I am happy to be a Jewish Israeli who prefers to be liked by others, but I know that a healthy person ought not to overly worry whether they are liked by others. As my friend Eli Schonfeld says, “The ‘Jewish Question’ is not a Jewish question.” Let non-Jews worry about it. As a Jew, I think I should worry about philogoyyism. How ought I relate to non-Jews?[1]

The question is new. For at least two millennia Jews indeed had to worry about what non-Jews thought of them. Even today Jewry’s enemies force themselves upon our attention, be it through plain old-fashioned Jew-hatred, widespread Muslim antisemitism, or the immoral stupidity of so-called progressive forces that identify with Hamas. Anti-Zionists (Jewish and non-Jewish), unless they reject all nationalisms, are culpably ignorant and thus immoral. In practical terms they must be opposed and resisted, of course, but they do not represent a threat to Judaism.

The real threat to Judaism today comes from within, from circles that take advantage of current recrudescent Jew-hatred to justify disdain for and often hatred of goyyim (Gentiles).[2] There are, of course other internal threats: “Gedolim” who urge their followers to reject army service in Israel is one that particularly outrages me, but I see it as a temporary problem. As soon as our government stops underwriting draft evasion more and more young haredim will choose to get a modern education and to serve Israeli society in a variety of ways, including through enlistment.

What do I mean by “philogoyyism”? Historically, as the old Jewish joke has it, antisemitism has meant disliking Jews more than is really necessary. Its opposite, philosemitism, has not meant liking Jews more than is really necessary. For me, philosemitism need not mean admiring or loving Jews more than other people. Ideally, it should mean treating Jews no differently than one treats other people. That is what I mean by “philogoyyism”: treating goyyim the way the Torah treats them—as human beings created in the image of God. Some goyyim (like some Jews) are likeable, some (like some Jews) are impossible, both without respect to their Jewishness or their goyyism.

What does the Torah teach us about the nature of Jews vis-à-vis the nature of goyyim? Nothing. There are no passages in the Torah that impute to the Jews as such characteristics missing in other peoples. The Torah is careful to delineate family trees, of course, but that may be only to emphasize, as R. Josef Kafih pointed out, that we are all descended from the same antecedents (Adam and Eve, Noah and Mrs. Noah), and are all of us are thus cousins.[3] Before Sinai, all human beings are Noahides, including the Patriarchs and their descendants. Indeed, the Torah seems to go out of its way to emphasize that the future messiah would descend from two non-Jewish women (Tamar and Ruth). 

The issue of philogoyyism is particularly pressing today in Israel. Our government is dominated by parties that deny that Jews and non-Jews are equally created fully in the image of God and are equally beloved by God. These parties represent a trend in Judaism that clearly exists (sadly), but they present it as the only legitimate form of Judaism. That is false. It is also dangerous to Israeli democracy.

The doctrine of the chosen people, while certainly central to Jewish self-understanding, is not unique to the Jews.[4] The Jews, however, may be the only people to ground their chosenness in a covenant with God.[5] Why did God enter into the covenant with the Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and their descendants? There is surprisingly little discussion of this point in the Torah itself. There are many iterations of the idea that God chose the Jews (“How odd of God to choose the Jews…not so odd, the goyyim annoyed Him”) out of love for their ancestors, but why did God love their ancestors? That is a question that generated an on-going debate between Judah Halevi and his followers and Maimonides and his followers.[6]

The Torah teaches that the Jews were God’s am segulah, treasured (chosen) people. What does it say about the “unchosen”? About the vast run of humanity, the Torah has little to say. There are clearly “others,” first and foremost those who are to be exterminated: the seven Canaanite nations and Amalek.[7] Other others include those with whom Israelites may not marry (Moabites and Amonites). There are other others, of course, about whom the Torah does not have much to say, beyond acknowledging their existence: Edomites and Egyptians primarily. There are also Abraham’s other progeny, Ishmael assuredly, but also those born to him after Sarah’s death by his wife Keturah. Here it is very useful to bring into play Jacob Kaminsky’s distinction between the elect (God’s chosen people), the “anti-elect” (Amalek and the “Seven Nations”), and the vast run of humanity whom Kaminsky calls the “non-elect.”[8]

Alexander  Altmann put this matter well:

[Judaism,] it may be said, in general, is intolerant of Israelites falling away from the God of the Fathers and of the Covenant. It shows no trace of intolerance of heathens following their customs and traditions. Ruth the Moabite is welcomed as a proselyte, but Orpah, her sister-in-law is not reproved because of her return to her native paganism. David and Solomon extended their kingdoms far beyond the Israelite borders, but they did not impose their religion on the subjugated peoples.[9] 

The Biblical story opens, of course, with the creation of all that is. Abraham, the progenitor of those whom we now call Jews, does not show up until 20 generations have passed. For many traditionally oriented Jews today (influenced by R. Judah Halevi and those who follow him), Abraham was literally and specifically chosen by God. For Maimonides and those who follow him, on the other hand, Abraham chose God.[10]

Returning to Halevi, Abraham belonged by descent to a special subset of humanity capable of achieving prophecy. This special subset of humanity continued to develop through Abraham (but not through his brother Haran, or his nephew Lot, or the children of his second wife, Keturah), through Isaac (but not through his brother Ishmael), and through Jacob (but not through his brother Esau) and finally to all of Jacob's descendants, the children of Israel/Jacob.[11]

The Torah itself seems to support a view later to be held by Maimonides rather than that later to be held by Judah Halevi. The clearest expression of this might be Dt. 7:6–8:

For you are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: of all the peoples on earth the Lord your God chose you to be His treasured people. It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord set His heart on you and chose you—indeed, you are the smallest of peoples; but it was because the Lord favored you and kept the oath He made to your fathers that the Lord freed you with a mighty hand and rescued you from the house of bondage, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt.[12]

God chose Israel as a special treasure for no characteristic of theirs, but, rather, to keep a promise made to the Patriarchs, their ancestors. This and similar verses can be read differently, but this seems to be the simple sense, and it is certainly the way that Maimonides (but not Halevi![13]) read them.

Thus, for example, in Guide iii.51 we find Maimonides stating:

It is also the plane our Patriarchs reached, coming so close to God that He became known to the world through them: The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob…This is my universal name (Ex. 3:15). One result of this union of their minds with thoughts of God is His eternal covenant with each of them: I shall remember my covenant with Jacob [---and also My covenant with Isaac, and My covenant with Abraham shall I remember] (Lev. 26:42). For these four—the Patriarchs and our Teacher Moses—were plainly united with God by love and knowledge of Him, as our texts proclaim. Another result was his Supernal providence over them and their seed after them…[14]

For Maimonides the election of Israel is a consequence of the antecedent covenant made by God with the Patriarchs. This covenant is a consequence of their love and knowledge of God, not a consequence of any special characteristic found in the Jewish people—zekhut avot (ancestral merit) indeed!

So what is the relationship between the efforts of the Patriarchs and the Jewish People? Maimonides continues (p. 521):

For the object of their efforts, lifelong, was to found a nation that knew and served God: For I have know him, that he may charge [his children and his house after him to keep the way of the Lord, by doing right and justice] (Gen. 18:19). Their every endeavor, you can see was devoted to spreading monotheism through the world, guiding people to the love of God. So they earned the rank they reached [emphasis added].

In this crucial passage Maimonides informs us that the object of the Patriarchs was to found a nation that knew and served God, a nation educated to keep the way of the Lord by doing right and justice. The overall aim of the Patriarchs, and one assumes Maimonides held, of the Jewish people also, was to spread monotheism throughout the world. We also learned that the Patriarchs earned their rank; it was not inherited as Halevi would have it. So, too, their descendants have to justify their chosenness by earning it.

This is a doctrine of election far from those of Halevi, Zohar, Kabbalah, and of far too many Jews today.

It turns out that Bible (and rabbinic texts) do not offer clear answers to questions concerning the reason for election and the nature of the Jewish people. This is not surprising: These texts are not overtly theological in nature and rarely address abstract theological issues straightforwardly, if at all. Was the Torah given to Israel in consequence of God’s choice or was the giving of the Torah the mechanism of God’s choosing (as Halevi and Zohar would have it)?  Deuteronomy (7:6–8) as we just saw appears to answer that question by de-linking God’s choice to some quality of the Jewish people. Others could have been chosen but weren’t. On this view, The Torah is a record of what “happened to happen,” not a record of what had to happen.[15]

Election—Torah

The Book of Genesis is largely devoted to the history of God’s relationship with the Patriarchs, but the reason behind that relationship is never made clear. God chooses Abraham by commanding: “Go forth…” (Gen. 12:1) but no explanation for that choice is found.

The ancestral patrimony is not raised in a passage from Deuteronomy dealing with what came to be called the election of Israel, 14:1–2:

You are children of the Lord your God. You shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads because of the dead. For you are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: the Lord your God chose you from among all other peoples on earth to be His treasured people.

That these verses teach that God chose Israel from among all the nations is clear. Why? These verses do not tell us.

Similarly, in a further passage in Deuteronomy (26:16–19):

The Lord your God commands you this day to observe these laws and rules; observe them faithfully with all your heart and soul. You have affirmed this day that the Lord is your God, that you will walk in His ways, that you will observe His laws and commandments and rules, and that you will obey Him. And the Lord has affirmed this day that you are, as He promised you, His treasured people who shall observe all His commandments, and that He will set you, in fame and renown and glory, high above all the nations that He has made; and that you shall be, as He promised, a holy people to the Lord your God.

“High above all the nations (elyon al kol ha-goyyim)”—many will want to read that as a claim of Israel’s inherent superiority. Nevertheless, the verse itself speaks of superiority in fame, renown, and glory, nothing else. Here the connection between election and obedience to the commandments is made clear.

The prophet Amos seemed to be conflicted about the nature of the election of Israel. On the hand one, he wrote (1:1–2):

Hear this word, O people of Israel,
That the Lord has spoken concerning you,
Concerning the whole family that I brought up from the land of Egypt: You alone have I singled out
Of all the families of the earth—
That is why I will call you to account
For all your iniquities.

On the other hand, six chapters on, he states (9:7):

To Me, O Israelites, you are
Just like the Ethiopians
—declares the Lord.
True, I brought Israel up
From the land of Egypt,
But also the Philistines from Caphtor
And the Arameans from Kir.

But the following verse makes clear that unlike the Philistines and Arameans,

Behold, the Lord God has His eye
Upon the sinful kingdom:
I will wipe it off
The face of the earth!
But, I will not wholly wipe out
The House of Jacob
—declares the Lord.

For Amos, being the apple of God’s eye, as it were, can have negative consequences—unique attention and unique punishment—but the House of Jacob will never be wiped out.

One thing is clear from this brief survey: There is no obvious biblical doctrine of election. Given the nature of the Bible itself, this is not surprising, even if it would surprise many Jews today.

Continuing with the issue of theological surprises, there is very little doubt that most Jews raised in a traditional context would be surprised to discover that rabbinic texts contain a variety of positions concerning God’s choice of Israel.[16] Many of them would be even more surprised to discover that many such texts imply the view (later adopted by Maimonides) that God might have chosen other nations, and that the choice of Israel reflects no special qualities found in the Jewish people. 

This may be the message of the following oft-cited passage (AZ 2b): “R. Johanan says: This teaches us that the Holy One, blessed be He, offered the Torah to every nation and every tongue, but none accepted it, until He came to Israel who received it.” The point of this passage is not to teach history, but to praise the ancient Israelites, who accepted the Torah unconditionally.[17] However, the praise makes no sense had the Torah been predestined for the Jews.

Menachem Hirshman has analyzed in detail the many texts that ask why Torah was given in the Wilderness of Sinai as opposed to the Land of Israel. Hirshman demonstrates that these texts teach that God chose to do so in order that the Torah could have been available to all the nations.[18] It should be no surprise that thinkers who hold such a view expect the Torah to be accepted by all nations in the fullness of time.[19]

These few paragraphs do not do justice to the rich variety of rabbinic opinions on the nature of the election of the Jews. What they do indicate is that the variety of opinions available to the post-rabbinic Jewish tradition is certainly more variegated than many Jews today have become accustomed to think. This is particularly true in Israel, among Orthodox religious Zionists who are raised to believe that Halevy, Zohar, Ramban, Maharal, and following them Rav Kook, represent “authentic” Orthodox Judaism. It is equally true among Haredim, whose Judaism is deeply inflected by Kabbalah (obviously in the case of Hasidim, but no less so in the case of non-Hasidim for whom Reb Haim Volozhin’s Nefesh Ha-Hayyim is a core text).

Election—Liturgy

The Jewish liturgy may be no more interested than the Bible in theological consistency, but it surely emphasizes the election of Israel in the context of God’s love for the Jewish people.

A text well known to all Jews who attend traditional services on the three pilgrim festivals and on the High Holy Days states:

You have chosen us from among all nations, loved us, desired us above all other tongues; You have sanctified us with your commandments and brought us close, our King, to your worship; you have called us by your great and holy name…

Here we see God’s love for the Jewish people and the election of Israel directly connected. Sanctification by the commandments,[20] the privilege of worshiping God, and having God’s name (El) made part of the peoples’ name (Israel) all appear to be consequences of that election, even if we are not told why God loved the Jews.

The motif of love finds emphatic expression in a central place in the daily liturgy, the blessing preceding the recitation of the Shema:

With great love have you loved us, our Lord and God, with great and boundless compassion have you been compassionate to us. Our Father and King, because of our ancestors who trusted in you… Blessed are you, Lord, who chooses his people of Israel in love.

Here the motif of ancestral merit takes pride of place. Followers of both Halevi and Maimonides accept this idea. For Halevi the patriarchs of the Jewish people were chosen for God’s special interest because of their descent—no one else could have been chosen. For Maimonides it was the historically contingent fact that Abraham chose God and raised a son and grandson who followed in his footsteps that gained for them the special merit in light of which God promised to elect their progeny.

We have examined examples from the liturgy expressing God’s special love for the Jewish people. However, the liturgy also teaches that God is concerned with the well-being of all human beings, apportioning reward and punishment to them all. Thus, for example, in a hymn traditionally given pride of place in the Ashkenazic liturgy of the High Holy Days (“Unetanah Tokef”) we find:

We acclaim this day's pure sanctity, its awesome power. This day, Lord, Your dominion is deeply felt. Compassion and truth, its foundations, are perceived. In truth do You judge and prosecute, discern motives and bear witness, record and seal, count and measure, remembering all that we have forgotten. You open the Book of Remembrance and it speaks for itself, for every man has signed it with his deeds. The great shofar is sounded. A still, small voice is heard. This day even angels are alarmed, seized with fear and trembling as they declare: "The day of judgment is here!" For even the hosts of heaven are judged. This day all who walk the earth [kol ba'ei olam] pass before You as a flock of sheep. And like a shepherd who gathers his flock, bringing them under his staff, You bring everything that lives before You for review. You determine the life and decree the destiny of every creature.[21]

Despite what many traditionalist Jews mistakenly believe,[22] this hymn means what it says: On Rosh ha-Shanah God examines and judges all human beings, Jew and non-Jew. 

This duality, God’s particular love for the Jewish people, allied with concern for all humanity, finds dramatic expression in one of the core elements of the Jewish liturgy, the aleinu prayer, the first paragraph of which emphasizes the election of Israel while the second anticipates a universalist messianic era.

Election—Judah Halevi and Maimonides

Judah Halevi and Maimonides essayed answers to the question why God chose the Jews, answers that reflect very different understandings of what the Jewish religion actually is.[23] For Halevi, God really had no choice, as it were, in the matter of choosing the Jewish people: The choice of the Patriarchs and their descendants after them was determined by their special qualities. As noted above, for Maimonides God did not choose the Jews; rather, the Jews (or, more precisely, their progenitor, Abraham) chose God. The covenant with Abraham’s descendants was both a fulfillment of a divine promise made to Abraham and a reward to him for having chosen God. As we have seen, the Torah itself offers no conclusive support to either view.

Maimonides and Halevi et al. all agree that the nation that came to be called Jewish was chosen by God. For Halevi, this is a function of the special nature of the Jewish people, determined from creation. For Maimonides this is basically a function of an historically contingent event; it did not have to be the ancestor of the Jews who rediscovered God.

The Bible is, of course, a complex document, but until the Book of Ezra there appear to be no texts that clearly support Halevi over Maimonides, i.e., that support the claim that the Jewish people are in some inherent fashion innately superior to non-Jews, to the other.[24] Indeed, Christine Hayes, in an important article,[25] opines that

The rabbis seem eager to disassociate themselves from Ezran holy seed rhetoric and related Second Temple traditions that denounced even casual interethnic unions as capital crimes, subject to the vengeance of zealots. They rule that those who read a universal prohibition of intermarriage into the Bible are to be severely suppressed (M. Megillah 4:9). The rabbis' failure to take up Ezra's ban on foreign wives and their children—indeed, their very reversal of this program by allowing conver­sion—is all the more remarkable in light of the rabbis' general perception and presentation of themselves as Ezra’s (indirect) successors.

Assuming that Hayes is correct, we might have here an example of a rabbinic attempt to resist the conversion of universalist aspects of the Bible to a hard-edged particularism. The very fact that the laws of conversion were codified in Talmud and later codes indicates that the Rabbis resisted Ezra’s attempt to harden the distinction between Jew and non-Jew. Non-Jews can become Jews because, in the final analysis, there is no difference between them so far as their humanity is concerned. This is a message which many Jews today would be well advised to learn.

Election Tomorrow—A Modified Maimonideanism

According to the twelfth of Maimonides' Thirteen Principles of Faith, Jews are bid to anticipate the coming of the Messiah, “even though he tarries,” (as the popular Ani Ma’amin poem puts it) and pray for his coming.[26] Why? Not in order to enjoy power and dominion, or this-worldly pleasures, but in order to be free to devote themselves to the Torah and its wisdom.[27] Such devotion will make those wise enough to engage in it "worthy of life in the world to come." In such a well-organized and enlightened world, in which its natural riches are shared among human beings rationally as opposed to selfishly, not only will war disappear, but delicacies will be as common as dust. This is not a function of miracles, but of proper organization and the self-restraint of a population focused on important matters. Is it any wonder that in such a world human beings (not just Jews) will achieve great wisdom? The point of the Messiah's coming is thus to help human beings bring about a peaceful society enjoying the just allocation of resources and devoted to the cultivation of the intellect.[28]

Maimonides brings his most extensive discussion of the messiah to a dramatic summation in “Laws of Kings,” xii.4. With this text, he ends the entire Mishneh Torah:

The Sages and Prophets did not long for the days of the Messiah that they might exercise dominion over the world, or rule over the nations, or be exalted by the peoples, and not in order to eat and drink and rejoice, but so that they be free to devote themselves to the Torah and its wisdom, with no one to oppress or disturb them, and thus be worthy of life in the world to come, as we explained in 'Laws Concerning Repentance'. [29] Then there will be neither famine nor war, neither jealousy nor strife. Good things will be abundant, and delicacies as common as dust. The one preoccupation of the whole world will be only to know the Lord. Hence they[30] will be very wise, knowing things now unknown and will apprehend knowledge of their Creator to the utmost capacity of the human mind, as it is written: For the land shall be full of the knowledge (de'ah) of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea (Isa. 11:9) [emphasis added].[31]

Maimonides provides a parallel description of the messianic world in a very short chapter of the Guide of the Perplexed (iii.11; Pines, 440–441). Zev Harvey has pointed out that this chapter of the Guide is a kind of poetic and philosophical rendition of the last paragraph of the Mishneh Torah, glossing it in the way Maimonides meant it to be read.[32] Here is the chapter in its entirety:

These great evils that come about because the human individuals who inflict them upon one another because of purposes, desires, opinions, and beliefs, are all of them likewise consequent upon privation. For all of them derive from ignorance, I mean from a privation of knowledge. Just as a blind man, because of absence of sight, does not cease stumbling, being wounded and also wounding others, because he has nobody to guide him on the way, the various sects of men—every individual according to the extent of his ignorance—does to himself and to others great evils from which individuals of the species suffer. If there were knowledge, whose relation to the human form is like that of the faculty of sight to the eye, they would refrain from doing any harm to themselves and to others. For through cognition of the truth, enmity and hatred are removed and the inflicting of harm by people on one another is abolished. It holds out this promise, saying: And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and so on. And the cow and the bear shall feed, and son on (Is. 11:6–8). Then it gives the reason for this, saying that the cause of the abolition of these enmities, these discords, and these tyrannies, will be the knowledge that men [al-nas] will have then concerning the true reality of the deity. For it says: They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea (Is. 11:9). Know this.

There is, of course, much more to be said about Maimonides’ view of the messiah and of the messianic era, but the texts cited here should be enough for me to be able to conclude this essay with the following argument. I assert, following what I learned from Steven Schwarzschild (who always insisted that he was only following Hermann Cohen), if not necessarily from Maimonides himself, that ends should determine means.[33] That being the case, if we can show that Maimonides anticipated a messianic era characterized by enlightenment and (therefore) peace, we can then point out to him (whatever he himself may have thought in the midst of the crusades) that war and discrimination among human beings will never achieve that end. This position is Maimonidean, if not necessarily that of Maimonides himself.[34]

Judaism, Maimonides would insist, has something important and valuable to teach the whole world even for those who deny the truth of the Torah as adumbrated in the rabbinic tradition. I refer to aspects of the messianic hope as expressed by Maimonides, especially as that hope was understood by Hermann Cohen and by Steven Schwarzschild after him.[35]

Two aspects of Maimonides’ messianic teaching are relevant to us here are: universalism and naturalism. This is not the place to defend an interpretation of Maimonides according to which by the time the messianic process reaches its completion all human beings will worship God from a stance of religious equality.[36] In Maimonides’ view, the point of the messianic era is to bring the Torah lekhol ba’ei olam, to all human beings. One can easily derive from Maimonides the understanding that the Torah in question is Abrahamic, not Mosaic; i.e., a Torah of ethics, science, and philosophy.[37] Maimonides’ messianic naturalism is admitted even by those made uncomfortable by it.[38]

This messianic vision offers us a goal at which to aim, an ideal by which to regulate our behavior. That goal is the realization of the opening chapters of the Bible: all human beings are created in the image of God and should be treated, therefore, as Kant would later put it, as ends also, never as means only. Maimonides’ naturalism means that this goal can be achieved by human beings, without divine intervention, miraculous or otherwise.

Kant insisted that ought implies can: if I ought to do something, I must be able to do it. Steven Schwarzschild insisted on a Jewish corollary to that Kantian teaching: If I can achieve some worthwhile goal, then I ought to try to achieve it. Getting ever closer to a messianic world is surely a worthwhile goal. Actually reaching that goal may not be possible, but getting ever closer is.[39] Since we can, we should make every effort to make the world a place in which all human beings are treated as creatures made in the image of God. In effect, Maimonides, Cohen, and Schwarzschild teach us that we ought to devote ourselves to the project of creating a messiah-worthy world.[40]

There is something else that Maimonidean messianic universalism and naturalism teaches us: hope. We can hope for (and work toward) a world in which different nations and cultures can value their own contributions to the human mosaic without diminishing the value of others—without wholly “otherizing” the other. If we can hope, we need not despair; the human condition is not necessarily tragic.[41] That message alone justifies the continued allegiance of the Jewish people to the Torah of Israel and to their destiny.

Notes

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Vayikra

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

My friend, Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo, has come out with a new book Cardozo on the Parashah: The Book of Leviticus (Kasva Press, 2025) in which he presents his thoughts on the weekly Torah portions. As in his many previous writings, he draws on a variety of sources—rabbinic and general—but he is also known for his original thinking.

The book of Leviticus, Vayikra, devotes much text to laws relating to the Mishkan, animal sacrifices, and the duties of the priestly class. For moderns, these passages are remote from our personal experience. 

Rabbi Cardozo ponders the ultimate significance of the ancient Mishkan and Temple services. Without going into whether these things will be re-established in Messianic times, we still need to think about why they are part of our tradition altogether.

Rabbi Cardozo offers his insight: “The Temple service is not the ultimate form of worship, it is only the beginning, a foretaste of what is to come. Its purpose is to function, through metaphoric rites, as a medium through which people are stimulated to take their first steps toward an inner transformation. When Jews pray that God grant them the opportunity to bring fire offerings, this does not mean to actually bring animal sacrifices, but to be able to make ever greater spiritual contributions, of which the sacrifices were merely a foretaste.” (p. 15)

The Mishkan/Temples were not meant to be ends in themselves but were intended to be entryways into spiritual growth. Similarly, the many mitzvoth of the Torah are not the goals of religious life but are vehicles to bring us closer to the Divine.

When religion prods us to higher levels of faith, love and righteousness, it is of vital importance to us as individuals and to humanity as a whole. When religion is abused by fostering hatred, violence, and cult-like behavior, it is destructive to individuals and to society. Religion can be—and should be—the most elevating element of human civilization. But, as we unfortunately know, it can also be the root cause of extremism, terrorism, and war.

Perhaps the ancient Temple services serve to remind us of the need for religious humility. We come before the Lord with sacrifices as a symbolic way of demonstrating our subservience to the ultimate Divine and our need to strive daily for spiritual growth. Today, our synagogues should be serving this purpose—to remind us to come before the Lord humbly, with pure hearts, with sincere desire to strive for righteous and wise lives. 

Our biblical prophets inveighed against sacrifices that were brought in a cult-like pattern without the proper intellectual and spiritual framework. If Temple services—and prayer services—are performed mechanically and without proper intent, they become a mockery rather than expressions of religiosity. 

The Hebrew word for the Temple sacrifice is “korban.” The root letters of the word mean “drawing near.”  Sacrifices—and prayer—are intended to draw us into a closer, more intense relationship with the Almighty. They are not ends in themselves but are entryways to a more spiritual life.

On the Shabbat of April 4-5, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will serve as a Scholar-in-Residence at Sephardic Bikur Holim in Seattle, Washington. He will give the Shabbat morning derashah, speak at a luncheon in memory of their longtime rabbi, Rabbi Solomon Maimon, and give an afternoon class. 

For scheduling, please see the Sephardic Bikur Holim website,

https://www.sbhseattle.org/

On Tuesday, April 8, from 8:00-9:00 pm ET, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a class, "Written and Oral Tradition in the Haggadah."

This class is free and open to the public, and is sponsored by Ben Porat Yeshiva Day School in Paramus, New Jersey.

Here is the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5413950938?pwd=dSszMGFUNEgrQlY3blc2K1hzYzdCUT09#success

On Wednesday, April 9, from 1:00-2:00 pm ET, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a class, "Our Journey in the Haggadah."

This class is sponsored by Torah in Motion. Registration is required. To register, click  here: 

https://torahinmotion.org/programs/e-tim-5785-pesach-learning-series

Rabbi Stanley Davids: In Memoriam

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Rabbi Stanley Davids, a prominent Reform rabbi, passed away on Sunday night March 23, 2025. Although we differed significantly on religious matters, we were good friends for many years.

Stanley served as rabbi of Central Synagogue in Manhattan from 1986-1991, after which he became rabbi of Temple Emanu-El in Atlanta. He was active in many communal endeavors, including years as head of ARZA.

When we were both serving congregations in Manhattan, we found ourselves working together in various communal endeavors. Stanley was always affable, sensible and deeply committed to the wellbeing and unity of the Jewish People. That he was Reform and I was Orthodox did not get in the way of our mutual respect and fellowship. As human beings—and as Jews—we had many shared ideas, ideals and aspirations. 

Stanley regularly made his way from Central Synagogue to Shearith Israel where we studied Rambam together. We kept in touch after he moved from Manhattan, and we even had lunch together in Jerusalem after he and his wife made Aliyah. We published an article by him in our Institute’s journal, Conversations, https://www.jewishideas.org/article/everything-there-time, and he published an article of mine in a book he co-edited, https://www.jewishideas.org/node/3239. We shared significant occasions, professionally and personally.

Yes, it was (and hopefully still is) possible for an Orthodox rabbi and a Reform rabbi to study Torah together, to work together on behalf of the Jewish community and Israel, to enjoy a genuine friendship.  In an increasingly divisive world, we gain from friendships that overcome differences and focus on shared values. 

We extend condolences to Stanley’s wife, Resa, and to the entire Davids family. Min Hashamayim Tenuhamu.

Biography of author 

Dr Daniel Davies PhD is from Manchester, UK. After studying at Yeshivat ha-Kibbutz ha-Dati in Israel, he read Theology and Religious Studies at the University of Birmingham and pursued postgraduate work at Cambridge University. He has written extensively on the history of philosophy and theology.

His first book on Maimonides, Method and Metaphysics in Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed (OUP, 2011), received an honorary mention from the Jordan Schnitzer Book Awards. 

Together with Charles Manekin, he edited Interpreting Maimonides (CUP, 2020). He has worked as a Research Associate in the Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unity at Cambridge University Library, at the University of Hamburg, and at Bar-Ilan University. 

At present, he is a visiting researcher with the Averroes Edition project housed at the Thomas Institute of the University of Cologne. He is currently translating Abraham Ibn Daud’s Exalted Faith and preparing an edition and translation of New Heavens by Isaac Abarbanel. 

Review of book

Daniel Davies, Maimonides. Cambridge: Polity, 2024. Hardback £55, Paperback £17.99, ebook £16.99.

Polity’s Classic Thinkers series aims to provide serious introductions to “the greatest thinkers of history.” Daniel Davies’s contribution on Maimonides is a high-level presentation of the Rambam’s treatment of major philosophical themes. 

It focusses mostly on doctrines that are common to the Abrahamic faiths and continue to be discussed today by theologians and by scholars of medieval thought. It is not merely an introduction, however, but a serious contribution to scholarly debates about how to interpret Maimonides, in particular his Guide. 

Davies addresses highly contested questions in ways that are both original and sensibly grounded in Rambam’s text. Studies often divide between layers of the Guide and, inspired by the many works of Leo Strauss, including Persecution and the Art of Writing (The Free Press, 1952; reissued Chicago, 1988), claim that Maimonides’ true beliefs are ‘esoteric’, meaning that they are hidden behind simplistic, ‘exoteric’ religious doctrines. 

Such studies often justify their approaches by noting that Maimonides says he intentionally contradicts himself. They argue that philosophical understandings of things like the creation of the world differ from religious ones. Maimonides’ ‘exoteric’ opinion that the world is created is therefore contradicted by his ‘esoteric’, real opinion that it is eternal. 

Rather than following this well-trodden path seeking out hidden heresies, Davies instead focusses on explaining the arguments that Maimonides sets out. In the final chapter, after an excellent thumbnail sketch of the reception of Maimonides’ work in subsequent centuries, Davies offers a methodological defense. He claims that the contradictions do not hide real philosophical beliefs but are part of the Rambam’s strategy of hiding his interpretation of Ezekiel’s famous chariot vision. Furthermore, Davies’s interpretations of the issues themselves show that Maimonides’s supposedly ‘exoteric’ arguments are not simplistic and dogmatic but are philosophically serious. 

Generally, the book stands out for its philosophical approach. It focusses on explaining the arguments and the assumptions behind them, trying to clarify why Maimonides and others of the period found them compelling. 

For example, why did they speak about parts and faculties of the soul? What questions were they trying to answer when they said that everything in the world is composed of matter and form? 

It also addresses the issues arising from some of Maimonides’ arguments in ways that make them accessible and relevant to philosophers today. For example, Davies is able to explain why talk about ‘possible worlds’, (which is currently a common way of framing the difference between ‘necessary’ and ‘possible’) fails to capture what Maimonides means when he writes that God is a necessary being. 

Furthermore, after explaining how Maimonides presents his negative theology and arguments about religious language, Davies addresses problems that have been raised by philosophical theologians in recent decades to the idea of God’s necessity. In doing so, he is able to clarify and defend it. 

This book is philosophically sophisticated, but its amenable style is attractive for the serious reader, whether specialist or non specialist. It is open and inclusive, and it fully deserves Yitzhak Melamed’s blurb, which states that it is “one of the best works of Jewish philosophy of recent times.”

 https://www.politybooks.com/bookdetail?book_slug=maimonides--9781509522903

The Human Complexity of Biblical Heroes

Yitzchak Blau

Rabbi Yitzchak Blau is a Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshivat Orayta and also teaches at Midreshet Lindenbaum. He is the Associate Editor of the journal Tradition.

In several areas of Jewish thought, more conservative positions only achieved dominance in modernity. For example, most rishonim (medieval authorities) believed in the natural order before Ramhal (R. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto), R. Eliyahu Dessler, and others declared that nature was an illusion and that our human efforts produce no direct causal result. The same applies to attitude towards our biblical heroes. R. Dessler and R. Aaron Kotler avoid attributing basic human emotions to our patriarchs and matriarchs, forbid criticizing them, and depict their sins as the minutest of transgressions. However, Radak and Ramban did not interpret in this fashion nor did R. Samson Raphael Hirsch and Neziv. Arguably, R. Dessler type thinking on this topic only became widespread in the twentieth century. 

Before addressing twentieth century rabbinic luminaries, I shall use a lesser-known recent volume as a foil to help convey the issues at hand. R. Beinish Ginsburg, teacher for many years at Netiv Aryeh and Michlala, published a volume on Genesis entitled Ohr le-Netivati which includes several concluding chapters about the correct approach to the avot (patriarchs). After extended analysis of this work, we shall briefly confront the work of R. Avigdor Nebenzahl as well as other famous rabbinic predecessors. Analysis of Ohr le-Netivati reveals a one-sided presentation of traditional sources and shows how this ideology hinders our biblical study. Ginsburg very much belongs in the R. Dessler camp and let us explore the results.

The significant question here is not only can we fault our luminaries but can we attribute basic human emotion to them. In one example, avoiding this makes a patriarch look worse. According to Ginsburg: 

But at the same time, the fact that he woke up early reflects that he slept the night before. Avraham Avinu was so secure in his avodas Hashem (service of God), so confident that he was doing the right thing, that he managed to fall asleep despite the nisayon (test) that awaited him the next morning (the akedah).[i]

I would think more highly of Abraham had he experienced trouble sleeping the night before embarking on a journey to slaughter his son, divine command notwithstanding. R. Aharon Lichtenstein criticizes those who think Abraham went to the akedah as if he was attending a wedding.[ii] 

Ginsburg states that the faithful never worry once they know the correct course of action.[iii] This does not match the storyline in Genesis where Abraham is afraid (15:1), Isaac is frightened (26:24) and Jacob appears nervous on multiple occasions (32:8, 48:3). The traditional commentaries on those verses often work against Ginsburg's thesis. If Abraham was afraid that the four kings would vengefully attack or that he has used up his heavenly reward, these are fears about practical results and not about the correct course of action.[iv] It seems quite normal and human to be nervous about either an upcoming war or the aftermath of a military conflict. 

The same applies to the very natural fear of death. Ginsburg quotes R. Avigdor Miller on Rachel's attitude to mortality. "She did not fear death because of death itself. Death was a grief because she would no longer bear any sons to build the house of Israel."[v] I would not think less of Rachel if she was upset on a personal level and not only because of an inability to further contribute to Jewish destiny. If Rachel feared not surviving long enough to spend more time with her two sons, including one who was just born, I would actually think more of her. R. Joseph Soloveitchik, for one, was not embarrassed to write about his illustrious grandfather's fear of death.[vi]

One midrash emphasizes that Jacob and Moses were frightened despite their receiving divine promises and holds them up as a model for emulation. Hazal (our Talmudic sages) apparently did not view apprehension as religiously derelict.   

“Jacob was very frightened and distressed” – R. Pinḥas in the name of R. Reuben: The Holy One blessed be He made a promise to two people, but they were afraid; the chosen of the patriarchs, and the chosen of the prophets. The chosen of the patriarchs – this is Jacob, as it is stated: “For the Lord has chosen Jacob for Himself” (Psalms 135:4). The Holy One blessed be He said to him: “Behold, emphasizes I am with you” (Genesis 28:15), but ultimately he was afraid, as it is stated: “Jacob was…frightened.” The chosen of the prophets – this is Moses, as it is stated; “Were it not for Moses, His chosen” (Psalms 106:23). The Holy One blessed be He said to him: “For I will be with you” (Exodus 3:12), but ultimately, he was afraid: “The Lord said to Moses: Do not fear him” (Numbers 21:34). He says: ‘Do not fear’ only to one who is afraid. 

 

R. Berekhya and R. Ḥelbo in the name of R. Shmuel bar Naḥman in the name of R. Natan: Israel would have been worthy of elimination in the days of Haman, had they not based their mindset on the mindset of their ancestor. They said: ‘If our patriarch Jacob, to whom the Holy One blessed be He promised and said: “Behold, I am with you,” (Genesis 28:15) was afraid, we, all the more so.’ (Bereishit Rabba 76:1).

    In another portrayal of a biblical character as transcending basic humanity, Ginsburg cites R. Meir Twersky who denies that Rachel was jealous of her sister's children; she only envied Leah's good deeds which enabled the older sibling to merit offspring.[vii] Hazal do indeed suggest this (Bereishit Rabba 71:6) but Radak has no problem saying Rachel was jealous of Leah for having children.[viii] Imagine the situation. If not for a deceit in which Leah participated, Rachel would be the sole wife of Jacob but now she has to share her husband with her sister. To add to her frustration, Rachel remains barren as her sister quickly produces four children. Surely, it would be understandable and not a moral failure to experience some resentment and jealousy. 

None of the above examples involve transgression; they merely reflect simple humanity. If we deny these feelings to the avot and imahot (matriarchs), we render them irrelevant to us, who experience the full range of human emotions, as models. As noted, in some instances, we may actually be lowering their stature. 

Hazal already present a multitude of perspectives on biblical heroes. The same Talmudic passage stating it is mistaken to say that King David sinned in the Bat Sheva episode also includes Rav saying that R. Yehuda Hanasi  went out of his way to exonerate this monarch only because he descended from the Davidic line (Shabbat 56a). Furthermore, another gemara suggests that David was guilty of both adultery and rape (Ketuvot 9a). One midrash faults Jacob for not responding with enough sympathy to his frustrated wife (Bereishit Rabba 71:7). On occasion, the sages even introduce problematic behavior not explicitly in the biblical narrative. A gemara says that Joseph stayed behind that fateful day fully intending to sleep with Potiphar’s wife but was able to restrain himself at the last minute (Sotah 10b). Our sages were not singularly dedicated to whitewashing our heroes.   

Many classic commentaries assume a normal psychological makeup for our forefathers in Genesis. Why is Joseph the favored ben zekunim (child of his advanced years) if Benjamin was actually younger? Hizkuni explains that Jacob was never able to love Benjamin as he loved Joseph because he always associated Benjamin with the death of Rachel.[ix] This reaction does not reflect negatively on Jacob but it does show the complexities and difficulties of human experience. Hizkuni also suggests that the brothers sold Joseph into slavery in an attempt to save themselves from the prophecy of brit bein habetarim (the covenant between the pieces); they hoped to restrict the foreseen servitude to Joseph and his family.[x] This is quite different from asserting that the brothers convened a beit din (court) and ruled that Joseph was a rodef (a dangerous pursuer). Denying normal human apprehensions and frustrations to our biblical heroes robs biblical narrative of sensitivity and insight. 

R. David Kimhi (Radak) consistently relates to the avot and imahot as great but flawed humans. He faults Sarai for her treatment of Hagar, calling it "not the way of ethics or of the pious". In fact, the Torah includes the Hagar story to instruct us regarding this very ethical message.[xi]  For Radak, a reader who defends Sarai misses the entire point. Radak also says Jacob was punished for his method of acquiring the bekhora (privileges of the first born) from Esau. His penalty was that he ultimately had to honor his brother (precisely what he tried to avoid by purchasing the bekhora) when they met after a twenty year hiatus.[xii] Where one opinion in Hazal states that Reuben merely moved his father's bed (Shabbat 55b), Radak follows the simple meaning of the verse that Reuven slept with Bilhah.[xiii] Radak even goes so far as to explain that Joseph told his brothers his dreams in order to pain them in response to their hatred.[xiv] Nor do our biblical greats' errors only relate to the sinful variety. Radak suggests that Rivkah misunderstood her husband's plan to bless Esau. The birkat Abraham (blessing of Abraham) was going to pass on to Jacob with or without a blessing from his father; therefore, there was no need to fool Isaac in order to receive the blessing.[xv]  

Ramban walks along the same path. Ginsburg alludes to Ramban attributing sin to Abraham but does not quote the relevant passages which contradict his position.[xvi] 

Know that Abraham our father unintentionally committed a great sin by bringing his wife to a stumbling block of sin on account of his fear for his life. He should have trusted that God would save him and his wife and all his belongings for God surely has the power to help and to save. His leaving the Land, concerning which he had been commanded from the beginning, on account of the famine, was also a sin he committed, for in famine God would redeem him from death. It was because of this deed that the exile in the land of Egypt at the hands of Pharaoh was decreed for his children.[xvii]   (Charles Chavel translation)

Ramban faults Abraham for endangering his wife, lack of faith, and leaving the Land of Israel. While he does mitigate blame by saying that the transgression was not intentional, he also refers to it as a "great sin." He does not emphasize that this was only a sin for someone on Abraham's level.[xviii] Parenthetically, I note that Radak defends Abraham in this episode; willingness to criticize does not entail always doing so.[xix] 

The driving out of Hagar inspires a parallel reaction. 

Our mother did transgress by this affliction and Abraham also by permitting her to do so. And so, God heard her [Hagar's] affliction and gave her a son who would be a wild-ass of a man, to afflict the seed of Abraham and Sarah with all kinds of affliction.[xx]  

Note that Ramban thinks both transgressions were serious enough to cause long-term punishment. Regarding the category of making mistakes not necessarily sinful, Ramban explains that Abraham misjudged the character of Abimelech and Gerar and, unlike when in Egypt, Sarah was not truly in danger.[xxi]

Ginsburg argues that Ramban frequently refers to the avot as zaddikim (righteous) so he cannot be attributing serious transgressions to them.[xxii] This line of reasoning highlights the problem with the entire approach. Righteous people are not infallible and they can stumble religiously and ethically. Given the pressures of a famine and a dangerous foreign country, even an Abraham can fall into a "great sin." 

His presentation of Rambam also leaves what to be desired. Ginsburg cites a passage in Guide to the Perplexed where Rambam says that Moses and the three patriarchs were all able to cling to God even as they engaged in mundane activities.[xxiii] For Ginsburg, this shows how different they were from normal humans. However, the seventh chapter of Shmoneh Perakim (Rambam's introduction to Avot) strikes a very different note. Rambam says that a prophet must excel in the intellectual and moral spheres but that he need not be perfect regarding every character trait. Thus, the following group all prophesied even though Solomon had an excessive libido, David had a streak of cruelty, Elijah was too angry, and Samuel was overly fearful. In the fourth chapter of that same work, Rambam says that Moses became inappropriately angry in the episode of the waters of Meribah. Apparently, heroic figures can still struggle with serious character flaws

Abravanel works with analogous assumptions. He notes how Esau asks Jacob about his wife and children but Jacob only answers about the children (33:5) and he explains that Jacob was embarrassed to tell his brother that he had four wives.[xxiv] There is no claim that the righteous are above such embarrassment. Abravanel also thinks that the Egyptian exile was punishment for the sale of Joseph. They sold him into Egyptian slavery and they ended up in Egyptian servitude. The brothers "sinned a great sin in their groundless hatred for their brother Joseph and in their plotting to murder him." Reuben was not part of the plot but he did participate in the hatred. Joseph sinned inadvertently in his prideful reaction to his dreams, and Jacob sinned to some degree in favoring one child and giving Joseph the ketonet passim (ornamented tunic).[xxv] Abravanel does not try to minimize the brothers' transgression.       

He also relates to Noah as an individual with standard fears and concerns. After the deluge, Noah was saddened and scared because of the loss of friends and acquaintances, the lack of food, the possibility that the animal kingdom will overwhelm a small number of humans, and the potential repeat of the first fratricide. According to Abravanel, in the first verses of the ninth chapter, God reassures Noah regarding all four fears. For example, the allowance of meat consumption helps compensate for the reduced amount of vegetation available for eating.[xxvi] Despite being a zaddik, Noah struggled with the trauma of a world destroyed.  

     Relying on R. Yehuda Copperman's critique of R. Shlomo Riskin, Ginsburg says that the latter takes a quote from R. Hirsch about Moses' humanity out of context.[xxvii] Yet he fails to consider some far more telling Hirschian passages. 

The Torah never hides from us the faults, errors and weaknesses of our great men. Just by that it gives the stamp of veracity to what it relates. But in truth, by the knowledge which is given us of their faults and weaknesses, our great men are in no wise made lesser but actually greater and more instructive. If they stood before us as the purest models of perfection we should attribute them as having a different nature, which has been denied to us. Were they without passion without internal struggles, their outcome would seem to us the outcome of some higher nature, hardly a merit and surely no model we could hope to emulate (Isaac Levy translation).[xxviii]

            R. Hirsch offers three arguments for a more human portrayal of our great men. One, it gives our stories the stamp of truth since it reflects the reality of humanity. Second, it actually enhances their greatness because it means that their achievements depended upon overcoming various character shortcomings and were not innate from birth. Finally, it makes them relevant role models for all of us who struggle with difficult personality traits. 

            His famous commentary on the education of Jacob and Esau echoes this theme.  

Our sages, who never objected to draw attention to the small and great weaknesses in the history of our great forefathers and thereby make them just the more instructive for us.[xxix] 

            He goes on to say that Isaac and Rebecca erred in giving Jacob and Esau the identical education when their needs were so diverse. The active and energetic Esau needed a different approach than the more contemplative, reserved Jacob. Additionally, Isaac and Rebecca mistakenly failed to exhibit equal love to each of their children. It seems that Copperman and Ginsburg are truly the ones distorting the views of R. Hirsch.

            R. Hirsch's approach to Simeon and Levi in Shechem also proves instructive. While, Ginsburg tries to downplay any wrongdoing, R. Hirsch is quite adamant about their transgressions.

Now the blameworthy part begins, which we need in no way excuse. Had they killed Shechem and Hamor there would scarcely be anything to say against it. But they did not spare the unarmed men who were at their mercy, yea, and went further, and looted, altogether made the inhabitants pay for the crime of the landowner. For that, there was no justification.[xxx]

            The juxtaposition of the chapter in which Jacob confronts Esau with the Shechem episode inspires a profound comment from R. Hirsch. In chapter 33, Esau overcomes his violent nature and embraces his brother. This contrasts sharply with the following story in which Simeon and Levi pick up the sword of Esau and engage in unjustified violence.[xxxi]

            Strikingly, Ginsburg enlists Neziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) as a champion of his conservative approach even though Neziv very much humanized the patriarchs and matriarchs. R. Berlin explains that Rebecca was intimidated at her first sight of her husband, that this influenced their life-long relationship, and that she was unable to confront him directly as Rachel and Sarah did with their husbands. Therefore, she employed a deceptive strategy to get Jacob the blessing rather than just challenging Isaac's decision in an open conversation.[xxxii] 

            Furthermore, Neziv explicitly contradicts Ginsburg's reading of a midrash which states that the great and bitter cry of Mordecai in Shushan was payment for the great and bitter cry that Jacob caused in Esau (Bereishit Rabba 67:4). Ginsburg asserts that this midrash does not deem Jacob's actions blameworthy.[xxxiii] In contrast, Neziv explains that one need not have pure motivations for mizva acts but one does need such purity for performing an avera lishmah (sin with a noble impetus); using a bad trait for a good cause must come without any personal pleasure. According to Neziv, this explains why Jacob was punished for his brother's cry but not for his father's tremble. He was pained by his father's reaction but took some problematic joy in his brother's distress. R. Berlin explicitly writes that such joy is forbidden and a sin.[xxxiv] 

            In one story, R. Berlin prefers a more human explanation over the alternative. How could Judah not have recognized the look or voice of Tamar, his daughter-in- law? Our sages suggest that this reflects Tamar's great modesty (Megilla 10b). The idea that Judah and Tamar lived as part of the same family for years without his knowing what she looks like certainly portrays their lives as radically distinct from ours. R. Berlin offers an explanation more rooted in basic human psychology. Judah first saw Tamar from afar and judged her a prostitute and, when he got closer, could not imagine that the decent Tamar was acting as a prostitute.[xxxv] Indeed, we often get stuck in our preliminary judgment and cannot identify a person in an unexpected context.  

            Another midrash has Leah retort sharply to Jacob when he accuses her of deceit; she notes his own trickery in taking Esau's blessing (Bereishit Rabba 70:19). Ginsburg suggests a creative interpretation. 

This sounds like a rather strong criticism of Yaakov. But the meforshim on the midrash explain that the intention is entirely different. Leah was saying, "Everyone knows that Lavan's two daughters were destined to marry Rivka's two sons, and the oldest should go to the oldest. I'm supposed to marry the bechor – and you made yourself the bechor when you got the brachos.[xxxvi]   

Leah was arguing that even though she was originally destined for Esau since the older daughter should wed the eldest son, Jacob's usurping the bekhora now meant that Leah should marry Jacob, the newly established first-born. However, this is certainly not the simple reading of the midrash in which Leah asks Jacob: "is there a master without disciples;" in other words, I learned subterfuge from you.  This line relates to the morality of deceit and not to a question of correctly lined up marriage arrangements.   

Ginsburg misreads several other relevant sources as well. He quotes Ohr ha-Hayyim as explaining that Joseph knew his brothers acted with good intentions in selling him but Ohr ha-Hayyim does not say this. He does say that even at the time of the sale, Joseph continued to feel brotherhood with his siblings but this could be explained in many ways. A person can continue to love relatives even when they have intensely wronged him or her (45:4).[xxxvii]

I reiterate that the point is not only about wrongdoing; it is about having the aspirations and frustration of human beings. God states that He will not destroy Sodom without relating this news to Abraham first (18:17). R. Meir Simha ha-Cohen from Dvinsk offers a profound explanation as to why our first patriarch needed to know. A compassionate person wants the effects of his compassion to last. Indeed, we all want to leave a legacy and this is especially a concern for the childless. Abraham had heroically saved Sodom in the battle with the four kings, and thus would understandably not be happy about its impending destruction.[xxxviii] R. Meir Simha assumes that Abraham shared the same kind of hopes and dreams as other human beings.    

One of Ginsburg's important influences is the writings of R. Avigdor Nebenzahl, Rosh Yeshiva at Netiv Aryeh and former chief rabbi of Jerusalem's Old City. In the two concluding chapters to his volume on Genesis, R. Nebenzahl defends both Reuben and David as being nobly motivated and not driven by physical desire. Reuben only slept with BIlhah to break her connection with Jacob and restore his father's proper place with Leah. David's mistake was relying on the Holy Spirit informing him that Bat Sheva and he were destined for each other.[xxxix] Let us leave aside the fact that these interpretations have no basis in the biblical narrative. In fact, the prophet informs us that Bat Sheva (Samuel II 11:2) was good-looking, presumably explaining David's interest. One gemara cites the following line in the context of the David and Bat Sheva episode. "There is a small limb in man. If he starves it, it is satisfied. If he satiates it, it is starving" (Sanhedrin 107a), clearly relating the monarch's sin to sexual temptation. Furthermore, do the motivations suggested by R. Nebenzahl truly mitigate the sins? What would we think of someone who slept with his step-mother in order to restore his own mother's place? 

R. Nebenzahl brings support for the minimization of David's sin from the fact that David does not lose the kingship, unlike Saul who forfeits the monarchy for what seems like a relatively, lesser transgression.[xl] Earlier authorities give different answers to that question. R. Yosef Albo mentions several explanations, none of which reduce David's sin. Perhaps David sinned in a personal matter whereas Saul erred in a matter of kingship. Alternatively, David repented immediately when Natan confronted him while Saul initially denied any wrongdoing to Samuel. R. Albo outlines a series of areas in which David had superior character to Saul but he never denies the adultery with Bat Sheva or the murder of Uriah.[xli]   

Minimizing David's wrongdoing neutralizes some of the story's power. The opening verse relates that David resides in his Jerusalem palace while his men fight on the battlefield (Samuel II 11:1).This morally dubious practice starts the moral deterioration leading to the affair with Bat Sheva. David tries to send Uriah home to cover up his having impregnated Bat Sheva but Uriah refuses (Samuel II 11:8-13). Instead of viewing this as Uriah' rebelling against David's authority, we could see it as Uriah showing sensitivity to his comrades at the front in a way that the monarch does not. Alternatively, Uriah refuses because he suspects what David has done.[xlii] 

Admittedly, Ginsburg's methodology has roots in recent rabbinic authorities. However, these rabbinic personalities differ from the many rabbinic voices we have surveyed and we have sufficient motivation to prefer the more human view of biblical heroes. A comparison of the two schools reading the sale of Joseph reveals good reason for our preference. Beit ha-Levi asserts that Yaakov’s extensive sadness was due to the loss of a tribe for Am Yisrael, and not so much because of grief over a deceased son.[xliii] I am unsure why extensive grief over a son's death is a problematic emotion, especially given the added guilt and responsibility Jacob felt for sending his son off on a mission from which he never returned (as Radak explains[xliv]). This approach neutralizes the very powerful human emotion of sadness for the loss of a beloved son.

R. Nosson Tzvi Finkel, the Alter from Slobodka, insists that no one did anything seriously wrong in the entire story. Jacob had good intentions in favoring Joseph, Joseph had good intentions in tale-bearing, and the brothers sincerely judged Yosef as a rodef. The brothers were punished for the minor flaw of having some jealousy in their hearts, even though that jealousy did not warp their judgment. Based on a midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84:17), he even finds a positive element in their sitting down to a meal.[xlv] Similarly, R. Hayyim Yaakov Goldvicht, former Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Kerem be-Yavneh, understands their meal within the approach that justifies the brothers by saying they formed a rabbinic court, trying Joseph and finding him guilty. During legal deliberation, he says, they were forbidden to eat, so they naturally sat down for a meal following the verdict.[xlvi] His interpretation misses out on the narrative's subtle use of the meal to indicate indifference to pain.

These readings do not cohere with the simplest reading of Humash, and thwart appreciation of the psychological and moral insights conveyed in the brothers’ sitting down to eat, as well as the potential motivation of the brothers according to Hizkuni. As noted, Hizkuni explains that the brothers wanted the prophesied servitude to take effect on their brother Joseph. Moreover, the overall approach deviates from the standard language of the major Rishonim. Note, for instance, Abravanel’s comfort in attributing significant blame all around.

R. Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler follows the path of the Alter. Jacob had a metaphysical right to grant Joseph more honor, but he sinned slightly in allowing personal affection into the picture as well.[xlvii] As with Beit Ha-Levi, his approach seems to not value the most authentic human emotions. R. Dessler also attempts to justify Joseph’s relating his irritating dreams to his brothers. The truly righteous are so involved in otherworldly thoughts that they only get by in this world due to divine assistance. Since God wanted the Egyptian exile to begin, He removed His protection from Joseph, who then innocently told his brothers about the dreams.[xlviii] In contrast, I suggest that a zaddik very much needs to understand human interaction even without God’s help.[xlix]

In a footnote, Ginsburg says that attaching oneself to a gadol promotes the correct attitude to biblical interpretation. "If one sees and appreciates the greatness of the gedolim and witnesses how they have such complete self-control, by extrapolation one will assume that the Avos certainly had such perfect control."[l] In contrast, I posit that time around gedolim may actually lead in another direction. I have known several prominent rabbis in my time, some truly great and some not so great, but all of them knew of apprehension, frustration, and anger. Ironically enough, some of the contemporary gedolim Ginsburg cites are deeply flawed individuals, especially R. Avigdor Miller, by far the most cited rabbinic figure in the book.[li] Perusal of R. Miller's explanations for the Holocaust may be enough to show that well-known rabbis can have serious limitations. 

What is at stake here may be more serious than we initially think. The more conservative approach significantly infringes on our study of Tanakh since it prevents us from noticing many of the insights of our sacred scripture. Furthermore, it hinders our identifying with biblical heroes and their human tribulations, robbing us of potential role models. Finally, introducing encounter with contemporary gedolim into the conversation is quite telling. In response to secularization and the weakening of religion in the modern era, religious communities responded with increased emphasis on clergy authority and clergy greatness. Both papal infallibility and daas Torah are modern innovations.[lii] One contemporary manifestation of this is a strong reluctance to ever criticize prominent rabbis even if they utter insulting statements or defend abusers. Large parts of the Orthodox world (certainly not all) need a more critical attitude towards the rabbinate. There may be serious overlap between how we read Tanakh and how we relate to the shortcomings of today's rabbis. 

Of course, this does not entail going to the opposite extreme and claiming that the biblical luminaries were bad people.[liii] Recall that we are discussing the gamut of human emotions and not just sinful behavior. Remember as well Radak's defense of Abraham's behavior in Egypt. Concluding that the avot do sin does not mean they always or invariably do so. Due to the complexity of human nature, great individuals also struggle with character weaknesses. Denial of that basic fact strays from the example of Radak, Ramban and R. Hirsch, robs Tanakh of some of its most powerful messages and leaves readers without authentic role models.[liv]

Notes
 

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Pekudei

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Israelites contributed generously toward the construction of the Mishkan sanctuary. Upon completion of the project, Moses gave an accounting as to how the donations were applied. Although no one could have questioned Moses’s integrity, he wanted to make it absolutely clear that leaders are accountable for how contributions are spent.

The late Senator Everett Dirksen once quipped about the American budget: “A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you're talking real money.” And that was in the 1960’s. These days, we’re talking about trillions of dollars…not merely billions.

We are so accustomed to hearing of projects that entail millions, billions and trillions of dollars, we sometimes forget that these dollars are “real money.” Funds are allocated as though no human component is involved.

Moses set an example: public funds are not “anonymous.” They are generated by actual people who have a right to a proper accounting of their outlays.

The Torah refers to money as “damim”—blood!  Money represents human labor, time, and investment. It is not neutral. Each dollar represents a bit of our lives, the time and energy it took us to generate that dollar.

We learn of the government’s allocation of several hundred million dollars to this project, billions to another project, and more than a trillion for yet another massive endeavor.  While vast public expenditures are inevitable—and often necessary—we are presented with huge dollar amounts as if the money simply comes from the air. The numbers become disconnected from the actual human beings who are providing the dollars for the budgets.

 As governments and organizations deal with the public’s money, they are responsible for spending the money as wisely and fairly as possible. They are duty-bound to prevent wasteful use of funds. They need to realize that each dollar has a human component, that public funds represent the “damim” of all who pay into the system.

When allocating public funds, decisions must be made as to what is best and most needed by constituents. There will obviously be different budgetary opinions and calculations. Not every constituent will agree with every decision. Nevertheless, the process of allocating funds must be conducted with a keen sense of responsibility to the stake-holders. Dispensers of public funds need the wisdom to know how to apply resources properly. Cutting corners on important matters may well lead to increased wastefulness and damage in the future. The public is best served when long range planning is conducted calmly and carefully, taking into consideration positive and negative consequences of each decision.

Budgets are not simply a matter of neutral mathematical calculations. They represent the needs, concerns and aspirations of the human beings who have contributed their resources. Moses demonstrated the responsibility of giving proper accounting of public funds. He set a model for future generations…including our own.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel has posted a new book review at Tradition Online. It reviews Rabbi Yehuda Rock's new book on literary layers within the Torah.

Read it here https://traditiononline.org/review-yehuda-rock-ahat-dibber-rivud-sifruti-ba-torah-bereshit-noah-2024-815-pages/