National Scholar Updates

INTRODUCTION

Émile was a popular name for Jewish boys in the Twentieth Century because of the important role that the French writer, Emile Zola,  played in the Dreyfus Affair during the 1890’s. To commemorate  the 108^th anniversary of Zola’s death (September 29, 1902) I would like to tell how Emile Zola was the quintessential whistle-blower of his day and use this case as a model for a discussion of Jewish thinking on the subject, which is  the exposure of  ethical wrong-doing  in public or private life.

The whistle-blowing  I will discuss is a series of articles in newspapers and published pamphlets in which Zola exposed the criminal  wrong-doing committed by the military courts against the  Jewish Army Captain, Alfred Dreyfus,  falsely accused of treason. At this point I would point out that Zola also exposed himself to scorn and personal danger  despite his not having known Dreyfus or his family.  In short he risked   reputation, fame, and safety  to do something that was the right thing to do.  This paper will concentrate on some of Zola’s writing and then discuss their content with respect to Jewish ideas..

Emile Zola was not Jewish but his heroic support of Captain Alfred Dreyfus is a very courageous example of  ethical engagement.  I will show how the points made in each paper was a part of the overall act of whistle blowing.  I will develop this structure in the following outline in which each ethical point of the overall argument is listed next to the title (in italics)  of the respective writing in which it is expressed:

1. Defending the innocent (M. Scheurer-Kestner)
2. Accusing the general culprit and the root of all evil (The Proceedings)
3. Proving his point (The Syndicate)
4. Calling to the conscience and ethics of France while warning of the danger of racism, hypocrisy and intolerance  (Letter to France)
5. Addressing the future (Letter to the Young)
6. An unrestrained offensive: the facts of the case in detail for each malefactor, a summary of all the other papers. (J’Accuse)

The progressive  nature of the argument serves to indicate  the evil in the case and  its danger for  France. He calls on the entire country to do the same.  Let us now focus in on each of these writings.

It seems that most Jews know something about   Emile Zola’s 1898 newspaper article,  “J’accuse”.(1) That legalistic,  but very literary, document  exposed one by one each of  the judicial crimes of  the military Court Martial involved in the 1894 Dreyfus trial and conviction by court martial.   However, few know of Zola’s articles and pamphlets that just preceded “J’accuse” at the end of 1897.  They were the first outbursts of his  moral outrage at the injustice rendered to this French officer simply because he was Jewish.   

These works are Zola’s exhortation  to the conscience of France.  Although not written in the form of a dialogue, because there is no riposte, they are written to that large, almost abstract, body called “France”.  Prophetic exhortations to the Jewish people who have strayed from God are similar to this style of writing.  Without invoking  God, but reason alone, Zola implores his readers to return to an ethical way of thinking and acting, all in the name of truth, benevolence, and justice. His whistle-blowing  is an accusation of the powers that be – in this case,  the military Court Martial.  I will show how Jewish thinking about ethics would encourage this  kind of moral outrage to and overt exposure of  criminal behavior, even on the part of the highest court of the land.

BACKGROUND HISTORY TO ZOLA’S 1897 WHISTLE-BLOWING

In 1897 Zola joined other notables (like Senator Scheurer-Kestner)  who supported Dreyfus’ defense. Their efforts had already stimulated a vicious  reaction among pro-clerical, pro-military  newspapers that  labeled “the traitor Jew” Dreyfus a  Judas Iscariot who had sold his loyalty to country and  deserved to be rotting in solitary confinement on Devil’s Island. An ongoing investigation of the judicial aspects of the case had disclosed errors in the form of misidentification of the handwriting on the critical piece of  evidence –  a memorandum sent to the German Embassy.  Another French officer, Commandant Marie Charles Ferdinand Walsin- Esterhazy, was implicated and was to be tried by a military court on January 10, 1898.

At this point in time, the end of 1897, Zola was relying on Esterhazy’s conviction to free Dreyfus.  With this in mind, he began to blow his whistle by publishing the series of letters and brochures (M. Sheurer-Kastner, The Syndicate, The Proceedingsl Letter to France, Letter to the Young,). (2)  For Zola each was  a  strategic, low intensity  shot over the bow of the enemy forces, making one ethical point very strongly.  The victory was  considered imminent after the forseen  outcome of the Esterhazy trial.   Each shot was directed to a particular target and the whole produced a very effective volley of exposure and incrimination.

Notwithstanding these publications, Esterhazy’s  court martial trial ended in his disquieting acquittal,  a crushing blow to the  Dreyfus-Zola forces.  Zola’s immediate response   was to compose and publish within two days,  for a public still shaken by the aftermath of this new, unexpected shock wave, his devastating accusation, fully blasting each of the members of the collusive military court for their lies, misrepresentations, dismissal of evidence, and other calumnies. (“J’accuse” 13 January, 1898) 

This beautiful, political work of art is an open letter to the President of the French Republic.  It  forced the government to try Zola himself for libel.  This would  bring the Dreyfus case out of military jurisdiction and  place it squarely in the civil arena with Zola himself,  the new target.  At last the Affair became a matter of open, transparent, civil proceeding before a civilian jury.  The beginning of the final victory was in sight!  As Zola said, “Truth was finally on the march; nothing could stop it now”.

THE ARTICLES AND BROCHURES

In this essay I will  discuss only  the three articles and the two brochures that preceded “J’accuse”.    I selected and translated certain sections  to show  how Zola artfully focused his  attacks on the various evils and injustices that he had uncovered.

What is in these five papers?  They  tell the story of  a judicial error in the Dreyfus trial, which must be corrected.  They call for  public outrage to save the nation. 

“M. Scheurer-Kestner”

« M.  Scheurer-Kestner »   tells the reader about this popular, elderly, politically untarnished Senator who was being slandered by the anti-semitic press because he had expressed concern about a judicial error in the Dreyfus trial.  Zola points out the blatant stupidity of these accusations which described Scheurer-Kestner as a mercenary sell out to the Jewish-Protestant-Masonic cabal, despite his being  an independently wealthy businessman, and a great supporter of the French Army which was reorganized  after the humiliating defeat by Prussian forces in 1870.  In fact, Zola emphasizes that his decision to express public doubt was based on his independent review of the facts and not by solicitation by the Dreyfus forces.  

Zola  points his finger at “brainless anti-Semitism” as the cause  of public blindness to the foolishness  of  slandering Scheurer-Kestner’s good name.  “Here we are in this terrible mess where all emotions are false and where one cannot seek justice without being treated like a senile person or one who has sold out for money…(…)….The stupidest stories are written by the serious newspapers, the entire nation is stricken with madness, when only a small amount of common sense would put things back in place. ….(…)….When Scheurer-Kestner spoke of his duty…. he had only this to say,  ‘I could not live with myself knowing he was innocent’  All of us, mixed up in this Affair, must say the same thing to ourselves.  That we too would not be able to live if we did not seek justice.”

“The Proceedings”

“The Proceedings”” ridicules the accusation of Dreyfus’ selling out France for money, noting that he is independently wealthy and has no mercenary motive.  Zola points the finger of accusation at anti-Semitism itself.  It is the root of the evil.  It is the evil culprit in this case.

“The guilty party is anti-Semitism itself.  This  is a  barbarous campaign, which I have said throws progress back 1000 years,   revulses me and insults my basic need for fraternité, my passion for tolerance, and for human emancipation.  The return to religious wars, of one race killing off another, is such nonsense in our age of liberation that such movements seem imbecilic to me.”  Zola concludes that after the judicial error had been revealed and published by others, the court should have been doing his work for him – that is, convicting Esterhazy. 

«The Syndicate »

In “The Syndicate”  Zola simply makes his point again using the technique of ridicule.   He ridicules the popular opinion that there is a very rich Jewish conspiracy  that will pay off all concerned to  protect Dreyfus.  He describes to the reader what this syndicate, this conspiracy, would look like, who would be part of it, and how they might be coerced to falsify truth.  This is a  satirical reductio ad absurdum. 

Speaking as if her were  in favor of the alleged syndicate, Zola says,  “The traitor was judged by a military court.   He is responsible not just for the present treachery but for all past historical examples that have brought defeat on the French nation (this assumes that our army  could only be defeated by internal treachery).  So, Dreyfus is also responsible for the defeat of France in 1870.  Dreyfus is an abominable shame for the Army because he is of the race that sold his God.  By this token, his family, being Jewish, is also guilty. All Jews are guilty in this Affair.  The proof is that his family is spending money to save his name and to expose the French army to slander.  Since they have brought witnesses with good character and reputation, they must have spent large sums of money because there is limitless money in the Jewish cabal.”

Here, Zola, emphasizes his own objective, ethically impeccable, position in the Affair.  He states that he has no close Jewish friends, wants to let the reader know that he is treating Dreyfus with a calm, objective reasonableness -- e.g., “I, Zola, talk about the Jews calmly because I neither hate nor love them.  Indeed I have no intimate friends among them.  For me they are only men, but that is enough to protect them from injustice.   So, if there is a syndicate that is organized to save an innocent prisoner and expose a judicial error on the part of the military High Command, then I too, Emile Zola, want to be part of it.”  

“Letter to France”

This is Zola’s call to the conscience of France to do something to oppose evil and injustice.  He tells them not to believe the lies about a conspiracy.  He says, “How have the good and humble people of the provinces been swayed by the righteous lies of the reactionary press?  They are simply not capable of weighing the questions we put before them and they believe what they read.  Why do they get sucked into the fear, intolerance and hate so they will refuse to listen to the argument that a condemned innocent man might be suffering his agony for a crime he did not commit?

I am trying to warn you of the gravity of the error, of the power of the tempest that will follow.   What is happening is outright duplicity and stupidity, enough to make an honest reader very angry.   Any child can see that the memorandum and Esterhazy’s handwriting sample are one and the same.    If the conviction of Dreyfus was made on the basis of showing that his handwriting was  on the memorandum, and if now, it has been shown that it is not, does his release not follow immediately?  Why is the court sitting again if not to decide on this question alone?  Is it only sitting to make another point of fact – that it, the court, is and was correct, even though this conclusion is based on more lies?  Is this why we are seeing so many lies piled up over the issue of the memorandum which is, when all is said and done, the whole Affair itself?.......(…..)………But the facts are worse, there are a collection of serious symptoms for those who know, see, and can judge what is happening to you.  The Dreyfus Affair is not just a deplorable incident…..(…)… it has affected your behavior and your health.  You know how someone goes about looking healthy, but suddenly, little eruptions are seen on his skin: one can see death in the process. The  political and social  poisoning is seen on your face.” 

He is aware of  a deep love of dictatorship in the French soul.    “I see here an unconscious return to  military dictatorship.  This is not republican behavior; you seem ready to fall in love with the first king who presents himself before you.  No, it is not the army you care about; it is the general you want in your bed, again.” 

He admonishes the return to medieval intolerance.  “Where are you headed, France?  Back to the Church, back to the medieval past, one of theocracy and intolerance that your children fought to vanquish with their blood.  Today the tactic of anti-Semitism is very simple. The Church tried in vain to bring people together as working-man societies, pilgrimages,  but could not lead them back to the altar. It was a fact. The Churches were empty; people would no longer go and no longer believed.  So, circumstances permitted  the kindling in the people of anti-Semitic rage, and poisoned them with this fanaticism, pushing them into the streets, crying ‘Down with the Jews.  Kill the Jews’.”

“Letter to the Young”

This is an emotional exhortation to the future, to the passionate twenty year olds who bring out Zola’s memory of his own youthful energies and his fantasies of righting all wrongs in an unjust world.  Again he makes an explosive, violent attack against Church anti-Semitism as a “..cynical, brutal plan to bring  the disenchanted Catholic French public back to the Mass.”  He then repeats the simple facts of the case. “Look   at the Dreyfus Affair and the simple facts.  A man is condemned on the basis of handwriting on a memorandum. He is now rotting on a desert island subjected to the world’s worst tortures.  He would be there for good if a man of integrity, reexamining the facts of the matter, did not have grave doubts that afflicted his conscience.  So a judicial error was claimed and now the process of working that out is ongoing, slowly, systematically, and a new trial is in process,  concerning another person whose handwriting seems so identical  that a two year old child could see the similarity without having to call in experts.  If he is convicted, the matter will be put to rest and Dreyfus will be freed and the other will take his place.”

He closes by raising again the danger of anti-semitism, when he says, “But look at the harmful quality of anti-Semitism.  Look at the  Affair.  Can there be young antisemites? Can such poison obscure the clear reason of the young mind?  Can the poison of the press control them? ”  He is asking the youth if they will accept anti-Semitism in the new Century and if they will poison themselves and their nation with it.

 He closes on a very prophetic tone.  “Oh young people, our youth, I beg you to think of the task ahead.  You are the future working class, you are those who will govern the future assemblies of people, we have deep faith in you, you will resolve the problems of truth and justice we have left for you…..(…)….. We only ask that you open your minds and be more generous than even we were  toward the lives that will be lived,  by your efforts entirely placed in work, fecundity and working the earth,   from which shall bloom forth the overflowing harvest of joy under the shining sun.” (3)

THE ETHICAL DILEMMA

What can we learn from these examples of Zola’s  moral outrage and whistle blowing?

On a political level media exposure  can be effective in calling attention to an abuse, a wrongdoing, a criminal act, or a judicial error.  There are examples in recent American history.  There is  the  courageous journalism  of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in the Watergate Affair that led to the resignation of a President.  There were many who wrote and spoke out    about abuses in the South during early school integration.  They stimulated others to sacrifice personal  comfort and safety to participate in bus rides and marches into the land of Jim Crow.   There are many other examples.

On an ethical level Zola’s  whistle-blowing relies on reason for its moral authority.   Zola, like Enlightenment thinkers, does not invoke God but only the forces of reason – that is, the ideals of   truth and justice.  He is saying we must do what is right because it is right.  The reward for doing right will be its own reward.  He also says, in his way,  that the reward for a sin will be a sin.  In his words, the prosperity or the degradation of the French nation is at stake.

There is the problem.  How can ethical responses be expected from those who have opposing beliefs and feelings?  What Zola calls truth and justice is not what his opponents see as truth and justice.

Even if you, the reader, find that  Zola’s arguments are valid and see that Dreyfus has been convicted mistakenly, that Esterhazy is guilty, and that anti-Semitism is the evil force, why would you expect a change on the part of the those who believe differently? Equally passionately, the anti-Dreyfusard coalition believed that  Dreyfus had sold France to the enemy and that the pride and security of the nation was at stake?  Is Zola’s expression of moral outrage not just another  example of preaching to the converted?  Does man not need the authority of  some force, other than reason alone, to convince others of the righteousness of his own ethical position?

Is a religious ethic necessary?    Do we  have to follow  God’s commandments to accomplish our daily ethical goals and to be sure that we are  following the higher (Divine) Law?  Must we seek a reward from God  when we pray that evil and injustice be overcome?    If  the court in question were the  highest religious court, the bet din, representing the Law of God on earth, would we be able to encourage a Jewish Emile Zola, an individual in the Jewish community, to rebuke an unjust, perhaps criminal, decision?  Could that individual Jew blow his whistle to expose it? What does halakhah

 say about     it?  Does        it      extend the principle of rebuke (tochacha) of man by God to the rebuke of  any, one man of the learned, respected scholars who make up the bet din?  Does my using Zola and the French high military court serve as a valid model in the discussion of tochacha and similar Jewish ideas?

These are all difficult questions that are worthy of an answer.

My brief personal discussion of the question with a respected rosh yeshivah taught me that an individual outside the court is commanded to expose injustice, even when committed by highly learned scholars.   If the court were to commit a misjudgement leading to an injustice, the individual would be obliged to  expose and to rebuke it  He must not accept wrong-doing in any form without a reaction.  He must not do business with someone who is fraudulent, lying, and hypocritical. (4)

This lesson can be extended to  individual  American Jewish citizens faced with injustice in daily personal and communal life.    They should feel that the reward of doing a good act, of which appropriate whistle-blowing is an example, will be the reward of doing the right thing itself.

Our children should also be taught this mitzvah at home and in the classroom.  But the problem is to know how to teach them to  speak up bravely to expose injustice, lying, and hypocrisy?     The individual, child or adult, who does this will run the risk of mockery, humiliation and ostracism by his peers.

I would suggest that the classroom might take suitable models from secular life as well as from Tanach.  I would propose that this combined approach can be an effective way to teach  ethical principles.  One can examine the relative importance of  religious belief to the reasonableness of daily thinking and action.  Zola’s relying on the authority of reason alone is one such example. 

More intense classroom instruction about the Dreyfus Affair itself might be useful to students in the 21^st Century.   In this context one could have lessons from the life of the Jewish communal leader, Rabbi Zadoc Khan, during the Dreyfus Affair.  In that way one could examine critically the leadership roles in the Parisian Jewish community during that particular crisis. ( 5  )  French anti-Semitism around the Dreyfus Affair could be integrated into the unfolding historical background of the Shoah, the most extreme example of evil and injustice in Jewish (and human) history.  Using that approach one could demonstrate convincingly perhaps that the principle of  early exposure of  evil is preferable to accepting and suffering its ultimate consequences.

By studying and discussing the Shoah scientifically we could determine if religious Jews could and would accept a demystification of the nature of catastrophic evil, and particularly, of  the Shoah. We might be able to learn something more by examining the Shoah from socio-psychological standpoints, human perspectives, without  demeaning its Jewish significance or necessitating  God’s presence (or absence) in it. (6) I would propose this approach in order to  shift the focus of fate and destiny from God to man?   Would it be effective and acceptable to teach children that prayer does not consist wholly of  man’s beseeching God for favors but also of man’s  beseeching himself to make the choices that will enable his prayers to come true?   Such an approach would include the principle of whistle-blowing.  In this way  Zola’s  example  would teach our children  that a society perverting justice,  not actively helping  the plight of the poor and downtrodden, and losing its focus of national purpose, cannot endure.  This was Zola’s message in his 1897 writings but also the message transmitted in his masterful fiction.   

Whistle-blowing in our daily professional life is a real issue.  Examples of purposeful misrepresentation, hypocrisy, and malfeasance can be found.   These are problems for individual conscience to solve when confronting injustice and evil.  Can we rely on our own conscience to choose correctly and to  regulate the personal impulses that might drive ourselves or others to commit  unfair, unjust, and even,  criminal actions?

This question reminds of a Shabbat morning drush in our shul on the subject of regulation presented by a congregant who works in banking and finance.  He explained that regulation was unjustified because “only Hashem should regulate our moral decisions”, including those made in business.    If Hashem were the only regulator of all mens’ affairs,  I would ask  how it would be possible for human beings to expose and make transparent future  Madoff-type scandals,  prime mortgage crises, abuse in some yeshivas, and  other tragic examples of wrong-doing.  What kind of external human regulation is justified to help the function of individual conscience?  When is  whistle-blowing to be encouraged, when not? 

As a physician I am concerned with the ethics of  colleagues and  students.  I would like to teach  professionalism that places the patient’s interest above one’s own.  This would include rebuke by peers and superiors for  behaviors that deviate from accepted professional standards.  

The current dilemma in health care practice and reform is an example of an ethical conflict between professional interests of physicians and those of the insurance industry that has become the medical paymaster-gatekeeper.  This agency function has evolved to contain costs, and guarantee profits, for the paymaster-gatekeeper.

The conflict arises from the fact that professionalism for physicians places  patients’ interests above all else.   The complete care of  sick human being is a responsibility that often goes beyond reasonable demands on time.   The professional interest of the insurance industry is to control risk and to maintain profit. 

For the caring physician this conflict produces an injustice to the patient and a misrepresentation of fact, all to the detriment of an effective system of medical care.  The ethical physician is obliged to rebuke both, to blow the whistle, to become engaged outside the confines of his office.  It is unfortunate that cost-containment and other aspects of caring for patients are not discussed in the arena of ethics, but in political and economic ones, where the ethical parameters of the issue are never brought to light.  In the ongoing health reform debate, the ethical issues cannot be dissociated from the bottom line issues relating to cost, profit and control of the medical profession.

We are left with the gnawing question of how and when we, as ethical business,  medical, or other professionals,  and  everyday members of a community,   should engage ourselves in exposing these things in daily life without being vengeful, excessively morally righteous, or simply ineffectual.    This kind of  behavior will always be difficult, soul-searching, and ultimately, unpopular and possibly, harmful to one’s self-interest.    Zola himself was the butt of  unseemly jokes,  posters, and newspaper attacks.  His  ultimate death by asphyxiation in his own house was most likely  a premeditated act by his political enemies.

How do we teach these moral lessons to our children and how should the schools that we support teach them to our community’s children?   Perhaps Zola’s  100 year old exhortation to France can  be understood by  today’s yeshiva children vis-à-vis  current problems in their own lives.    I might close by suggesting that Zola’s  engagement in the search for truth and justice might be incorporated into their school curriculum.    The reading of normative literature can be an excellent model for the discussion of the kinds of questions I have raised.  By using a set of secular, ethical writings as models, I have attempted to  link  a  religious discussion of  ethical and moral problems to a true historical event.

With all of this in mind, I would close by recalling the resonance of Zola’s voice in our ears:  “Truth is on the march, nothing can stop it now”.  His exhortation is similar to   Jeremiah’s exhortation to the Jewish people (9:22-3)  to emulate  the  attributes of the

“…….Eternal, who exercises mercy,

Justice and righteousness on earth;

 For in these things I delight,

 Says the Eternal”.

NOTES

1. « Lettre à M. Felix Faure, Président de la République » was the signed newspaper article published on January 13, 1898, in L’Aurore, with the block letter headline « J’ACCUSE” – that is, “I ACCUSE” each of the malefactors in the Dreyfus case.   Subsequently, it has become known by its two word title.
2. The three newspaper articles were published in Le Figaro on November 25, December 1, December 5, 1897. The brochures were published as independent documents on December 14, 1897, and January 6, 1898.

3. These ideas recur in Emile Zola’s fiction, especially in his utopian novels that            follow the Rougon-Macquart volumes after 1880

  4)  This halakhic principle was explained to me in a personal conversation with Rabbi Hershel Schachter at Yeshiva University in April, 2010.  Rabbi Shachter explained that even though the scholarly level of the rabbis in the Bet Din is authoritative, wrongdoing by them must be rebuked, even by an outsider.  This would not be a violation of the din of respect for the scholar.  He cited the principle of not doing business with “crooks”.  I would like to thank my son, Daniel Lauchheimer, for his introducing me to his respected teacher, Rabbi Schachter.

5)   Thanks to my friends, Emeritus Professor Henri Mitterand of Columbia University and the Sorbonne, and Rabbi Stephen Berkowitz of the Liberal Jewish Synagogue of Paris, for their directing me to published studies about  Rabbi Zadoc Kahn

6)       I helped to organize a colloquium about a particular new Holocaust novel by a young French-American, Jewish author, Jonathan Littell.  This took place at Hebrew University, Jerusalem, in June, 2009.  Please see my comments at the web site of the colloquium under “Afterview” (http://bienveillantes.huji.ac.il/)

In light of the new Pew study on Jewish affiliation, there will be a lot of hand-wringing about what the Jewish community can do to get people more engaged. My revolutionary
suggestion? Get to synagogue.

People are always telling me that they’d love to come to shul more often, but they’re just not as religious as I am. Its one of the hazards of being married to a rabbi. Strangers think they know my exact level of religiosity, whatever that means. So here’s what I’ll say. You have no idea what goes on inside my head. And I have no idea what you’re thinking, either. Even more blasphemous, I don’t care.

Prayer is a funny thing. Many of us, if pressed, would say that we’ve had our most transformative moments, our most intimate experiences with the divine, when we were alone. When I’m on top of a mountain and see a breathtaking vista, I marvel at the brilliance of the creator. In the moments my children were born, and the pain magically stopped, I looked into their eyes and saw God working, literally through me.
Now let’s get real. I’ve had four children, and I don’t plan on having another one every time I long for a connection with the divine. And who has time to climb mountains on a regular basis!

Any onewho expects those kind of moments continuously, spontaneously erupting out of daily or weekly prayer, is, to put it bluntly, deluded.

Here’s what coming to shul on a regular basis has the power to deliver:

Entertainment

For those of us with children at home, shabbat services provide friends and activities, a free playdate without screens which you need only minimally supervise.
We grownups also get an opportunity to socialize without 12 emails back and forth planning a dinner date/ securing a sitter/ making reservations. Just show up Saturday morning.

Real live community

During the week we focus on friends who tend to fall within a few years of our own age. We get lost in the priorities of those micro communities and forget about the real needs of everyone else. On shabbat at services we are part of a community of all ages/ backgrounds/ experiences. Children chat with elderly couples, empty nesters give new moms a break and bounce cranky babies. You notice someone newly saying Kaddish, and ask about her loss.

Cultural Fluency

Rather than sitting through dry classes on liturgy in school or adult ed, people who regularly attend services attain fluency with the service simply by being there. Children and adults who have achieved mastery over the service feel at home in shul rather than feeling alienated. Circular logic, to be sure, but true nonetheless. These people are more likely to become leaders in all aspects of the Jewish world.

A Wider Focus

There will be many who suggest that the answer to engagement is individualized programming –Torah yoga, shabbat biking clubs, kabbalah for teens. These focused programs may bring people in the building, but they do little for the goal of creating long term connection and community. On the contrary, they send a message that in order for Judaism to be meaningful it must constantly be tailored to your specific needs. Real community is a place where we learn to care about people with decidedly different experiences and perspectives. The more we fracture our programming to
reflect the perceived needs of the few, the more we send the message that Judaism is only interesting to me inasmuch as it confirms the beliefs I already have.

Holiness

Judaism is not a religion based solely on belief. We do not police the thoughts of the souls who walk through our doors. But the ancient requirement that certain prayers need a minyan means that there is holiness embedded in the connection between Jews. It doesn’t come from the unwavering belief in God held by the people in the room. It comes from our connections with one another.

Holiness is in the interactions between the generations. Its in the 15 year old helping the 9 year old find the page. In the inherently selfish middle schooler giving an arm to an elderly man not quite ready to give in to a walker. In the whispers in the pews between a newly unemployed single mother and the business owner who might be able to help her land on her feet. In the collective groan from the room when the Rabbi uses an embarrassingly bad pun. In the unmitigated joy we feel the first time the couple long struggling with infertility brings their new baby to services. In the very act of choosing to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

One of the questions in the Pew survey was whether anyone in your household is a member of a synagogue. Of the people the survey identified, 60% responded “no.” While a few of the children in these households will undoubtedly become future leaders, most of our leaders will come from the 40%. It is a countercultural choice to be part of a group less concerned with rugged individualism and more with the (gasp!) collective. And those who come to leadership in the next generation will be the beneficiaries of today’s old fashioned joiners, keeping the seats warm and the lights on and the spark alive.

Mountaintops can be transformative. But Jewish community is built by delivering shiva meals and learning a last minute torah reading and even the kvetchers in the back of the room. By looking someone else in the eye. Is there something of the divine there? I literally do not know. Faith is ever changing and intensely personal. Your belief has no effect on me. Your choice to throw your lot in with the rest of the Jewish people? That makes my life holy, every day.

           Diversity of opinion is a reality well recognized in Jewish tradition. The Talmud (Berakhot 58a) records the ruling that one is required to make a blessing upon seeing a huge crowd of Jews, praising God who is hakham haRazim, who understands the root and inner thoughts of each individual.  "Their thoughts are not alike, and their appearance is not alike." Just as no two faces are exactly the same, so no two people think exactly the same. God created each individual to be unique; He expected and wanted diversity of thought.[1]

The recognition that each person thinks differently leads to a respect for the right of a person to express his or her opinion. This notion is dramatically underscored in the laws relating to a zaken mamre, a rebellious elder. The elder (rabbinic scholar) is not deemed guilty for teaching opinions contrary to the rulings of the Great Court; he is only punishable if he instructs people to defy those rulings.[2] It is also reflected in the talmudic practice of recording minority opinions, even though the law follows the consensus of the majority.[3] Even rejected opinions are entitled to respect.

Yet, although Judaism respects diversity of opinion and allows considerable freedom of expression, it also sets some boundaries beyond which a person may not trespass. One may not believe in the divinity of idols. One must believe that the Torah is from Heaven. Indeed, Maimonides listed 13 principles of faith that a Jew must accept. If not, one forfeits a portion in the world to come.[4] We are not free to follow our intellect if it leads us to incorrect beliefs. Our intellectual freedom, thus, is limited by the authoritative beliefs taught by the Torah and our sages.

Within the boundaries of normative Judaism, dissent is respected and even encouraged. But beyond those boundaries, dissent is not tolerated. Intellectual freedom gives way to the authority of tradition. A problem arises: What exactly are the boundaries established by tradition? A variety of attempts have been made over the centuries to establish the principles of Judaism from which one may not dissent.[5] There are certain tenets of faith that may not be denied.

Yet, within the framework of Jewish law and thought, there is considerable room for responsible differences of opinion. When the right to express responsible opinions is negated, Judaism suffers. In a fascinating responsum, Rabbi Naftali Tsevi Yehudah Berlin—the Netsiv—reminded his readers that during the time of the Second Temple, the Jewish people was divided between the Perushim and Tsedukim. Competition between the groups was intense. The situation became so bad that Perushim branded as a Tseduki anyone who deviated even slightly from prevailing practice. To dissent from the predominant opinion led to one's being ostracized. The Netsiv applied the lesson to his own time:

It is not difficult to imagine reaching this situation in our time, Heaven forbid, that if one of the faithful thinks that a certain person does not follow his way in the service of God, then he will judge him as a heretic. He will distance himself from him. People will pursue one another with seeming justification (beHeter dimyon), Heaven forbid, and the people of God will be destroyed, Heaven forfend.[6]

The Netsiv was concerned that self-righteous individuals were attempting to suppress the opinions of others. In the name of Torah, they sought to discredit others—even branding them as heretics. Yet, Jewish tradition respects the right and responsibility of individuals to express opinions that are fully based on proper Torah authority—even when those opinions differ from those popularly held. Rabbi Yehiel Michel Epstein, author of the Arukh haShulhan, noted that differences of opinion among our sages constitute the glory of the Torah. "The entire Torah is called a song (shirah), and the glory of a song is when the voices differ one from the other. This is the essence of its pleasantness."[7]

II

The boundaries of dissent and authority are not always obvious. Let us consider several specific issues, one in the realm of halakha and one in the realm of aggada. The Shulhan Arukh rules (Yoreh Deah 242:2, 3) that one who dissents (holek) from his rabbi is as one who dissents from the Shekhinah. The holek al rabbo is defined as one who establishes his own yeshiva and sets himself up as teacher without getting his rabbi's permission. The Rama adds: "but it is permissible for him to dissent from (his rabbi's) ruling or teaching if he has proofs and arguments to uphold his opinion that the law is according to him (rather than his rabbi)."

This halakha deals with the balance between authority and dissent. On the one hand, a student must respect the authority of his teacher and not try to establish himself as an authority on his own. This would undermine the status of his teacher. On the other hand, if the student has strong proofs to support a halakhic ruling against his teacher, he may disagree with him. Rabbi Hayyim Yosef David Azulai, in his Birkei Yosef, cited the opinion of the Radhaz that a student may disagree with a ruling of his teacher but should not publicize the disagreement nor write a contrary pesak for distribution.[8] The students of each generation had disagreements with their teachers, and did present their proofs and refutations to them. To be sure, students are obligated to present their cases respectfully and reverentially. Their purpose must be to establish the truth, not to aggrandize themselves nor demean their rabbis, Moreover, we are speaking of students who have reached a very high level of Torah learning, and whose opinions deserve serious consideration.

Rabbi Hayyim David Halevy has stated:

Not only does a judge have the right to rule against his rabbis; he also has an obligation to do so (if he believes their decision to be incorrect, and he has strong proofs to support his own position.) If the decision of those greater than he does not seem right to him, and he is not comfortable following it, and yet he follows that decision (in deference to their authority), then it is almost certain that he has rendered a false judgment (din sheker).[9]

Rabbi Yaacov Emden ruled that students should question their rabbis' teachings as best as they can. In this way, truth is clarified.

In regard to legal decisions, not only is the student allowed to reveal his opinion and proofs to refute the words of his rabbi, but he is also obligated to do so. He should not remain silent in such a situation in deference to the honor due his rabbi; the honor due to the Torah is greater.[10]

The issue of dissent from one's rabbis extends back in time to dissension from the rulings of sages of previous generations. Certainly, the earlier sages are granted greater authority than the later sages. Rabbi Yehiel Yaacov Weinberg wrote that proper Torah methodology involves serious analysis of the writings of the aharonim, including evaluation and criticism of their statements. Yet, in matters of pesak we may not dissent from their rulings. In the areas of opinion and explanation, though, we do have the right to offer new insights "because each Jew whose soul was at the revelation at Sinai received his portion in Torah and in novellae of Torah. One should not quibble against this point."[11]

Rabbi Hayyim Palachi wrote that "the Torah gave permission to each person to express his opinion according to his understanding. . . . It is not good for a sage to withhold his words out of deference to the sages who preceded him if he finds in their words a clear contradiction. . . ." Moreover, "a sage who wishes to write his proofs against the kings and giants of Torah should not withhold his words nor suppress his prophecy, but should give his analysis as he has been guided by Heaven. [In this situation,] one does not give honor to the rabbi, for this is Torah and I must study it." Rabbi Palachi noted that even though Maimonides certainly wrote with Divine inspiration, nevertheless many great sages of his generation attacked him and criticized his work. There are numerous examples of students refuting their teachers: Rabbi Yehudah Hanasi disagreed with his father; the Rashba disagreed with the Ramban. The Tosafists disagreed often with Rashi. Respect for authority does not mean that one may not hold opposing opinions.[12]

Rabbi Moshch Feinstein, in one of his responsa, expressed disagreement with an opinion of Rabbi Shelomo Kluger. In rejecting that opinion, Rabbi Feinstein wrote: "But it is certain that I am right (ha-tsedek iti) and that the words of Rabbi Shelomo Kluger-with all due respect-are nothing (einam kelum). One must love truth more than anything."[13] In another responsum, Rabbi Feinstein replied to a rabbi in Benei Berak, who worried because he sometimes taught opinions contrary to those of the Hazon Ish, who was the rabbi of that vicinity. Rabbi Feinstein pointed out that it was not at all disrespectful for the rabbi to study and quote the words of the Hazon Ish, even if he disagreed with some of them. On the contrary, that is the honor of Torah—to have words taken seriously and evaluated seriously. It could not have occurred to the Hazon Ish that there would never arise rabbis who would disagree with his teachings. Rabbi Feinstein concluded by saying that one is certainly allowed to question and disagree with the sages of our generation, even the greatest sages, as long as one does so respectfully, and with proper halakhic justification.[14]

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim of Bagdad, in the introduction to his Rav Pe-alim, stressed the need to be exceedingly respectful of the sages of previous generations. He opposed attacking the opinions of those sages. But it is obvious that even great sages make errors. Yet, when one offers a critique or correction of the words of sages, he should not do so with any sense of personal pride or vanity. He should be humble, aware that even great sages may overlook a source or miss a particular point.[15]

From this discussion, we see that responsible and respectful disagreement is a legitimate and necessary aspect of the halakhic system. Views that can be properly substantiated, even if they conflict with views of greater and earlier authorities, deserve to be heard. One cannot properly be called an apikores simply because he holds a position which differs from others. On the contrary, his position should be carefully evaluated. If it is wrong, it should be criticized and rejected. If it is right, it should be accepted in spite of the greatness of authorities who held a different opinion.

The boundary of legitimacy is not what one individual or group defines it to be. Rather, one may offer his insights and opinions as long as they do not go beyond universally accepted principles of Jewish faith, and as long as they are properly and correctly substantiated by authoritative sources. The halakhic system depends on intellectual inquiry, receptivity to the positions of others, devotion to truth, humility, respect for authority. It is not appropriate to outlaw responsible and respectful criticism of authorities nor to discredit those who offer properly substantiated opinions, even when those opinions dissent from leading authorities.

III

The balance between authority and dissent may also be considered in the realm of aggada. One opinion is that all the words of our talmudic (and even later) sages are true and must be upheld. Another position is that the words of our sages must be treated with respect, but that we are not bound to believe that all their aggadic teachings are without error.

Does the authority of our sages preclude the possibility of legitimate disagreement with their aggadic teachings? Is someone who questions or rejects some of those teachings an apikores?

In the sixth chapter of Pirkei Avot, we are taught that the Torah is acquired in 48 ways. One of them is emunat hakhamim, trust in the sages. Rabbi Yosef Yaavets, one of the rabbis at the time of the expulsion of Jews from Spain, explained that one must not hasten to criticize the words of our sages. If he does not understand or agree with their words, he should attribute the problem to his own intellectual weakness. "He should suspect his own intelligence, not the intelligence of our sages and their words, which were spoken in truth."[16]

Following this attitude in the realm of aggada, Rabbi David Ibn Abi Zimra, a younger contemporary of Rabbi Yaavets, taught that the aggada is true and essential, "given from Heaven like the rest of the Oral Torah. And just as the Oral Torah is interpreted with 13 principles, so the aggada is interpreted with 36 principles. And these principles were transmitted to Moses our teacher at Sinai."[17]

Rabbi Moshe Hagiz wrote an important essay on emunat hakhamim, in which he argued forcefully against challenging rabbinic authority by questioning the validity of any of the words of our sages. He believed that an attack on rabbinic dicta would ultimately lead to a rejection of rabbinic authority generally. This would undermine religious observance and belief.[18]

Rabbi Hayyim Hizkiyahu Medini, in his Sedei Hemed, stated unequivocally: "We must believe in all that is stated in the aggadot of our sages."[19] Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Chajes followed this assumption when explaining that

there are several subjects in the Gemara whose meaning cannot be taken in a literal sense, because the text expounded literally would depict God as a corporeal being, and would also at times involve an act of blasphemy. We should, and we are, indeed, in duty-bound to believe that the transmitters of the true Kabbalah, who are known to us as righteous and saintly men and also as accomplished scholars, would not speak merely in an odd manner. We must therefore believe that their words were uttered with an allegorical or mystical sense and that they point to matters of the most elevated significance, far beyond our mental grasp.[20]

The demand that one must believe all the words of our sages in the aggada came into question in the famous disputation in Barcelona in 1263. Rabbi Moshe ben Nahman, the Ramban, was challenged by his Christian opponent with an aggada that stated that the Messiah was born on the day that the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. The Ramban responded: "I do not believe in this aggada at all. . . ." He went on to explain that Jewish religious writings are divided into three traditional categories: Bible, Talmud, and Midrash. "The first we believe entirely. . . ; the second we believe when it explains laws. We have yet a third book which is called Midrash, sermons so to speak . . . ; and this book, if one wishes to believe it he may, and one who does not believe it does not have to. . . . We call it a book of aggada, which is to say discourses, that is to say that it merely consists of stories which people tell one another."[21]

This explanation of the Ramban was rejected by those who insisted on maintaining the truth of all the words of our sages. Some argued that the Ramban never meant what he said, that he only said it to deflect the challenge of his opponent. Thc Sedei Hemed wrote that it is forbidden even to think that the Ramban meant what he said. Writing over two centuries after the disputation, Rabbi Yitzhak Abravanel strongly disavowed the statement of the Ramban because "it opens the gates to undermine all rabbinic authority when we consider any of their words as errors or foolishness."[22]

The above position assumes that respect for our sages demands that we not dissent from nor find fault in their words. Should we do so, we undermine their authority. If we find some of their aggadic teachings problematic, we should not reject them, but should assume that we have not understood their true meaning.

But there is another position, also well rooted in authoritative rabbinic sources. Rabbi Hai Gaon taught that the aggada should not be considered as divinely revealed tradition. The authors of aggada were merely stating their own opinions, and "each one interpreted whatever came to his heart." Therefore, "we do not rely on them (the words of aggada)." Rabbi Hai Gaon maintained that aggadot recorded in the Talmud have more status than those not so recorded—but even these aggadot need not be relied upon.[23] Rabbi Sherira Gaon taught that aggada, Midrash, and homiletical interpretations of biblical verses were in the category of umdena, personal opinion, speculation.[24] Another of the Gaonim, Rabbi Shemuel ben Hofni, stated: "If the words of the ancients contradict reason, we are not obligated to accept them."[25]

This position was also expounded by Rabbi Shemuel HaNaggid in his introduction to the Talmud. He wrote that aggada represents the personal opinions and interpretations of our sages. Rabbi Abraham, son of Maimonides, in an important essay concerning aggada, maintained that one may not accept an opinion without first examining it carefully.[26] To accept the truth of a statement simply on the authority of the person who stated it is both against reason and against the method of Torah itself. The Torah forbids us to accept someone's statement based on his status, whether rich or poor, whether prominent or otherwise. Each case must be evaluated by our own reason. Rabbi Abraham stated that this method also applies to the statements of our sages. It is intellectually unsound to accept blindly the teachings of our rabbis in matters of medicine, natural science, astronomy. He noted: "We, and every intelligent and wise person, are obligated to evaluate each idea and each statement, to find the way in which to understand it; to prove the truth and establish that which is worthy of being established, and to annul that which is worthy of being annulled; and to refrain from deciding a law which was not established by one of the two opposing opinions, no matter who the author of the opinion was. We see that our sages themselves said: if it is a halakha (universally accepted legal tradition) we will accept it; but if it is a ruling (based on individual opinion), there is room for discussion."

This is not to say that the words of our sages should not be taken seriously. On the contrary, statements of great scholars must be carefully weighed and respected. But they may also be disputed, especially in non-halakhic areas. In his introduction to Perek Helek, Maimonides delineates three groups, each having a different approach to the words of our sages. The majority group, according to Rambam, accepts the words of our sages literally, without imagining any deeper meanings. By taking everything literally—even when the words of the sages violate our sense of reason—they actually disparage our rabbis. Intelligent people who are told that they must accept all the midrashim as being literally true will come to reject rabbinic teaching altogether, since no reasonable person could accept all these teachings in their literal sense. "This group of impoverished understanding—one must pity their foolishness. According to their understanding, they are honoring and elevating our sages; in fact they are lowering them to the end of lowliness. They do not even understand this. By Heaven! This group is dissipating the glory of the Torah and clouding its lights, placing the Torah of God opposite of its intention."

Maimonides described the second group as also taking the words of the sages literally. But since so many of the statements of the rabbis are not reasonable if taken literally, this group assumes that the rabbis must not have been so great in the first place. This group dismisses rabbinic teachings as being irrelevant, even silly. Rambam rejected this point of view outright.

The third group, which is so small that it hardly deserves to be called a group, recognizes the greatness of our sages and seeks the deeper meanings of their teachings. This group realizes that the sages hid profound wisdom in their statements, and often spoke symbolically or in riddles. When one discovers a rabbinic statement that seems irrational, one should seek its deeper meaning. While Rambam argued forcefully for a profound understanding of aggada and Midrash, he did not argue that all rabbinic statements are of divine origin. Rather, they are worthy of serious study because they represent the thinking of great sages. Presumably, his son Abraham carried his argument further. When one found rabbinic statements to be unreasonable or incorrect—even after much thought and investigation—he was not bound to uphold them.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch echoed the opinion of Maimonides and his son. He wrote that "aggadic sayings do not have Sinaitic origin . . . they reflect the independent view of an individual sage."[27] Rabbi Hirsch went on: "Nor must someone whose opinion differs from that of our sages in a matter of aggada be deemed a heretic, especially as the sages themselves frequently differ. . . ." He rejected the opinion that the authority of aggada is equal to the orally transmitted halakha. Indeed, he thought this was "a dangerous view to present to our pupils and could even lead to heresy."

Rabbinic tradition, thus, has two valid approaches to the authority/ dissent issue in the realm of aggada. Rabbi Hayyim David Halevy has written a responsum which offers a balance between the two positions.[28] He noted that there are Midrashim where sages disagree with each other. For example, the Torah records that following the death of Yosef, a new Pharaoh arose over Egypt. Rav interpreted this verse to mean that an actual new Pharaoh arose. Shemuel, though, maintained that it was the same Pharaoh who now made new decrees against the Israelites (Sotah lla). It is impossible for both of these opinions to be objectively correct. Obviously, each offered his interpretation, based on his own understanding of the text.

Moreover, there are topics about which the sages spoke, not relating specifically to the Torah and its interpretation-in which they expressed their own opinions. The statements of our rabbis concerning natural science, for example, were not divinely revealed traditions. In fact, our sages admitted that the wise men of the non-Jews had greater knowledge than the Torah sages in some scientific matters (Pesahim 94b). Rabbi Halevy wrote: "If it becomes clear through precise scientific methodology that a specific idea expressed by our sages is not entirely correct, this does not mar their greatness, Heaven forbid, and their greatness as sages of Torah. Their words relating to Torah were stated with the power of the holiness of Torah, with a kind of divine inspiration; but their other words on general topics were stated from the depth of their human wisdom only." In non-halakhic matters, we should recognize that the sages spoke with great wisdom, although not necessarily with divine inspiration. Therefore, there were disputes among them such as the one concerning the new Pharaoh, where it is clear that one side is wrong.

While respecting the authority and wisdom of our sages, we also must recognize the possibility that some of their non-halakhic statements and interpretations are incorrect. To say this does not make one an apikores. Great sages, as mentioned above, have themselves taught this opinion and have considered it to be correct and authoritative.

It is clear, then, that there is room for dissent and criticism within the halakhic and aggadic systems. This dissent and criticism must be based on great reverence for our sages; on properly substantiated and argued positions; on commitment to the honor and divine origin of Torah. Dissent may not go beyond the universally accepted principles of our faith. But within this boundary, freedom of inquiry, analysis and criticism must be respected-and encouraged.

Notes