around the harvest. This holiday was uniquely joyous in ancient Israel, as the harvests were in and farmers did not need to rush home as they would after Pesah and Shavuot. 

            By transferring the meaning of Sukkot from agriculture to more universal religious themes, Jews were able to preserve a sense of joy on Sukkot even after the termination of the agrarian life that had characterized our people for much of our foundational existence. 

Engel quotes Benjamin Disraeli in his classic work Tancred, who expressed awe in the Jews for retaining their sense of joy on Sukkot while in the exile:

 

The vineyards of Israel have ceased to exist, but the eternal law enjoins the children of Israel still to celebrate the vintage. A race that persists in celebrating their vintage, although they have no fruits to gather, will regain their vineyards. What sublime inexorability in the law! But what indomitable spirit in the people!

 

            Addressing the halakhic question of wearing tefillin on hol haMo’ed (the intermediate weekdays) of Pesah and Sukkot, Yehuda J.W. Leikin observes that the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds both appear to suggest that wearing tefillin on the middle days of Pesah and Sukkot is normative. 

The three halakhic pillars behind Rabbi Yosef Karo’s Shulhan Arukh—Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi (Rif), Rambam, and Rabbenu Asher (Rosh), all agree that wearing tefillin on hol haMo’ed is the proper observance. While several other leading medieval rabbinic authorities, including Rabbi Shelomo ibn Aderet (Rashba) and Rabbi Avraham ben David (Ra’avad), maintain that tefillin should not be worn, Rabbi Karo generally follows his three pillars of rabbinic ruling.

            In this case, however, Rabbi Karo forbids the wearing of tefillin on hol haMo’ed, and rules prohibitively because the Zohar strongly opposes the wearing of tefillin on hol haMo’ed (Bet Yosef, Orah Hayyim 31:2). Rabbi Karo reports that in Spain, the original practice was to wear tefillin on hol haMo’ed until they discovered the Zohar’s prohibition. In contrast, Rabbi Moshe Isserles (Rama) maintains that Ashkenazim should wear tefillin, following the ruling of Rabbenu Asher (Rosh). 

            Thus, the Sephardic practice to refrain from wearing tefillin on hol haMo’ed reflects an unusual move from classical halakhic sources to kabbalah. Leikin concludes that Rabbi Yosef Karo may have been inclined to accept the kabbalistic ruling in this instance, since there also were great halakhists who also opposed wearing tefillin on hol haMo’ed.

            There are many other fine essays in these Pesah and Sukkot companions, and we look forward to future volumes from The Habura.

 

 

 

Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Genesis (Regnery Faith, 2019)[4]

 

            Dennis Prager is far better known as a political commentator than a Bible Scholar. Nonetheless, he is animated by his belief in the Torah and its enduring moral messages for humanity. His commentary, as the book’s title suggests, is rooted in a rationalist approach to the Bible.

            Whether or not one agrees with all of his politics or individual interpretations of the verses, Prager’s commentary is strikingly relevant when he emphasizes the moral and theological revolution of the Torah and the vitality of its teachings to today’s overly secularized Western world. Rather than serving as bastions of moral teachings and American values, universities are increasingly at the vanguard of attacks against God, the Bible, family values, Israel, and the very notion of an objective morality. Prager pinpoints several of the major differences between the Torah’s morality and the dangerous shortcomings of today’s secular West.

            Throughout his commentary, Prager makes his case for belief in God, providence, the divine origins of the Torah, and the eternal power of the Torah’s morality. He also offers a running commentary on the Torah, bringing insights from a wide variety of scholars and thinkers, as well as from his personal experiences. In this review, we will focus exclusively on the former, as it is here that Prager’s commentary makes its greatest contributions.

God’s creation of the world teaches that there is ultimate purpose to human existence. Atheists reject God’s existence. If all existence is random happenstance, however, there is no ultimate purpose. Additionally, the Torah posits that God is completely separate from nature. God gave human beings a special role, and the moral God demands morality from humanity. Science teaches science, but it cannot teach right from wrong, or even if there is a right or a wrong. Science cannot provide ultimate purpose, since it studies only the physical universe (7–8).

            The world began as chaotic (tohu va-vohu, Genesis 1:2), and God created order through a process of distinctions. According to the Torah, the primary responsibility of humanity is to preserve God’s order and distinctions. The creation narrative in Genesis distinguishes between God and the universe, humans and animals, and sacred and profane. Elsewhere in the Torah, God distinguishes between people and God, good and evil, life and death, and many others. The battle for higher civilization essentially is the struggle between biblical distinctions and the human desire to undo many of those distinctions. Prager concludes with a chilling assertion about the contemporary secular West: “As Western society abandons the Bible and the God of the Bible, it is also abandoning these distinctions. I fear for its future because Western civilization rests on these distinctions” (14).

            Pagans believed that the gods inhere in nature. This belief led to the need for people to propitiate the gods and offer sacrifices. By stressing that God is outside of nature, the Torah revolutionizes the role of humanity vis-à-vis the world. People must rule and conquer the earth, meaning that the world was created for human use (1:28). People must not abuse nature or inflict unnecessary suffering on animals, but people rule the world. Among other things, this belief led to the invention of modern medicine to fight diseases. Prager warns of a relapse to the pagan worldview: “Many secular people in our time romanticize nature, perhaps not realizing—or not wanting to realize—that either humans rule over nature or nature will destroy humans” (27). 

Without the values of the Bible, people lose their uniqueness as being created in God’s image (1:26), and instead become insignificant parts of nature. British physicist and atheist Stephen Hawking said, “We humans [are] mere collections of fundamental particles of nature.” When God is diminished and nature is elevated, human worth is reduced (104). Finally, without God, people are simply another part of nature. There cannot be any good or evil behavior for humanity, just as we would not call an earthquake evil. “Therefore, as ironic as it may sound to a secular individual, only a God-based understanding of human life allows for free will” (505–506).

            It is not good for a human to be alone (2:18). People ideally were meant to marry and to live together in a community. In the secular West, there has been a dramatic decrease in marriage rates, and more people live by themselves than at any time in recorded history. Consequently, loneliness has become a major social pathology. A meta-analysis of 70 studies covering over three million people published in the journal Perspectives on Psychological Science concludes that “loneliness is now a major public health issue and represents a greater health risk than obesity and is as destructive to your health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.” Prager also highlights the moral benefits of participating in a religious community. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks summarizes the research of Robert Putnam: “Regular attendees at a place of worship were more likely than others to give money to charity, engage in volunteer work, donate blood, spend time with someone who is depressed, offer a seat to a stranger, help someone find a job…. Regular attendance at a house of worship is the most accurate predictor of altruism, more so than any other factor, including gender, education, income, race, region, marital status, ideology, and age” (39-41). 

            God expressed grave concern over Adam and Eve’s eating from the Tree of Knowledge, lamenting that “man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:22). Prager frames the sin in Eden as the struggle over who determines morality. The Torah teaches that God does, but human sin is when people determine good and evil. When people usurp that right, people become god. “And it is precisely what has happened in the West since the French Enlightenment. Man has displaced God as the source of right and wrong. As Karl Marx wrote, ‘Man is God.’ And as Lenin, the father of modern totalitarianism, said, ‘We repudiate all morality derived from non-human (i.e., God) and non-class concepts’” (59). 

Human conscience alone cannot bring about a just society. Conscience can be easily manipulated when serving a cause. Conscience can be dulled when people do more and more bad. Conscience also is not usually as powerful as the natural drives—greed, envy, sex, alcohol use, and others can overpower the conscience. And finally, conscience does not always guide someone properly to do what is right. We need God to teach objective moral values (108–109). “Even Voltaire (1694–1778), a passionate atheist and the godfather of the aggressively secular French Enlightenment, acknowledged: ‘I want my lawyer, my tailor, my servants, and even my wife to believe in God because it means that I shall be cheated, and robbed, and cuckolded less often. If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him’” (239).

            Those who admire the achievements of successful people likely will strive to emulate them. Those who are jealous and resentful of the success of others become destructive. Rather than improving his offering, Cain instead envied Abel’s successful sacrifice and murdered Abel. The Philistines envied Abraham and Isaac, and therefore destructively filled up Abraham’s wells and persecuted Isaac (Genesis 26). Economist George Gilder (a non-Jew) wrote about this phenomenon in his book, The Israel Factor. He demonstrates that a society’s reaction to Israel’s successes is a predictor of their success or failure. Those who resent the outsized achievements of Israel are likely to fail morally, economically, and socially. Those who admire Israel and seek to emulate its achievements are likely to create their own free and prosperous societies (65). Prager draws a lesson for contemporary America: “The most notable exception to this unfortunate rule of human nature has been the American people. Until almost the present day, Americans tended to react to people who had attained material success not by resenting them but by wanting to know how they could emulate them. This seems to be changing as more Americans join others in resenting the economic success of other people” (308). 

            The Torah describes Noah as “a righteous man, blameless in his age.” The Sages of the Talmud debate whether the Torah’s addition of “in his age” diminishes his objective righteousness, or whether it makes Noah all the more impressive for standing above his wicked society. Although both positions are valid, Prager supports the latter view, observing that few people have the moral courage to reject their environment. Prager adds a more important point: Many are tempted to judge people of the past by our contemporary moral standards, rather than in the context of their time. As a result, we would conclude that virtually nobody who lived before us was a good person. For example, many of the founding fathers of America owned slaves, and America allowed slavery at the time of its founding. Since slavery is indeed evil, we may conclude that America’s founders were wicked and America itself was a bad place. However, it is vital to judge America in 1776 “in its age,” and not by the standards of our time. At that time, virtually every society practiced slavery. It was the values of America’s founders and Western Bible-based civilization that led to the abolition of slavery, and the thriving of freedom-loving and freedom-spreading society (91–93).

            After the flood, God concludes that God never again will destroy humanity, “since the devisings of man’s mind are evil from his youth” (8:21). Prager uses this verse as a springboard to attack a modern Western belief, that people are basically good and corrupted by society. The belief emerges from the West’s abandonment of the Bible, and is associated with philosophers of the French Enlightenment such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778). No rational person can believe that people are basically good. All children need moral teachings to learn the most basic decency. The unjust wars, slavery, child abuse, and so many other horrors of world history down to the present should be ample evidence that people must actively build a good society. The wrongful belief that people are basically good also is dangerous. Parents and schools will not invest time and energy teaching goodness if they assume that children are naturally good. God and religion become irrelevant to teaching goodness. Society, not the individual, is blamed for evil. Those who blame society try to change society, rather than teaching individuals to be better. In contrast, “The Torah teaches that, especially in a free society, the battle for a good world is not between the individual and society but between the individual and his or her nature” (109–115).     

            Making good people is the single most important thing parents can do. Loving children without teaching them moral responsibility turns children into spoiled narcissists. Parents must constantly emphasize goodness, integrity, and honesty, and praise these traits as most important. Parents also must morally discipline their children, rather than ignoring that responsibility. Teaching the Bible only can help, both because the Bible is unparalleled in its moral wisdom, and it is imperative for children (and their parents) to recognize God as the source of morality (132–133).

 

Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Exodus (Regnery Faith, 2018)[5]

 

            The God of the Torah is the most important idea of human history. Among its revolutionary contributions: The God of the Torah brings universal morality to the world. Good and evil are not merely societal opinions, but objectively real. God and morality give humanity hope for a better world. People have infinite worth and dignity and can elevate their lives in holiness. We aspire to universal brotherhood and human equality. There is a non-physical reality outside of nature, giving ultimate purpose to the universe. Human beings have free will and can and should make moral choices (93–97). These transformative ideas offer humanity the chance for redemption.

            Belief in one God is emphatically not identical to belief in the God of the Torah. The God of the Torah judges the moral behavior of every human being by the same moral standard. “A god in whose name believers cut innocent people’s throats, behead them, burn them alive, and rape girls and women—as is being done at the time of this writing by Islamist terrorists in the name of ‘the one God’—cannot be the same god as the God of the Torah, the God who gave the Ten Commandments, who commanded His people to ‘Love the stranger,’ and demanded holy and ethical conduct at all times. Likewise, those Christians who in the Middle Ages slaughtered entire Jewish communities in the name of Christ also clearly did not believe in the God of the Bible…” (132–135). 

            Prager maintains that without the God of the Torah, there is no way of demonstrating that murder is objectively wrong. The twentieth-century atheist philosopher Bertrand Russel admitted that he could think of no better argument against wanton cruelty than, “I don’t like it.” We need God to declare murder as an absolute wrong, and not rely on empty arguments such as “I don’t like it,” or “I think it is wrong.” A common contemporary argument posits that murder is wrong on utilitarian grounds: We don’t murder others because we don’t want others to murder us. However, this argument is an abject failure. Most murderers do not want to be murdered. They murder nonetheless because they think they can get away with it. For suicide terrorists who do not mind being killed in return, the argument becomes entirely irrelevant. Finally, evil ideologies can overrule the utilitarian argument. For example, Hitler insisted that the Nazi extermination of Jews was for the betterment of the human species. Prager concludes, “In sum, it is unlikely there has been even one would-be murderer in history who decided not to murder because of the argument, ‘We don’t murder others because we don’t want others to murder us’” (258–260).

            Prager cites Thucydides’ fifth-century bce History of the Peloponnesian War. Athens and Sparta were at war, and Athens pressured the island of Melos to support their war efforts. The Melians wanted to remain neutral, so Athens threatened Melos with destruction. “Is this your idea of fair play?” the Melians asked. The Athenians answered, “So far as right and wrong are concerned, there is no difference between the two. The strong do what they have the power to do and the weak accept what they have to accept.” Athens went on to besiege and destroy Melos, murdering the men and selling the women and children into slavery. Prager notes that 2400 years later, the nineteenth-century atheist Friedrich Nietzche wrote with contempt of those who sympathized with the Melians’ moral appeals. The God of the Torah repudiates this idea (322–323).

The Torah constantly emphasizes the significance of remembering our past. Remembering teaches us gratitude and wisdom. Remembering also connects us to the past and reminds us that we are part of an ongoing people and ideal. Pharaoh’s first act is to forget Joseph (Exodus 1:8). He therefore has no gratitude to Israel and instead wickedly enslaves them and decrees the murder of their baby boys. The Torah treats memory as an essential component of identity and morality. Prager extends this lesson to modern times. “Nations, too, are their memories. A nation that doesn’t remember its past…ceases to be the nation it was. This may be happening now in a number of Western European nations that teach their young people to consider themselves ‘world citizens’ or Europeans rather than members of a specific nation. It is also happening in the United States, where the level of ignorance of the American past among young Americans is unprecedented” (5–6). 

In our society, intelligence and knowledge are valued far more than wisdom. One terribly mistaken believer in secular education as a replacement of religion for moral values was Sigmund Freud, who naively wrote in 1927, “Civilization has little to fear from educated people and brain-workers. In them, the replacement of religious motives for civilized behavior by other secular motives, would proceed unobtrusively” (The Future of an Illusion). Knowledge and intelligence are useful for technology and science. However, societies need wisdom far more than intelligence or knowledge. Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union, North Korea, and Iran all had or have intelligence and knowledge, but abused them for evil purposes. While the failure of German Christianity during the Holocaust (with a few notable heroic exceptions) is almost universally acknowledged, the moral failure of secular education and secular intellectuals in Germany is almost universally ignored (46, 136–138, 229–230). 

The commandment to honor one’s parents is the guarantor for the civilization to endure. Parents transmit culture, religion, and ethics. The breakdown of the family ensures the breakdown of the civilization. A standard feature of totalitarian regimes is to shift children’s loyalty from their parents to the state or ideology. Strong families serve as bulwarks against totalitarianism (258).

            Pharaoh initiated the ruthless slavery, but the entire Egyptian society went along with him. The same can be said of Nazi Germany, where most Germans were not as evil as Hitler. These and so many other similar stories teach that you do not need a great number of truly evil people to carry out massive evil. You need only: 1) Ordinary people who allow themselves to be indoctrinated by the truly evil people; 2) People who benefit from the evil; and 3) A paucity of courageous good people. Prager laments, “I am convinced courage is the rarest of all good traits” (9).

            The heroic midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, may not have been Israelites. Their inspiring morality lies in their fear of God (1:15–21). Fear of God is a necessary ingredient to build a society of moral individuals. Of course there are individual good atheists as there were good pagans. And there are numerous people who practice religion who are wicked. However, a universal moral code from a universal God who judges all humanity is the only way to build a moral society (10–11).

 

Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Deuteronomy (Regnery Faith, 2022)[6]

 

In Deuteronomy 1:13, Moses selected judges who were “wise, discerning, and experienced.” All three traits pertain to wisdom, not goodness. Of course, judges also must be good people, but that trait alone is insufficient for leadership. A good society is unattainable without wisdom. Prager observes that “there have always been people who were personally good—individuals who have good intentions and even a kindly disposition—who enabled evil to prevail.” 

On a personal level, parents who spoil their children without teaching them right from wrong may be good people, but they lack wisdom. On a global level, communism is the best example of good intentions without wisdom. Communism has killed approximately 100 million people, and enslaved a billion more. Their tyrannical leaders, and some of their supporters, are truly evil people. But many millions of their supporters sincerely believed that communism would build a better world for the future. However, they lacked moral and economic wisdom, thereby supporting and enabling the evil tyrants to obtain and retain power (6–10).

            The world’s freest society, the United States of America, is both a democracy and theocracy. Theocracy without democracy leads to an unfree society. Democracy without God leads to moral and intellectual chaos. George Washington stated, “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports…reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.” In a similar vein, John Adams remarked that “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious People. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.” Prager observes that it is no accident that the two mottoes of the United States are “Liberty” and “In God We Trust” (283–285).

The Book of Deuteronomy repeatedly warns against following false gods. Prager enumerates several of today’s “false gods” (71–84). One of the most corrosive elements to the fabric of our increasingly secular society is the elimination of God and the Bible, and replacing its wisdom with an overvaluation of education and intelligence.

Prager quotes Professor Steven Pinker of Harvard University, who observes that “universities are becoming laughingstocks of intolerance.” Well-educated people disproportionately supported the Nazi party, as well as communism. The same is true for those today who hold anti-American and Israeli sentiments.

            In 2015 Prager participated in a debate at the prestigious Oxford Union at Oxford University on the subject of whether Israel or Hamas is a greater obstacle for peace in the Middle East. That this debate could even occur is truly terrifying, given the terrorist organization Hamas’ genocidal charter. Yet, the debate went on, and the majority of the over 400 elite students in attendance voted that Israel is the greater obstacle to peace, as this is what they are taught.

            The Book of Deuteronomy promises national reward for righteous behavior, and national calamity for wicked behavior and unfaithfulness to God. To the modern mind, such promises often appear to reflect a low-level religious system. Prager defends the Torah’s discourse on several grounds (142–143).

            First, the Torah could have omitted all reference to reward and punishment. This idealistic system is simply untrue to human reality. When people are rewarded for competent work, they work harder and more competently. This is why the capitalistic free market economy was the only system that enabled people to lift themselves out of poverty. Some are seduced by the Marxist socialist ideal of people being rewarded “according to their needs,” rather than for the excellence of their work. This ideology, however, eliminates the incentive to work hard. Further, who determines the “needs” of individuals? Generally not the individual, but the state. This is the road to tyranny and totalitarianism. Prager concludes, “And who doesn’t want to live in a just world? Only the unjust.”

            The Torah could have shifted focus to reward in the afterlife, but its entire agenda is to build a great society in this world.

            Finally, the Torah could have demanded faithfulness based on love of God. However, that argument would work only for the religiously elite few.

            Therefore, the Torah’s stress on this-worldly reward and punishment is the most effective means of promoting a universally righteous society.

            A central theme in Deuteronomy is gratitude. God blesses Israel with a beautiful, bountiful land. The religious hazard of that blessing is that Israel may in turn become spoiled and arrogant, considering their prosperity as their own achievement. Prager comments that “gratitude is the mother of both happiness and goodness.” The easiest way to undermine gratitude is to take something or someone for granted. Most people appreciate what they had only once they have lost it. Parents spoil their children when they give them everything, as children come to expect everything. Saying “thank you” is not merely polite etiquette; these words inculcate gratitude and appreciation. Jewish law has blessings for everything, including eating and even relieving oneself in the bathroom. These blessings, when taken seriously, infuse gratitude and happiness into the most mundane moments (154–156).

            In Deuteronomy 12:20, the Torah permits “secular slaughter” away from the Temple, enabling Israelites to eat meat outside of a sacrificial context. Prager uses this commandment to launch into a discussion regarding animal rights activism gone awry in the secular world. There is an increasingly prevalent value of people and animals being of equal worth. Prager quotes a 2003 PETA ad campaign, which appallingly equated barbequing chickens with the cremation of Jews in the Nazi death camps. They entitled their ad campaign, “Holocaust on your Plate.” It was a Jew at PETA who created that ad campaign, and he doubled down on his assertion that chickens and humans are of equal value when he was challenged. 

            In Deuteronomy 19:13, the Torah insists that we show no pity for murderers. The Torah understands that if we see the condemned, we naturally will have pity, and consider withholding the capital punishment. However, such pity ignores the true victims, namely, the person who was murdered and his or her family. In a debate on American television with the leader of an anti-capital punishment vigil being held in front of the prison where a murderer was about to be executed, Prager “asked the activist if he and his supporters had ever held a vigil in support of a murder victim’s family. I received no response” (303–304). 

We should lead the world in morality, but not promote a morality so far beyond realism that we subject ourselves to mortal danger. Prager quotes Rabbi Irving (“Yitz”) Greenberg reflecting on the modern State of Israel, surrounded by vicious enemies committed to Israel’s destruction: “If we Jews are five percent better than the rest of the world, we can be a ‘light unto the nations.’ If we are twenty-five percent better than the rest of the world, we can bring the Messiah. If we are fifty percent better than the rest of the world, we’ll all be dead” (316).

            Through these and so many other religious-moral teachings, the Torah was a revolution in world history, and continues to bring relevant, and sorely needed, teaching to the modern world.

 

 

The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel: Exodus

edited by David Arnovitz et al. (Koren Publishers, 2019), 305 pages. [7]

Koren Publishers has embarked on an impressive new project, a popular companion to the Torah presenting contemporary research on archaeology, Egyptology, flora and fauna, geology, the languages and realia of the ancient Near East, and other areas that elucidate aspects of the biblical text. It is presented in a similar engaging manner to the Hebrew series, Olam haTanakh, and like that Hebrew work was composed by a team of scholars who specialize in a variety of fields of scholarship. There are brief articles and glossy photographs, maps, and illustrations that bring these areas to light. Living up to the standard that the community has come to expect from Koren publications, the volume is an impressive work of graphic design, with a high aesthetic sense. Unlike Olam haTanakh, which also offers a running commentary on biblical books, The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel discusses specifically those background areas that may enhance our understanding of the text within its real-world setting.

This series is written from an Orthodox perspective. Its authors believe that God revealed the Torah to Moses, and they utilize contemporary scholarship as a tool for understanding God’s word. The articles generally are presented judiciously, rather than reaching conclusions that exceed the biblical and archaeological evidence. The volume does not purport to be original scholarship, but rather synthesizes contemporary academic scholarship in an accessible and Orthodox-friendly manner.

Here are a few brief examples of how the authors highlight elements of the background of the narrative and laws:

 

  • In Exodus 1:16, Pharaoh orders the midwives Shifra and Puah to “look at the birthstool” (u-re’iten al ha-ovnayim). In ancient Egypt and elsewhere in the ancient Near East, women used birth bricks to support their feet while they squatted. In Egypt, they used four bricks made of black Nile mud (9).

 

  • God redeems Israel from Egypt “by a mighty and an outstretched arm” (be-yad hazaka uvizroa netuya; e.g., Deuteronomy 4:34; 5:15; 26:8; Jeremiah 32:21; Psalm 136:12). This terminology appears almost exclusively in Tanakh regarding God and the Exodus. The authors quote Egyptologist James Hoffmeier, who suggests that these terms are related to contemporaneous Egyptian military terms referring to Pharaoh’s military might (khepesh=arm-power; per‘=one whose arm is extended). God specifically employs this terminology in the Torah to convey the message that God will defeat Pharaoh militarily (22).

 

 

  • Pharaohs were responsible for Maat, loosely translated as the cosmic order (Maat also was the name of a goddess in charge of maintaining that cosmic order). When the world turned to chaos during the plagues, Pharaoh would have been held responsible (37–38).

 

  • In Egyptian temples, the innermost compartment was the holy of holies. The room was maintained in complete darkness. A statue of the deity was kept in a cabinet, and no one but the High Priest was allowed to open the cabinet and touch it, or even to enter. On religious festivals, they took the statue out on a boat, kept in its cabinet and protected by a curtain so that no one could look at the statue. This insight from Egyptology is brought to deepen our understanding of why Moshe “hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God” at the burning bush (3:6). “It might have been only natural,” the Koren commentary suggests, “for Moshe, with his Egyptian background, to cover his face before God. Egyptians were in awe and feared their gods, and it would have been his instinctive reaction to hide as soon as he realized he was encountering the Divine” (19).

 

  • The obscure orot tehashim (Exodus 35:7) used in the Tabernacle are likely best explained as deriving from an Egyptian word that refers to a certain type of Egyptian leather (195).

 

The authors generally present accurate readings of the biblical text and judiciously apply the relevant contemporaneous materials. Occasionally, however, they make excessive efforts to draw parallels between the Torah and its ancient setting. One such example is the discussion of the plague of darkness:

 

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched.” Moses held out his arm toward the sky and thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt for three days. People could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he was; but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings. Pharaoh then summoned Moses and said, “Go, worship the Lord! Only your flocks and your herds shall be left behind; even your children may go with you.” But Moses said, “You yourself must provide us with sacrifices and burnt offerings to offer up to the Lord our God; our own livestock, too, shall go along with us—not a hoof shall remain behind: for we must select from it for the worship of the Lord our God; and we shall not know with what we are to worship the Lord until we arrive there.” But the Lord stiffened Pharaoh’s heart and he would not agree to let them go. Pharaoh said to him, “Be gone from me! Take care not to see me again, for the moment you look upon my face you shall die.” And Moses replied, “You have spoken rightly. I shall not see your face again!” (Exodus 10:21–29).

 

The authors ask: The plague of darkness is depicted in the Torah as the one that nearly cracked Pharaoh’s stubbornness. But why should this particular plague, which inflicted no damage, be so effective? The authors respond that the Egyptian sun god was the head of the Egyptian pantheon. In their mythology, the sun god rode a boat (called a barque) each day from east to west. He was born each morning, was in his prime at noon, and entered the Netherworld in the evening as an old man. During the night, he made his way through the Netherworld in order to be reborn in the morning, but a hostile chaos serpent named Apophis tried to stop him. When the sun rose in the morning, Egyptians could rest assured that the sun god had made it. Egyptians feared that if the sun did not rise in the morning, the world would descend into chaos. Therefore, the plague of darkness would have been particularly horrifying to Pharaoh and the Egyptians.

One may ask two questions against this explanation. First, does the Torah present the plague of darkness as the one that nearly cracked Pharaoh’s stubbornness? All Pharaoh says is, “Go, worship the Lord! Only your flocks and your herds shall be left behind; even your children may go with you.” This response is not substantially different from his reactions to several other plagues. Contrast that brief reaction with Pharaoh’s remarkable admission of error during the earlier plague of hail:

 

Thereupon Pharaoh sent for Moses and Aaron and said to them, “I stand guilty this time. The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. Plead with the Lord that there may be an end of God’s thunder and of hail. I will let you go; you need stay no longer” (Exodus 9:27–28).

 

Or Pharaoh’s response to the plague of locusts:

 

Pharaoh hurriedly summoned Moses and Aaron and said, “I stand guilty before the Lord your God and before you. Forgive my offense just this once, and plead with the Lord your God that He but remove this death from me” (Exodus 10:16–17).

 

No less significantly, the Torah does not mention the sun or its failure to rise in its account of the plague. It appears more likely that the Egyptians faced a massive hamsin with thick dust blocking out all sunlight and preventing motion.

Overall, this new series is a welcome contribution to the growing body of Orthodox writings that draw the best from contemporary scholarship in the service of understanding Tanakh. The series also successfully presents the material in an accessible manner that will benefit people of all backgrounds. The high-quality scholarship, coupled with the engaging presentation, will make this series a valuable companion for learning Torah. We look forward to the publication of future volumes of the set as well.

 

Notes


 


[2]This review appeared originally on April 6, 2022, at https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-haburas-passover-volume.

[3] This review appeared originally on October 21, 2022, at https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-sukkot-companion-habura.

[4] This review appeared originally on March 28, 2022, at https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-genesis.

[5] This review appeared originally on April 3, 2022, at https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-exodus.

[6]This review appeared originally on October 28, 2022, at https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-dennis-prager-deuteronomy.

[7] This review appeared originally on January 15, 2020, at https://traditiononline.org/11255-2/.

The Future of the Prophets

Review of Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun's book Prophets Against Empires (in Hebrew),

Yeshivat Har Etzion Press: Alon Shevut, 2022.[1]

 

 

When historians catalog Jewish people's successes of the past 50 years, one of the undoubted great successes they will list is the rebirth and explosive growth of Tanakh study as an integral part of the Torah curriculum. Long sidelined in traditional yeshiva curriculum,[2] we are witnessing a veritable renaissance of knowledge and resources among scholars and laypeople alike. Corresponding with this outburst is a new appreciation of those biblical texts generally thought to be inaccessible, including the later prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Book of Twelve). In describing how this revolution came about, the name of Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun will undoubtedly feature prominently among the pioneers who blazed the way in restoring the  popularity of Tanakh study. One of the original staff members of Yeshivat Har Etzion, he was among the founders of Gush Emunim (which he would later break away from), Michlelet Herzog, as well as the settlements of Alon Shevut and Ofra. One of the most prolific writers and scholars in Israel, he is rightfully considered one of the pioneers of the modern religious approach, described by Rabbi Shalom Carmy as the "literary-theological" approach. Based on modern literary techniques, combined with insights from history and archeology yet infused with awareness of the traditional sources and commentaries, his approach is among the most influential among in modern Israel today.[3] His most recent work, "Prophets Against Empires," provides a creative and comprehensive overview to the difficult prophetic literature that flourished in ancient Israel from the mid-nineth century to the destruction of the First Temple by the Babylonians in 587 bce.

Throughout history, the books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Book of Twelve were a locked treasure chest, containing tremendous pearls of wisdom, yet inaccessible to most. The biblical Hebrew is poetic and unfamiliar, an iron barrier between the reader and the prophets. Additionally, the prophetic books' lack of narrative structure, as well as generally not providing the historical background and context for what provoked the prophetic preaching create large obstacles between the prophets and the modern audience. These difficulties are not new; Martin Luther is often quoted as having complained:

 

They (the prophets) have a queer way of talking, like people who, instead of proceeding in an orderly manner, ramble off from one thing to the next, so that you cannot make head or tail of them or see what they are getting at. [4]

 

Historically, the lack of knowledge regarding the historical background of the prophetic literature has led some to argue that this knowledge is not necessary to comprehend their message. After all, the Talmud declares that “Many prophets arose in Israel, double the number of those who left Egypt; but prophecy that was needed for future generations was written, and that which was not needed was not written” (TB Megillah 14). Even the towering biblical scholar Nechama Leibowitz was quoted as stating that "Nineveh is New York is Tokyo!"[5] Since the prophets' message is eternal, its exact details are irrelevant. However, this focus on the timeless ignores the reality that the prophets attempted to convey timely messages to their listeners (and readers). As such, without an understanding of the historical background of the prophecies, their full import and ultimately impact would be lost. Additionally, as recent archeological discoveries continue to constantly increase and enrich our knowledge and understanding of the time period in which the prophets navigated, not applying this knowledge would deviate from the manner in which our earlier commentators operated.[6]

Influenced by Rabbi Bin Nun's focus on attempting to locate and recreate the historical background for the prophetic works, many of the latest commentaries attempt to understand the prophets' messages within their reality and milieu.[7] Now, Rabbi Bin Nun attempts to provide the comprehensive overview for a period of time that spans over 150 years and almost a dozen of the biblical prophets, providing both the historical overview of the era as well as locating the specific time when each prophecy was uttered. He divides the era into four distinct periods; two of which saw the ascent of the fortunes of the Jewish people, each followed by two rapid descents. The first period commences with the reign of Ahab, whose marriage to Jezebel the Phoenician ushered in a period of prosperity and success, combined with pagan corruption and idolatry. Jehu's assassination of Ahab's family begins a rapid descent, and for half a century, the people suffered under the assaults of Aram. However, two generations later during the reign of Jehu's grandson and great-grandson, Joash and Jeroboam, the northern kingdom of Israel regained its prosperity and ascendancy, concurrently with a dramatic change in the fortunes of the southern kingdom Judah under Uzziah. Both kingdoms expanded their borders to unprecedented heights; and in this period of material abundance and extraordinary military and political dominion, the two kingdoms worked in close cooperation. Finally, this idyllic period disappeared quickly. A devastating earthquake, Uzziah's fall from grace due to contracting the skin affliction tzara’at (commonly mistranslated as “leprosy”), the assassination of Jeroboam's son led to an extended period of political instability in Israel. This coincided with the reappearance of a more dangerous and militaristic Assyria on the eastern border which led to the relatively quick disappearance of the northern kingdom and the near extinction of the kingdom of Judah in the south. While discussing each of these periods, Rabbi Bin Nun attempts to locate the prophecies of each of the prophets who spoke at each time, connecting their words with the historical records. The book concludes with a brief summary of the lengthy reign of King Manasseh, and the people's final attempt to rebuild themselves under the reign of King Josiah.

The greatest strength and contribution of "Prophets Against Empires" is in Rabbi Bin Nun's almost unequalled tremendous breadth and depth of historical knowledge, in addition to his complete command of the biblical and traditional sources. In Jeremiah's attempts to renew the ancient covenant (Jer. 11), he has to wrestle with widespread Shabbat desecration (Jer. 17:22–27)—which enables Bin Nun to survey all the biblical texts that deal with business on Shabbat, from Exodus 16, Amos 8:5–6, Isaiah 1:15–16, and Nehemiah 13:15–22. Bin Nun is also up-to-date with all the recent developments in archeology. Reflecting on the miracle that Isaiah performed for Hezekiah, causing the sun to move backwards ten degrees (2 Kings 20:8–11), Bin Nun notes that Yigael Yadin found a sundial matching this description in the Cairo Museum.[8] Similarly, Isaiah's accounts in chapter 20 of the Assyrian campaign in the coastal region, specifically the attack on Ashdod in 713 bce, are corroborated from Sargon's own records and inscriptions found on the walls of the palace in his capital, Dur-Sharrukin.[9] The careful combining of all these disparate sources of knowledge together with Rabbi Bin Nun's tremendous exegetical imagination creates a masterpiece; the book is both an easy-to-read summary of a relatively forsaken period of Jewish history that makes the words of the prophets understandable and accessible, yet does not sacrifice depth and insight. Most importantly, as one proceeds into the work, one begins to form connections between the time of the prophets and ours.

One of the book's strengths is the division of the historical period into four distinct periods, which enable him to locate prophecies in their approximate historical context. Different times required differing prophets. The reign of Ahab required an Elijah to stand against him. However, Elijah could never envision the Jews being exiled out of their own land. Only when Amos appears, two generations later, when the Assyrian empire begins its meteoric ascent to the role of superpower, does the destruction of the Israelite kingdom and exile become real and imminent possibilities. Amos' rhetoric has to reflect this new reality.

Additionally, Rabbi Bin Nun capably notes that the book of Kings presentation of historical events is suspect chronologically. For example, chapters 4–8 of II Kings describe a northern kingdom that is beaten and subservient to Aram. Following the chronology, most commentators assume that the unnamed king of Israel is Ahab's son Jehoram. However, Rabbi Bin Nun notes that this decrepit situation does not reflect the state of the northern kingdom under Ahab's dynasty, which maintained a strong military and expanded borders. However, these chapters dovetail nicely with the political decline of the northern kingdom under Jehu and Jehoahaz as described later in the book (II Kings 10, 13). Therefore, suggests Rabbi Bin Nun, chapters 4–8 actually occur later chronologically, but are located earlier in order to present the prophet Elisha in a positive manner.

While dividing his historical recounting into broad time periods, Rabbi Bin Nun avoids dealing with some of the more difficult issues of the book of Kings' bewildering chronology. The number of years that Kings lists for each kingdom for the period of time beginning with the year when both Jehu and Ataliah ascend the respective thrones of Israel and Judah respectively under the final destruction of the northern kingdom diverge from both each other and the accepted historical record (Kings lists 143 years for the northern kingdom, 166 years for the southern kingdom, while the accepted historical record only spans 121 years). The problems have been known for generations; efforts to resolve them began in the second century ce, when R. Yose bar Halafta composed the Seder Olam Rabba, continue through the traditional medieval commentators and into modern-day scholarship, which attempt to account for newly discovered Assyrian (and other) records when reconciling the various discrepancies.[10] Wisely, Rabbi Bin Nun avoids murkying the clear waters that he has so painstakingly constructed by avoiding the minutiae of the competing chronologies found in both biblical sources and historical records.

One of the novel exegetical tools that Rabbi Bin Nun presents to the reader is the concept that certain prophecies are restatements of older oracles being recycled by the prophets for rhetorical purposes. If a speaker today would tell his audiences that “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat,” clearly the orator wishes to draw a comparison between his listener's situation and that of Winston Churchill in World War II. Similarly, Rabbi Bin Nun argues that several prophecies are only comprehensible if understood as ancient oracles that the speaker is using to either shock or alarm his listeners. Amos himself alludes to the existence of earlier prophetic traditions when he warns his audience "Woe to you who desire the day of the Lord! Why would you have the day of the Lord? It is darkness, and not light" (Amos 5:18). Clearly the prophet has to wrestle with an earlier understanding, common among the people, that the upcoming "day of the Lord" will see the destruction of God's enemies—only they can't imagine that they, the Jewish people, would be included in that group. We shall content ourselves with two examples of "old prophecies.” The first example encompasses Amos' opening verses, which describes a series of harsh punishments that await Israel's neighbors that encircle her, including Aram, Edom, the Philistines, and even Judah to the south. Suddenly, Amos' rhetorical trap springs shut, and the northern kingdom finds itself the recipient of the harshest prophecy of all.[11] Rabbi Bin Nun notices that many of the crimes that Amos accuses the surrounding nations of had been committed decades, if not a century earlier.[12] For example, Amos accuses Edom of the crime of "pursuing their brother with a sword" (Amos 1:11), which Rabbi Bin Nun connects with the events that occurred in the time of Jehoram the son of Jehoshaphat (see II Chronicles 21:9–10, 16–17). Similarly, the sins of Judah include "rejected the Law of the Lord, and they did not keep God’s statutes" (Amos 2:4), which would not have been true in Amos' time, when Uzziah sat on the throne, but would accurately reflect the reign of Amaziah, Uzziah's father. Therefore, he concludes that Amos is drawing his listeners in by regaling them with tales of divine justice from time gone by, only to surprise them with a new prophecy directed at them for their failings. He writes:

 

There is no point or significance to a declaration now, in the time of Jeroboam, that God will send a fire upon the house of Hazael in Damascus and upon the walls of Israel's other enemies; it all happened already. Amos's audience can look back nostalgically at the extraordinary string of victories that they experienced, and smile at the memory. It is precisely for this reason that Amos refers back to the ancient prophecy, which opened with God's condemnation of the terrible crimes of Aram against Israel—a prophecy that is familiar to his audience … Amos cites the ancient prophecy against each of the enemies as a necessary preface to his own prophecy concerning the crimes committed by Israel themselves. This latter prophecy is long and detailed, and its style differs from the brief enumeration in the earlier prophecy.[13]

 

The second, and perhaps most creative exegesis in the book, again evoking the usage of "old prophecies,” involves the opening verses of Hosea. Hosea is ordered by God to marry "a promiscuous woman” (in Hebrew, eshet zenunim) and have children with her. Together, they have two boys and one girl. The three children are given clearly symbolic and negative names; Yizreel, Lo-Ruchama, and Lo-Ami (meaning "the Jezreel valley,” a place seared into the nation's consciousness as a site of horrendous violence, "No mercy,” and "Not My people.” Rabbi Bin Nun will suggest that these names are clearly symbolic, but in an unexpected way. Chapter 2 in Hosea describes the bond between God and Israel one of husband and wife; however, since Israel has turned to Ba’al, whose worship Hosea dramatically describes, this connection has been tainted and desecrated. A tremendous problem exists. Hosea speaks in the time of the last kings of Jehu's dynasty, and later. Jehu, who lived at least half a century earlier, had completely eradicated Ba'al worship from the northern kingdom (II Kings 10:30), and no sources indicate that it ever returned. Rabbi Bin Nun asks: What point would there be in a prophet standing up to decry the harlotry of Jezebel, and the Ba’al-worship that she had introduced to Samaria, a whole century after it was no longer an issue? Again, Rabbi Bin Nun turns to Yehezkel Kaufmann, who argued that the first three chapters of Hosea should be attributed to an ancient prophet who spoke during the time of the house of Ahab.[14] After criticizing some of the weak points in Kaufmann's presentation, Bin Nun makes the following original suggestion. He suggests that any listener of Hosea would immediately recognize the promiscuous mother and her three wayward children. Clearly, Hosea was alluding to Jezebel, about whom Jehu exclaims, "What peace, so long as the harlotries of your mother, Jezebel, and her witchcrafts, are so many?" (II Kings 9:22). The daughter "Lo-Ruchama" (No Mercy) refers to Ataliah, the daughter of Ahab and Jezebel who slaughtered many of her own grandchildren during her coup d'etat (II Kings 11). The son "Lo-Ami" (Not My People) hints towards Achaziah, who had consulted with foreign gods and not a prophet of Israel (ibid., ch. 1); while "Yizre'el" was obviously a reference to Jehoram, who was killed in the Yizre'el valley (ibid., ch. 8). Again, the purpose of recycling the old prophecies is to shock Hosea's listeners out of their complacency and shake their self-confidence; by failing to maintain the high standards that God demanded of them, they had become as deserving of punishment and destruction as the house of Ahab.

As to be expected with a book with such an ambitious agenda, several prophets appear to be short-changed. Hosea, Amos, and Isaiah are seriously examined, and their prophecies are carefully parsed and assigned to where Rabbi Bin Nun assumes they were uttered. Specifically, Isaiah's historical and political prophecies, the events of Isaiah 1–12 and 36–39, are carefully assigned among the kings of Judah at that time. Chapters 2–5, which lambast the people for their arrogance and failure to utilize their affluence to improve the lives of their countrymen, Bin Nun identifies as having occurred during the reign of Uzziah, while the country was still prosperous. Chapters 7–12, which describe both the Syro-Israelite invasion of Judah in 734 bce and the encroaching Assyrian military are allocated to Ahaz and Hezekiah's reign. However, other prophets, including Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah are shortchanged in their presentation, receiving little more than a superficial introduction. Micah's vision of Judah's lowlands being ravaged by invasion (Mic. 1:9–16) is summarily assigned to the Assyrian invasion of 701 bce, even though the previous verses describe the northern kingdom of Samaria as still functioning (the capital would be destroyed in 721 bce).[15] More concerningly, in several places, Bin Nun's confidence in his dating suggestions border on speculation and circular logic, as opposed to concrete evidence. He argues that in the time of Ahab, there was a movement toward national unity, symbolized by the joining of the two royal houses together by marriage. His proof is Hosea 2:2: "And the children of Judah and the children of Israel shall be gathered together, and they shall appoint for themselves one head.” However, as he noted, the very dating of Hosea 2 to the time of Ahab is itself a novel suggestion, as well as the fact that the verse is written in the future tense, and is not describing an event, present or past. Similarly, Rabbi Bin Nun confidently assigns Nahum's prophecy that the Assyrian empire will not arise again, to the communal Passover sacrifice that Josiah performs in the year 622 bce, in his eighteenth year. Arguing that the people needed encouragement, fearful of Assyrian reprisals, Bin Nun states that Nahum declared his words of encouragement at this time. "Trouble shall not rise up a second time…. So says the Lord: Although [the Assyrians] are in full strength, and likewise many, even so they shall be cut down, and [their time] shall pass, and though I have afflicted you, I will afflict you no more … [therefore] keep your holidays, Judah; perform your vows, for the wicked one shall no more pass through you; he is utterly cut off" (Nah. 1:11–2:1). However, the Tanakh does not explicit time mentioned for Nahum's prophecy. Midrashic tradition states that Nahum actually prophesied earlier, during the reign of Manasseh (Seder Olam 20). This, however, is not mentioned by Rabbi Bin Nun. This is an unfortunate and expected shortcoming of the book; given the need to summarize the time period without becoming too bulky, Rabbi Bin Nun often ignores the alternative approaches found within the traditional commentators.[16] Historically, the midrashic identification of Nahum's prophecy to a generation before Josiah appears more logical, as Nahum himself states that "[the Assyrians] are in full strength"—which accurately describes the state of the Assyrian Empire during Manasseh's reign, but not during Josiah's.[17] The last real king of Assyria, Assurbanipal, found himself on the defensive on many fronts as enemies began to attack his overextended weakened forces during the last decade of his reign, and upon his death in 626 bce Assyria faced a rebellion from Babylon, which seceded from the empire. In the political vacuum that followed, Josiah had already begun to reclaim many of the lands of Israel that Judah had lost. At this juncture, no one would have been fearful of Assyrian reprisals; Nahum's words would have been seen as redundant. 

Perhaps the strongest question that arises from Bin Nun's presentation of the prophetic literature is the role that he assigns the prophets. Binyamin Lau, in his work on Jeremiah, attempts to portray them as public intellectuals: "a man of letters … an outsider to the system, a gadfly who must summon all his literary or oratory powers to persuade the audience of his words—and of the mortal danger of ignoring them" (Lau, "Jeremiah", p. xiv). Bin Nun appears to maintain a similar approach, except that he appears to place the prophet into the role of government advisor. When Hezekiah ponders whether to oppose the Assyrians militarily, Bin Nun speculates that Isaiah and Micah argued.[18] While Isaiah counselled the king to maintain his focus on religious reforms, Bin Nun portrays Micah as leading a nationalistic, populist party demanding that the king fight with Assyria. In doing so, Bin Nun focuses on the middle of Micah's prophecy ("Should Assyria come into our land, and should they tread upon our palaces, we will appoint over them seven shepherds and eight princes of men. And they shall break the land of Assyria with the sword, and the land of Nimrod at its gates" (Micah 5:4–5); yet ignores the clear end of the prophecy:

 

And it shall come to pass on that day, says the Lord, that I will cut your horses out of your midst, and I will destroy your chariots. And I will destroy the cities of your land, and I will break down all your fortresses… (ibid., 5:9–10)

 

The suggestion that any prophet (let alone Micah, whom history remembers as the one who saved them from the Assyrian invasion; see Jer. 26:17–18) would counsel the king of Judah to embark on a reckless adventure to challenge the world's pre-existing military superpower is ludicrous, especially when the resulting consequences include the destruction of almost the entire kingdom.[19] More troublingly, however, is that in his attempt to portray the prophets in terms that are accessible to the modern reader, Bin Nun almost removes the divine aspect of their messages. It is precisely this dimension that separated the prophets from our understanding, but from their listeners as well. Prophets may have served as advisors, intellectuals, gadflies, and counsellors—but their role was to convey the divine message, and the humanizing of the prophets by reducing them to roles that we can comprehend tends to diminish their primary function; they are God's messenger to the people, nothing less. 

Finally, most readers have a propensity to condense all mentions of idolatry into one large mold. This tendency is fueled by the rabbinic statement that the Jewish people only worshipped idols in order to permit themselves to publicly engage in forbidden sexual relations (Sanhedrin 63b). In response, Rabbi Bin Nun capably discusses the theological issues that motivated the Jewish people to abandon single-minded worship of God for a syncretic approach to allow them to interact with the other nations. However, even after Bin Nun's masterful survey of the political forces that moved our prophets one fundamental topic of prophetic concern still remains underdeveloped. This is the question of social justice. That the prophets demanded economic justice and social equality is undeniable—yet unfortunately, the underlying questions that led to their concerns and complaints have not yet been addressed. Recent scholarship suggests that in addition to the ever-present factors of human avarice and greed, the prophets were railing against larger economic structural forces that inevitably led to economic inequality. For example, Marvin Chaney argues that the very institution of the monarchy with its accompanying centralized government set in motion forces that led to the schism between the urban elite and the rural peasants. Other social scientists who study the modern effects of urbanization on highly rural, agrarian communities argue, with some possible merit, that the same economic forces of wealth concentration were at play during this period in eighth-century Israel and Judah.[20] These issues, the effects of changing economic systems and realities, and the growing concentration of wealth in the hands of an elite few, should be very relatable to modern audiences, who struggle with the same economic forces as did the listeners of the prophets of Judah and Israel in the eighth century bce.

In conclusion, the above criticisms should not in any way diminish the appreciation we should have for the fundamental tour de force that Rabbi Bin Nun has produced. Certain great works can only be produced after a lifetime of committed and dedicated scholarship. Fortunately, Rabbi Bin Nun's herculean efforts, as embodied in this book, open the door to the prophetic works even wider, so that ultimately, Jeremiah's hopeful vision that "I will place My law in their midst and I will inscribe it upon their hearts, and I will be their God and they shall be My people. And no longer shall one teach his neighbor or [shall] one [teach] his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord,' for they shall all know Me" (Jer. 31:33–34) one step closer to fruition. 

 

Notes


 


[1] Ed. Note: An English version of this volume can be found at the Yeshivat Har Etzion Virutal Beit Midrash, beginning at https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/neviim/sefer-melakhim-bet/early-prophecies- (there are a total of 35 lectures in the archive).

[2] To understand the sidelining of See Mordechai Breuer, see "The Study of Tanach in the Yeshiva Curriculum,” Studies Presented to Moshe Arend, p. 229, "Mine'u Bneichem min ha-Higayon" ["Keep your children from Higayyon"], in the Memorial Volume Book for Rabbi David Ochs (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan, 1978), and Yaakov Beasley, “Of Fainting Maidens and Wells: Bible Study in the Yeshiva Curriculum, available online at https://www.lookstein.org/professional-dev/bible/fainting-maidens-wells-bible-study-yeshiva-curriculum/.

[3] See Hayyim Angel, "Torat Hashem Temima: The Contributions of Rav Yoel Bin-Nun to Religious Tanakh Study" for an excellent introduction and survey of his thought (Tradition 40:3), Spring 2007, pp. 5–18.

[4] Martin Luther, quoted in Gerhard von Rad, Old Testament Theology, Vol. 2 (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 33. (Luther’s Works, Weimar edition, Volume 19: 350).

[5] Heard orally from several of her students. Hayyim Angel notes Yisrael Rozenson's suggestion that "Professor Nehama Leibowitz’s work on Jeremiah never gained popularity primarily because she did not associate prophetic books with their historical periods … regarding Nevi’im Aharonim, however, too vital a component is lost by ignoring historical setting, since prophets delivered their messages to specific audiences." Angel, "Bringing the Prophets to Life: Rabbi Binyamin Lau’s Study of Jeremiah,” Tradition 44:1, 2011, pp. 53–54 and footnotes 3, 4.

[6] For example, upon arriving in Akko in the year 1263, the Ramban saw an original shekel for the first time, and famously changed his understanding of its weight to align with interpretation of Rashi, even though he argues with Rashi's interpretation in his commentary to the Humash (noted in Sefer haIkkarim 3:16), and found in Dr. Yosef Ofer's work on the additions Ramban made to his commentary when he arrived in the land of Israel.

[7] Recent examples can be located in the Maggid Tanakh Series volumes on the later prophets. Both of Benjamin Lau's works on Isaiah and Jeremiah, Hayyim Angel's work on Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, as well as my work on Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah (and upcoming volume on Joel, Obadiah, and Micah) contain either historical overviews of the prophet's time period, or in Lau's case, a reordering of the books' chapters into chronological order. However, it should be noted that while providing a general historical overview is recommended, the ability to definitely declare exactly which section was uttered in a specific year (except when otherwise noted) remains an extremely speculative act. See Angel, "Jeremiah", pp. 57–58. 

[8] Y. Yadin, "Ma'alot Achaz," Eretz Yisrael 5 (5719).

[9] To corroborate his recreation of the historical events, Bin Nun brings Chaim Tadmor, "Chet'o shel Sargon," Eretz Yisrael 5 (5719); G. Galil, "Ha-Yechasim Bein Yehuda le-Ashur bi-Yemei Sargon ha-Sheni," Tzion 57 (5752), pp. 113–133; N. Ne'eman, “Mediniutam shel Achaz ve-Chizkiyahu Klapei Ashur bi-Yemei Sargon,” Tzion 59 (5754), pp. 5–30.

[10] For examples of traditional commentators attempting to reconcile the contradicting verses regarding the dating of the various kings, see Rashi and the Radak's commentary to II Kings 14:22 and II Kings 15:8. For modern scholarship on chronology issues in the book of Kings, see E. R. Thiele, The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1983); Gershon Galil, The Chronology of the Kings of Israel and Judah (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996); M. Christine Tetley, The Reconstructed Chronology of the Divided Kingdom (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005). A summary of these issues appears as an appendix in my upcoming Maggid Tanakh Series volume on Joel, Obadiah, and Micah. 

[11] This is commonly referred to in scholarship as "rhetorical entrapment,” where the speaker frames and disguises his message in such a way that the real meaning is not revealed until the listeners have fully engaged themselves. When the true meaning of the message is revealed, the listener is forced to render judgement on themselves. In addition to the beginning of Amos, other biblical examples of "rhetorical entrapment" include Nathan’s metaphor of the lone sheep to David, who orders the wicked rich person killed, only to discover that he himself is the wicked rich person (II Samuel 12), and Isaiah's metaphor of the Song of the Vineyard (Is. 5:1–7). See Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 144, for an expanded discussion of the usage of rhetorical entrapment in biblical prophecy and poetry.

[12] Bin Nun points out that this is first noted by Yehekzel Kaufmann, in "Toldot ha-Emuna ha-Yisraelit,” vol. III (Jerusalem 5732), pp. 59–63; see ibid., pp. 51–55.

[13] "Prophets and Empires,” pp. 51–52. John Barton suggests a similar rhetorical goal: Having won the people’s sympathy [through his expression of moral outrage], he rounds on them by proclaiming judgment on Israel too. This technique has two obvious advantages…he has gained his audience’s attention by flattering their feelings of superiority.… Secondly, it makes it much harder for them to exculpate themselves…since they have implicitly conceded that sin and judgment are rightly linked. (J. Barton, Amos’s Oracles against the Nations [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980], 3.)

[14] Toldot ha-Emuna ha-Yisraelit, vol. III, pp. 93–107.

[15] While Radak argues that the prophecy jumps from the events of 721 bce in verse 8 to the events of 701 bce in verse 9, Malbim convincingly argues that Micah laments the destruction inflicted on the lowlands during the Syro-Israelite invasion of Judah in 734 bce during Ahaz's reign.

[16] It should not be surprising that Hayyim Angel levels similar criticism—the speculative nature of dating prophecies to a specific instant (as opposed to identifying the general milieu in which they occurred), as well as not referring to alternative voices within traditional commentators—at Binyamin Lau's work on Jeremiah ("Jeremiah,” pp. 57, 60). Lau is heavily influenced by Bin Nun; indeed, they collaborated on Lau's next work on Isaiah. In fairness, Bin Nun uses more classical commentary in this volume, and bringing every disagreement in it may have detracted from its readability.

[17] In our work on Nahum, we suggest that Nahum's words of encouragement are directed at King Manasseh, and provoke him to repent (see 2 Chr. 33), as the last verse of ch. 1 in Nahum contains clear allusions to Manasseh.

[18] Unfortunately, Bin Nun does not address the theological implications of his claim. How do two legitimate prophets, speaking in God's name, arrive at such conflicting interpretations of their visions? 

[19] Most commentators understand the earlier bellicose oracles in Micah as referring to future messianic times, and not as a prescription for Hezekiah. An alternative approach, which I adopt in the upcoming volume on Micah, argues that a close reading of these verses reveals that Micah is quoting his opponents and mocking them—do you think that you can simply invade Assyria?—so in fact Micah and Isaiah remain united in their opposition to Hezekiah's militaristic folly.

[20] Marvin Chaney, “Systemic Study of the Israelite Monarchy,” Semeia 37 [1986]: 72. In chapters 7 and 8 of Peasants, Prophets, & Political Economy (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2017), Chaney argues that the intensification of agriculture that occurred during the reigns of Jeroboam II and Uzziah, increasing their participation in international trade, was the main factor behind the social crisis encountered by the prophets. For other approaches, see B. Lang, “The Social Organization of Peasant Poverty in Biblical Israel,” in Anthropological Approaches to the Old Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), 83f, and D. N. Premnath, Eighth Century Prophets: A Social Analysis (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2003). 

Created in God's Image?--Thoughts for Parashat Bereishith

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Bereishith

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“So God created Mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them” (Bereishith 1:27).

This verse has perplexed our sages for many generations. Since we believe God to be non-corporeal and not representable by any physical image, what does the Torah mean when it declares that humans were created in God’s image?

Various interpretations have been offered. Image refers not to any physical quality but to reason; or free will; or creativity; or spirituality. 

A widely-held teaching is that each human being is of infinite value since he/she is created in God’s image.  To harm a person in any way is to debase the Godliness within that human being. Jewish philosophers and social activists promote the view that each human life is infinitely precious; each person, in a sense, is an image of God and therefore should be honored as God is honored. Although this is a comforting and idealistic interpretation, it strikes me as being false.

History—including our own time—is replete with human beings who are the antithesis of Godliness. Can we really maintain that Stalin or Hitler were worthy to be honored for the image of God within them? Can we honestly see Godliness in terrorists, murderers, pathological haters?

In her recent novel, “The Enemy Beside Me,” Naomi Ragen describes the work of a woman who devotes her life to hunting down and prosecuting Nazis. The novel focuses on the mass destruction of Lithuanian Jewry, with the most heinous crimes against Jews committed by Lithuanians themselves. Can we say with honesty that the murderers, rapists and thieves were created in God’s image, that their lives were infinitely precious?

I can’t. 

Then what does the Torah mean when it states that God created human beings in His image?

 I believe this passage must be interpreted as stating a potentiality, not a fact. God endowed human beings with the possibility of becoming Godly. But this is a quality that must be developed by each person. Some are able to actualize this potentiality so as to be worthy of being in the image of God. Others, though, suppress the possibility of Godliness. They choose to defile the seeds of Godliness within them, so that in fact, they live and die without actualizing the image of God. Such people are not worthy of respect. On the contrary, they are to be deplored for having crushed the potentiality of Godliness within them.

When people strive to actualize the image of God within them, their lives are indeed infinitely precious. When they abort the image of God within them, they distort and defile the potential for Godliness within them. 

God planted His image in all of us, so that we can develop it and allow it to grow and flourish. To live as an image of God is not a guaranteed gift: it is the ultimate challenge.

Communicating: Thoughts for Parashat Devarim

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Devarim

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

“These are the words which Moses spoke unto all Israel…” (Devarim 1:1).

This simple introduction to the book of Devarim is not so simple to understand. How could Moses speak to “all Israel”—a group of hundreds of thousands of men, women and children? There were no microphones, loudspeakers, radio, internet, cell phones, or any other technical way of reaching such a vast assemblage.

Aside from the problem of getting his words to reach the people, Moses’s last remarks are quite extensive…the entire book of Devarim.  How could Moses speak for so long; how could people be expected to listen attentively for such a protracted message?

Yet, in spite of these questions, the Torah reports that Moses did indeed communicate with all the people and the people apparently received his words. 

Moses was very wise. He knew he had an important role to play before his death. He needed to prepare the people as they were about to enter the Promised Land. He wanted to remind them of God’s providence and promises; and he also wanted them to recall their various sins and feel penitent. He felt it was important to review many of the laws of the Torah and to highlight how vital it was for them to live according to God’s instructions in the future.

Moses knew that his intended audience was vast, with people of different intellects, interests, sensitivities. He knew that in order to communicate effectively he would need to choose his words carefully; he would need to be sure that his audience would receive his message.

How did he do this?  Here is a suggestion.

He first spoke to a small group of devoted leaders. He then empowered them to bring his words to the entire people, one group at a time. To be sure that his words didn’t get lost in this network of communication, Moses wrote his words: the book of Devarim. The written text must have been copied many times so that each communicator had the same material to present.

But Moses was far more successful than just reaching “all Israel” of his time. His words became part of the Torah which has reached “all Israel” for all generations. Indeed, his words also have reached billions of non-Jews through the Hebrew Bible.

Although we can’t hope to achieve the Divinely inspired success of Moses, we can learn much from him about how to communicate. First, we need to formulate our message carefully. Then we need to find suitable channels through which to reach our audience. In order to avoid misunderstandings, it is vital to write the text as a permanent record.

When communicators think carefully and plan intelligently, it is more likely that their words will reach their audiences. 

From Devar to Torah: Or Wittgenstein's Big Shoes

 

I

This is my second symposium on Tanakh education for Conversations, and there have been countless others, elsewhere, on related topics.1 Each time I have aimed to approach the subject from a different angle, and to examine where my thinking has changed. This time, alas, the questions posed to us about the challenges to Tanakh education impel me to be frank about our difficulties. My solace is that the situation is far different in Israel, and for the better. 

To start with three glaring deficiencies in our education. One is that frum (religious) discussion of Tanakh, whether you call it devar Torah or sermon, is detached from peshat (the plain meaning of the text)both peshat in the biblical text and careful reading of the classical rabbinic sources. It is often an exercise in homiletical whimsy, as evanescent as Jonah’s gourd, conceived for the moment, and almost immediately forgettable, a “treadmill to intellectual oblivion.” In my previous life as an editor, I would get material from rabbis and laypeople, who had been encouraged to consider their devar (sic!) print-worthy, and it was awkward trying to explain the difference between the fruits of their lucubration and the real thing. For the most part these productions are harmless, but cumulatively they deliver the message that anything goes, and they reinforce the feeling, more generally propagated by the internet, that discussing Tanakh and other theologically significant matters, does not require much of an attention span. 

Partly as a reaction to this perceived arbitrariness, partly out of curiosity and a desire to be “modern,” superior, academic, and up-to-date, there is an opposite tendency: to treat Tanakh earnestly as a basket of “problems.” One gravitates toward tidbits of comparative Semitics or Ancient Near Eastern discoveries, or technical phenomena like Qeri/Ketiv. More ambitiously, one concentrates on some of the challenges posed by biblical criticism (with special attention to those that can be talked about while standing on one foot), picks up rumors of scholarship in the media, attends lectures. Here, of course, especially with Higher and Lower Criticism, there is a danger of heresy or pseudo-heresy.  However, even when no theological lines are crossed, such an attitude leads to trivialization of the word of God. The academic or controversial talking points take priority over the encounter with Torat HaShem 

This is liable to happen precisely because the more “devout” alternatives, in their own way, are also pleased to sidestep serious reading of the text in favor of the glib devar. Also because the prevalent mode of interpretation in our synagogues and schools tends to be univocal—what is commonly called the “takeaway” is supposed to be clear, unambiguous, all neatly wrapped up and tied with a bow. The study of great literature, history, and the like might force us to recognize that often, for the crucial questions in human life, there are no simple bottom-line solutions, and if our liberal arts studies were alive and healthy, they would contribute depth to our study of Torah as well.2 But that is a different subject; as we are, one shallowness calls out to the other. Sadly, when speaking with individuals fully in the grip of “modernism,” it is impossible even to explain to them what they are missing. 

Last and most urgent is the problem of sheer ignorance. Tanakh is not much taught, what is taught is rarely retained, and 12 or more years of putatively intensive Jewish education are apparently insufficient to give young people adequate resources to allow serious study of Tanakh and its commentators (or even Talmud for that matter) in the original. I leave it for others to judge whether this is a consequence of neglect or incompetence on the part of elementary school and high school teachers, or fear that pursuing mastery with young students will damage fragile egos, or other factors. In my work, I witness the panic provoked in seemingly healthy young people by the challenge of Hebrew. Among the not-so-Modern Orthodox I have met baalei keria (readers of the Torah in synagogue services) unsettled by what they perceive to be arcane and intimidating explanations of the fact that, in the Torah, initial letters of a word sometimes have the dagesh kal and sometimes do not. 

You may argue, correctly, that my laments concern only the poorly educated “masses,” not the elite. Indeed, our most intelligent and diligent students and thinkers are in no way inferior to the best of yesterday and it is the best that we should be nurturing. What this argument leaves out is that, in an egalitarian environment, the weakest dictate the tone and standard for the rest. Invincible mediocrity among adults, reinforced in the schooling of the young, “trickles up” and demoralizes the best. You may also observe, regarding the first two of my complaints, that I, having taught Tanakh and Jewish thought for so many decades to so many of the rabbis and teachers out in the field, did not successfully communicate better alternatives, and cannot disclaim responsibility for our collective failure. 

 

II 

 

Last week my class in the Book of Exodus confronted Seforno’s overview of the book. Seforno quotes Ezekiel 20, where the prophet states that the Israelites in Egypt were rife with idolatry and that God took them out of Egypt only to prevent desecrating God’s Name. Hazal already noted that this damning information was suppressed for 850 years, from the time of the Torah to the time of Ezekiel. The implication would be that a peshat reading of Exodus would not incorporate the information we get from Ezekiel and that is reiterated in Midrashim. Seforno, however, relied on the content of Ezekiel’s prophecy in interpreting the Torah. Studying Seforno compels us to take up a variety of significant questions: Is he right to perceive hints to Israelite corruption in ExodusIs their sin mitigated by partial repentance? Why does Rambam, referring to the idolatry in Egypt mentioned in Ezekiel, claim that God rescued the people due to the oath God swore to Abraham? Are the ups and downs in Israel’s response to Moses linked to the history of betrayal? How is the record of idolatry in Ezekiel similar or different from Joshua 24, where we are reminded that Terah was an idolater? Why are these matters raised in Ezekiel and in Joshua? 

If we aim to enhance our study of Tanakh and the commentators, it is essential to read them with care and it is equally crucial to bring to them our own questions. It may be useful, sometimes very useful, to consult academic scholarship on the Jewish exegetes, their cultural background, generalizations about their methods, the history of their printed texts, but the considerations emerging from the previous paragraph are not conditional on out of the way secondary resources. The first and last requirement is reading and thinking alertly. 

In the case just examined I did not propose solutions. Study first, make speeches later. Asking the right questions is the first step in the quest for answers. Those of us who teach are expected, at least occasionally, to make original points, preferably true. But the quest for truth and wisdom begins with questions persistently pursued. I would not exchange such reflection for a devar, or for a veritable wilderness of devar’s. 

 

III 

 

Sometimes the spur to analysis is not our spontaneous reflection or our study of the traditional resources. What about academic publications and specifically what about books and articles that are dismissive of Orthodox doctrine and indifferent to our God-fearing orientation? The simple answer is that it depends on whether the questions they raise and pursue are worthy of our attention or not. It may be more useful to look at an example than to speak in the abstract. 

When I received the invitation to contribute to this discussion, I was in the middle of reading Adi Ophir and Ishay Rosen-Zvi's Goy: Israel’s Multiple Others and the Birth of the Gentile. This book is mainly about post-biblical Judaism, rabbinic and non-rabbinic literature of the talmudic period, but it contains interesting analysis of Tanakh as well. The thesis of the book is that the idea of “goy,” the non-differentiated ontological “other” of the Jew, is a relatively late invention. Biblical literature spoke of specific nations, Moabites and Egyptians, for example, and defined Gentiles in terms of their practices, such as idolatry, but did not assign them to one all-inclusive, metaphysical category of Gentile. This general thesis should be of interest to anyone concerned with the subject of Jewish identity as it developed and as it is articulated in our sources.  

Here let me focus on an aspect of the book relevant to Tanakh. Many eschatological texts concern the Gentile nations. Some describe war or potential war involving the nations or specified nations against God and/or Israel (Joel 3–4; Ezekiel 38–39; Zechariah 12 and 14). The same prophets envision the nations serving God and worshipping in God’s Temple (e.g., Zechariah 8 and 14; Zephaniah 3; Isaiah 56 and 66, inter alia). Some assign a positive future status to converts (Isaiah 56; Ezekiel 47).  Most of these sources turn up in the Ophir-Rosen-Zvi volume. In theory one could notice the same phenomena simply by studying the primary texts and the traditional commentaries. In practice, reading the book contributed to my thinking, and invited further reflection. 

Here comes the caveat. The atmosphere and content of the presentation is academic, not religiousNo surprise that the books of the Torah are dated and analyzed in conformity with preferred versions of biblical criticism. No surprise that, when prophetic accounts of the ideal future are contrasted with the books of Ezra and Nehemiah which condemn intermarriage with Gentiles, the obligatory buzzwords of modernity, words like “xenophobic,” and “separationist” are used to condemn halakhic Judaism. Quite apart from specific issues of theological truth, it is taken for granted that the Torah, both Written and Oral, should be treated not with reverence, but as a specimen of intellectual history that is judged from the superior perspective of secular scholarship. 

How should this affect the Orthodox reader? If you open the Tanakh or listen to discourses linked to Tanakh in search of inspiration or comfort food for the brain, no benefit accrued from studying such works can outweigh the discomfort it engenders and the potential corrosion of faithfulness. Even the serious student cannot dismiss reflexively the threat of intellectual and religious corruption in this field, as is the case in so many other areas of confrontation with contemporary secular culture. How to prepare and fortify oneself? 

One prerequisite is knowledge. That includes, first and foremost, knowing one’s way around Tanakh and being fully at home with the long history of Jewish interpretation. For those who think they will benefit from the academic literature, it means acquiring fluency in the substance and language of non-Jewish interpretation and academic scholarship, being able to readily “translate” their premises, arguments, insights, and aims into our own way of speaking and thinking, somewhat as students of foreign languages and cultures learn to think like the natives and to understand intuitively a cultural frame of reference alien to theirs. This is easier said than done, especially when the learner, by definition, begins without the needed background. 

The Orthodox student must be a person of robust faith. Academic study is only one area where this is necessary. By faith, in this context, I mean not only subscribing to all the correct beliefs and rejecting the heretical ones. Being faithful means being steadfast in one’s commitment. This is hard to achieve under the pressure of increasingly “other-directed,” conformist, socialization, in our “secular” lives and within the shelter of our Orthodox enclaves. Too many of our would-be intellectuals and pseudo-intellectuals vacillate between confidence and doubt, driven by the desire to fit in and unduly influenced by whom we have spoken to last. Faith is not only a virtue of the mind; it demands more than intelligence and “inner directedness.” Faith is a virtue of character, and rests upon spiritual and ethical stability. Faith is about who we are, not only about what we know and believe. 

When Wittgenstein remarked that you need big shoes to cross a bridge with cracks in it, he was not prescribing for specific scholarly pursuits but describing what it takes to be a thinking individual, a “philosopher.” And the thrust of his remark was that understanding is not typically promoted through exhibitions of scintillating intellectual cleverness but often requires a “big shoe” solidity, which he is not afraid to call “obtuseness.” Professional proficiency in a complex field requires apprenticeship with appropriate exemplars of excellence, despite the theoretical possibility that you can pick up a modicum of reading competence, information, and reasoning skills in the solitude of the library. That is even more so in acquiring and sustaining the fundamental orientation needed to become a serious religious individual. You cannot grow as a faithful individual, in the sense used here, without the personal example of faithful personalities. As the Mishna (Avot chapter 1) puts it, you must make yourself a teacher and acquire a friend. We need before our eyes living examples of solid, persistent, unshakeable yet thoughtful commitment to God and to God’s Torah. 

 

IV 

 

Which contemporary writers are especially worthy of commendation? It goes without saying that if you are working on a specific text or a set of questions, the most useful books and articles are those that address the problems at hand, and the researcher or thinker who will benefit you most in each case may not be of value at other times. The works I mention here have general value. In keeping with my previous remarks, these are works that exemplify a proper balance among exegetical, theological, literary, and historical dimensions of study. In other words, they provide good role models and not just useful information. 

 

  1. After all these years, Nechama Leibovitz’s Gilyonot remain an excellent invitation to the careful reading of exegesis, mostly but not wholly the traditional commentators. At times, the sources tackled, and the kind of solutions implicitly favored reflect the parameters of her personal agenda. All the same, she is the teacher of all of us. 
  2. The Daat Mikra series of commentaries published by Mosad haRav Kook was intended to supply a biblical commentary faithful to tradition, yet up to date with modern scholarship, history, geography, and so forth. Some of the volumes are already showing their age, and the format is one that sometimes tends to be overly conservative, and at other times overly inclusive of religiously liberal positions. It is successful as a commentary more than as an intensive analysis of specific issues. Nonetheless, it does the work it was intended to do. 
  3. On the Torah, I like the Torat Etzion series. One advantage is that it represents many writers, for the most part familiar with the kind of questions and solutions prevalent among the Bible critics, and aware of the approaches to these questions adopted by contemporary Orthodox interpreters. Despite the shared backgrounds and interests of many contributors, individual writers speak for themselves, which makes for a degree of diversity in their presentations. 
  4. If I were to mention one name in contemporary Orthodox Bible scholarship, it would be the prolific Yonatan Grossman. His many books and articles comment on a variety of biblical texts, most notably his multiple volumes on the Book of Genesis. These stand out for their attempt at comprehensiveness and no less for the balance between his use of traditional exegesis and approaches, on the one hand, and the full panoply of modern scholarship on the other hand. 

 

In mentioning these endeavors, I do not intend to dismiss the work of many other Orthodox writers, nor to exclude engagement, by those able to do so, with scholarship from outside our community of faith and commitment. Some years ago, I set aside one morning a week for private learning with one of my students. During these sessions we had before us a book by a well-known contemporary Orthodox scholar-thinker. One day my havruta asked me why I kept consulting this volume when invariably I disagreed with his analysis. The reason was that I cared about the questions he asked and the sources he brought to bear. He stimulated our thinking in ways that I appreciated. Much of the task incumbent on us is accumulating knowledge and information and keeping it in working order. The great challenge and joy, however, is to seek wisdom beyond information, and for that we must learn how to think and to find teachers and partners in our quest. 

 

 

From Generation to Generation: Thoughts for Parashat Ha'azinu

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Ha’azinu

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

“Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations…” (Devarim 32:7)

 

Jewish tradition is passed on from one generation to the next. The mystery of Jewish survival is really no mystery: it is the result of incredible faith and commitment on the part of parents and grandparents; it is the result of the younger generations taking hold of the tradition with full hearts and minds.

The following text is drawn from my article on the teachings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. It sheds light on the ideas and ideals that have characterized our people for thousands of years.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

From Mesorah to Morasha: Reflections on Evolving Trends in Modern Orthodox Tanakh Education

My Tanakh education began at my parents’ Shabbat table. We began our conversations at each meal as many families do, with everyone sharing their thoughts and their news, and each of us vying for my mother z”l’s attention. And then inevitably every week, my father, who is an electrical engineer by trade but a talmid hakham by passion, transformed our dining room into a Beit Midrash by asking, “What do you know about the parasha?” We would share our divrei Torah, and my father would ask us questions about what we had said, sending us to look for answers –most often in the Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel, 1809–1879) –when we were stuck. As four of my father’s seven children went on to have careers in Jewish education, his excitement for learning was clearly contagious. My father’s method has guided me throughout my career. As Proverbs 22:6 teaches, Hanokh l’naar al pi darko—when every student is educated according to their personal way, gam ki yazkin, lo yasur mimena—they will remain on that path when they grow older. If we want our students to be lifelong learners and to see Tanakh as being relevant to their lives, we must make it personal to them. Students thrive in environments where their ideas form the basis for their further learning, and where they know that not only are their questions answered, but their voices and opinions are valued.

When I was a student in high school, I took an excellent course called Hazara al Neviim Rishonim (review of the “Early Prophets”). While I appreciated the opportunity to review books I had not learned since elementary school—and indeed, this informed my later decision as a Tanakh department chair to make sure this review happened as part of the larger curriculum—there was one aspect to my teacher’s approach with which I fundamentally disagreed. The first time I remember hearing it, we were studying the story of David’s affair with the then-married Batsheva, and our teacher told us that, although the textual narrative of the story portrays David’s actions as sinful, we must view his behavior “through the eyeglasses of Tanakh.” She explained that when a person wears sunglasses, everything appears dark. It is only once tinted layers are removed that we can see the “truth” of the story. She exhorted us to remove our “sunglasses,'' to look beyond the plain sense of the verses that colored David in a negative light, and to view him as a perfect righteous individual, one whose actions never deviated from strictly observing the laws of God, thereby making him the king against whom all future kings are measured in terms of their service of God. She cited the opinion of R’ Yonatan in Shabbat 56a: Kol ha-omeir David hata aino ela toeh—Anyone who says that David sinned is mistaken. My teacher’s intention was surely to have her students maintain a level of awe for biblical figures, and to give us an ideal of unswerving devotion to HaShem. But by not presenting us with parshanut on both sides of the discussion—perhaps including Abravanel's opinion that David in this moment truly had sinned—she missed achieving an equally important educational objective. Bava Batra 17b teaches that there were only four people who died without sin, and while David's father and one of David’s sons are listed there, David himself is not. The narratives in Tanakh depict characters whose relationships with God range from true believer to heretical. What we have to understand is that, ultimately, they are all people, and their stories are told so that we may learn from them, in their failures as much as in their successes.

My teacher’s approach to the text is perhaps understandable when we consider that she was a graduate of the Bais Yaakov school system, and she subscribed to a dogma that Jewish education facilitates our ability to remain in insular communities that have limited contact or interaction with the world at large. The irony of this position is that Sara Schenirer, who founded the original Bais Yaakov schools in Europe to avoid secularization of Jewish girls who only received a public school education, was influenced by the teachings of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch,[1] whose philosophy was that of Torah im Derekh Eretz, which emphasizes the importance of secular knowledge for those who study Torah

This philosophy drives Modern Orthodox education. When the Maimonides School was established in Boston, Shulamith Soloveitchik Meiselman wrote that its aim was to ensure that religious education and connection to Judaism would not end with a child’s bar/bat mitzvah, and “that the spiritual content of Jewish education should be so emphasized that it would become an integral part of the individual and would remain with him permanently.” In determining curriculum, she writes that “[s]killed educators have fashioned [it] in such a way that no subject, Hebrew or English, is neglected or curtailed.”[2] By housing both the Judaic and secular components of the child’s education in the same building and giving them shared importance, the Day School encourages the child to view both as being part of one’s life rather than seeing them as mutually exclusive pursuits. 

But ultimately, the Judaics component is the raison d’etre for the Day School, and its role in the child’s continued Jewish identity and practice is paramount. Dr. Jack Wertheimer writes that the objective of Jewish education after World War II was to foster religious connection rather than just an ethnic awareness and connection. He explains that the primary role of Day Schools that were established in the twentieth century was to foster a Jewish identity in students that would withstand the influences of the outside world. While early Conservative Day Schools were staffed by educators who had advanced degrees in education or Judaic studies, the staff of early Orthodox and Modern Orthodox schools was comprised of teachers who came from Europe and were not formally trained in pedagogy. However, despite growing demand for Day School educators, by the 1970s, many factors—including low Day School salaries and Jewish educators being perceived as having a lower social status—made it difficult to recruit qualified teachers. Rather than looking to fill open positions with graduates of the institutions of higher Jewish education that existed, Day School teachers came from rabbinic, religious, and Israeli programs, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of hiring unlicensed educators because it was not deemed necessary for Day School teachers to have educator training.[3] In fact, in 1997, the Council for Initiatives in Jewish Education (CIJE) found that a very low number –just 19 percent—of teachers in Jewish schools had training in both education and Judaics, and they concluded that “building Jewish education as a profession is critical for improving teaching and learning in Jewish education.”[4] 

As such, it is not surprising that, while textual skills were taught and the level of parshanut might be challenging, some Jewish educators focused more on affective objectives than on creating rigorous academic curriculum, and their courses were often perceived by students as being less structured and demanding than their secular counterparts. To be fair, in many cases this was by design, as teachers who could have required a higher level of academic coursework chose not to. They may have felt compassion for students who were already burdened with work from their general studies classes or that adding to their students’ already long and taxing school day would be detrimental to their individual relationships with those students. They may also have felt that students might have a negative association with religion if their learning were tied to grades. 

Modern Orthodox schools have shifted from this mindset. As a profession, teaching has become more regulated, requirements for licensure have become stricter and more demanding, and opportunities for promotion have become increasingly dependent on advanced degrees and development.[5] In the same vein, administrators of Modern Orthodox schools have begun demanding more formal educational training and continuing professional development from their teachers. This shift leads to a more academic focus and bent toward Judaic studies that had not been there previously, and with that, as predicted by the CIJE study, come increased expectations that students will engage more actively and critically with texts. At a recent school Shabbaton, several of my colleagues and I sat on a panel and answered student questions. When asked how our personal teaching methods have shifted over time, a fellow teacher remarked that the idea of having students sit in havrutot and independently work through Tanakh texts and parshanut was a relatively new phenomenon at the start of her career, and now havruta learning is an integral part of her classroom. With the overall trend in education leaning toward student-based independent learning, where dyad and group learning in the classroom has become the norm and there is progressively less frontal teaching in more of their classes, students in Tanakh classrooms are better able to hone their learning skills while engaging with the text, since they have developed a comfort level with this methodology.

Furthermore, increased expectations in their courses throughout their school day allows for the assumption of high standards in their Judaics classes as well. This creates a unique challenge for Tanakh teachers, who view themselves as gatekeepers for inspiration and connection to the text as well as facilitators for learning it. Dr. Wendy Paterson, Dean of SUNY Buffalo State University’s School of Education, summarizes the qualities of an effective teacher as “knowledge of subject matter, knowledge of teaching methods, and practical experience in applying both.”[6] Creating the proper balance of heimish and academic takes time and is not always easy. These changes can be especially daunting for veteran teachers, who began their careers before these new expectations were placed on them. I have seen some teachers who have been lauded as exceptional educators in the past struggle to update and modernize their pedagogy to accommodate these standards.

Evolving learning methods have also led to much less rote memorization in Tanakh learning. As a student, I remember being expected to write and recite verses word-for-word on tests, and there are rabbinic passages that I still recall from weekly quizzes. When I began teaching, my high school students were expected to memorize each opening line of the Rashis we learned, and they were never allowed to use their Tanakhs on their tests. But at the turn of the century, educational research indicated that more meaningful learning occurs when students can use what they have learned and either apply it to new situations or connect it to other aspects of their lives. Rather than just remembering what they have learned, students should be encouraged to evaluate, analyze, and make inferences based on their learning.[7] Especially now that we live in a time when students can get any information through a quick internet search on their phones and other personal devices, it does not make sense to force copious memorization of material. Instead, using their Tanakhs as tools for further learning will be more impactful in the long run. Although they cannot take full notes in their Tanakhs and source books, my students are now encouraged to mark up the commentaries we learn in class, to underline, highlight, and annotate these sources, and to use them during their assessments. This allows for questions that require analysis and critical thinking, where students compare and contrast information, and use what they have learned to draw their own conclusions. As educational psychologist Richard E. Mayer writes, “retention focuses on the past; transfer focuses on the future.”[8] We are dealing with ancient texts, but we must not relegate them to the past by simply forcing retention of words. Rather, we must transfer their ideas and messages so they are integral to our lives and our future. And ironically, the more relevance we find in the words of the texts, the more likely we are to remember and quote them verbatim.

Creating this personalization is the challenge of Modern Orthodox educators today. In 2019, there were 158 schools in the United States that identified as either Modern or Centrist Orthodox, comprising approximately 17 percent of all students who attended Jewish Day Schools from every denomination. Of that number, 11,699 were high school students.[9] In order to reach these young members of the community, teachers must help them see the relevance in their learning. While the wisdom of the classical commentators on the text is irreplaceable, when combined with works by modern Torah scholars, students are more likely to find perspectives and voices that resonate with them reflected in the sources they are learning in class. Books such as Yigal Ariel’s series on the Early Prophets and Tamar Weissman’s Tribal Lands, about the tribes and their land inheritance, provide analysis of events and character studies on personalities in Tanakh. The young women in my classroom especially appreciate learning from female scholars. Although some may prefer the shiur format of Nehama Leibowitz’s books while others lean towards Avivah Zornberg’s literary style, they have role models who demonstrate Torah learning at the highest level. 

Students’ lived experience is also of utmost importance when determining how we present our curriculum. Because Torah u’madda is a major tenet of Modern Orthodoxy, it is the role of its schools to model this lifestyle and to educate their students according to this belief. It is imperative that the Torah they learn not only acknowledges, but also incorporates their secular learning, allowing the knowledge they gain from their general studies classes to enhance and elevate their Judaic studies. In his commentary on Genesis 1:1, Rashi quotes Rabbi Yitzhak’s question of why the Torah begins with the story of creation rather than the first mitzvah given to the entire Jewish people. In explaining this question, Ramban asserts that, although belief that God created the world is the basis of our faith, the details of creation can only be understood by trained mystics. Therefore, he says, the statement in the Ten Commandments that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh would be sufficient for us to have this knowledge and to sustain our faith. While this may have been true in the heavily religious Christian world of the Ramban, it is impossible in our world where everything is challenged and must be proven. Our society is not content with “because I said so” information, and if Torah scholars are unable to address questions that students have on the text, those students may abandon the beliefs with which they are raised. Learning the events of creation as they connect to scientific theory, using classic parshanut, contemporary parshanut, the teachings of modern scientists such as Nathan Aviezer, the writings of scholars like Natan Slifkin, and secular scientific journals is essential to helping our students maintain faith, especially on college campuses where they are sometimes directly challenged. If we refuse to acknowledge evidence and data so that we can live in a comfortable bubble of denial, our children will have that bubble burst for them as soon as they encounter their first person with a pin.

I will never forget the first time I was challenged by someone who was well-versed in biblical criticism. I had never heard any of his assertions, and I was wholly unprepared to respond. We cannot let that happen to our students, many of whom will attend institutions where such criticism is accepted as fact. Since the best defense is a strong offense, students should encounter questions on, and contradictions in, the verses while they are still in our classrooms. They should debate and research answers, and ultimately be guided to sources that will help them find resolutions. As Rashi explains on the word v’shinantam in Devarim 6:7, the words of Torah should be sharp in our mouths, so that if someone asks us a question, we can answer immediately without stumbling. In addition to a unit on creation and science, my senior Humash class learns Snell’s law of refraction when understanding the sign of the rainbow that was given to Noah, and with that they learn Ramban on 9:12, who writes that we must integrate the science of the phenomenon with our understanding of why God chooses it to be the sign of his berit in the postdiluvian world. We use the teachings of Rabbi Hayyim Angel to contrast Akkadian worship, as represented by Migdal Bavel, with Yaakov’s ultimate statement in Genesis 28:17 that he is at the gateway to the heavens. When exploring the Covenant between the Parts in Genesis 15, they find writings in Daniel and in the Zohar that appear to foreshadow current events. Rather than being told to look at the stories of our progenitors with the eyeglasses of Tanakh, they look at parshanut on both sides of an event. In addition to those sources that describe the goodness of these people, we also look at parshanut that says that the person has sinned. We delve into Rav Hirsch’s description of Avraham’s emotional journey to Mt. Moriah in which he cannot bear to be alone with, or even talk to, Yitzhak; Rav Ezra Bick on Yitzhak’s trauma during the akedah; Rashbam who does not whitewash Reuven’s actions with Bilhah; debates regarding the behavior of Yosef and his brothers, and so much more.

There is an intellectual honesty that has to be present for true learning to take place and for love of Torah to grow. An administrator came into my class one day and watched the debate that my students were having regarding the position of a source we were learning. She later wrote to me, “What an amazing group of enthusiastic bright women studying together.” Providing opportunities for intellectual discussion and respectful give-and-take in Day Schools creates confidence in the authenticity of the text when these young adults have graduated and left our enclave. They know that there are tools and teachers to use as resources for the questions they encounter to which they do not have answers, and they also know that they can live with having questions. 

I have reaped incredible, unexpected benefits by allowing this interchange of ideas with students in the classroom. Over the past few years, when current and former students have reached out to arrange havrutot with me, rather than the more traditional texts that have been requested in the past, one student has asked to learn about tefillah, while others have asked for Kohelet, Daniel, Ezekiel, and Job. The young woman with whom I learn about tefillah wanted to make it more personal and meaningful. The books of Tanakh that were requested are some of the most intense and difficult, both technically and thematically. And that is why it was important for me to agree to those requests—girding myself with Daat Mikra. What I gain from learning with all of my students, those still in my classroom and those who have taken their place in the world, is incalculable. Their questions constantly challenge me to evaluate what I know, and to seek answers in new sources when they are not satisfied with those I had initially presented. In Shabbat 7a, Rabbi Nahman bar Yitzhak explains that the Torah is compared to a tree, because just like smaller branches light bigger ones, student scholars sharpen their teachers. The Gemara then quotes Rabbi Hanina who says that he learned a lot from his teachers and even more from his colleagues, but mitalmidai yoteir mi’kulam—I have learned the most from my students. 

One of the earliest verses that we learn as children and then teach as parents and educators is Deuteronomy 33:4, which tells us: Torah tzivah lanu Moshe, morasha kehillat Yaakov. My friend and former colleague, Dr. Jeremy Kahan, presented a beautiful perspective on the message presented to us here. While the first half of the verse describes the authority of Torah and its transmission through mesorah, the second half tells us that it is the inheritance of future generations, and as such, proprietorship is equally theirs, and we have to relinquish it to them. As Rambam writes in his Hilkhot Talmud Torah (3:1), Torah belongs to everyone, and anyone who wants to may come and take it. When this happens, we should welcome the perspectives our students bring, and respect them enough to engage in discussion about their thoughts. 

Contemporary Tanakh education requires its teachers to be open to, and aware of, shifts in the learning landscape. It demands flexibility and focus, and it is imperative that we do not become complacent. Because when we are successful, we are fortunate to facilitate our students' investment in our people’s legacy and future by allowing them to take ownership of Torah. When they see its role in their lives, it becomes Torat hayyim, a living text that invites continued discussion and interpretation. And ultimately, we can hope that they will then invite their children into the Torah conversations happening at their own Shabbat tables.
 


[2] Eleff, Zev. Modern Orthodox Judaism: A Documentary History, University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln, 2016, pp. 197–198.

[3] Wertheimer, Jack. “Jewish Education in the United States: Recent Trends and Issues.” The American Jewish Year Book, vol. 99, 1999, pp. 8–9, 17, 19–20, 24–26. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23605995.

[4] Gamoran, Adam, et al. “Background and Training of Teachers in Jewish Schools: Current Status and Levers for Change.” Religious Education, vol. 92, no. 4, 1997, p. 534 and 549.

[5] Paterson, Wendy A. “From 1871 to 2021: A Short History of Education in the United States.” SUNY Buffalo State College, 8 Dec. 2021, https://suny.buffalostate.edu/news/1871-2021-short-history-education-united-states.

[6] Paterson, ibid.

[7] Mayer, Richard E. “Rote Versus Meaningful Learning.” Theory Into Practice, vol. 41, no. 4, 2002.

[8] Mayer, ibid.

[9] Besser, Mordechai. “A Census of Jewish Day Schools in the United States 2018–2019.” AVI CHAI Census, Aug. 2020, pp. 14–15., https://avichai.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/AVI-CHAI-Census-2018-2019-v3.pdf.

American Jews and the American Dream

(On September 12, 2004, a special service was held at Congregation Shearith Israel in New York (founded in 1654)  to mark the Congregation's 350th anniversary. Since Shearith Israel is the first Jewish Congregation in North America, this occasion also marked the 350th anniversary of American Jewry. Rabbi Marc D. Angel delivered a sermon at the 350th anniversary service, reflecting on American Jewish history through the prism of the experience of Congregation Shearith Israel. This is an abridged version of that sermon.)

 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” These words from the American Declaration of Independence reflect the deepest ideals and aspirations of the American people. America is not merely a country, vast and powerful; America is an idea, a vision of life as it could be.

When these words were first proclaimed on July 4, 1776, Congregation Shearith Israel was almost 122 years old. It was a venerable community, with an impressive history--a bastion of Jewish faith and tradition,and an integral part of the American experience.

When the British invaded New York in 1776, a large group of congregants, including our Hazan Rev. Gershom Mendes Seixas,left the city rather than live under British rule. Many joined the Revolutionary army and fought for American independence. Our story in America is not built on historical abstractions, but on generations of Jews who have played their roles in the unfolding of this nation. It is a very personal history, ingrained in our collective memory.

On this 350th anniversary of the American Jewish community,we reflect on the courage and heroic efforts of our forebears who have maintained Judaism as a vibrant and living force in our lives. We express gratitude to America for having given us—and all citizens—the freedom to practice our faith. This very freedom has energized and strengthened America.

Within Congregation Shearith Israel, we have been blessed with men and women who have helped articulate Jewish ideals and American ideals. Their voices have blended in with the voices of fellow Americans of various religions and races,to help shape the dream and reality of America.

The American Declaration of Independence pronounced that all men are created equal. In his famous letter to the Jewish community of Newport, in August 1790, President George Washington hailed the United States for allowing its citizens freedom—not as a favor bestowed by one group on another—but in recognition of the inherent natural rights of all human beings. This country, wrote President Washington, “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”

And yet, if equality and human dignity are at the core of American ideals, the fulfillment of these ideals have required—and still require—sacrifice and devotion. Reality has not always kept up with the ideals. In 1855, Shearith Israel member Uriah Phillips Levy—who rose to the rank of Commodore in the U.S. Navy—was dropped from the Navy’s active duty list. He was convinced that anti-Semitism was at the root of this demotion. He appealed the ruling and demanded justice.He asked: are people “now to learn to their sorrow and dismay that we too have sunk into the mire of religious intolerance and bigotry?... What is my case today, if you yield to this injustice, may tomorrow be that of the Roman Catholic or the Unitarian, the Presbyterian or the Methodist, the Episcopalian or the Baptist. There is but one safeguard: that is to be found in an honest,whole-hearted, inflexible support of the wise, the just, the impartial guarantee of the Constitution.” Levy won his case. He helped the United States remain true to its principles.

Shearith Israel member Moses Judah (1735-1822) believed that all men were created equal—including black men. In 1799, he was elected to the New York Society for Promoting the Manumission of Slaves. During his tenure on the standing committee between 1806 and 1809, about fifty slaves were freed.Through his efforts, many other slaves achieved freedom. He exerted himself to fight injustice, to expand the American ideals of freedom and equality regardless of race or religion.

Another of our members, Maud Nathan, believed that all men were created equal—but so were all women created equal. She was a fiery, internationally renowned suffragette, who worked tirelessly to advance a vision of America that indeed recognized the equality of all its citizens—men and women. As President of the Consumers’ League of New York from 1897-1917, Maud Nathan was a pioneer in social activism, working for the improvement of working conditions of employees in New York’s department stores. Equality and human dignity were the rights of all Americans,rich and poor, men and women.

The Declaration of Independence proclaimed that human beings have unalienable rights, among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.These words express the hope and optimism of America. They are a repudiation of the tyranny and oppression that prevailed—and still prevail—in so many lands. America is a land of opportunity, where people can live in freedom. The pursuit of happiness really signifies the pursuit of self-fulfillment, of a meaningful way of life. America’s challenge was—and still is—to create a harmonious society that allows us to fulfill our potentials.

President George Washington declared a day of national Thanksgiving for November 26, 1789. Shearith Israel held a service, at which Hazan Gershom Mendes Seixas called on this congregation “to unite, with cheerfulness and uprightness…to promote that which has a tendency to the public good.” Hazzan Seixas believed that Jews, in being faithful to Jewish tradition, would be constructive and active participants in American society.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness were not reserved only for those born in America; they are the rights of all human beings everywhere. This notion underlies the idealism of the American dream, calling for a sense of responsibility for all suffering people, whether at home or abroad. American Jews have been particularly sensitive and responsive to this ideal.

On March 8,1847, Hazan Jacques Judah Lyons addressed a gathering at Shearith Israel for the purpose of raising funds for Irish famine relief. The potato crop in Ireland had failed in 1846, resulting in widespread famine. Hazan Lyons well realized that the Jewish community needed charitable dollars for its own internal needs; and yet he insisted that Jews reach out and help the people of Ireland. He said that there was one indestructible and all-powerful link between us and the Irish sufferers: “That link, my brethren,is HUMANITY! Its appeal to the heart surmounts every obstacle. Clime, color, sect are barriers which impede not its progress thither.” In assisting with Irish famine relief, the Jewish community reflected its commitment to the well-being of all suffering human beings.American Jewry grew into—and has continued to be—a great philanthropic community perhaps unmatched in history. Never have so few given so much to so many. In this, we have been true to our Jewish tradition, and true to the spirit of America.

Who articulated the hope and promise of America more eloquently than Emma Lazarus? “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” How appropriate it is that her poem is affixed to the great symbol of American freedom, the Statue of Liberty.

Alice Menken, (for many years President of our Sisterhood) did remarkable work to help immigrants, to assist young women who ran into trouble with the law, to promote reform of the American prison system. She wrote: “We must seek a balanced philosophy of life. We must live to make the world worth living in, with new ideals, less suffering, and more joy.”

Americans see ourselves as one nation, indivisible, under God, with liberty and justice for all. Yet, liberty and justice are not automatically attained. They have required—and still require—wisdom, vigilance, and active participation. America prides itself on being a nation of laws, with no one above the law. The American legal tradition has been enriched by the insights and the work of many American Jews.

In one of his essays, Justice Benjamin Nathan Cardozo—a devoted member of Shearith Israel--referred to a Talmudic passage which has been incorporated into our prayer book. It asks that the Almighty let His mercy prevail over strict justice. Justice Cardozo reminded us that the American system relies not only on justice—but on mercy. Mercy entails not merely an understanding of laws, but an understanding of the human predicament, of human nature, of the circumstances prevailing inhuman society. Another of our members,Federal Judge William Herlands, echoed this sentiment when he stated that Justice without Mercy—is just ice!

Our late rabbis Henry Pereira Mendes, David de Sola Pool and Louis C.Gerstein, were singularly devoted to social welfare, to religious education, to the land of Israel. They distinguished themselves for their devotion to Zionism, and played their parts in the remarkable unfolding of the State of Israel. They, along with so many American Jews, have keenly understood how much unites Israel and the United States—two beacons of democracy and idealism in a very troubled world.

During the past 350 years, the American Jewish community has accomplished much and contributed valiantly to all aspects of American life. We have cherished our participation in American life. We have been free to practice our faith and teach our Torah. We have worked with Americans of other faiths and traditions to mold a better,stronger, more idealistic nation.

America today is not just a powerful and vast country. It is also an idea, a compelling idea that has a message for all people in all lands. As American Jews, we are committed to the ideals of freedom and equality, human dignity and security, to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, the pursuit of harmony among ourselves and throughout the world. We have come far as a nation, but very much remains to be done. May God give us the strength and resolve to carry on, to work proudly as Jews to bring the American dream to many more generations of humanity.

 

Conversion to Judaism: Halakha, Hashkafa, and Historic Challenge

The Jewish community underwent cataclysmic changes during the course of the nineteenth century. While most of world Jewry was religiously observant in 1800, a large majority were no longer devoted to halakhic tradition by 1900. Nineteenth-century Orthodox rabbinic leadership had to cope with the rise of Reform Judaism, the spread of Haskala, the breakdown of communal authority over its members, the defection of Jews from Torah and mitzvoth-and from Judaism altogether.

The dramatic erosion in religious observance led to various responses among 19th century Orthodox rabbis. Rabbi Moses Sofer (1762-1839), known as the Hatam Sofer, was recognized as the most authoritative Orthodox voice who shaped traditionalist opposition to Reform Judaism and, indeed, to all those who challenged the hegemony of halakha. He believed that deviators forfeited their right to be considered as proper Jews.[1]

He wrote: "If we had the power over them, my opinion would be to separate them from us [our borders], we should not give our daughters to their sons and their daughters should not be accepted for our sons so as not to be drawn after them. Their sect should be considered like those of Zadok and Boethus, Anan, and Saul, they among themselves and we among ourselves." [2]

The Hatam Sofer argued forcefully for maintaining the sanctity of every law and tradition. He is famed for his aphorism "hadash assur min haTorah", by which he meant that the Torah forbids innovations i.e. reforms. His hashkafa (religious worldview) identified Jewishness with scrupulous observance of Torah and mitzvoth and acceptance of the halakhic way of life.

Although the Hatam Sofer's position was dominant, other Orthodox voices called for a more tolerant attitude toward those who veered away from the halakhic way of life. Rabbi David Zvi Hoffman (1843-1921), the leading figure in Berlin's Adass Jisroel Orthodox community, favored a "cooperative separatism" i.e. the Orthodox needed to maintain their distinctiveness, but also had to find ways of cooperating with the non-Orthodox. [3] In an earlier generation, Rabbi Yaacov Ettlinger (1798-1871) had sought to ameliorate the halakhic status of the non-observant Jew through the classification of "tinok shenishba"-comparing the non-observant Jew to a Jewish child who had been captured and raised by non-Jews and who therefore could not be held responsible for ignorance of Jewish laws and customs.[4] Thus, while the non-Orthodox masses certainly fell short of Jewish religious requirements, they should not be rejected out of hand; they simply did not know any better. This halakhic argument fostered a more sympathetic approach than that taken by Orthodox isolationists.

Both the hard-line and the more tolerant Orthodox rabbis were pious and learned Torah scholars. Both groups sought support for their views in the Talmud and halakhic literature. Why did they come to different conclusions? Their differences did not stem, I believe, from different interpretations of halakhic texts. Rather, their halakhic stances reflected different hashkafot (religious worldviews) and different evaluations of how to address the challenges that faced them. The Hatam Sofer viewed Torah-observant Jews as the "real" Jews, and the non-observant Jews as betrayers of Judaism who had to be de-legitimatized. For true Judaism to flourish, it was necessary for Orthodoxy to separate itself to the extent possible from the non-Orthodox. The spokesmen for a more conciliatory Orthodoxy focused on the principle that all Jews-religiously observant or not-are part of the Jewish people and need to see themselves as members of one peoplehood. Thus, ways had to be found to bridge the gaps between the Orthodox and the non-Orthodox.

As Orthodoxy continued to lose ground to the non-observant Jewish population, the rejectionist position gained traction within the mitzvah-centered community. The opinion hardened that strong measures were needed to insulate Torah-true Jews from their sinful brethren, and to distinguish between those who observed the mitzvoth and those who rebelled against Torah.

As the hard-line position gained sway regarding non-Orthodox Jews, it also had a profound impact on Orthodox views relating to the acceptance of non-Jews as converts. Since Orthodox rabbis increasingly emphasized mitzvah observance as the essence of Judaism-in order to differentiate clearly between themselves and the reformers-- they came to see the conversion process as entailing a full commitment by the convert to observe all the mitzvoth. Eventually, the position arose that any conversion that took place without the convert's total mitzvah commitment-was not a valid conversion at all.

Professors Avi Sagi and Zvi Zohar, in their study of halakhic literature relating to conversion, suggested that the first halakhic authority to equate conversion with total commitment to observe mitzvoth was Rabbi Yitzchak Schmelkes-and this was not until 1876! [5] Rabbi Schmelkes wrote: "The basic principle with regard to proselytes in our times is to ensure that they truly take upon themselves to perform the central beliefs of religion, the other commandments, and the Sabbath, which is a central principle because a Sabbath desecrator is an idolater. If he undergoes conversion but does not accept upon himself to observe the Sabbath and the commandments, as mandated by religion, he is not a proselyte." He ruled: "If he undergoes conversion and accepts upon himself the yoke of the commandments, while in his heart he does not intend to perform them-it is the heart that God wants and [therefore] he has not become a proselyte."[6]

Rabbi Isaac Sassoon's research on the topic of conversion led him to the writings of Rabbi Akiva Joseph Schlesinger (d. 1922), an influential European halakhist whose views were in some ways even more extreme than those of R. Schmelkes.[7] Rabbi Schlesinger believed a proselyte should not only accept all the mitzvoth, but should adopt the appearance of [European] Orthodox Jews. "Make sure, once the checks, searches and intimidations [of the prospective converts] are done, that they take it upon themselves to be of the number of the downtrodden Jews, recognizable by their distinctive names, speech and attire; and where applicable, by tsitsith, sidelocks and beard." [8]

The views of Rabbis Schmelkes, Schlesinger and others of like mind emerged as "mainstream" Orthodox halakha up to our own day. This is true not only in the "hareidi" Orthodox world, but also in the establishment institutions of so-called modern Orthodoxy. When I was a rabbinical student at Yeshiva University (1967-70), we learned "practical halakha" from Rabbi Melech Schachter. He articulated the position of Rabbi Schmelkes as though it were absolute, uncontested halakha. In a 1965 article, Rabbi Schachter wrote: "Needless to say, conversion to Judaism without commitment to observance has no validity whatever, and the spuriously converted person remains in the eyes of halakha a non-Jew as before." [9] When, a generation after me, my son Hayyim studied for semikha at Yeshiva University (1991-1995), his teacher of "practical rabbinics" told his students not to perform a conversion unless they were willing to bet $100,000 of their own money that the convert would be totally observant of halakha. Essentially, he was echoing the view that conversion to Judaism equals 100% commitment to observe the mitzvoth. Without such commitment by the would-be proselyte, the conversion lacks halakhic validity.

The dominance of this view has come to the general public's attention in recent rulings by Orthodox rabbinic authorities in Israel. In 2006, Rabbi Shlomo Amar-Israel's Sephardic Chief Rabbi-announced that the Israeli Chief Rabbinate would no longer accept conversions performed by Orthodox rabbis in the diaspora, unless those rabbis were on an "approved" list. Rabbi Amar made this unprecedented ruling because he-and the rabbis with whom he works-believed that diaspora rabbis were converting people who did not become religiously observant enough. In order to "raise standards" and to create "uniform standards", the Chief Rabbinate decided it would only recognize conversions performed in accordance with the strictest interpretation of kabbalat hamitzvoth (acceptance of the commandments), and only by batei din who pledged to follow the standards espoused by the Chief Rabbinate.

The Rabbinical Council of America, the largest Orthodox rabbinic group in the diaspora, fell into line with the Chief Rabbinate. It established a geirut committee to propound standards that would be found acceptable to Rabbi Amar; it essentially adopted the view that conversion equals 100% commitment to observe mitzvoth; it set up a system of regional batei din, which alone would have the power to certify conversions. Members of the RCA who do conversions outside of this framework will not have their conversions certified by the RCA.

Even more shocking than this blatant undermining of the diaspora's Orthodox rabbinate-and in many ways more horrifying-was the ruling of a beth din in Ashdod and upheld by the Rabbinic High Court in Israel. This ruling retroactively annulled the conversion of a woman who had converted fifteen years earlier in Israel under the auspices of an Orthodox beth din. The rabbinic judges found that this woman had not been religiously observant enough after her conversion. Thus, she and her children (born after her conversion) were deemed to be non-Jews. This in spite of the fact that she and her children have been living as Jews in Israel for these past many years, and that her conversion had been performed by Israeli Orthodox rabbis!

At a time when thousands of people are seeking conversion to Judaism, the Orthodox beth din establishment is raising increased obstacles to them. Unless converts are willing to promise sincerely to keep all the mitzvoth, they will be rejected as candidates for conversion. If they have already converted, they now must fear that a beth din might invalidate their conversions retroactively if they do not maintain the proper level of religious observance. The Jewish status of thousands of halakhic converts and their children are placed under a cloud, causing immense grief to the individuals involved and to the Jewish people as a whole.

In their zeal to "raise standards", current batei din have been applying ever more stringencies. Numerous potential converts have contacted me over the past several years, with painful stories of their dealings with Orthodox batei din. A 39 year old woman, converted as an adopted baby, was told that she was not Jewish because the Orthodox rabbi overseeing her conversion had served in a mixed-seating synagogue. Shocked that her Jewish identity was challenged, she nevertheless agreed to undergo another conversion so as to be able to marry her fiancé. She was then told that she would need to enroll in the conversion program and study for two years. When she reminded the rabbis that she had lived her entire life as a Jew, that she was 39 years old, that she wished to be married soon so as to be able to have children-the rabbis responded that "their hands were tied". Although they wanted to help her, they had to follow the current guidelines. They did not want to lose their credibility in the Orthodox beth din world.

Another woman, in her early forties, had been studying for 3 years for conversion, and had demonstrated remarkable commitment to halakha. Yet, the beth din kept postponing her conversion. Why? Because the dayyanim felt the man she wished to marry was not religious enough for their standards. To be sure, he was a traditionally observant Jew. But the beth din felt he wasn't "frum" enough-so they would not convert her. That she lost 3 years of her life and may well have lost the possibility of having a baby, did not seem to concern the beth din. They were "raising standards".

A young man who wished to convert was told by the beth din that he would have to move into the Orthodox neighborhood of town and pay $5000 to cover the cost of tutors. When he explained that he came from a poor family, and he could not afford the rents in the Orthodox neighborhood nor the $5000 fee, he was told that the beth din could not help him. He went to another beth din in that city, but was given the same terms. He then enrolled in a conversion program with a Conservative rabbi. The "raised standards" have turned this young man-and so many more like him-away from Orthodoxy altogether.

Thousands of people from the former Soviet Union live in Israel. Many have Jewish ancestry or Jewish spouses-yet they are halakhically not Jewish. These people and their children live in the Jewish State, speak Hebrew, serve in the military-yet the rabbinic establishment has not found a way to convert a large number of them. The rabbis insist that the converts become religiously observant, or at least pretend to become religiously observant for the sake of conversion. (In the latter instance, these converts could run into the problem of having their conversions invalidated at some later date by a beth din, as happened to the woman in Ashdod.) This problem festers in Israel and is the source of heated controversy. The Orthodox beth din establishment does not know how to cope with a situation involving so many thousands of people-especially since many of those wishing to convert do not intend to become fully observant of Torah and mitzvoth.

The current policies of the Orthodox rabbinic/beth din establishment are causing anguish to thousands of would-be converts and their families; are turning would-be converts away from Orthodoxy; are preventing an untold number of Jewish children from being born, due to drawn out conversion procedures for women in their 30s and early 40s; are de-legitimizing Orthodox rabbis and converts who do not subscribe to the "establishment" positions; are causing thousands of halakhic converts to fear that their and their children's halakhic status will be undermined. We must ask ourselves some serious questions:

1. Are these current policies relating to conversion absolutely required by halakha, or are there other valid views that must be considered?
2. Are current efforts to "raise standards" focusing on ritual mitzvoth, while actually "lowering standards" of mitzvoth relating to maintaining Jewish families, treating converts and potential converts with compassion, and other moral considerations?
3. If the current policies are halakhically and morally deficient, how should we be addressing the issue of conversion to Judaism?
Let us address these questions one by one:
1. Are these current policies relating to conversion absolutely required by halakha, or are there other valid views that must be considered? The answer is: these policies are not absolutely mandated by halakha, and in fact represent a "reform" of classic halakha. Other valid halakhic positions are not only available, but are preferable.

Talmudic Sources:

The primary sources for the laws of conversion are in the Talmud. The basic description of the conversion process is recorded in Yebamot 47a-b:
"Our rabbis taught: if at the present time a person desires to become a proselyte, he is to be addressed as follows: why do you come to be a proselyte? Do you not know that Israel at the present time is persecuted and oppressed, despised, harassed, and overcome by afflictions? If he replies, I know and yet am unworthy [but still wish to convert], he is accepted forthwith, and is given instruction in some of the minor and some of the major commandments....And as he is informed of the punishment for the transgression of the commandments, so is he informed of the reward granted for their fulfillment....He is not, however, to be persuaded or dissuaded too much. If he accepted, he is circumcised forthwith....As soon as he is healed, arrangements are made for his immediate ablution [in a mikvah]. When he comes up after his ablution, he is deemed to be an Israelite in all respects. In the case of a woman proselyte, women make her sit in the water up to her neck they two [three] learned men stand outside and give her instruction in some of the minor commandments and some of the major ones."

The candidate for conversion is first told of the dangers confronting the Jewish people in order to ascertain whether he/she is willing to be subjected to these risks as a Jew. This harks back to biblical Ruth, whose conversion declaration began with "your people will be my people," and only afterward went on with "your God will be my God."

The Talmud requires us to inform the would-be proselyte of some of the mitzvoth-not all of them. Indeed, we are not supposed to belabor the issue of mitzvoth, so as not to scare off the person who has already expressed a desire to become a member of the Jewish people. We may neither persuade nor dissuade too much. Rather, we want the person to know that our religion makes demands on us-which entail rewards and punishments. It is up to the person to decide, based on the limited information we have presented, whether or not to become Jewish.

The Talmud makes no reference to the need for the would-be proselyte to spend years studying Torah before being accepted for conversion. It makes no demand that the candidate even know what all the mitzvoth are! On the contrary, the Talmudic conversion process is fairly straightforward. Once the candidate has expressed willingness to join the Jewish people, and once he/she has been told some of the mitzvoth-he/she is accepted forthwith, without delays.

What if the candidate for conversion has ulterior motives e.g. he/she wishes to marry a Jew? In this case, the motivating factor is not purely religious (or not religious at all). Is such a conversion valid? The Talmud discusses this issue in Yebamot 24b.
"Mishnah: If a man is suspected of [intercourse]...with a heathen who subsequently became a proselyte, he must not marry her. If, however, he did marry her, they need not be separated. Gemara: This implies that she may become a proper proselyte. But against this a contradiction is raised. Both a man who became a proselyte for the sake of a woman and a woman who became a proselyte for the sake of a man...are not proper proselytes. These are the words of Rabbi Nehemiah, for Rabbi Nehemiah used to say: Neither lion-proselytes nor dream proselytes nor the proselytes of Mordecai and Esther are proper proselytes unless they become converted as at the present time...Surely concerning this it was stated that Rabbi Isaac bar Samuel bar Martha said in the name of Rab: The halakha is in accordance with the opinion of him who maintained that they are all proper proselytes."

Rabbi Nehemiah argued that conversions with ulterior motives (e.g. to marry a Jew) are not valid. Only conversions motivated by pure spiritual considerations are acceptable. However, the Talmud rejects Rabbi Nehemiah's opinion. The halakha follows Rab-conversions by those who had ulterior motives are, in fact, valid. These converts are halakhically Jewish.

Rabbi Nehemiah viewed conversion primarily as an unsullied acceptance of Judaism; thus, one whose motives were suspect would not be a suitable proselyte. Rab, though, seemed to view the conversion process as a means of bringing the non-Jew into the Jewish peoplehood. Even if the decision to become Jewish did not stem from purely religious considerations, the proselyte became a full member of the Jewish people by undergoing the conversion procedure. While this Talmudic passage is discussing a de facto situation (bedi-avad), great halakhic authorities (as we shall see later) have argued that it is appropriate to accept such converts even initially, due to the unique exigencies of the modern period.

The Talmud (Shabbat 31a) records three instances where individuals expressed the desire to convert to Judaism, and who came both to Shammai and Hillel. Since each of the three began his inquiries with improper assumptions-one accepted to follow the written Torah but not the oral Torah, one wanted to learn the entire Torah while standing on one foot, and one wanted to convert in order to become the High Priest-Shammai turned them away. Yet, Hillel accepted each of them lovingly, and through his patient and wise instruction he was able to bring them into Judaism. The Talmud relates that these three proselytes faulted Shammai's strictness, and praised the kindness and humility of Hillel for having allowed them to come "under the wings of the Divine Presence." The point of these aggadic stories is that even if candidates come with mistaken ideas and improper motives, yet they should be received kindly. By teaching them lovingly, the hope is that they will indeed come to a proper understanding of Jewish traditions and will eventually develop pure motives for conversion.

What if a convert's knowledge of Torah and mitzvoth was seriously deficient? Could such a convert be deemed to be Jewish? The Talmud (Shabbat 68a) rules that a person, who unknowingly transgresses Sabbath laws many times, is only obligated to bring one sin offering, rather than one offering for each transgression. Rab and Shemuel, the leading sages of their generation, explained that this rule refers to "a child who was captured among non-Jews and a convert who was converted among the gentiles." Since these individuals simply did not know the Shabbat laws because they had been raised or converted among non-Jews, they could not be held responsible for all their transgressions. Here we have a case of a non-Jew who became a valid proselyte-but who did not even know the laws of Shabbat! The Talmud never questions the Jewishness of such a proselyte, nor even faintly suggests that the conversion was not valid or could be retroactively annulled. As long as the proselyte underwent the technicalities of conversion (which obviously did not include a full knowledge of mitzvoth), the proselyte was a full-fledged Jew.

One Talmudic passage is frequently quoted to prove that a proselyte must accept every mitzvah, and that a rejection of even one mitzvah disqualifies him/her from being accepted as a convert. The passage is found in Bekhorot 30b.
"Our rabbis taught ...If a heathen is prepared to accept the Torah except one religious law, we must not receive him. R. Jose son of R. Judah says: even [if the exception be] one point of the special minutiae of the Scribes' enactments."

This passage seems to go against the previously-mentioned Talmudic passages, which clearly do not require the proselyte to know and commit to observe every mitzvah, let alone each point of special minutiae of the Scribes' enactments. Neither Rambam nor the Shulhan Arukh cite this passage as authoritative halakha in regard to the conversion process. Indeed, Rambam (Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:8) does not believe this passage is discussing a righteous proselyte at all! Rather, it is referring to a resident alien (ger toshav).

Even if we were to apply this passage to righteous proselytes (although neither Rambam nor the Shulhan Arukh did so!), it could still be understood in light of the other Talmudic passages cited earlier. Rabbi Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski explained: we are supposed to inform the would-be proselyte of the mitzvoth. As long as the candidate gives general assent to accept the mitzvoth, that is sufficient. If the would-be proselyte specifically rejects a particular mitzvah, only then should he/she not be accepted. "But in the case of one who accepts all the mitzvoth, while his intention is to transgress for his own pleasure [le-tei-avon] this is not a deficiency in the law of kabbalat ha-mitzvoth." [10] Rabbi Benzion Uziel ruled: "If a convert accepts the Torah and the rewards and punishments of the commandments but continues to behave in the way he was accustomed before conversion, he is a sinning convert, but we do not hesitate to accept him because of this." [11] In other words, what is required is a general statement from the proselyte indicating an acceptance of mitzvoth. It is not incumbent upon us to probe too deeply, nor to receive a promise that each and every mitzvah will be fulfilled without exception. As long as the candidate for conversion does not make a formal declaration rejecting a particular halakha, that is sufficient as kabbalat hamitzvoth.

Rambams' Rulings:

In describing the procedure for accepting converts, Rambam basically follows the protocol recorded in Yebamot 47a-b. However, he adds the requirement of informing the candidate of the basic principles of our faith i.e. the unity of God, the prohibition of idolatry (Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2). Rambam, like the Talmud, indicates that we inform the candidate of some of the mitzvoth and some of the rewards and punishments-but we do not overly prolong this nor give too many details "lest we cause him anxiety and thereby turn him from the good path to the bad path." We are supposed to draw him to conversion with goodwill and soft words.

Rambam does not require-or expect-that would-be converts be given thorough instruction in Torah and mitzvoth. This is reflected in Rambam's discussion of the hakhel commandment, when the people of Israel gathered in Jerusalem once in seven years to hear the king read from the Torah. Men, women and children were to attend this event-even those who could not understand the Torah reading. Rambam seems to take it for granted that proselytes were among those who would not understand the Torah reading. "As for proselytes who do not know the Torah, they must make ready their heart and give ear attentively to listen in awe and reverence and trembling joy, as on the day when the Torah was given on Sinai" (Hilkhot Hagigah, 3:6).

Rambam noted that potential converts should be examined to see if they have ulterior motives. (Hilkhot Issurei Biah 13:14-16.) In the days of King David and King Solomon, the beth din did not accept proselytes since it was assumed that non-Jews came for personal gain rather than religious reasons. Nonetheless, Rambam writes, numerous converts were made in the days of David and Solomon through "hedyotot", ad hoc batei din of non-experts that were not the official batei din of the land. Such converts were neither pushed away nor brought close until it was seen how they turned out i.e. were they really serious in their desire to be Jewish? Having said this, though, Rambam instructs us not to believe that Samson or Solomon married non-Jewish women. Rather, their "non-Jewish" wives were actually converted by the courts of "hedyotot", so that they were in fact Jewish. Yet, we know that these wives did not convert from religious motivations. We also know that they continued to worship idols after their conversions. Wouldn't this be a clear indication that their conversions were not valid? Isn't it obvious that they turned out to be idolaters rather than Jews?

The Rambam (Hilkhot Issurei Biah 13:17) rules: "A proselyte who was not examined [as to his motives] or who was not informed of the mitzvoth and their punishments, and he was circumcised and immersed in the presence of three laymen-is a proselyte. Even if it is known that he converted for some ulterior motive, once he has been circumcised and immersed he has left the status of being a non-Jew and we suspect him until his righteousness is clarified. Even if he recanted and worshipped idols, he is [considered] a Jewish apostate; if he betroths a Jewish woman according to halakha, they are betrothed; and an article he lost must be returned to him as to any other Jew. Having immersed, he is a Jew."

According to Rambam, a person who undergoes the technical procedures of conversion (circumcision and immersion for a man, immersion for a woman) in the presence of a beth din (even one made up of laymen) is a valid convert. Even if the motives for conversion were dubious, and even if the convert reverted to idolatry, the conversion remains valid. We may not want this person to marry into our family. We may suspect his/her sincerity and uprightness of character: but he/she is Jewish all the same. This explains why the wives of Samson and Solomon, idolatrous though they were, were nevertheless Jews and were married to their husbands as Jews.[12]

The Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh provided a general framework for the acceptance of converts, but did not give a detailed list of guidelines. These classic halakhic sources recognized that each conversion case is unique, and each must be evaluated by those overseeing the conversions. In the Talmud's words, ein ledayan ela ma she-einav ro-ot. Each judge must take responsibility for the cases that come before him, based on his own evaluation. Classic halakha eschewed "uniform standards" in the area of conversion, leaving it up to the individuals in charge to use their own judgment in dealing with each would-be proselyte.

The Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh 1) do not demand nor expect a candidate for conversion to learn all the mitzvoth prior to conversion; 2) do not demand nor expect a candidate for conversion to promise to observe all the mitzvoth in specific detail; 3) do not demand an extended period of study before conversion; 4) do not equate conversion with a total acceptance to observe Torah and mitzvoth, but rather see conversion as a way for a non-Jew to become a member of the Jewish people ; [13] 5) do recognize the validity of conversions even when the convert came with ulterior motives, even when the convert was ignorant of basic laws of Judaism; 6) do not allow for the retroactive annulment of a conversion, even when the convert continued to worship idols after converting to Judaism.

Since the classic halakhic sources allow so much leeway in the acceptance of converts, why have important 19th and 20th century halakhic authorities adopted stringent positions that are so antithetical to these sources? Indeed, why has the stringent view become so prevalent within Orthodoxy?

One possible answer has already been suggested. The Orthodox rabbinate has been vastly influenced by the rise of Reform and Conservative Judaism and by the increasing number of Jews who have defected from the halakhic way of life. In seeing Orthodoxy as a bastion of Torah-true Judaism, Orthodox sages have insisted on policies that clearly distinguish between "us" and "them". "We" are the ones who demand scrupulous observance of halakha. "They" are the ones who have betrayed Torah tradition by undermining mitzvah observance. This attitude carries into the area of acceptance of converts. "We" only want converts who will be like us-truly dedicated to Torah and mitzvoth. "We" don't want to create more non-observant Jews in our communities.[14]

Another possible answer is that some in the Orthodox community have a mystical view of Jewishness that deems it quite difficult for a non-Jew to become Jewish. Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, for example, believed that the act of conversion requires the convert to join the soul of Kenesset Yisrael, a metaphysical representation of the congregation of Israel. This can be accomplished only through a total acceptance of the mitzvoth-since mitzvoth are the essence of the Jewish soul. This is not an easy transition, according to Rabbi Kook, since Jewish souls and non-Jewish souls are ontologically different. For a non-Jew to transform his soul into a Jewish soul requires a tremendous connection to Torah and mitzvoth.[15] Without belaboring the point, Rabbi Kook's line of thinking can be used to buttress feelings of Jewish "superiority" as well as latent xenophobic tendencies.

Yet, when all is said and done, the Talmud, Rambam, Shulhan Arukh and a host of great halakhic authorities do not espouse the stringent, restrictive views relating to conversion. How do proponents of the currently dominant views justify veering from the classic halakhic texts?

One approach has been to cite 19th and 20th century halakhic authorities who insist on the stringent, restrictive views relating to acceptance of converts. Since these "gedolim" have issued such rulings, we are obligated to follow them. If they veered from or reinterpreted the primary halakhic sources, they had good grounds for doing so. This approach does not attempt to see those stringent rulings in historical context, as the reaction to anti-halakhic tendencies in the Jewish community. It does not consider whether those 19th and early 20th century responses are appropriate for our current situation. Moreover, it chooses not to accept the more inclusive and compassionate views of other great modern halakhists who dissented from the stringent views in various ways [16]. Indeed, the more tolerant opinions are far more in line with classic halakhic sources than are the restrictive views espoused by various 19th and 20th century rabbis.

The stringent view insists that kabbalat hamitzvoth entails total commitment to observe all mitzvoth in every detail, and that conversions lacking such commitment are not valid. It already has been demonstrated that these views are not mandated by-and are not even compatible with-- the rulings of the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh. Yet, the proponents of the restrictive view are so convinced of their position, they cannot imagine that classic halakhic sources disagree with them.

I discussed the Rambam's ruling (Hilkhot Issurei Biah 13:17) with a prominent dayyan in Israel. The Rambam states unequivocally that a proselyte who was circumcised and immersed in the presence of three laymen is a proselyte. Even if the conversion was with ulterior motives and even if the convert subsequently worshipped idols-he is still to be considered as an apostate Jew. If he betroths a Jewish woman according to halakha, the betrothal is valid i.e. he is a Jew. Rambam does not allow for retroactive annulment of the conversion. Rambam does not invalidate the conversion of a person with imperfect motives, even one who worshipped idols after the conversion.

The dayyan answered: Rambam was speaking of a proselyte who had studied Torah and mitzvoth in advance of being circumcised and immersed. That proselyte fully accepted all the mitzvoth to the last detail before immersing in the mikvah. Then, after coming out of the mikvah he had a change of heart and went to worship idols. But if this proselyte had not known the mitzvoth nor accepted sincerely to observe all the mitzvoth originally, then the conversion would not have been valid. I asked the dayyan: if Rambam meant what you say he meant, why didn't he say so? Rambam was quite careful with his use of language, and could easily have presented the scenario as you described. But he did not do so! His language manifestly indicates that he was not operating with your assumptions, but had a quite different view of conversion. The dayyan answered: the Rambam could not have meant anything other than what I explained.

This, of course, is circular reasoning. The dayyan began with the axiom that conversion equals total commitment to observe all mitzvoth. If Rambam said something in opposition to that axiom, then Rambam needs to be re-interpreted-regardless of how far-fetched the interpretation is and how untrue it is to Rambam's own language.

Other rabbis have offered similar responses based on circular reasoning. When I have pointed out that the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh do not define kabbalat hamitzvoth as a total commitment to observe all mitzvoth in detail (but rather as a general acceptance of mitzvoth), proponents of the current stringent view have retorted: The Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh did not have to spell things out, since they assumed that a convert would observe all the mitzvoth. It was so obvious to them, they didn't even have to state this. Yet, the fact is that the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh specifically described the conversion process, and stated that the would-be proselyte should be informed only of some of the major and minor mitzvoth. The Talmud discusses the case of a proselyte who did not even know the laws of Shabbat. Rambam and Shulhan Arukh did not invalidate the conversion of a proselyte who later worshipped idols. If the Talmud, Rambam and Shulhan Arukh accepted the "standards" of Rabbi Schmelkes and others, they would have said so clearly. We must take their words in their context as they were intended. It is not appropriate to read one's own views into the texts.

2. Let us now turn to the second question: Are current efforts to "raise standards" focusing on ritual mitzvoth, while actually "lowering standards" of mitzvoth relating to maintaining Jewish families, treating converts and potential converts with compassion, and other moral considerations?

In the guise of "raising standards", the contemporary Orthodox world has stressed-almost exclusively-the details of Shabbat and holiday observances, kashruth, prayer, and mikvah. A candidate for conversion who is not ready to give a detailed commitment to these ritual mitzvoth has little chance of being accepted for giyyur.

Yet, aren't there other important considerations that need to be factored into the conversion process?
Rabbi Benzion Uziel (1880-1953), late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, saw himself as being very stringent in applying the prohibitions against intermarriage. Therefore, he believed that rabbis must do everything in their power to prevent intermarriage situations. When a Jew and non-Jew were intending to marry each other, or already were married to each other, Rabbi Uziel urged that rabbis convert the non-Jewish partner to Judaism. He made this ruling even when it was expected that the couple would not be observant of all the mitzvoth. He ruled that performing such conversions was not only permitted, but was a mitzvah! [17] He wrote: "From all that has been stated and discussed, the ruling follows that it is permissible and a mitzvah to accept male and female converts even if it is known to us that they will not observe all the mitzvoth, because in the end they will come to fulfill them. We are commanded to make this kind of opening for them; and if they do not fulfill the mitzvoth, they will bear their own iniquities, and we are innocent."

Rabbi Uziel was deeply concerned about the fate of children born to a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother. Such children, although of Jewish stock (zera yisrael), are in fact not halakhically Jewish. Children raised in such intermarriages will be lost to the Jewish people entirely. Thus, it is obligatory for rabbis to convert the non-Jewish mother in order to keep the children in the Jewish fold. Rabbi Uziel noted: "And I fear that if we push them [the children] away completely by not accepting their parents for conversion, we shall be brought to judgment and they shall say to us: ‘You did not bring back those who were driven away, and those who were lost you did not seek.' (Yehezkel 34:4)."

In another responsum, Rabbi Uziel wrote: "I admit without embarrassment that my heart is filled with trembling for every Jewish soul that is assimilated among the non-Jews. I feel in myself a duty and mitzvah to open a door to repentance and to save [Jews] from assimilation by [invoking] arguments for leniency. This is the way of Torah, in my humble opinion, and this is what I saw and received from my parents and teachers."[18]

Certainly Rabbi Uziel would have liked all Jews-born Jews and converted Jews-to live fully religious lives devoted to Torah and mitzvoth. But since we live in an imperfect world, we need to make halakhic judgments based on the realities we face. Since intermarriage is a great sin and leads to the loss of children to the Jewish people, Rabbi Uziel deemed these concerns to outweigh considerations about how religiously observant the converts would be. Surely, candidates for conversion should be taught some of the major and some of the minor mitzvoth, and should come to feel as members of the Jewish people. But if they lived as non-observant Jews, this is their sin-not ours. By preventing intermarriage situations, we can hope that these couples and their children will be part of the Jewish people, and will ultimately come closer to our Torah traditions. If, however, we turn such converts away, we allow intermarriages to persist, and we undermine the possibility of keeping children of such marriages within the Jewish people.

Other halakhic authorities have raised considerations that warrant leniencies in the area of conversion. If we fear that by not converting a non-Jewish partner, the Jewish partner to the intermarriage (or potential intermarriage) will estrange himself/herself from the Jewish community-we should convert the non-Jewish partner. If we reject them, such couples could be married by civil authorities or by non-Orthodox rabbis. If they were turning to Orthodox rabbis for the conversion, this itself is an indication that they preferred to be part of the traditionalist Jewish community. If we reject them, we may run the risk of having them live outside the Jewish community, or even of having the Jewish partner convert to the religion of the spouse.[19]

The late Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi I. Y. Unterman raised yet another concern. In discussing the appropriate rabbinic attitude toward immigrants to Israel from Russia during the early 1970s-among whom were many intermarried couples-Rabbi Unterman advocated that rabbis demonstrate compassion and kindness. These immigrants should not be made to feel that the rabbis view them unfavorably. If conversions took place when the immigrants had not intended fully to live according to the mitzvoth, one should not condemn such conversions lest the public conclude that the rabbis are intransigent when it comes to dealing with conversions.[20] Rabbi Unterman was not happy about conversions of this type; but he judged it better not to raise public opposition to them.

Rabbi Zehariah HaCohen (b. 1898) was a sage born in Yemen, who immigrated to Israel and became Rabbi in Nehalal. He dealt with the issue of non-Jewish immigrants to Israel who were married to Jews, and who were not living a strictly religious lifestyle. Should such people be accepted for conversion? Among his concerns, Rabbi HaCohen worried about consequences of not converting these intermarried people. How would they become integrated properly into Jewish Israeli society? What would be the status of their children? He wrote: "We cannot demand that the proselyte observe all the 613 precepts at a time when most of those who are resettling him are themselves far from observing this number or even part of it.... How can we demand the proselyte to observe the Sabbath and the dietary laws etc? Such would be saying: do as I say, but not as I do!" Rabbi HaCohen believed that conversions should be performed for the non-Jewish spouses. The hope was that children of these marriages would learn more about Judaism in school, and that they would influence their parents to become more observant religiously.[21]

Rabbi Moshe HaCohen, born in Jerba, immigrated to Israel in the 1950s and became a dayyan in the rabbinical court in Teverya. He, too, was concerned about the many Jewish immigrants to Israel who had non-Jewish spouses. These couples and their children needed to be integrated into Israeli society as Jews. Yet, many of them resided in places where religious laws were not observed-they ate forbidden foods, desecrated the Sabbath etc. Even after conversion, there was little likelihood that these converts would be religiously observant. Should they be converted anyway? Rabbi HaCohen ruled that they indeed should be converted. He explained that kabbalat hamitzvoth "does not mean that [the convert] must commit himself to observe all the commandments. Rather, it means that he accepts all the commandments of the Torah in the sense that, if he transgresses, he will be liable for such punishment as he deserves....And if so, we do not care if at the time he accepts the mitzvoth he intends to transgress a particular commandment and accept the punishment. This is not considered a flaw in his acceptance of the commandments."[22]

We see, then, that conversion entails a broader range of considerations than simply whether the would-be convert will observe ritual law to the last detail. While we surely would like all born Jews and all converts to be fully observant of mitzvoth, conversions may be halakhically sanctioned even when our ideal hopes are not likely to be realized.

The Talmud (Baba Metsia 59b) states that one who causes anguish to a proselyte thereby transgresses 36 commandments; some say, 46 commandments. Those who cast doubt on halakhically valid conversions are thereby guilty of a multitude of sins. Those who foster the stringent views, without allowing for other perfectly valid halakhic positions, are not only causing anguish to proselytes and their families; they are also casting aspersions on all those halakhic sages who disagree with them. The rabbi in Ashdod who retroactively annulled the conversion of a woman who had been converted by an Orthodox beth din-was not just undermining the Jewish status of this woman and her children. He rejected the possibility that any legitimate rabbis could have an opinion other than his. He believed that conversion must entail absolute commitment to observe all mitzvoth-and that lacking such commitment and observance, the conversion is not valid. Thus, rabbis who relied on the far more tolerant views of the Talmud, Rambam, Shulhan Arukh, Rabbi Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski, Rabbi Uziel, Rabbi David Zvi Hoffman etc.-all such rabbis were themselves invalidated! The dayyan of Ashdod could not have been blunter: "These ‘courts' permit 100 percent gentiles to marry into the Jewish people, and they cause many people to sin terribly. And they have turned conversions into a joke. The judges [who take the more lenient view] are nothing less than blasphemers and evil-doers. And since the judges are criminals, none of the conversions they perform should be recognized." [23] This statement-so arrogant in self-righteousness and so narrow in its religious worldview-characterizes what is worst in the contemporary Orthodox beth din establishment. In one fell swoop, it throws converts and their families into turmoil about their Jewish identities, and also undermines the credibility of any rabbis who would disagree with the restrictive views on the topic of conversion. If we are looking for religious leadership among Orthodox rabbis, we should not be looking to this dayyan in Ashdod, nor to any other rabbis who foster this halakhically and morally repugnant attitude.

Regrettably, the Orthodox beth din establishment functions with the assumptions expressed by the rabbi in Ashdod. Their "raised standards" measure the potential convert on the basis of commitment to observe ritual mitzvoth, without factoring in the broader issues that dramatically affect the lives of individuals, couples, children, the Jewish community at large, the State of Israel. They establish "standards" and then refuse to accept the conversions of those upstanding and learned Orthodox rabbis who have more tolerant, compassionate and inclusive views. This underlies the decision of Israel's Chief Rabbis not to accept conversions performed by Orthodox rabbis of the diaspora, except for those on a very limited approved list-approved because they accept the dictates of the Chief Rabbinate on the topic of conversion. This underlies the decision of the Rabbinical Council of America to certify only those conversions done by its own hand-picked dayyanim, and not to certify conversions performed by the vast majority of its own members-fine Orthodox rabbis.

The scandal of the current beth din establishment position is that it actually invalidates (or casts into doubt) halakhic conversions performed by Orthodox rabbis who follow the teachings of Talmud, Rambam, Shulhan Arukh and a host of halakhic authorities who adhere to those teachings. Thus, halakhic converts and their children are told that they are not Jewish, or that their Jewishness is questionable. This is an egregious example of oppressing gerim-innui ha-ger.

The beth din establishment claims that they adopt the stringent views in order to "raise standards". As has been pointed out, stringency in the areas of ritual observance leads to "lowering standards" in the areas of intermarriage prevention; it leads to a loss of children to families and to the Jewish people; it leads to weakening the Jewish fabric of Jewish communities in the diaspora and in the State of Israel; it leads potential converts to give up on Orthodoxy-or to become alienated from Judaism altogether; it increases the number of transgressions of oppressing proselytes.

Another claim is that it is necessary to maintain "uniform standards" in conversion policy. The call for "uniform standards' is a code phrase, meaning that all Orthodox rabbis should adopt the most stringent positions. Yet, halakhic literature itself does not present a uniform standard. Various legitimate and valid views are available. To restrict options to a "uniform standard" is false to halakha. Rabbi Haim David Halevy, late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, has pointed out that the halakha has purposely left latitude for each rabbi to deal with the particular circumstances of each potential convert. Ein ledayyan ela mah she-einav ro-ot, each judge must evaluate each situation according to his own best judgment. He needs to factor in many considerations, and may sometimes feel the need to be stringent and sometimes to be lenient. Whether and when to perform conversions "was left to each judge and leader of his generation to decide according to what his own eyes see, whether toward leniency or strictness." [24] If individual rabbis feel they need to adopt stringent opinions, that is their own decision to make. But such rabbis have no right to impose their views on all other rabbis. They have no right to call into question the halakhic Jewishness of converts who were converted by Orthodox rabbis who, in fact, are following classic halakhic guidelines.

The need of the hour is for Orthodox rabbis to deal with conversions with a "full halakhic toolbox". We need to draw on the range of halakhic options in order to address the specific circumstances of each giyyur, and to confront the larger issues facing the Jewish people and the State of Israel.

Surely, we must take our responsibility seriously. We must teach prospective converts in a spirit of respect and kindness; we must do our best to bring them to an appreciation of Torah and mitzvoth; we must help them to strive to become fine members of the Jewish people. We must oppose unequivocally "shotgun" conversions that make a mockery of giyyur; rather, we must engage each convert in a serious, life-transforming process. This process is filled with challenges, with emotional highs and lows. Not every candidate for conversion will or should be accepted. While our general attitude must be inclusive, there are cases where we feel we must say no. Each case is unique; each prospective candidate presents a different set of issues; each rabbi must weigh carefully how to deal with each situation.

3. Let us now address the third question: If the current policies are halakhically and morally deficient, how should we be addressing the issue of conversion to Judaism?

Here are some suggestions:

1. Orthodox rabbis must raise their voices to oppose the current restrictive policies of the establishment Orthodox batei din. They must express outrage at the mistreatment of potential converts and the abuse of halakhic converts whose Jewish credentials are being cast into doubt. If we do not resist the current misguided policies, we thereby become accomplices.
2. The Orthodox public must insist that its day schools, yeshivoth and synagogues teach a range of valid halakhic opinions on the topic of giyyur (as well as on so many other topics!). If we are supporting institutions that foster an erroneous halakhic position on giyyur, then we are accomplices.
3. Orthodox rabbis must insist that every proselyte converted by Orthodox rabbis is a full Jew in the eyes of halakha, in the eyes of God, and in the eyes of the Jewish community. No proselyte should be black-balled, whether in Israel or the diaspora, because the current beth din establishment refuses to endorse the conversion.
4. The Orthodox public must be vigilant that its schools and other institutions accept all halakhic converts with love and compassion.
5. Orthodox rabbis must make it clear that they view candidates for conversion, as well as converts, as deserving of our respect and affection. We must have a compassionate, inclusive attitude, and must take into consideration the circumstances that brought these people to us in the first place.
6. The Orthodox public must support those rabbis who foster legitimate diversity within halakha; must support those institutions that fight for a righteous, compassionate and inclusive Orthodoxy; must have the moral courage to stand up against the injustices and cruelties perpetrated in the guise of "raising standards" and creating "uniform standards".

At a time when many thousands of people have converted to Judaism, and many thousands more wish to do so, the Orthodox rabbinate needs to project a framework for giyyur that is halakhically sound and ethically responsible. The challenges of the 19th century, that generated the restrictive views of the Hatam Sofer, R. Yitzchak Schmelkes and others, are different from the challenges our community is facing today. We live at a time when a sovereign Jewish State exists and must absorb hundreds of thousands of individuals who are not halakhically Jewish. We live at a time when intermarriage rates in the diaspora are at an astronomical level and show no signs of declining. We live at a time when thousands of people would be willing to turn to Orthodox rabbis for halakhic conversion-if only we presented a halakhic framework for giyyur that is meaningful, accessible, and respectful to the needs and concerns of the proselytes themselves. Local Orthodox rabbis, using their own knowledge of each case on a personal basis, are far better equipped to deal with the challenges of giyyur today than rabbinic bureaucracies.

The halakha provides leeway and multiple views about the nature of the conversion process. Halakhic Judaism should not be constricted to only one halakhic view, and certainly not to the most rigid and restrictive view. It must be recognized that different legitimate halakhic positions are available just as there are different legitimate hashkafic opinions. At this period of historic challenge, the Orthodox rabbinate can either rise to greatness or shrink into self-righteous isolationism. Thus far, the rabbinic/beth din establishment has chosen the latter course. It is not too late to turn things around. The honor of God, Torah and the Jewish people are at stake.

[1] See Adam Ferziger’s book, Exclusion and Hierarchy: Orthodoxy, Nonobservance, and the Emergence of Modern Jewish Identity, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, 2005, pp. 61f.

[2] quoted by Ferziger, p. 73.

[3] See Ferziger, pp. 152f.

[4] Binyan Zion ha-Hadashot, no. 23. <!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->

[5] Avi Sagi and Zvi Zohar, Transforming Identity, Continuum Press, London and New York, 2007, pp. 234f. See their original Hebrew edition of this book, Giyyur ve-Zehut Yehudit, Shalom Hartman Institute and Mosad Bialik, Jerusalem, 1997.

[6] Yitzchak Schmelkes, Beit Yitzchak, Y.D. 100.

[7] See Isaac Sassoon, “The Proselyte Who Comes”, in the Articles section of www.jewishideas.org.

[8] Akiva Joseph Schlesinger, Lev Ha-Ivri, Kitvei R. Akiva Yosef Schlesinger, Jerusalem, 1989, vol. 2, pp. 291-2.

[9] See his article in Jewish Life Magazine, May-June 1965, p. 7. See also p. 11 under the heading “commitment to total observance.”

[10] Ahiezer, vol. 3, no. 26, sec. 4.

[11] Mishpetei Uziel, vol. 2, Y.D. 58. See also R. Shelomo Zalman b. Isaac, Hemdat Shelomo, Warsaw 1876, Y.D. 29, where he indicates that kabbalat ha-mitzvoth is accomplished in a general way, by the proselyte’s entering the mikvah with the desire to become Jewish and to adopt the Jewish religion.

[12] See also Shulhan Arukh, Y.D. 268:12, where R. Yosef Karo also rules that a person who fulfilled the technical requirements of circumcision and immersion—even if the process lacked examination of motives and indication of rewards and punishments of the mitzvoth—is a valid convert. Even if he/she subsequently worshipped idols, he/she is to be considered a Jewish apostate—but a Jew nevertheless.

[13] See Rabbi Shlomo Goren’s responsum in Shanah be-Shanah, 5743, pp. 149-156, where he rejects the possibility of conversion for a non-Jew who accepted all the mitzvoth but who did not accept to be part of the Jewish people.

[14] For a discussion of the rigidity that set into halakha as a reaction to the rise of Reform, see Daniel Sperber, Darka shel Halakha, Reuven Mass Publishers, Jerusalem,2007, pp. 102ff.

[15] Orot, Jerusalem, 5745, p. 156. See the article by Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun, “Nationalism, Humanity and Kenesset Yisrael,” in The World of Rav Kook’s Thought” Avi Chai Foundation, New York, 1991, pp. 210f.

[16] Shmuel Shilo, “Halakhic Leniency in Modern Responsa Regarding Conversion,” Israel Law Review, vol. 22, 1988, pp. 353 ff, cites the lenient views of Rabbis Shlomo Kluger, Shlomo Yehuda of Sighet, Shalom Shvadron, David Zvi Hoffman, Haim Ozer Grodzinski, Yehiel Weinberg, Benzion Uziel, Isser Yehuda Unterman and Ovadia Yosef.

[17] See Mishpetei Uziel, E.H., Jerusalem, 5724, nos. 18, 20, 22. For a discussion of R. Uziel’s views on conversion, see my book, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel, Jason Aronson, Northvale, 1999, chapter 7.

[18] Mishpetei Uziel, 5698, no. 26.

[19] These concerns are raised in the following sources: R. Shlomo Kluger, Tuv Ta’am Ve’da’at, vol. 1, no. 230; R. Shalom Shvadron, Responsa Maharsham, vol. 6, Y.d. 109; R. David Zvi Hoffman, Melamed leHo-il, Y.D. 85.

[20] Rabbi Unterman discusses this issue in “The Laws of Conversion and their Practical Application,” Noam, vol. 1, 1971.

[21] Cited in Baruch Litvin, Jewish Identity, New York, 1965, p. 62.

[22] Cited by Sagi and Zohar, Transforming Identity, p. 230.

[23] As quoted in the Jerusalem Post, May 18, 2007.

[24] Asei Lekha Rav, vol. 1, no. 23.