National Scholar Updates

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

Tanakh lies at the heart of Jewish faith, and comprises God’s revealed word. Tanakh represents the truth for believing Jews. However, must or should every word be understood literally?

            Do believing Jews need to insist that the world was created in seven 24-hour days? Is all humanity biologically descended from one couple that lived some 6,000 years ago?

God does not have hands or nostrils, despite many verses whose literal reading suggest otherwise. How are we to understand stories of angels who eat (Genesis 18) or wrestle (Genesis 32)?

            Some also ask whether it is possible that King David really committed adultery and orchestrated murder as suggested by the literal biblical text (II Samuel 11), or whether King Solomon really worshipped idols (I Kings 11).

            Rabbi Saadiah Gaon (882–942) maintained that biblical texts should be taken literally, unless one of four criteria is met:

And I so declare, first of all, that it is a well-known fact that every statement in the Bible is to be understood in its literal sense except for those that cannot be so construed for one of the following four reasons: It may, for example, either be rejected by the observation of the senses…Or else the literal sense may be negated by reason…. Again [the literal meaning of a biblical statement may be rendered impossible] by an explicit text of a contradictory nature, in which case it would become necessary to interpret the first statement in a non-literal nature…. Finally, any biblical statement to the meaning of which rabbinical tradition has attached a certain reservation is to be interpreted by us in keeping with this authentic tradition. (Emunot VeDe’ot Book VII)[1]

If the literal reading of a biblical text contradicts empirical observation, logic, another biblical text, or rabbinic tradition, then it must be reinterpreted.

Following in Rabbi Saadiah’s footsteps, Rambam agreed that if logic or scientific knowledge contradicts the literal sense of a biblical text, that text must not be taken literally[2]:

I believe every possible happening that is supported by a prophetic statement and do not strip it of its plain meaning. I fall back on interpreting a statement only when its literal sense is impossible, like the corporeality of God: The possible however remains as stated. (Treatise on Resurrection)[3]

Rambam included considerably more than God’s corporeality among the impossible, and therefore allegorized many biblical passages. Other rabbinic thinkers adamantly opposed this method of interpretation, protesting that it imposed foreign ideas onto the biblical text. Additionally, it created a dangerous slippery slope for interpreters to allegorize far too many passages.[4]

In this essay, I will consider several debates as they pertain to the interface between Torah and science, Torah and logic, and Torah and other religious concerns such the sins of biblical heroes. Although the two sides of the debate often vigorously disagree, it is possible to chart a path that hears the voices of both sides.

Torah and Science

            Some believe that there are conflicts between Torah and science. Science states that the world is billions of years old; there was a process of evolution; and it is unlikely in the extreme that all humans biologically descend from the same couple that lived only 6,000 years ago. The literal reading of the early chapters in Genesis does not seem to match the scientific account.

            However, there need not be any conflict between Torah and science. As noted above, Rabbi Saadiah Gaon and Rambam maintain that whenever the literal reading of the Torah contradicts empirical evidence, the Torah should not be taken literally. In his discussion of Aristotle’s theory of the eternality of the world, Rambam rejects it because Aristotle was unable to prove his theory. However, were Aristotle able to prove it, Rambam would reinterpret Genesis chapter 1 (Guide of the Perplexed II:25). Rambam did not believe that the entire creation account was intended as literal, either (Guide of the Perplexed II:29).

More recently, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote that as long as one believes that God created the world, the length or process of the creation is not a binding article of faith:

Judaism is not frightened even by the hundreds of thousands and millions of years which the geological theory of the earth’s development bandies about so freely…. The Rabbis have never made the acceptance or rejection of this and similar possibilities an article of faith binding on all Jews. They were willing to live with any theory that did not reject the basic truth that “every beginning is from God.” (The Educational Value of Judaism, in Collected Writings, vol. VII, p. 265)[5]

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook made a similar point regarding the Theory of Evolution:

Even if it were to become clear to us that the world came into being by way of the evolution of the species, still there would be no contradiction, for our count follows the plain sense of the biblical verses, which is far more relevant to us than knowledge about the past, which carries little value for us. Without question, the Torah concealed much about creation, speaking in allusions and parables. For everyone knows that the creation story is included among the secrets of the Torah, and if everything followed the plain sense [of the verses], what secret would there be here?...The main thing is what arises from the entire story—knowing God and [living] a truly moral life. (Iggerot Ra’ayah I, letters 91, p. 105)[6]

Instead of reinterpreting the Torah to match science, one could argue that the Torah does not teach scientific truth, but rather religious truth. From this perspective, a believing Jew accepts the religious messages of the Torah, while accepting science from scientists. In his introduction to the Torah, Rabbi Samuel David Luzzatto espoused this position:

Intelligent people understand that the goal of the Torah is not to inform us about natural sciences; rather it was given in order to create a straight path for people in the way of righteousness and law, to sustain in their minds the belief in the Unity of God and His Providence.

            Commenting on Psalm 19:6–7, which describes the sun moving across the sky, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch similarly remarks:

David, as do all the Holy Scriptures, talks in the language of men. His language is the same as that of Copernicus, Kepler and Newton, and as that which we use today…. This language will remain the same even when the assumption that the sun is static and that the earth revolves around it—and not the sun around the earth—will have been proven to be irrefutable certainty. For it is not the aim of the Holy Scriptures to teach us astronomy, cosmogony or physics, but only to guide man to the fulfillment of his life’s task within the framework of the constellation of his existence. For this purpose it is quite irrelevant whether the course of days and years is determined by the earth’s revolution around the sun, or by the latter’s orbit around the former.[7]

            In his inaugural address as the second president of Yeshiva College and the Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary delivered on May 23, 1944, Rabbi Dr. Samuel Belkin expressed similar sentiments:

It is not our intention to make science the handmaiden of religion nor religion the handmaiden of science. We do not believe in a scientific religion nor in a pseudo-science. We prefer to look upon science and religion as separate domains which need not be in serious conflict and therefore need no reconciliation.[8]

In a more pointed manner, Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz dismissed the possibility of reading the Torah as a history or science textbook:

If the Holy Scriptures were sources of information, it would be difficult to see where their sacredness resided…. The idea that the Shekhinah (God’s Presence) descended on Mount Sinai in order to compete with the professor who teaches history or physics is ludicrous, if not blasphemous.[9]

            To summarize, there is ample room within tradition to avoid faith-science conflicts. One may reinterpret passages in the Torah, or one may study the Torah for its religious messages while accepting science as science. In an age where science is vastly more empirical than it was in the times of Rabbi Saadiah Gaon and Rambam, it is particularly valuable that these rabbinic thinkers paved a path for belief in the Torah without any conflict with scientific knowledge.[10] Their guidance helps us focus on what truly matters—the religious messages that the Torah wishes to teach.

Torah and Logic[11]

1. Angelic encounters

Rambam maintained that all angelic encounters were experienced in prophetic visions, not in actual reality (Guide of the Perplexed II:41–42). There are occasions where this principle helps explain difficult texts. For example, when Joshua encountered an angel “in Jericho” (Joshua 5:13–15), that city had yet to be captured. Rambam’s assumption, that Joshua was experiencing a prophetic vision, eliminates this difficulty. In a prophetic vision, Joshua could have been standing inside of Jericho.[12]

            On other occasions, however, Rambam’s assumption appears to contradict or stretch the literal reading of the biblical text. For example, Rambam maintained that Abraham’s encounter with the three angels in Genesis 18 must have occurred in a prophetic vision (Guide of the Perplexed II:32). Ramban (on Genesis 18:1) censured this position. If this were only a vision, why does the Torah provide so many details with regard to Sarah’s preparation of food? Did Lot and the wicked people of Sodom experience prophetic revelation when they encountered the angels in Genesis 19? If they were experiencing prophecy, then Lot would still have remained in Sodom, since the entire destruction was experienced only in prophecy! Ramban believed that Rambam’s position is incompatible with the Torah.[13]

Rambam’s premise about angels also became a potentially dangerous precedent. Abarbanel (on Genesis 22:13) expressed chagrin that some writers applied Rambam’s principle to argue that the Binding of Isaac occurred only in Abraham’s prophetic vision, since an angel stopped Abraham from sacrificing Isaac.[14] Abarbanel considered this view a terrible misapplication of Rambam’s teachings, and stated that it was wrong to deny the historicity of the Binding of Isaac.

2. God’s unusual instructions to prophets

Throughout Tanakh, God ordered prophets to perform symbolic actions, including several that appear shocking. For example, God instructed Hosea to marry an eshet zenunim (commonly translated as “prostitute”[15]) to illustrate Israel’s infidelity to God. The ensuing narrative reports that Hosea did so, and fathered three children with her (Hosea 1:2–9). Similarly, God commanded Isaiah to “untie the sackcloth from his loins” to foretell that the Assyrians would lead the Egyptians and Ethiopians away as naked captives. Isaiah faithfully obeyed, and walked around arom (literally, “naked”) and barefoot (Isaiah 20:2–6).

Rambam insisted that God never would order a prophet to do anything foolish or irrational. Therefore, Hosea and Isaiah performed these actions only in prophetic visions:

God is too exalted than that He should turn His prophets into a laughingstock and a mockery for fools by ordering them to commit acts of disobedience. In the same way when He says, Like as My servant Isaiah hath walked naked and barefoot, this only happened in the visions of God. The position is similar with regard to the words addressed to Hosea: Take unto thee a wife of harlotry and children of harlotry. All this story concerning the birth of the children and their having been named so and so happened in its entirety in a vision of prophecy. This is a thing that can only be doubted or not known by him who confuses the possible things with the impossible ones. (Guide of the Perplexed II:46)[16]

According to Rambam, Hosea did not actually marry a prostitute,[17] nor did Isaiah walk around naked in public.[18] When a conflict arises between the personal perfection of a prophet and his mission to the people, Rambam favored the element of personal perfection.

Abarbanel criticized Rambam (and Ibn Ezra) for contradicting biblical texts, which state explicitly that Hosea and Isaiah performed these actions:

One must be extremely astonished at these learned authors (i.e., Ibn Ezra and Rambam)—how could they advance this kind of sweeping principle in prophetic narrative? If the text testifies that the action occurred, we have no right to depart from its plain sense, lest we interpret the verses incorrectly. Indeed, it is infidelity and a grave sin (zimmah va-avon pelili) to contradict the plain sense of the verses; if this is what we do to them, this disease (tzara’at) will spread over all verses and reveal interpretations that contradict their veracity. (commentary on Hosea 1)

Abarbanel insisted that a prophet’s mission to the people is more important than the prophet’s personal perfection and dignity. Therefore, according to Abarbanel, if God decides that these shocking symbolic actions could have a positive religious effect on the people, God will order prophets to perform them.

3. Messianic visions

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard lie down with the kid. In all of My sacred mount nothing evil or vile shall be done; for the land shall be filled with devotion to the Lord as water covers the sea. (Isaiah 11:6, 9)

Believing that the natural order will not be altered in the messianic era, Rambam adopted Ibn Ezra’s reading of this prophecy and interpreted it as a poetic way to express that all nations will live together in peace (Laws of Kings 12:1; Guide of the Perplexed II:29).

            Unlike the previous examples, however, Rambam entertained the literal reading of Isaiah 11:6–9 as a possible meaning:

You must realize that I am not at all positive that all the promises and the like of them are metaphorical. No revelation from God has come to teach me they are parables. I will only explain to you what impels me to speak this way. I try to reconcile the Law and reason, and wherever possible consider all things as of the natural order. Only when something is explicitly identified as a miracle, and reinterpretation of it cannot be accommodated, only then I feel forced to grant that this is a miracle. (Treatise on Resurrection)[19]

Although there were issues that Rambam considered irrational and impossible, there were others where he allegorized because he thought this to be the most plausible way of explaining a text. In those latter instances, he was willing to entertain the more literal reading.

Torah and Talmudic Values[20]

In the above cases, literalism is associated with piety and non-literalism with rationalism. But sometimes it goes the other way. Some, following one strand of talmudic thinking, hold that King David didn’t really commit adultery and orchestrate murder in spite of the literal biblical text (II Samuel 11), or that King Solomon didn’t really worship idols (I Kings 11).

            In II Samuel chapter 11, David commits adultery with Bathsheba, and then has her husband Uriah killed off so that David can marry Bathsheba. The prophet Nathan excoriates him in chapter 12, and David expresses profound remorse for his sins before embarking on a remarkable process of repentance.[21]

Adopting the literal reading of the text, Abarbanel enumerates five sins committed by David: (1) adultery; (2) being prepared to abandon his biological child by asking Uriah to return to Bathsheba; (3) having Uriah—a loyal subject—killed; (4) having Uriah killed specifically by enemies; (5) insensitively marrying Bathsheba soon after Uriah’s demise.

Abarbanel then cites the Gemara: “whoever says that David sinned is merely erring” (Shabbat 56a). That talmudic passage suggests that Uriah had given a bill of divorce to Bathsheba prior to going to battle, and therefore David did not commit technical adultery. Uriah should be deemed a rebel against David for slighting the king, and therefore David was halakhically justified in having him killed (commentators debate what the precise problem was, within this talmudic reading). Although David’s actions were unbecoming, he is not guilty of the most egregious sins according to this passage.

However, retorts Abarbanel, the textual proofs adduced in David’s defense are uncompelling, whereas the prophet Nathan explicitly accuses David of sinning—and David confesses and repents. Moreover, Rav, the leading disciple of Rabbi Judah ha-Nasi (known simply as “Rabbi”), dismisses his teacher’s defense of David on the spot: “Rabbi, who is descended from David, seeks to defend him and expounds [the verse] in David’s favor.” Therefore, concludes Abarbanel, “these words of our Sages are the ways of derash, and I have no need to respond to them.… I prefer to say that [David] sinned greatly and confessed greatly and repented fully and accepted his punishment, and in this manner he attained atonement for his sins.”[22]

Although Abarbanel presents himself as an independent pashtan in this instance, he has not broken with rabbinic tradition. A number of rabbinic sources do not exonerate David. For example, there are opinions that Bathsheba was possibly a married woman or certainly a married woman;[23] that Bathsheba’s consent still might be viewed halakhically as a form of rape of a married woman since she was not in a position to decline;[24] that David was culpable for the death of Uriah;[25] that Joab bears guilt for failing to defy David’s immoral orders regarding Uriah.[26] The unambiguous textual evidence against David, including his own admission of guilt and wholehearted repentance, seems to have convinced Abarbanel that it was unnecessary to cite additional sources beyond Rav’s dismissal of his teacher’s defense of David.[27]

Despite these protests, many other commentators, including Rashi, Radak, Ralbag, and Malbim, accept the talmudic defense of David in Shabbat 56a. There is a religious balance between viewing biblical heroes with proper reverence and simultaneously listening to the the biblical text.[28]

Navigating a Path that Hears Both Sides of the Debate

            Once we recognize that the most critical component of learning Tanakh is to hear God’s revealed word and learn the prophetic messages of the text, we can address the issue of taking each text literally.

            If we take the texts literally but not as dogmatically literal when there are conflicts, we can make much headway in navigating the debates. For example, the Sages debate whether the story in the Book of Job occurred. Rambam believed that the story did not occur, but stressed that we must focus on the religious messages of the narrative:

To sum up: whether he has existed or not, with regard to cases like his, which always exist, all reflecting people become perplexed; and in consequence such things as I have already mentioned to you are said about God’s knowledge and His providence. (Guide of the Perplexed III:22)[29]

            Similarly, the Torah states that God created the world in seven days, thereby teaching that God created the world, and that Shabbat is of vital importance in the God-Israel relationship. If the world is billions of years old, this scientific reality in no way detracts from the religious values of God as Creator above nature or in the importance of Shabbat.

            The Torah teaches that all of humanity is descended from one couple, and therefore there is no room for racism (Sanhedrin 37a). If geneticists demonstrate the extreme unlikelihood of all people descending from one couple that lived 6,000 years ago,  this scientific reality in no way diminishes God’s message in the Torah against racism.

            The sins of King David teach the dangers of lust (Rabbi Judah HeHasid), the power of repentance (Abarbanel), and the incredible integrity of prophecy in its willingness to condemn Israel’s most beloved leader when he violates the Torah. If Uriah gave Bathsheba abill of divorce, that would in no way compromise the prophetic messages of the text.

            Tanakh is not a systematic theology, science, or history. We treat nearly all of Tanakh as historical, but God did not reveal prophecies to the prophets in order to teach science or history. God is speaking to us, and it is our religious obligation to hear, understand, and listen to that voice. We take all of the texts seriously, even if some of them may be understood as non-literal. Where there are debates among our commentators, we may navigate the path of taking the texts literally to learn their prophetic messages, while remaining open to science, reason, and other religious values from within tradition.[30]

Bringing the Sephardi into a Reset Shoah Narrative

By Arthur Shostak

Holocaust scholarship is finally making up for nearly eight decades of inadequate attention to the impact of the Shoah (1933 - ’45) on approximately 430,000 Sephardi Jews from Europe, Morocco, Algiers, Tunisia, and Libya, etc., over 160,000 of whom perished in the catastrophe.

While a few path-setting academic histories came out since 1945 the publication in 2020 of a heartfelt analysis, The Sephardim in the Holocaust: A Forgotten People, by Isaac and Rosemary Levy, raises the bar. It will for decades be regarded as seminal.

The 262-page book draws on more than 170 interviews conducted with Auschwitz survivors in Belgium, Canada, France, Greece, Israel, Mexico, the Netherlands, the former Yugoslavia, and the United States. We hear from Sephardim in Athens, Corfu, Cos, Macedonia, Rhodes, Salonika, and the former Yugoslavia.

Especially valuable are three features: First, clarification of unique challenges Sephardim faced when in the grips of the Third Reich, as differences in language (24 occupied countries), physical appearance, and Hebrew pronunciation set them apart from the Ashkenazim (the dominant bloc). Second, documentation of brave high-risk secret efforts at revolt in the camps, complicated by the need for Sephardi cooperation with Ashkenazi fellow prisoners. Third, attention to survivors who owe their lives to altruistic sanctuary provided in Albania by Christian and Muslim Upstanders.

Hopefully, the Levy book will soon be followed by new Sephardic-focused scholarship that recognizes  there are two stories, not one, that learners ought to take from study of the Shoah: The Horror Story, or what perpetrators did To their victims, AND the Help Story, or  what victims did FOR one another.

The well-known first story is unforgivable, while the neglected second story is inspiring, It  tells of high-risk secret non-militant efforts made by victims to relieve suffering and increase the survival chances of less fortunate others … even at risk of life. The first story has gotten far more museum wall space than the second, far more library shelf space than the second, far more movie screen coverage than the second, and far more classroom podium and blackboard attention, along with Covid-19 based zoom attention, than the second. This makes the least of memorialization possibilities.

It is past time to think critically about this costly imbalance, and act to remedy it, as it is historically incorrect, grievously misleads, negatively stigmatizes the subject, and explains much of so-called Holocaust Fatigue. The mainstream Narrative needs a constructive reset that would arrest Horror Centrism and advance a new ratio, say, 55/45, Horror/Help, and thereby improve the Legacy and better honor the Six Million (over 160,000 of whom are Sephardic).

To this end I offer the example of my 2017 book, Stealth Altruism: Forbidden Care as Jewish Resistance in the Holocaust, my website of related short published articles (www.stealthaltruism.com), and my podcast ( https://www.practicalreasonpodcast.com/help-story). As well, I offer to assist any reader willing to take this perspective and apply it to the Sephardic Shoah experience.

What was the Sephardic counterpart of the Ashkenazi forest partisan units that in addition to harassing German troops also sheltered young and old Jewish refugees? Who was  a Sephardic counterpart for Dr. Janusz Korczak, a world-renowned Polish Jew possibly the greatest child specialist and educational reformer in all of Europe. How did Sephardic communities treat alleged Nazi collaborationists after 1945? How have Sephardic survivors sought to improve Shoah memorialization efforts and the educational transfer of the Legacy, much as do scores of Ashkenazi organizations?

With the rapid coming of an advent in which there are no direct survivors to tell youngsters (and scholars) their story, all of Shoah memorialization is at risk. The sooner Ashkenazi and Sephardic join hands, hearts, and minds in a creative effort to reset and thereby rehabilitate  the Narrative, the better off will be Jewry, Judaism, and thereby, humanity. The stakes are high,

Thoughts on Parashat Ki Tetsei

by Max Nussbaum

(Max Nussbaum is beginning Shana Bet studies at Yeshivat Reishit in Beit Shemesh. He plans to attend Baruch College upon his return to New York.)

Throughout the Torah, there are numerous mitzvot that don’t appear to have a clear reason. The commandment of Shatnez (not mixing wool and linen), for example, seems very random. However, there are also many mitzvot that make perfect sense such as the commandment to respect our parents. To an ethical person, respecting our parents is the least we can do for them because they bring us into the world and give us everything we need. 

In this week's Parasha, Ki Teitzei, there are 74 mitzvot listed. I’d like to focus on the commandment that one may not plow with an ox and a donkey together (Deuteronomy 22:10). At first glance, this looks puzzling. What’s the reason one can’t use these two particular animals while plowing a field?

The Sefer HaChinuch points out that the reason for this commandment is to prevent these two animals from mating. There is a concept of forbidden mixtures (Kilayim) and cross-breeding falls under that category. Nonetheless, we still have the same problem as before. Forbidden mixtures, such as Shatnez, are still unclear to us as to why they were forbidden.

Earlier this week, I was listening to a shiur by R’ Aryeh Leibowitz in which he quoted an article about sensitivity written by R’ Benjamin Yudin. R’ Leibowitz pointed out in the shiur that a person's view on Torah is often correlated with his or her personality. R’ Yudin, being a sensitive person, has an incredible insight to further understand the mitzvah that one may not plow with an ox and a donkey together. 

The owner of these animals would make sure that these animals are well fed before doing this work. Oxen chew their cud, which would indicate to the donkey that the ox has more food than it has, which would make the donkey upset. Another reason is that an ox is a much stronger animal than a donkey, therefore a donkey wouldn’t be able to keep up with the workload of an ox, which would make the donkey tired and weak. 

From both of these reasons, we now have a distinguishable way of looking at this commandment. What presents itself to be an easy mitzvah from Hashem, is really teaching us about sensitivity. Not only to people, but to animals as well. 

Some years ago, I read about a German Jew who established a "Jewish Nazi Society" during the 1930s. While Jews throughout Germany (and Europe in general) were facing horrible anti-Jewish persecutions, this Jewish man internalized the vicious anti-Semitic propaganda to such an extent that he also became a Jew-hater. Perhaps he thought that by identifying as a Nazi, he would be spared personally from the anti-Jewish persecutions. He wanted to be considered as "a good Jew" in the eyes of the Nazis, rather than be accounted among the "bad" Jews whom the Nazis were tormenting.

 I don't know what ultimately happened to the members of the "Jewish Nazi Society", but I doubt that they were spared by the Nazi hate machine. The Nazis hated Jews for having Jewish blood, regardless of their beliefs or political leanings. Jewish Nazis were just as despicable to Nazis as any other Jews. The Jewish Nazis were despised by Jews for their treachery; and despised by Nazis for their Jewishness.

These thoughts came to mind as I contemplated the phenomenon of Jews in our time who struggle to undermine Israel, and who identify themselves with those who strive to destroy the Jewish State. These individuals seem to suffer from the same psychological problems as members of the "Jewish Nazi Society" in Germany. Israel is constantly barraged by its enemies--through terrorism, economic boycotts, political isolation, anti-Israel propaganda, threats of war and nuclear destruction. To the enemies of Israel, the Jewish State is the object of blind, unmitigated hatred. The enemies use every possible forum to malign Israel and deny its legitimacy. This unceasing war against Israel is resisted courageously by the Jewish State, by Jewish supporters of Israel, by millions of non-Jewish supporters of Israel.

It is bizarre and morally repugnant that the one tiny Jewish country in the world has to suffer so much abuse. It is a matter of honor to stand up for Israel and to remind the world of the right of the Jews to their own homeland. We need to counter the attacks against Israel in every forum. We need to speak truth to combat the unceasing stream of lies heaped up against Israel.

Does this mean that we must agree with and condone everything that Israel does? Of course not. Israelis themselves are vocal in their criticisms of aspects of Israeli life and government policies. As long as criticisms are voiced with love, they should be welcome. They help shake the status quo and move things in a better direction. But criticism must be balanced with an appreciation of the amazingly impressive positive aspects of the Jewish State.

While fair and loving critics are vital to Israel's welfare, haters are destructive. Haters do not seek to improve Israel--they seek to destroy it. Their goal is not to encourage a vibrant, flourishing Jewish State--their goal is to eliminate the Jewish State. The hatred is so blind and so intense, that it is oblivious to facts and figures. For haters, Israel is guilty just by existing. It is particularly regrettable when people of Jewish ancestry align themselves with the haters. In some perverse way, they may think this separates them from the fate of Israel and the Jewish people--they think they will be viewed as "the good Jews" in contrast with the Zionists who are viewed as "the bad Jews". But such Jews are despised by Jews as traitors, and are despised (or mocked) by the haters of Israel--because after all, these hating Jews are still Jews! The enemies are happy to use such people for propaganda purposes; but if they were ever to succeed in their wicked designs, these hating Jews would not fare well. Their treachery to Israel and their fellow Jews would not make them beloved by the enemies of Jews and Israel.

We have read recently of Jewish haters/self-haters who have participated in-- and even spearheaded-- anti-Israel boycotts. We have read of Israeli professors/left wing intellectuals who have participated in anti-Israel programs on college campuses throughout the world. We have read columns by Jewish journalists that are so blatantly unfair to Israel that it makes us shudder. We have learned of Jewish groups and individuals who blame Israel for every ill suffered by Palestinians, even when most of the blame rests with the Palestinian leadership. We have heard Jewish voices decrying Israel's defense of its border with Gaza, even though the stated intent of Hamas is to murder and kidnap as many Israelis as possible...and ultimately to wipe Israel off the map.

For some critics, everyone in the world seems to have rights...except Jews. Every nation in the world has the right to defend its citizens...except Israel.  These are positions which must be repudiated by all fair-minded people. These are positions which most surely should be repudiated by the victims of such views...the Jews themselves.

Pinchas's Peace Prize

Devar Torah by Max Nussbaum

In the 3rd verse of this week's Parasha, Parashat Pinchas, Hashem grants Pinchas with the peace prize. We know from the end of Parashat Balak that Pinchas killed Zimri and Kozbi thus ending the plague on the Israelite People. The result of Pinchas’s action is great; but why should he deserve a peace prize for killing two people? Furthermore, why did this end the plague?

Throughout Tanakh we see a few more interesting rewards and punishments that may lead us to question some foundational ideas. Moshe hit the rock and was unable to enter Israel. Avraham almost sacrificed his son Yitzhak and received a promise that his offspring would be the chosen nation. Yaakov tricked Yitzhak and received many blessings. The spies spoke badly about Israel and they were all sentenced to death in the desert. There’s seems to be no set standard for results of our actions; but in Parashat Ha’azinu we learn: “His (Hashem’s) deeds are perfect”. It appears as if we’re missing something.

There’s one common denominator among all of these things; the proper standard is fulfillment of Hashem's will. Following Hashem's will leads to blessing; violating His will leads to punishment. Moshe was supposed to talk to the rock and was punished because he didn’t. Avraham was ready to sacrifice his son as Hashem had commanded and he was rewarded. The same for Yaakov and the spies. Pinchas acted in a way that maintained Hashem's standard of morality for the People of Israel...and was therefore rewarded.

Pinchas deserved the peace prize because he had faith and was loyal to Hashem’s will. Due to the fact that this incident with Zimri and Kozbi happened in front of the nation, Pinchas inspired the people to do the will of Hashem. This is why Pinchas was granted the peace prize, and this is was why the plague was stopped. The main message to take away from this week's Parasha is that no matter what, we should always do the right thing and strive to live up to the standards that Hashem has set for us.

As of this writing, over 300 people have viewed our recent program on Breastfeeding in Halakhah. We are thrilled to reach people on such an important topic, and are grateful to the Institute for making such vital programming an essential aspect of what we do to promote our vision to the broader community.

View the program on Breastfeeding at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sWQJWg2hxo

Please also view other recent symposia we have run, and of course please share the links with your friends:

Celebrating Rabbi Marc Angel's 50 years in the Rabbinate:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZ2VUwW3l78

Torah Education and Morality:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjL_o2e4B68&t=6s

Conversion to Judaism: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GG17aaahdPQ

Please browse our YouTube channel for many other lectures and programs by Rabbi Marc Angel and Rabbi Hayyim Angel.

Thank you to all our members and supporters who make these and other programs possible.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

An excellent new commentary of the biblical book Samuel

Review by Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin

“The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel – Samuel,” published by Koren Publishers Jerusalem in 2021, is one of the best Bible commentaries in English. I say this because of its massive easy to read scholarly material on many far-reaching subjects, contributions by twenty renowned scholars, and because I see the value of this book after I used over a hundred such books while writing my own books on the Bible, such as my many volumes on the differences between the Hebrew Bible and its Aramaic translation called Onkelos, and after I have reviewed over 8,100 books, many dealing with the Bible.

This is the second volume in the Land of Israel series. The first focused on the second book of the Five Books of Moses, Exodus, which is equally praiseworthy. This one is on the book of Samuel, which like the first book of the Bible, Genesis, is interesting because it is filled with adventurous stories. In fact, the book of Samuel is for this reason taught in the elementary level in many Hebrew schools. This translation and commentary multiplies the enjoyment. The translation follows the suggestion of Maimonides to his own translator who translated his Arabic “Guide of the Perplexed” to Hebrew: Do not translate literally, word for word, because what is idiomatic and makes sense in one language often does not make sense and sounds stilted when copied literally in another language. So, find the intent in the original and make the translation clear by inserting the intent, such as rendering vayehi vayamim harabim, which literally means “And it was many days,” should be rendered in Modern English as “Years passed.”

The extensive commentary with a seven page introduction to the book of Samuel is filled with enlightening and fascinating information on every page. It is by highly respected Modern Orthodox rabbis and scholars of many fields, and is very rational. Among much else, the volume explains the ancient practice of polygamy, The Lord of Hosts, why Israelites had Egyptian names, vows, bareness in the ancient Near East, wine with sacrifices, cultic objects, names having significance, symbolism of a raised horn, rock, fate, amulets, Sheol, a heavy hand, cherubim, and other terms, why leaders were anointed, priestly corruption, the three-pronged fork used with sacrifices, priestly garments, women in the priesthood in the ancient Near East, nighttime revelations, madness and superstition, prophets as royal advisers, the belief that God was present in the Ark, did God become emotionally angry, the Philistines’ golden mice, carts used in rituals,  and much more.

A history of surrounding nation and their customs is included, including geography, archaeology, with information about the Philistines, Egyptology, and other nations. There are many maps, charts, timelines, dates, pictures of paintings by famed artists portraying events in this biblical book, and much more. There are articles on language, on what is Tanakh, the Tabernacle, ancient Hebrew, flora and fauna, Halakha, on the beginning of the monarchy in Israel, the reign of King David, did David learn from the Philistines, David’s campaigns, the authorship of the book of Samuel, why is necromancy forbidden, political marriages, and the variant versions from the Masoretic Text in the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls.    

Everyone reading the 505 pages of this excellent book or even browsing through it, whether Jew or non-Jew, even if the reader has a university education on the Bible or attended Orthodox yeshivot for many years, will benefit from this book a thousand-fold by learning more about the Bible, biblical history, its comparison with the teachings of other ancient cultures, the history of the Jewish people, the making of the monarchy in Israel, and much more.

Should a person who desperately wants to make aliyah do so even if his or her parents object?

The basic halakha is that a grown child may decide for him/herself about Aliyah and that parents do not have the right to impose their will in this matter. This is especially true if the grown child feels that he/she can learn and observe Torah better in Israel and if he/she wants to raise children there.

It is best, of course, if parents and children reach an amicable understanding. In our days, it is easier to maintain contact with family, even if they live far from each other. We have whatsapp and facetime and zoom etc.  We also can travel to and from Israel much more quickly and easily than was possible for our ancestors even a few generations ago.

Making Aliyah is a big decision. If a grown child has decided on Aliyah after carefully considering the pluses and minuses, then the parents should accept this decision gracefully…and proudly.

If a Jew who knows better intermarries, how should one treat his or her spouse?  Coldly?  Warmly?  Somewhere in between?

One “who knows better” also must realize that religiously observant Jews strongly disapprove of interfaith marriage. It would not normally be expected to have a non-Jewish spouse treated warmly and naturally, as if nothing were wrong.

On the other hand, we are taught not to judge others unless we imagine ourselves to be in a similar situation.  If someone disapproves of your spouse, for whatever reason, how would you want that person to behave toward your spouse? Would you be pleased if he/she acted coldly, rudely? Would you want to maintain a positive relationship with someone who disdained your spouse? 

If you alienate the non-Jewish partner of a Jewish relative or friend, wouldn’t that almost certainly damage or end your relationship?

One approach is: that person sinned, I want nothing to do with him/her or spouse. Another approach is to try to maintain a good relationship with the Jewish person while having as little to do as possible with the non-Jewish spouse.

Another approach is to deal with intermarried couples as fellow human beings. Although we don’t approve of interfaith marriage, neither do we approve of rudeness. We don’t know the inner life of that couple. Could the non-Jewish spouse be considering conversion to Judaism? If so, our coldness could turn the person away from Judaism.

I think it’s best to be as inclusive as possible. As Bruria taught, one should disdain the sin, not the sinners.

Is it proper to publicly announce donors' names and contribution amounts in shul?

Many synagogues find it essential to conduct public appeals in order to raise funds. Calling names of donors is a way of increasing contributions. It encourages people to participate as generously as possible, and discourages people from avoiding to make their donations. Their reputations are at stake!

Is this ideal? Absolutely not. Wouldn’t it be so much better if everyone contributed generously and promptly, so as to preclude the necessity of public appeals for funds? These appeals degrade the sanctity of the synagogue, often causing frustration and embarrassment.

While halakhic justification for this practice can be found, it is still unseemly and unpleasant.

But the problem isn’t primarily with the fundraisers: the problem is with the community at large.

If everyone met their financial responsibilities generously, there would be no need for public appeals. But—unfortunately—it is the rare synagogue that can maintain itself without public appeals that name the donors and the amount of donations.

Some synagogues have sought other ways of raising funds e.g. scrolls of honor, online campaigns, appeals without actually mentioning donors’ names etc.

Let each of us contribute as generously as we can. If we all do our share financially, we will be contributing to the holiness of our sanctuaries. And if we don’t meet our financial obligations on our own, get ready for the next appeal in shul!

Is it proper to pressure family members of a get refuser?

“Get” refusal is reprehensible. It is never justified, regardless of any personal grievances that may be at stake. If a marriage has effectively ended, a “get” must be given and received promptly. The “get” is not a bargaining tool. The divorcing couple should settle its disputes directly, in a beth din or civil court. Holding back on a “get” is unethical, sinful, and a hillul Hashem.

“Get” refusers apparently persist in their wickedness in spite of external pressures. Either they are spiteful, greedy or malicious. Whatever can be done to prod them to give/receive the “get” should be done. This includes treating the refuser as one in “herem.” Isolating the person socially and in business can be helpful.

Is it proper to put pressure on family members of the refuser? The answer depends on whether or not such pressure can be effective. In some cases, family members may strongly support the refuser. In other cases, family members may have no influence on the refuser.

But if there is a chance that family members can play a constructive role, and you can speak with them calmly and reasonably, then by all means speak with them. If the refuser realizes that the family is being disgraced and pressured, perhaps a “get” will be forthcoming.

“Get” refusal reflects badly on the refuser, on the family and community. It reflects badly on Torah and halakha. We must do our best to eliminate this shameful behavior from our midst.

Remembering Mom: Thoughts for Mother's Day

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel 

(Below is an essay I wrote, included in my book The Wisdom of Solomon and Us, Jewish Lights, 2016, pp. 135-138.)

My mother, Rachel Romey Angel, was born in 1914 in Seattle, Washington, the second of seven children born to Marco and Sultana Romey—both immigrants from Turkey. Although my grandparents were born and raised in Turkey, their first language was Judeo-Spanish, the language of the Sephardic Jews scattered throughout the former Ottoman Empire. My mother did not learn to speak English until she attended kindergarten in public school.

The Sephardic immigrants of Seattle came to America with little money and little formal education, but with a tremendous desire to make a new and better life for themselves and their families. The first generation immigrants worked at various trades; their children went on to own stores and other businesses; their grandchildren were nearly all university educated professionals and business people.

My mother was “only a girl.” In those days and in that society, it was assumed that girls would marry at an early age and have families of their own. Girls did not need much education, only basic domestic skills such as cooking and sewing. In the milieu of my mother’s childhood, it was highly unusual for a woman to attend university or to hold a serious job outside the home.

My mother was a brilliant student, but when she turned 16—the legal age that one was required to attend school—my grandfather told her she had to quit school and get a job to help support the family. Her older sister had done that and was working in a candy factory, and my grandfather wanted my mother to do likewise. My mother told her teachers at Garfield High School that she was going to be leaving school to go to work. One of the teachers was so distressed by this news that she spoke with my grandfather, urging him to let my mother graduate from high school. She told him that his daughter was a wonderful student with an excellent mind; if given the opportunity, she could attend university and do great things with her life. My grandfather replied: “she’s only a girl; she doesn’t need more education; she has to go to work and earn money.”

Thus ended my mother’s academic career. She never graduated from high school. She worked in the candy factory for a few years, got married at age 21, and went on to have four children, and eventually twelve grandchildren. She was a voracious reader, a deep thinker, and a keen observer of human nature. Neither her husband nor their close group of friends had a college graduate among them, so my mother was sort of a closet intellectual. She functioned happily and successfully in her world, but she kept her intellectual, philosophical side pretty much to herself. If she had been born two generations later, she would have been a university graduate, probably a Ph.D., and she would have had opportunities in academia, public life or business that were totally out of reach for her in her time and place.

Was my mother a success? Was she happy? Did she fulfill her mission in life? The answer to these questions depends on how we evaluate success, happiness and fulfillment in life. If we deem someone successful, happy and fulfilled if she earned a good income, lived a prosperous life, earned an academic degree, and held responsible positions in professional life—then my mother did not meet these requirements.

But my mother was a remarkable woman. She was a loyal daughter, devoted wife, loving mother and grandmother, gracious hostess, excellent friend. She was a profound thinker, an avid reader, a talented knitter. She enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. She was good and kind, thoughtful, and highly principled. If measured by standards of quality rather than quantity, my mother was eminently successful, happy and fulfilled in life.

When King Solomon praises the “woman of valor,” he refers to the virtues of being a good wife and mother, a hard-worker on behalf of her family, a generous soul who is charitable and kind. The Hebrew word for valor, hayyil, has the connotation of strength and courage. The “ideal” woman is not identified as being passive and obedient, but rather as having a strong character focused on her life’s values and goals.

When reading the last passages of Mishlei today, one is struck by how much society has changed in recent generations. Women today have far more opportunities in education, professions, public life and business than had been true for women in many societies of the past. But this success has also come with trade-offs. In pursuing careers, women may defer or forego the joys of a solid marriage, child-rearing, and being full-time mothers. Are the modern “liberated” women more successful, happier, and more fulfilled than the women of my mother’s pattern of life? In some ways, yes; in other ways, probably not.

I remember reading somewhere that in our modern society a woman is considered creative if she produces a piece of sculpture or operates her own business. But if a woman is “merely” a mother who creates children, shapes their lives, and sees to it that they can lead happy and good lives, she is labeled somewhat pejoratively as “only being a housewife.” A full-time wife and mother is deemed to be on a lower level than women who devote their energies to professional or business life.

If my mother had been given more opportunities to develop her intellect and talents, she would have had a significant impact on many people beyond her immediate circle of family and friends. She would have been gratified to learn more and teach more, and to play a greater role in the larger society. She would have been very happy to have many of the opportunities which were available to her own daughter, daughters-in-law and granddaughters.

But having said that, her own life evaluated in its own context was a remarkably happy, meaningful and successful adventure. She was grateful for what she had and what she was able to achieve. She was beautiful and graceful; she feared the Lord; she loved and was loved; she raised and inspired her children; she left an indelible impact on her grandchildren. “She shall be praised.”

How ought religion, including Modern Jewish Orthodoxy, interact with America’s political democracy? And can it survive our current culture? Not surprisingly, these simple questions simultaneously point in many directions. However, my interest is specific. I wish to understand how secular politics and culture affect religion in the United States and vice versa. Although answers are complex, I do think that a few meaningful generalizations are possible.

Let us begin our inquiry by asking the following question: How is religion viewed politically? In the United States, this is first of all a Constitutional and legal matter. After all, it is the Constitution that defines what policies and programs the national government can legally undertake. Usually, any discussion of the relationship between religion and government focuses upon explicating the First Amendment, a legal guarantee that prohibits the national government from establishing religion while guaranteeing to its citizens the free exercise of their religion. However, often overlooked is an even more foundational constitutional guarantee that defines the relationship between the national government and religious practice in the United States. Remarkably, despite the fact that 11 states had established religious oaths as prerequisite for holding political office, the Founders outlawed them in the new Constitution. Article VI, paragraph 3 of the Constitution stipulates that “no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust in the United States.” The intention of those who wrote the Constitution remains clear: Public officials in charge of the government were required to act legally, not piously. The Constitution demanded only that officeholders in the national government swear to uphold and defend the Constitution.

Although the metaphor of a wall of separation between church and state rather overstates the matter, there exists little doubt that the Founders created a secular government designed to be governed by officials who aim to advance the public interest through the fidelity to the Constitution and the rule of law. It might be said that the Constitution’s emphasis on constitutionalism was intended to supply the essence of a public religion much in the way halakha constitutes the core of Judaism.

Where did this secular definition of politics leave organized religion? The Founding generation wrote a Constitution that was premised upon a number of widely shared and nuanced assumptions about religion—assumptions that remain important for us to understand today. First, the Founders believed that it was dangerous when the powers of church and state merged, and religion formally intruded itself in the state’s governing. The Founders responded by creating the secular Constitution to which I have alluded. Second, those who wrote the Constitution almost uniformly feared religious fanaticism. Modern European history suggested that religious fanaticism was the most common kind of a fanaticism, and fanaticism was a mindset that usually produced intolerance and violence incompatible with responsible self-government. It is important here not to confuse religious orthodoxy with fanaticism. Religious orthodoxy represents an adherence to doctrine about God that is believed and lived. Only when its adherents seek forcibly to impose it on others can orthodoxy slip into a politically dangerous fanaticism.

If religion, under the wrong conditions, could be dangerous for self-government, its practice nonetheless was a matter of conscience and could be politically valuable; therefore it required protection. For that reason, the founding generation shared a third view of religion, namely that its reasonable practice required protecting. Different rationales could be detected here. Influential thinkers such as Jefferson pointed out that a citizen’s religious freedom was a subset of freedom generally, and that one of the purposes of self-government had to do with the securing of liberty for all citizens: Not only do my neighbors have a right to their religious opinions, but how my neighbors practiced their religion did not adversely affect me. In Jefferson’s words, whether there were 20 gods or no god, “neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.” Endangering one’s neighbor’s religious freedom was unacceptable because every citizen’s religious belief and practice deserved respect. Furthermore, any government that could threaten anyone’s religious belief could also threaten one’s own freedom of conscience specifically and one’s political freedom more generally.

A somewhat different defense of a robust religious practice was provided by Founders such as George Washington. Washington often enunciated that political morality, and therefore American national well-being, decisively depended upon religion. For Washington, religion was a source of morality that strengthened citizenship and, by so doing, empowered responsible self-government. Religion clarified the sort of ethical behavior that was expected of us. Contemporary academic studies tend to confirm Washington’s observation, revealing a correlation between citizens who regularly attend religious worship and increased contributions to charity, more frequent civil engagement, and higher levels of empathy toward others.

Shorn of formal involvement in state affairs, and absent any fanatical tendencies, the Founding generation assumed that the practice of religion would be concentrated in the private realm and that its influence would be positive. They championed the widespread reasonable private exercise of religion (combined with infrequent, ceremonial, traditional public acknowledgments of God or religion) because they believed that it benefitted the political order by protecting liberty and enhancing morality. Therefore, from a secular point of view, the Founders praised religion because it was politically useful. The Constitution required from public officials no opinion whatsoever about the truth of any particular religion or about religion generally. But the Founders never denied the importance of religion or its frequent positive influence upon self-government.

This briefly summarizes the U.S. Constitution’s and its government’s view of religion. But what can we say about the opposite perspective? How have religions, and their practitioners, interacted with government? The first thing to be said is perhaps obvious. Citizens who are religious but desire to influence civic and public policy have sought public office since the Constitution’s ratification. Not unreasonably, they have brought with them their religious convictions. Nor could it have been otherwise. It would be unreasonable, not to mention impossible, to expect such citizens to leave their most deeply held, religiously based beliefs behind. But our politics requires that even arguments made by political leaders who are privately religious be publicly made in secular terms. Religion in the United States most frequently and successfully enters the public square indirectly and diluted, dressed in the garb of secular language about public good. Politicians advocating this or that policy inevitably phrase their appeal in the language of perceived secular advantage, even if that advantage coincides with the teaching of their religious doctrine.

There is another way religion reacts to government in the United States. Often, religious individuals are wary of laws or policies that threaten to put religion generally, or their religion in particular, at a disadvantage. Such a situation can arise in several ways. Actions of an expanding government may restrict religious practices, or contradict religious dogmas or beliefs, or treat them less generously than strictly public institutions. This is particularly true for religiously sponsored private institutions that perform a public function, including day care centers, charities, hospitals, and schools. To the extent that such issues are not settled by the courts, religious leaders seek to influence elected officials. They often seek assurances that their institutions are not politically or financially disadvantaged by restrictive rules or funding in the public arena.

The fear of an intrusive government, indifferent to the sensibilities of religious organizations and the beliefs of their practitioners, constitutes a dominant fear of America’s religious leaders. Another is the rejection of religion, or particular religious sects, particularly by the young. Often, this is cited as evidence of religions’ declining influence. In order to combat this threat, many religious sects have sought to become more culturally sensitive and aware. This trend has larger political implications. Rather than reinforcing the larger secular culture of its moral responsibilities and obligations, it appears that religion itself is increasingly being subverted by that culture. The importance of this change cannot be overestimated. Often, religion is pictured as a foundation of society, strong and unchanging. The truth can be quite different. There exists widespread concern that religion, society’s bedrock, is slowly but surely being eroded by the popular culture the Founders hoped it would support.

James Davison Hunter (in The Death of Character) has outlined the problem brilliantly. A therapeutic, relativistic culture currently dominates in the United States. In its battle with traditionally defined religion, it is winning. The ascendency of the pervasive popular culture can be seen both in obvious and profound ways. Here are a few (but only a few). It is no accident that psychologists and social workers have replaced clergy in times of public distress and great tragedies. Nor is it meaningless that schools and popular culture and peer groups have supplanted churches and religion as the arbiters of moral behavior. Furthermore, morality is no longer thought to be divinely rooted but is increasingly seen as individually determined. In its increasingly frantic attempt to be relevant, religion has sought to blend. In such a world, right and wrong is no longer found in sacred texts. Increasingly it is pronounced individually, different practices and behaviors being fobbed off as mere difference. Difference here masquerades as a moral term, a word designed to display tolerance, but which effectively obliterates the very morality it pretends to describe.

Even if the name of religion has not changed, this has become soft religion without meaningful content. Such an approach can be seen most obviously in a surprisingly large number of Americans who define their religiosity by referring to their spirituality. Traditionally understood, religiosity is about belief and action, about faith in God, and about acting in accordance with God’s guidance of our fellow human beings. By contrast, spirituality is all about feeling. It knows nothing about God and postulates nothing about ethical obligations. The locus of the feeling can be located in the experiences and emotions of the affected person. God, if God matters at all, constitutes a mere afterthought.

Although an extreme example, an increasing emphasis upon the self is indicative of a trend in contemporary American religion. Generally, religion in the United States has moved away from its traditional religiosity in the direction of spirituality. An increasingly frantic organized religion in America has chosen to confront a self-referential culture by catering to it. Today, the common question posed to would-be churchgoers and congregants asks whether this or that religious experience is personally fulfilling. Religion, like its larger surrounding culture, has become mired in the ethos of egalitarian individualism.

Having shorn religion of its content, mainstream churches and synagogues have sometimes attempted to remain relevant by significantly supplementing—some would say conflating—liberal political and social doctrine with religious content. This phenomenon is widespread. It has characterized the mainline Protestant Churches for almost 50 years. Similarly, Reform Judaism, repeatedly trumpeting the idea of tikkun olam, has pursued a similar route (leading one wag to remark that the primary difference between Reform Judaism and the Democratic Party has become the holidays).

The consequences of this strategy have not been encouraging. The mainline Protestant Churches have been characterized by internal dissension and today are in notable decline. Within Reform Judaism there has ensued something of theological crises. Consider: Judaism has long understood itself in terms of chosenness. It proves hardly surprising that the idea that the Jewish people uniquely had received God’s Divine Covenant has profoundly informed Jewish practice, belief and liturgy. Furthermore, in very specific ways, the idea of chosenness led the rabbis to reflect in very precise ways on what it meant to live a distinctively Jewish life. God’s Covenant—and what led up to it—was an essential for defining Jewish obligation, of what constituted a Jewish obligation to one’s fellow Jews, to all people everywhere, and to God.

The problem for religion such as Reform Judaism is that the notion of chosenness, at the very least, is in tension with the pervasive idea of equality. Equality is modernity’s—and hence this age’s—most powerful idea. More than any other single concept, it alone frequently defines social justice. Furthermore (as Tocqueville would remind us), its increase has been advanced by every major scientific innovation for hundreds of years—from the invention of firearms and the printing press to the development of the automobile and the iPad. Reform Judaism’s espousal of contemporary liberalism required that it embrace equality; its affiliation with Jewish tradition pointed simultaneously to Jewish distinctiveness and chosenness. Reconciling the two proved to be no simple task. More specifically, the idea of retaining a specific Jewish identity in an age that sees all ethnic and religious identity merely as equally shared group characteristics remains challenging.

What are the social and political consequences caused by the weakening of many of America’s most influential and important religious sects? On the one hand, a diluted religion does have some positive social consequences. Most specifically, such a religion is more tolerant and accepting of other religions (and perhaps even of people who do not practice religion). It is important to recognize that this desirable social consequence often can result from a dilution of religious belief as well as a lessening of faith in a specific differentiating religious doctrine. To the extent that I value my religion because it is mine, or because it is familiar, or because of sheer inertia (rather than because I believe that my faith is correct and others are quite misguided), the more likely I am to view all religion inclusively. Stating this same conclusion negatively, the more a religious person sees another individual as expressing similar religious ideas as themselves, the less likely that person will be to ridicule, marginalize—or advocate, condone, or practice violence against that person.

But such social acceptance comes with a cost. Doubtlessly, the weakening of a believer’s religious belief adversely affects the intensity and vitality of that person’s religious practice. The question becomes: what are the political implications of increasing numbers of people ceasing to regard religion as a first order matter—as a matter of caring for one’s soul and that human being’s relationship to God? To what extent will the United States be changed as religion no longer remains a matter of urgent faith for many citizens, and increasingly becomes a mere preference, little different from any other consumer preference? The Founders had assumed the existence of, and therefore counted upon, a robust religion, a religion whose doctrines were alive and vibrant to its practitioners. They believed that only such a religion could impart the moral urgency to remind human beings of their civic duties and responsibilities to others. In a decent political order, they hoped that the religiously inspired teaching like that which proclaims the importance of loving one’s neighbor could, more often than not, modify the first fact about human nature, namely that human beings are motivated by self-love and therefore often act from self-interest. A successful politics could not ignore the harsher side of human behavior. But neither did it always have to settle for it.

So it turns out that the relationship between revealed religion, American democracy, and our current culture is complex. As such, it is not reducible to simple slogans or clichés. Yet one cannot help but notice the positive implications of this analysis for a religion like such as Jewish Modern Orthodoxy. Its orthodoxy reflects a belief system that is neither flabby nor formless. As a religion rooted in revelation but well disposed to reason, it combines a core coherent belief about its own faith with a respect for others. Equally important from a political perspective, it partakes in the larger culture without succumbing to its influence. To the contrary, Modern Orthodoxy proves quite capable of applying well articulated and thoughtful standards of moral judgment to it. As such, it does not lack influence. Specifically, it can and does help fashion the conscience and convictions of morally grounded citizens who can participate in political discussion and in the public realm. In return, like all other religions, it receives the Constitution’s broad protection of religious free exercise. A contract of sorts between (this) religion and state would seem to exist. Fortunately, it is a good political bargain, for all Americans derive benefit from its existence.

argain, for all Americans derive benefit from its existence.