National Scholar Updates

Thanks, No Thanks: Thoughts for Parashat Ki Tavo

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Ki Tavo

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

When farmers in ancient Israel brought the first fruits of their orchards to the Cohanim, they recited a passage relating to the history of the Israelites; they thanked the Almighty for bringing them to a land flowing with milk and honey. When they brought the tithes of their produce for the Levites, they declared that they had faithfully met their obligations. “…I have hearkened to the voice of the Lord my God, I have done according to all that You have commanded me” (Devarim 26:14).

The Torah’s description of these offerings is gentle and sweet. The farmers had worked long and hard to raise their crops. They were scrupulous to set aside the appropriate amounts to be given to the Cohanim and Levites. They came to the Temple and said with full heart: I did everything correctly; I have performed my obligations with total honesty and sincerity.

What seems to be missing from these passages?

We read of the farmers bringing their first fruits and tithes. But we don’t read of anyone saying “thank you” or having offered words of praise. No one seems to have said: “We know how hard you’ve worked and how generous you’ve been. You are wonderful. You are worthy of God’s blessings. We salute you.”

The farmers put in so much time and effort: but no words of thanks or praise are recorded in the Torah. Ouch!

Imagine that you’ve invited guests to dinner, spent hours cooking and preparing. The guests arrive, eat the dinner with apparent satisfaction, and then get up and leave. No one offers words of thanks, no compliments on the food, not even a simple good bye! It’s impossible for you not to be puzzled.   Did I do something wrong? Was the food too salty? Did I forget anything?

More likely, you’d first be annoyed with your guests. They lacked the simple good manners to pay a compliment and express appreciation. It might be a while before you invited them back.

On review, you realize you in fact did everything right. The meal was cooked and served to perfection. The problem was with the guests, not with you. Aha: a moment of clarity. I prepared the meal to the best of my ability and I am proud of myself. Whether or not guests offered praise or thanks, I take satisfaction in my work. I don’t need their validation.

The Torah omits words of thanks from the Cohanim and Levites to teach an important lesson: we are to do the right thing because we want to stand in the presence of God and say: “I’ve done as well as possible.”  Our self-worth is not to be determined by what others say or don’t say, but by what we can say about ourselves before God.

It is indeed nice if people show us gratitude and appreciation when we deserve it. If we’ve gone out of our way for them, or performed well, or given them a gift—they should have the decency to give heartfelt thanks. But if they don’t, it’s their problem, not ours.

The Torah teaches not only by what it says but by what it does not say. I suspect that the ancient Cohanim and Levites did thank the farmers but the Torah omits this to teach us the larger lesson: do right because it is right, not because you expect gratitude or praise.  Our validation comes from ourselves and from God: not from others.

 

 

 

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim of Baghdad on the Religious Importance of General and Jewish Studies

 

Introduction

 

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim (1834–1909), grandson of Rabbi Moshe Hayyim (Chief Rabbi of Baghdad at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries), was an extraordinary and unique spiritual figure. He was a person of rare intellectual talents, including a phenomenal memory and eloquence in both speech and writing, who took an interest in all branches of Torah scholarship. For those acquainted with great Ashkenazic rabbis of modern times, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim (henceforth: RYH) may be characterized as combining within himself outstanding qualities of both the Gaon of Vilna and the Maggid of Dubno: On the one hand, he was extraordinarily devoted to study and in full command of all branches of traditional Judaic knowledge, and, on the other, he was directly engaged in efforts to bring the Torah to the broad public by delivering public sermons and by composing texts specifically oriented toward a lay readership. The following pages are devoted to an exposition of his views regarding a curriculum for Jewish children and youth that includes both secular and Judaic studies.[1]

Obviously, the number of class hours in a school’s curriculum are finite. In a Jewish Day School, any hour devoted to secular studies therefore necessarily constricts the amount of hours devoted to the study of Torah. Since Torah studies are a mitzvah, many Hareidi rabbis hold that ideally, a curriculum should be totally devoid of secular studies (‘al taharat haQodesh).[2] However, RYH held that this is not the position of Torah itself; while study of Torah is a mitzvah, secular topics are in the halakhic category of “permitted activities” (mutar):

 

Study of writing, arithmetic and languages is defined as “permitted” (mutar).[3] And what is the point of such a definition? To tell you: “Do not say: In this hour, when I am studying writing and arithmetic, it is better that I instead study matters of Torah; why should I waste my time learning writing and arithmetic?” Therefore, these studies were categorized as “permitted,” i.e., you are permitted to devote several hours of the day to such study.[4]

 

What justifies this permission to devote time to the study of non-Torah topics? RYH was aware of the answer given by Rabbi Yitzhaq Bengualid (Tetuan, 1777–1870), that such studies would ensure that “when they grow up they will find a secure livelihood for their entire life.”[5] However, he did not consider this very convincing: If the goal is to ensure the future economic well-being of today’s children, it would be better for them to learn “the profession of tailors or weavers … from such crafts a person can earn more than by the craft of writing and languages [i.e., clerking].”[6] According to RYH, the primary justifications for engaging in secular studies in parallel with the study of Torah are not pragmatic but rather an expression of Jewish principles and values. These include:

 

  1. Formation of the Students’ Personalities and Character

 

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim writes:

 

It is worthy to teach both these types of learning to the youth while they are still young in age: study of our holy Torah and study of Derekh Eretz, i.e. languages, writing and suchlike. The teachers should engage them in both types of study at the same time, when they are young, and their mind is clear. And it is with regard to this that the Tanna states in Pirqei Avot: “Study of Torah together with Derekh Eretz is fine, for toil in the two of them drives away sin,”[7] meaning: it is worthy and appropriate that one should engage in these two types of study, Torah and Derekh Eretz, at the same time. Because toil in the two of them together drives away sinthat is: the evil force that is stored in a person’s heart because of his murky physicality—for he will be engaged in matters of the mind/intellect (muskalot) and the evil impulse within him will not actualize its potential in the performance of evil deeds.[8]

 

Torah study and secular learning are both matters of the mind/intellect, and therefore a student’s involvement in both together has a positive effect, enabling a student to suppress one’s negative impulses and overcome them. This formative influence is especially required when the student is young of age; RYH teaches that this is the thrust of the well-known verse in Mishlei 22:6: hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko, gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimenna.

 

This is what is meant by hanokh laNa’ar—to guide him in a good, straight path by means of words of wisdom, piety, and matters of intellect; one should thus teach and guide him while he is ‘al pi darko—i.e., at the verge and beginning of his path, before he has entered and become set in it. For at that time, you can easily turn him from one path and lead him on another that is good and straight. And as a result gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimenna—even when he grows old he will not deviate from the path into which you lead him and he embraced.[9]

 

This creative reading of ‘al pi darko as “on the verge of his path,” i.e., when the young person is about to set out on his or her life’s path—seems to be an original interpretation by RYH. It fits well with his position that tandem study of Torah and secular learning should begin already at the earliest stage of a child’s education:

 

Therefore, the time when it is appropriate to bring children to the hall of study, to teach them Torah and its various branches by worthy and important teachers, and to teach them derekh eretz, i.e., other external topics that we shall soon specify—is from the time that the child is seven years of age, until the child is thirteen. But if these studies are only begun once the child is thirteen or more, it will be hard to receive them, unless the child has…a tremendous urge and great desire to study these topics.[10]

 

  1. Acquaintance with Fields of Knowledge beyond Torah Is Mandated by Reason

 

One of the realms of knowledge that Rabbi Yosef Hayyim considers important to acquire is—geography:

 

A person has a great need to study geography. As we see in the words of our Rabbis of Blessed Memory (Hagiga 12b):

                        Rabbi Yosse says:

Woe to those persons who see—and do not comprehend what they see; who stand—and do not comprehend on what they stand!

Thus, a person is obligated to know and understand the qualities of the earth, and regarding those who lack this knowledge Rabbi Yose exclaims “Woe!” saying: “Woe to those persons who see—and do not comprehend what they see, etc.” From this we learn, that these and other similar facts—a person is required to set his mind upon them and to know them.[11]

 

However, RYH does not ground the requirement to engage in secular study only this creative interpretation of Rabbi Yosse’s apodictic statement.[12] Rather, he grounds that requirement in a completely non-textual source—straight thinking:

 

Truth be told, even without that text, Reason obligates this! For how can one hear the sound of thunder, and see lightning, and not understand what they are? And how can one see thunder, and clouds going and coming, and rain pouring down upon the earth—and not understand their quality, and what makes them happen? So too: How can one stand in the city of Baghdad, and now know where is Eretz Israel? And where is India? And where is Europe?—Whether ahead of him or behind him, to his right or to his left? Most certainly, a person lacking knowledge of these matters is degraded and lacking even in his own eyes! But if all Jewish persons will be perfect in knowledge of such things, their honor will be great in the eyes of all humans, and all will say of them: “This great nation is a wise and sagacious People” [Devarim 4:6].[13]

 

            As other great rabbis from talmudic times onward, RYH holds that a Jew’s obligations derive not only from holy texts but also from human rationality.[14] Any intelligent person realizes that a person lacking understanding of the physical and energetic world in which he lives is degraded and lacking in the eyes of others—and rightly so! Furthermore, in human socio-cultural reality, a common criterion for recognizing a person as “wise and sagacious” is his command of knowledge regarding the world in which he lives. Torah speaks of an ideal situation in which all humans will praise Israel, saying “This great nation is a wise and sagacious People.” How can Jews in Baghdad (and elsewhere) merit such praise from other peoples? “If all Jewish persons will be perfect in knowledge of such things!”[15]

            Details of the realms of knowledge that a Jew should engage in, and attribution of mastery of these topics to a great talmudic sage, are included in Rabbi Yosef Hayyim’s reading of another talmudic passage. In Bava Qama 66 it is told that Rabbi Ami and Rabbi Assi were sitting and studying under their Master, Rabbi Yitzhaq Nafha. One of them asked Rabbi Yitzhaq to teach them halakha, and the other asked Rabbi Yitzhaq to teach them aggada. RYH explains:

 

The meaning of this seems to be, that one wanted him to teach them matters of tradition, i.e., important halakhot, and talmudic explanations of the reasons underlying mishnayot and baraitot. And the other wanted aggada. For Rabbi Yitzhaq was perfect in his command of worldly knowledge: natural science, geometry, medicine, astronomy, knowledge regarding the nature of creation—inert, plant, and animal—as well as geography, et al. And since all these realms of wisdom are not part of Torah, they are called “aggada.”[16]

 

            On this reading, the terms “halakha” and “aggada” do not indicate a subdivision of Torah into normative vs. ideational matters. Rather, they indicate a division of human knowledge into a realm that is unique to the Torah of Israel, and a realm that is universal to all human beings. For Jews, involvement in both realms is important, and therefore, Jewish schools should divide the students’ hours of study accordingly:

 

For this reason it says: hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimmena: i.e., do not say: “I will heap a heavy load upon the young person, and teach him only Torah day and night. And I will not teach him writing, and Hebrew, and grammar, and math, and knowledge of nature, and worldly matters such as geography etc., so that he will not waste his time on such things but rather study only the complete and perfect Torah!” Do not do that! Rather, educate the young person also “in matters of his Way”—i.e., in matters of this world that is called “Way” […] For although education should be mainly in study of Torah, you should “grasp the one without letting go of the other” (Qohelet 7:18).[17]

 

            Many rabbis who allowed time to be set aside from Torah study for the sake of other topics held it to be self-evident that only Torah study is of value per se. On this view, study of secular topics is permitted only because of their ability to enable better comprehension of Torah. Thus Rabbi Jonathan Eybeshutz (1694–1764) wrote:

 

All wisdom is of value only as providing support for our understanding of Torah. Thus, geometry is the wisdom of measuring [….] it is very much required for the sake of measurements concerning the ‘eglah ‘arufa, and the cities of the Levites and of Refuge, and the tracts surrounding cities … Astronomy is an Israelite science because of “the Secret of [determining] Leap Years,” to know the movements of the seasons and constellations and to sanctify [new] months.[18]

 

However, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim unequivocally rejected this view:

 

We see that the Master of the Talmud, the great Sh’muel of blessed memory, devoted great toil and effort to delve deeply into the science of astronomy, to the extent that we find him declaring: “The paths of the sky are as clear to me as the paths of [my city] Neharde’a” (Berakhot 58b). Now, if he was so proficient in the wisdom of astronomy, it is easy to imagine how much time he had to spend on the study of this wisdom, that is exceedingly deep and great. And if it was merely to learn how to calculate leap years—what need for him to delve so deeply into this wisdom, to the extent that he was as proficient in the paths of the sky as he was in the paths of Neharde’a ?! Rather, it is certainly incumbent upon a person to acquire knowledge and to understand other wisdoms that are not part of Torah wisdom.[19]

 

           Just as RYH dismissed the explanation that study of secular topics is justified because it facilitates earning a livelihood, he rejects the idea that such study is justified because it facilitates understanding and application of Torah. However, we have seen that he did validate other reasons for engaging in such learning:

 

  1. Fulfilling the obligation (mandated by reason) for a person to know and understand the world in which one lives
  2. Realizing the goal that the Jewish People be (correctly) perceived by all humans as “wise and sagacious”

 

We now turn to two additional rationales for study of non-Torah realms of knowledge, which are validated by RYH.

 

  1. Study of Realms of Knowledge beyond Torah—Enabling Tikkun ‘Olam

 

A third valid reason for engaging in general (non-Torah) studies is given by Rabbi Yosef Hayyim in the following passage:

 

With God’s help, It seems to me that an additional explanation of scripture’s intent in the phrase hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko is, that King Solomon of blessed memory sought to teach us, that a person should not reject any of the kinds of knowledge that are required for the improvement of the world (tikkun ‘olam) and the for human perfection (sh’leimut haAdam), even though it may seem that this is knowledge of mundane/physical things.[20]

 

           It seems that the characterization of such studies as contributing to “human perfection” relates to an idea that we have already seen in RYH’s writing, i.e., that secular knowledge contributes to the formation of a positive and worthy character. However, the justification of general knowledge because of its contribution to tikkun ‘olam is an expansion of the list of rationales that he provides for engaging in such studies.

           It is important to note the meaning of this phrase as employed in the above quotation from Imrei Binah. In the kabbalistic worldview of Rabbi Yitzhaq Luria Ashkenazi (ha-ARI) and most subsequent kabbalists, the terms “tikkun” and “tikkun ‘olam” relate to the idea that engagement by Jews in activities such as observance of mitzvoth, prayer, and study of Torah—especially if done with appropriate “intention” (kavvanah)—causes the release of “holy sparks” that had been captive in the realm of negative dark cosmic reality. Upon release, these sparks return to their original, positive place in the Cosmic scheme; this weakens the negative realm and strengthens the positive, holy side—thus contributing to the repair (“tikkun”) of the entire Cosmic system. When this process will be completed, Cosmic reality will return to its original intended state—and this, ipso facto, is the ultimate Redemption. Rabbi Yosef Hayyim was a great kabbalist in the Lurianic tradition, and the term “tikkun” appears frequently in his writing. Thus, for instance, he was asked by his disciple, Rabbi Shim’on Agassi: “When a person performs “tikkun” by engaging in Torah, mitzvoth, and prayer—does this affect also what was prior to the Sin of Adam, or not?” [21]

            Specifically in light of RYH’s extensive employment of this term in its kabbalistic meaning, it is important to realize that when he extols general knowledge as conducive to “tikkun ‘olam” he is employing this term in an alternate manner, that became prevalent in the nineteenth century, to indicate human activity that has a positive impact on mundane this-worldly reality. In a related passage in Imrei Binah he explains that in an improved social-political reality such as that prevailing in his own time, practical application of knowledge acquired from study of natural sciences brings blessing to the world:

 

God did not enable the minds of those who are wise in the natural sciences to be attentive and to observe these sciences until the recent years, close to our time, when the kings made a covenant via ordinances that they enacted to improve the world (ba’avur tikkun ha-’olam) that are called Tanzimat.[22] And by virtue of this enablement [by God], from these sciences of steam-ships and telegraph there resulted good and benefit for humanity, in several matters … thus, the revealing of these wisdoms in recent generations was good for the world, and is “a good thing rightly timed” (Mishlei 15:23).[23]

 

It is worthy of note that when praising tikkun ‘olam in the above paragraph, RYH explicitly validates activities for the benefit of humanity in general (rather than to specifically improve only the lot of Jews). By pointing out a causal link between application of general knowledge and tikkun ‘olam, RYH validates devotion of time by students and teachers in Jewish schools to the study of a wide range of topics in addition to Torah—and implicitly encourages the possibility that as a result, these students will then become empowered to facilitate the well-being of all humankind.

 

  1. Engaging in Acquisition of General Knowledge as a Path to Deepening Our Connection to God

 

            Over and above the three justifications for general studies that we have seen until this point, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim adds a fourth—theological—justification: a person’s deep religious and spiritual impulse to become close to God cannot be fully achieved without knowing and understanding the world in which we live. In a manner akin to Rambam’s determination that knowledge of the Divine is impossible without knowledge of the sciences that are the necessary basis for such knowledge (Guide 1:34), RYH writes that it is irrational that a person who

 

Desires and yearns to learn what is in the heavens above, does not know the quality and state and condition of the earth underneath upon which he dwells, and what is happening upon it and what is taking place therein before his very eyes.[24]

 

He stresses that the realm of those matters defined as “permitted,”[25] that are worthy of study in addition and in parallel to Torah, extends far beyond what some persons think:

 

One might think that this sector defined as “permitted” includes merely writing and arithmetic. That is incorrect! Rather, there are additional kinds of study that are very much required for a person, i.e., a person should know something of natural science, such as—what is the nature of lightning, and what is the nature of thunder, and what is the nature of the rainbow, and the nature of earthquakes, and of clouds and rain, and other similar matters of the creation that the Creator (may He be praised) created in the world. With regard to some of these matters we bless Him (may He be praised) and say: “His strength and power fill the world.”[26]

 

            Several of the phenomena mentioned by RYH—lightning, thunder, earthquakes, and rainbows—are characterized in the last chapter of Tractate Berakhot as phenomena that, when experienced, should elicit recitation of a blessing, i.e., should be recognized as a religious experience. It follows that a person engaged in study of the natural world—and understanding of the matters mentioned by RYH requires acquisition of elements of meteorology, physics, electricity, optics, and geology inter alia—is engaged in study of matters of religious significance. God created the world and therefore, the deeper our understanding of nature, the deeper is our understanding and appreciation of the “strength and power”—and wisdom—of the Creator.[27]

           It follows, that there are two complimentary paths to knowledge of God: engaging in study of Torah, and engaging in study of aspects of creation. This idea finds clear expression in the following passage written by RYH:

 

This is indicated by the verse: “His left hand is under my head, and His right hand caresses me” (Shir haShirim 8:3). For the world is indicated by the letter Vav, that has the numerical value of six, and the world has six extensions: up, down, and the four directions …. And it is known that study of Torah is called "right,” for it is strong and dexterous. While matters of Derekh Eretz, that are those of this world, are called "left,” i.e., the weaker hand. And thus he says: “His left hand is under my head,” meaning: “His left” …. i.e., matters of Derekh Eretz, “is under my head”—i.e., I engage in this. In addition, “His right hand” … i.e., matters of Torah—“caresses me”; [indicating] that I should engage in it [Torah study] at the same time I am engaged in Derekh Eretz. For “grasp the one and the other” together, at the same time. For it augurs well for a person when he studies in this manner.[28]

 

            According to traditional interpretation, Shir haShirim presents the loving relationship and the enduring connection between God (the male figure in the Song) and the People of Israel (the female). The verse “His left hand is under my head, and His right hand caresses me” thus expresses the experience of the People of Israel, who feel embraced by the two arms of the Divine. As interpreted by RYH, the closeness of God and His embrace are experienced by Israel thanks to Israel’s simultaneous engagement in two realms of study: Study of Torah (= embrace by God’s right arm) and study of general knowledge and wisdom (= embrace by His left arm). In other words: Torah (on the one hand) and the created world (on the other hand) are two complimentary modes by which God reveals Himself to us. The ideal path for us as Jews is, to experience God both via study/understanding of His Torah and via study/understanding of His creation in all its richness and diversity.

 

Conclusion

 

            Rabbi Yosef Hayyim unequivocally endorses and supports a curriculum for Jewish education in which from the earliest age onward the student devotes hours of study to Torah and to general knowledge in parallel. He does not agree with the view, advocated by some rabbis, that the rationale for engagement in study of general subjects is to enhance the students’ future income from work. Similarly, he rejects the view that the rationale for such study is, to enhance understanding of Torah. Rather, he presents and endorses four valid rationales for study and acquisition of general knowledge:

  1. Fulfilling the obligation (mandated by reason) for a person to know and understand the world in which one lives;
  2. Realizing the goal that the Jewish People be a “wise and sagacious” people, and (as a result) correctly perceived as such by all humans;
  3. Empowering (Jewish) students to facilitate tikkun ‘olam, i.e., to advance the well-being of all humankind;
  4. Enabling (Jewish) students to experience enhanced closeness and connection to God by study/understanding of His self-revelation via Torah as well as by study/understanding of His self-revelation via Creation in all its richness and diversity.

 

 

[1] His views on this issue were expounded in several places in his oeuvre, especially in two sermons delivered c. 1903 relating to the inauguration of a new building for the Baghdad branch of an elementary school affiliated with the Alliance Israelite Universelle. The sermons were first published a year before Rabbi Yosef Hayyim”s death in Imrei Binah (Jerusalem 1908) and have since been reprinted several times. The page numbers provided in this article’s footnotes follow the 1973 edition, which is relatively accessible (e.g., via Otzar haHokhma).

[2] Inter alia, this is the official position of Chabad (see e.g., http://www.chabad.org.il/Magazines/Article.asp?ArticleID=270&CategoryID=373). If local law requires secular studies, only the absolute minimum of hours may be diverted from study of Torah. Many such institutions exist. For the U.S. see e.g., https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/23/nyregion/yeshivas-lawsuit-secular-education.html; for Israel see e.g https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/ex-haredim-sue-israel-for-lack-of-education-1.5380446

[3] RYH attributes this definition to Rambam, but does not provide a reference to a specific source.

[4] Imrei Binah p. 249.

[5] Responsa vaYomer Yitzhaq, vol. 1 (Livorno 1876), #99. This responsum was composed in 1855.

[6] Responsa Rav Pe’alim, vol. 2 (Jerusalem 1903), Orah Hayyim #22.

[7] Tractate Avot 2:2.

[8] Imrei Binah, p. 236.

[9] Imrei Binah, p. 247.

[10] Imrei Binah, p. 248.

[11] Imrei Binah, p. 250.

[12] A perusal of the continuation of Rabbi Yosse’s statement in tractate Hagiga will enable the reader to appreciate just how creative RYH’s interpretation is!

[13] Imrei Binah, p. 250.

[14] E.g., Ketubot 22a: “What need is there to cite a verse [to ground a norm], if it can be derived from Reason?!”

[15] Rabbi Yosef Hayyim’s use of this verse to support Jewish study of natural science and geography is yet another instance of his remarkable independence of mind. For Torah itself ad. loc. offers a different path for Jews to earn the admiration and respect of others: life according to the norms of Torah!

[16] Imrei Binah, p. 252.

[17] Imrei Binah, p. 251.

[18] Ya’arot Devash (Jerusalem 1988), vol. 2, p. 122.

[19] Imrei Binah, p. 250-251.

[20] Imrei Binah, p. 249.

[21] Rabbi Yosef Hayyim, responsa Rav Pe’alim, vol. 1, Jerusalem 1901, section Sod Yesharim #17. Rabbi Agassi had thought that the reply was negative, but RYH rejected this opinion and explained at length why the correct answer was in the affirmative.

[22] Tanzimat was the term for wide-ranging changes and reforms in the administrative and legal realms of the Ottoman Empire, enacted in the nineteenth century.

[23] Imrei Binah p. 229.

[24] Imrei Binah, p. 250.

[25] See text above, near note 3.

[26] Imrei Binah, p. 249–250.

[27] Rabbi Yosef Hayyim here echoes the religious worldview of Rambam, who writes:

There is a commandment to love and to be in awe of this Glorious and Awesome God, as it is said: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God" (Deut. 6:5); and it is said: "The Lord thy God thou shalt fear" (Ibid. 6:13). But how may one discover the way to love and fear Him? When a person will contemplate His works and His great and wonderful creatures, and will behold through them His wonderful, matchless and infinite wisdom, he will spontaneously be filled with love, praise and exaltation and become possessed of a great longing to know the Great Name, as David said: "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God" (Ps. 42:2); and when he will consider all these very matters, he will be taken aback in a moment and stricken with fear/awe, and realize that he is an infinitesimal creature, humble and dark, standing with an insignificant and slight knowledge in the presence of the All Wise, as David said: "When I see Thy heavens, the works of Thy fingers [….] what is man that Thou should pay attention to him?" (Ibid. 8:4). (Mishne Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei haTorah, 2:1–2)

[28] Imrei Binah, p. 236.

Parashat Ki Tavo and Rosh HaShana: A Chance to Renew

Parashat Ki Tavo and Rosh HaShana: A Chance to Renew

By: Jake Nussbaum

(Jake Nussbaum and his wife Chani live in Teaneck, NJ.  Jake wrote this article some years ago when he was a student at Yeshiva College.)

Rav Mordechai Machlis, a Rabbi at Yeshivat Lev Hatorah, spoke about the value of renewal in Judaism, particularly within the context of Rosh Hodesh, the beginning of a new month. The word “hodesh” has the root of “hadash,” meaning new. He also spoke of renewal everyday, every week and every year. Each Kabbalat Shabbat,  we chant the words  (Psalms 96:1 and 98:1) “Sing to the Lord a new song.” The question is: what is the new song we sing on Shabbat? We are singing the same songs to the Lord as on every Shabbat of our lives! Rav Machlis explains that we don't sing a new song of different words, rather we sing the same words with a different fervor, a different concentration. The Baal Shem Tov said that if your prayer today is the exact same as your prayer yesterday, then you didn't really pray today. Although the prayers one says are going to have just about all the same words every day, the important thing is to build upon the prayers of the past, or to focus on one aspect that has been lacking. 

This week’s Parasha, Parashat Ki Tavo, opens with the Mitzvah of Bikkurim, the obligation to take the first fruits from the seven species of the Land of Israel and bring them to offer on the altar to Hashem. The Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 606) writes that the reason for this mitzvah is that it is important for a farmer to be reminded that the success of his crops comes from Hashem, not himself. Every year, when it comes time to bring the bikkurim, the farmer will think of how blessed he was in the past year. The purpose of the mitzvah is to entrench a constant renewal of appreciation for Hashem.

Rabbi Daniel Hartstein, a Rabbi at Lev HaTorah, quoted Rav Avraham Pam Z’l,  who pointed out the contemporary relevance of this Mitzvah even if we are not farmers and even if there is no Beit Hamikdash. The Torah presents the statement the farmer was to make when offering the Bikkurim. This statement reviewed the history of Israel, and how God redeemed us from years of servitude in Egypt. The lesson: review Jewish history, be grateful that we now have a renewed Jewish State of Israel.

Nowadays, we have a tremendous blessing to be able to visit Israel in mere hours, while for generations the journey was long and treacherous. The obvious upside is that so many more Jews have a chance to visit our homeland with little inconvenience. However, the easier something is to achieve, the harder it is to appreciate. The Mitzvah of Bikkurim reminds us of the challenges the Israelites went through to reach the promised land even after being driven out of Egypt. All the more so should we appreciate our return to the land sworn to our forefathers after centuries of exile! What the Mitzvah of Bikkurim offers us each and every year is to renew our inspiration and thankfulness to Hashem for the blessings and opportunities we have been given.

It is no coincidence that this Mitzvah is read in the Torah two weeks before Rosh HaShanah, the special time of renewal. Every year, we are faced with the challenge of finding a new way to bring in the year. This could be picking a Mitzvah to focus on deeply during the coming year; it could be setting out to learn something new. Whether big or small, accepting upon oneself something before Rosh Hashanah can make saying the same selihot and prayers “a new song to the Lord.” With the Mitzvah of Bikkurim on our mind, may we be blessed to renew our inspiration for serving Hashem in the coming year and to make sure to constantly try to “Sing to the Lord a new song".

Conference of Sephardic Rabbis

A remarkable conference of Sephardic rabbis was held in New York City on August 17-18, 2026. Approximately 150 rabbis and communal leaders from throughout the United States and six countries gathered to study together, share ideas, establish friendships for future networking.  The program sessions were held at the UJA-Federation building in midtown Manhattan.

The co-chairs were Avi Garson of Habura and Ethan Marcus of the Sephardic Brotherhood of America. These young leaders spearheaded the organization and implementation of this historic conference. Our Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals served as one of the co-sponsors of the event.

The Monday night program, open to the public, was held at Congregation Shearith Israel and featured the keynote address by Rabbi Marc D. Angel.  His address was followed by dinner and a concert of Sephardic hazzanim.

Rabbi Angel's address focused on what Sephardic life might look like in 50 or 100 years, in Israel and the Diaspora. Will "ethnicity" matter in the future, when so many Sephardim and Ashkenazim are marrying each other and when traditions will inevitably evolve? What are the qualities of Sephardic civilization that will be relevant to future generations, whatever their particular ethnic backgrounds may be. We hope to post a video of the address on our Institute's YouTube channel in the near future. Below are excerpts from Rabbi Angel's address.

People speak of preserving the Sephardic Heritage. I do not agree. You preserve fish, you preserve fruit, you preserve things that are dead. Something alive grows and evolves. We don't want to "preserve" a Sephardic Heritage; we want it to live; we want to draw on our past and bring it to life in new ways, to breath wisdom and spirituality that can continue to fill our lives and inspire our future generations.

 
The Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of New York traces itself back to 1654, the oldest Jewish congregation in North America. People admire our history, as do I.  But when I look at our synagogue I don't only see the past   I see a taste of the future of the Jewish People. We thrive as a synagogue in the Western Sephardic tradition, a tradition of formality, elegance, supreme  reverence for God...but we are not an "ethnic" congregation. When I served as rabbi (1969--2007) at least half of our congregation was composed of Ashkenazim. And most of the Sephardim were themselves either married to Ashkenazim or their children were married to Ashkenazim. In other words, our congregation flourished as a Sephardic congregation because it attracted those of various backgrounds who found the Western Sephardic traditions to be spiritually compelling to them.  In three or four generations from now, there will be very few--if any--purely "ethnic" congregations. Rather, Jews of many backgrounds will be found within the Sephardic orbit. What will draw them to the Sephardic traditions? What are basic ingredients in Sephardic civilization that are relevant and meaningful to all thinking Jews, regardless of ethnicity. Actually, we have a lot of powerful traditions--intellectual, cultural, synagogal--that will attract a great many people. I like to speak of "Sephardism"--Sephardic civilization beyond ethnicity.
 

Emile Zola's Moral Outrage: The Ethics of Whistle-blowing Today and Then

 

 

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 108th 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 21st 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.
  1. 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/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Interpreting and Analyzing the Five Megillot: Review of R. Hayyim Angel's New Book

 

The Heart of the Five Megillot by Rabbi Hayyim Angel; independently published; (c) 2026; ISBN 9798184-265094; $21.95

 

This book is a compact yet intellectually generous collection of 15 essays that open the Five Scrolls—Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther—with unusual clarity and depth. At roughly 162 pages, this is Angel’s 17th book. Despite its modest size, the work is exceptionally scholarly. The National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals and longtime Tanakh instructor at Yeshiva University offers two essays on Esther, two on Shir Ha-Shirim, one on Eikhah, three on Ruth, six on Kohelet, and an appendix.

The result is not a verse-by-verse commentary but a series of focused probes that refuse the false choice between classical rabbinic midrash and modern literary-critical methods. Angel’s signature “literary-theological” approach lets the texts speak religiously while remaining attentive to form, historical context, and the best available scholarship.

This stance already distinguishes the volume from many popular English treatments of the Megillot, including the more traditional, midrash-forward productions associated with publishers such as Artscroll. Where those often prioritize edifying readings that smooth tensions, Angel keeps the texts’ complexities alive and productive.

One of the two essays on the Song of Songs—“Blurring the Boundaries Between Divine and Human Love: The Sanctification of the Song of Songs”—is the volume’s centerpiece.

Angel begins from Rabbi Akiva’s declaration in Mishnah Yadayim 3:5 that the Song is the Holy of Holies. The organizing question follows: Can a biblical text simultaneously express human erotic love and the love of God, and be sanctified in the process?

Angel surveys the long history of allegorical interpretation. By the second and third centuries the Song was already being read as a symbolic account of the relationship between God and Israel, a reading crystallized in the Targum and developed by Saadiah Gaon, Rashi,
Rashbam, and Ibn Ezra into a coherent historical narrative.

Parallel to this national-historical allegory stands the more individualistic reading championed by Bahya Ibn Pakuda and especially Rambam, in which the Song depicts the
intimate longing between God and the righteous soul.

Against the common modern claim—exemplified by James Kugel—that early sages imposed an allegory upon what they knew to be a secular love poem in order to make it Bible-worthy, Angel marshals counter-arguments from Gabriel Cohn, Gerson Cohen, and others. Why would the sages have needed to “save” a secular poem when they could simply have excluded it? The more plausible conclusion is that they regarded the Song as sacred from the outset. Once that premise is accepted, the interpretive task becomes one of discerning how layers of meaning—literal human love and symbolic divine love—coexist and mutually illuminate one another.

Angel carefully maps several positions on the relationship between the literal and the allegorical. Some (Ibn Ezra, Cohn) argue that an allegorical dimension already inheres in the text itself. Others insist that the primary authorial intent is the celebration of human conjugal love as itself a sacred value; the allegorical readings then belong to tradition or midrash rather than peshat. A middle position treats the literal human love as essential while also functioning as a symbol of divine love.

Classical commentators themselves display a spectrum of attitudes toward the literal sense, ranging from those who see the Song as originally a human love poem later elevated to those who regard the literal reading as a necessary gateway to the primary allegory. The resulting ambiguity—where original intent ends and interpretive tradition begins—is not a defect but the source of the book’s enduring richness.

As a reviewer, I would only add that the sole possible exception to the absence of the divine name in the Song of Songs occurs in 8:6 with the unique term shalhevetyāh (שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה). The majority of modern critical scholars view the final suffix -yāh as a linguistic device expressing the superlative (“a mighty flame”), while a minority interpret it as a shortened form of YHWH; even then, the term functions merely as a metaphor for the intensity of human love.

The heart of the essay is devoted to “building bridges” among these layers through three modern religious thinkers. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik synthesizes Rashi’s collective God–Israel reading with Rambam’s individual God–soul reading: the lovers’ perpetual quest mirrors both humanity’s universal longing for God and Israel’s unique covenantal relationship. Rabbi Shalom Carmy extends this insight to the ordinary Jew who recites the Song on Friday nights, experiencing it as the soul’s intimate search for the divine presence. Finally, Rabbi Yuval Cherlow treats the literal relationship between the king and the vineyard-tending woman as a profound pedagogical model: the lovers must learn each other’s languages across an immense gulf, just as Israel must learn the language of Torah while God accommodates human concerns.

For Cherlow, as for Rabbi Akiva, the love of neighbor is not secondary to the love of God; it is the path that leads to it.

Angel’s concluding argument is that the Song’s refusal to draw sharp boundaries is precisely its strength. Human love is not a secular distraction from religion; it is an essential and sanctifiable dimension of religious life. The Torah does not seek to eradicate bodily drives but to refine and direct them.

The Song, by speaking the language of human passion that ordinary people understand, becomes a “handle” that makes the rest of Torah accessible. Jewish tradition was fully aware of the risks of vulgarization, yet judged those risks worth taking. The Song is the Holy of Holies not despite its evocation of human passion but because of it.

What makes Angel’s insights especially valuable is the combination of intellectual honesty, theological generosity, and pastoral sensitivity. He refuses both the reduction of the Song to pure allegory that erases its erotic power and the opposite reduction that treats the allegory as a later pious fiction. Instead he models a method that holds the layers in creative tension. By drawing equally on Rashi and Rambam, Soloveitchik and Cherlow, classical midrash and careful literary observation, he offers contemporary readers a way to inhabit the book without embarrassment or forced spiritualization.

The single essay on Megillat Eikhah continues the same project of reading with scholarly rigor and religious seriousness. Angel integrates classical sources with careful attention to the book’s five interrelated poems, their alphabetic acrostics, the qinah meter of lament, the shifting voices, and the theological tensions that run through the text.

The opening cry “Eikhah”—“How?”—is less a request for information than an expression of bewildered protest. Classical sources read the destruction as a consequence of sin; modern literary readings note that only chapter 3 fully embraces that theodicy. Angel’s hallmark is to hold both layers without forcing resolution: the text itself models the struggle rather than offering easy answers.

Chapter 3, the structural and theological center, moves from despair through memory of God’s hesed to a hard-won affirmation that “the Lord’s mercies are not spent.” This movement does not erase the surrounding agony but anchors it. Angel neither spiritualizes away the raw horror nor treats the text as merely a historical relic. Instead, he shows how Lamentations legitimates protest, insists on the reality of loss, and still refuses to abandon the covenantal relationship. Its poetry continues to give language to successive generations of Jewish catastrophe while pointing, however tentatively, toward resilience.

The remaining essays on Ruth, Esther, and especially Kohelet display the same disciplined openness. In Ruth, Angel highlights deliberate ambiguities that dignify human complexity. In Kohelet, he refuses the common traditional strategy of neutralizing the book’s more unsettling claims about wisdom, mortality, and meaning. The appendix notes that Tanakh’s relative silence on the afterlife is not an oversight but a theological choice: the ideal is communal perfection and a just society in this world.

The Heart of the Five Megillot is a model of what responsible, religiously serious Tanakh study can look like in our time. It is compact enough to be read with pleasure yet rich enough to reward repeated return. Readers accustomed to more uniformly traditional treatments will find Angel’s willingness to hold tensions—between peshat and derash, between human passion and divine love, between protest and faith—both challenging and liberating.

For those seeking a guide that honors the classical tradition while remaining fully attentive to the literary and historical dimensions of the text, this volume is an outstanding contribution.

 

(Review ends here.)


Rabbi Angel's commentary is the first in a new series he is creating, The Heart of Tanakh. It is available at amazon.com here:

https://www.amazon.com/Heart-Five-Megillot-Tradition-Complexity/dp/B0H7VZKZ6M/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2FN80M3NQ0FOY&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.q0arA6CaCmMbB40iF0pBS02k5uD3hTCZCV2J-lLJRf2-FVhgLvbTv6ImCntYCti5oOa3VxRugKfvJUs1twSotbLrns8pQe68iMsri-3efqJIiauj8SWWb6bhIBkkrgif_QcIMSOB4Z42Fkf-mF4K5QS5uZ1PTR5i1mTx94Y9w9XCuvUoAWszpfsBuTCjJfM-5nSSIC9u8DmTjYH7u291qD6DBXcmvqtwgEuaBtrJgv4.RUNlsGLDLTQzF07x4pKaND__RNiy39fisnNyn0UnZUs&dib_tag=se&keywords=Hayyim+Angel&qid=1785421592&sprefix=hayyim+angel%2Caps%2C126&sr=8-1

The Heart of Tanakh series explores each biblical book through close textual analysis, classical Jewish commentary, and contemporary biblical scholarship. With the biblical text always at the center, each volume uncovers its literary artistry, historical setting, theological depth, and enduring religious and moral teachings. Written for both scholars and thoughtful general readers, the series shows how traditional learning and modern scholarship together illuminate the timeless message of Tanakh. Building on decades of teaching and writing, Rabbi Hayyim Angel offers a model of biblical interpretation in which rigorous scholarship and profound religious commitment work hand in hand, inviting readers to encounter the enduring voice of Tanakh with both intellectual honesty and spiritual depth.

 

What do we expect from our synagogues?

 

 

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.

Why No Tent Protests for Sudan?

WHY NO TENT PROTESTS FOR SUDAN?

by Rafael Medoff

 

     A major editorial in the New York Times last Sunday was headlined “The World Must Wake Up to the Horror in Sudan.” The week is now almost over, and the world is still sleeping.

     The Sudanese group known as the Rapid Support Forces already has “committed acts of genocide” and is now besieging the city of El Obeid, where 600,000 civilians are suffering from “severe shortages of food, water and medicine,” the editors of the Times wrote.

     To the Times’s credit, its editorial acknowledged that the RSF is “a predominantly Arab group,” and its atrocities are genocidal because it specifically targets “members of non-Arab ethnic groups.” That is a crucial fact which Times news articles in the past often buried or even omitted.

     Sunday’s Times editorial called on “the world” to “make a bigger effort to halt the killing and mass displacement in Sudan.” It urged “the world” to “urgently take action” to protest the genocide.

     The Times didn’t say so, but the most obvious part of “the world” that should be protesting is the community of activists who were so vocal in recent years when they thought genocide was being committed in Gaza. Now that there is a real genocide going on in Sudan, why aren’t angry protesters marching in America’s streets and taking over university campuses?

     Where are all the idealistic student protesters gone? Why are their tents folded up and their bullhorns silent?

     Where are the humanitarians with their placards demanding “Stop the Arab Genocide” and “Free Sudan”?

     Where are the passionate op-eds and the politicians pointing accusing fingers?

     Sudan is a test. If the Gaza protesters were genuinely concerned about genocide, they will now raise their voices against the actual genocide in Sudan. If they remain silent about Sudan, that will suggest the only time they genuinely care about human suffering is when they can blame it on Israel.

#    #    #

(Dr. Medoff is director of The David S. Wyman Institute for Holocaust Studies, and the author of more than 20 books about Jewish history, Zionism, and the Holocaust. Follow him on Facebook to read his daily commentaries on the news.)

 

Paired Perspectives on the Parashah: Ki Tetzei

Ki Tetzei:

Family Loyalty and the Spirit of Yibbum

 

The Torah legislates the institution of yibbum (levirate marriage) in Deuteronomy 25:5-10, yet the Bible preserves only two narratives centered on the institution: Judah and Tamar (Genesis 38) and Ruth and Boaz. Together, these passages illuminate not only the law itself, but also the Torah’s deeper values of family loyalty, preservation of inheritance, and concern for vulnerable widows. The laws of yibbum and halitzah (the ceremony releasing a widow when her husband’s brother declines to marry her) also provide an illuminating backdrop for these narratives, which culminate in the ancestry of King David.

 

Leviticus appears to present a striking contradiction. A man ordinarily is forbidden to marry his brother’s wife: “You shall not uncover the nakedness of your brother’s wife” (Leviticus 18:16). Leviticus 20:21 adds that if he does so, they will remain childless. Yet Deuteronomy commands precisely such a marriage when a brother dies childless. The Mekhilta (BaHodesh 7) includes these verses among the commandments that God uttered simultaneously (be-dibbur ehad), highlighting their complementary rather than contradictory nature. Hizkuni captures the principle succinctly: ha-peh she-asar hu ha-peh she-hittir (“The same mouth that prohibited also permitted”). The same logic governs other apparent exceptions in the Torah, such as wearing sha’atnez (a mixture of wool and linen) in tzitzit or offering sacrifices on Shabbat (slaughtering an animal otherwise is prohibited on Shabbat).

 

The Torah’s exception permitting yibbum reveals its profound commitment to family continuity and responsibility. Among the Torah’s forbidden sexual relationships, this alone becomes permissible for the sake of preserving a family, protecting a widow, and maintaining covenantal responsibility within Israel.

 

If the surviving brother refuses to marry his sister-in-law, the ceremony of halitzah frees her to marry someone else while publicly shaming the reluctant brother. Removing his shoe and spitting before him symbolize his failure to uphold his familial responsibilities. Susan Niditch aptly observes that yibbum also restored a childless widow to the protection of her husband’s family in a society where women ordinarily depended upon fathers, husbands, or sons for security. Halitzah ensured that if this support would not be forthcoming, the widow would not remain trapped indefinitely.

 

The story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38 raises a fascinating question: if the Torah had not yet been given, how did Judah know about yibbum? Genesis Rabbah 85:5 suggests that Judah himself instituted the practice, but the narrative hardly reads as though anyone regarded it as an innovation. The most likely explanation is that yibbum already existed as a widespread ancient Near Eastern custom. Radak and Ramban suggest this possibility, whereas Rambam, Rabbi Avraham ben HaRambam, and Abarbanel accept this conclusion explicitly. Hittite law 193 likewise prescribed that if no brother survived, the father-in-law assumed responsibility for marrying the widow. Since Judah had no remaining eligible sons to give Tamar, Tamar herself ensured the continuation of the family through Judah.

 

In many respects Tamar becomes the Torah’s first agunah (chained woman, who cannot remarry because of her halakhic ties to another man). Judah repeatedly delays giving Shelah in marriage to her, leaving Tamar unable either to remarry or to build a family. Unlike Deuteronomy’s later legislation, there was no ceremony equivalent to halitzah that could free her. The Torah’s subsequent law therefore remedies precisely the dilemma Tamar faced: if the surviving brother refuses to marry the widow, she need not remain in perpetual limbo.

 

The Book of Ruth presents the institution after the Torah had already limited yibbum to brothers. Since no brothers remained alive, Boaz was not technically performing yibbum. Rather, Judean society extended the values underlying yibbum beyond its formal legal boundaries. Ramban (on Genesis 38:8) observes that the spirit of the institution expanded to include the nearest eligible paternal relative. This development dovetails naturally with the Torah’s laws of ge’ulah (redemption) in Leviticus 25, which likewise call upon relatives to preserve family property. Although the Torah legislates redemption of land and yibbum separately, the Book of Ruth weaves them together into one powerful expression of familial devotion.

 

The unnamed redeemer initially agrees to redeem Naomi’s field but immediately withdraws when Boaz informs him that redeeming the property also entails marrying Ruth. His concern, “lest I impair my own inheritance” (Ruth 4:6), reveals the very tension at the heart of the narrative. Boaz, by contrast, willingly accepts potential financial and familial complications in order to preserve the name and inheritance of another family. The Book of Ruth thus transforms the legal principles of Deuteronomy into a compelling portrait of covenantal generosity.

 

Significantly, the Bible’s only two narratives centered on yibbum both culminate in the Davidic dynasty. The elders bless Boaz and Ruth that their house should become “like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah” (Ruth 4:12), explicitly linking the two stories. David’s ancestry therefore emerges from extraordinary acts of familial responsibility, selflessness, and covenantal loyalty. The legal institution of yibbum ultimately points beyond the law itself to enduring Torah values: preserving families, protecting the vulnerable, and sustaining the covenantal community through acts of love and responsibility.

Overcoming the Negatives: Thoughts for Parashat Ki Tetsei

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Ki Tetsei

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“Do not abhor an Egyptian because you were a stranger in his land” (Devarim 23:8).

This passage is generally understood to mean that we should not hold a permanent grudge against Egyptians, since we were strangers in their land and they provided us with some benefits. This is a highly problematic understanding of the verse. The Israelites suffered for generations as slaves in Egypt. They were treated cruelly; their male children were cast into the river to die. It is a very far stretch to imagine that we should be grateful to them for their hospitality! Should we be commanded not to abhor Nazis because we were “strangers” in their concentration camps?

I translate this verse differently: “Do not abhor the Egyptian even though you were a stranger in his land.”  The Torah is teaching: although the Egyptians enslaved you, you must not let your animosity to them be permanent. You must get past your wounds. The Torah states: “The children of the third generation that are born to them may enter into the assembly of the Lord.” Yes, it will take several generations for the bitter memories to heal, but Egyptians will be welcome to join the Israelites in due course.

But this leads to another problem. Even if we overcame our animosity and were prepared to let Egyptian grandchildren join our people, why would any Egyptian want to do so? In the Egyptian memory, the Israelites were despised slaves who brought plagues on Egypt. Why would an Egyptian want to leave Egypt, resettle in the land of the Israelites, and become part of their people?

The Torah assumes that there will be such Egyptians! For whatever reason, some Egyptian grandchildren will be drawn to the Israelite nation. Perhaps they will come because of guilt feelings over the past persecution of Israelites; perhaps they will be drawn to Israelite faith, culture, civilization.  And when these unique individuals turn up among the Israelites, they are to be welcomed and embraced.

During my many years in the rabbinate, I have been privileged to know special people who, like the unique Egyptians of old, have overcome a heritage of animosity toward Jews/Judaism and have joined the Jewish People. A former member of the Ku Kux Klan was drawn to Judaism by studying the Bible carefully and reading about Jewish teachings (including some of my writings). He converted to Judaism and became a leader of his Jewish community. A woman raised in an Arab country, taught from childhood to despise Jews and Israel, came to the United States to attend college, met Jews, realized that Jews were actually very good people. She ultimately converted to Judaism, married an Israeli, and sent her children to an Orthodox Day School. A man raised to believe that Jews could not be admitted into heaven, overcame this hateful teaching, studied Judaism, undertook an Orthodox conversion, married a Jewish woman.  I have personally known many other people raised with anti-Jewish attitudes—who have become active and enthusiastic members of the Jewish People.

Rabbi Eliezer Melamed, in his book on conversion, writes: “If a German or an Arab seeks to join the Jewish people, even if the child of a fierce anti-Semite, we should accept them and love them like any other Jew. Moreover, we should love them even more than other Jews, in keeping with the commandment to “love the convert, for you too were strangers in the land of Egypt (Deuteronomy 10:19).”

The Torah commands us not to harbor endless hatred for those who have persecuted us. It also teaches us that there are really wonderful people who overcome the hateful anti-Jewish stereotypes of their families/societies, and who embrace Judaism and the Jewish People. And we embrace them for their wisdom and courage. We need more of them.  Am Yisrael Hai, Od Avinu Hai.