National Scholar Updates

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".

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.

 

 

 

Senators, Shandas and Stoopers

Senators, Shandas and Stoopers

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(Rabbi Angel is Director of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals and Rabbi Emeritus of the historic Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of New York City. This opinion piece appeared in the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, August 11, 2026.)

Imagine a candidate for public office who is an outspoken member of the Ku Kux Klan, who preaches hatred of Blacks, who calls on America to penalize Black African countries economically, militarily and politically. Do you think Black politicians would endorse such a racist? Do you think they would welcome this person into a “big tent” coalition of “progressives?”

Of course not.

Black leaders would have the courage and self-respect to repudiate racism; they would refuse to endorse or coddle up to haters. They would make public statements calling on the American public to renounce racism of all kinds, not to allow racist poison into the American political system. Bravo Black leaders!

But now imagine a candidate for public office who is an outspoken antisemite who preaches hatred of Jews and the Jewish State of Israel, who calls on America to withhold all support of Israel – financial, political, military. Imagine this hateful candidate praising or condoning terrorism against Israelis/Jews. Do you think Jewish politicians would endorse such an antisemite? Do you think they would welcome this person into a “big tent” coalition of “progressives?”

We would think that Jewish leaders – like Black leaders – would stand up mightily against the haters. We would think that they would use every forum to call for a civil society that strenuously rejects racism, antisemitism, and bigotry of all kinds.

Shockingly, though, some Jewish politicians actually endorse and kiss up to blatant antisemites who openly despise Jews and the Jewish State. Isn’t it a “shanda” that a senator of Jewish ancestry is one of the most vocal critics of Israel and has sponsored legislation that would seriously endanger Israel’s security? Another Jewish senator is a “stooper” who bows down to antisemites for the sake of his party’s “big tent.” Such “leaders” not only betray the Jewish People, but they betray the very values upon which American democracy is based. Although they may pay lip service to the notion that “hatred has no place in America,” they condone, encourage and endorse hatred.

How wonderful it would be if instead of shandas and stoopers, we had courageous leaders who refused to be part of any “big tent” that included antisemites, racists and those who would slander and undermine the state of Israel. Wouldn’t it be heartening to have Jewish profiles in courage instead of defilers of courage?

When the Jews of the ancient Persian Empire were threatened with extinction, Mordecai sent a message to Esther, the Jewish Queen of Ahasuerus. He asked Esther to intervene on behalf of the Jews but Esther was reluctant. Mordecai told Esther: “Do not think in your heart that you will escape in the king’s house any more than all the other Jews. For if you remain silent at this time then relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from elsewhere; but you and your father’s house will perish; and who knows whether you are in the royal estate for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13-14).

Mordecai’s advice was relevant to Esther … and to Jewish leaders of all generations, including our own. When the Jewish People face peril, unflinching courage is required. Those in positions of power have the unique opportunity to defend the honor and safety of the Jewish People.  They must come to understand that antisemitism is also aimed at those Jews who act against the interests of the Jewish People and the Jewish State. If they remain silent at this time, deliverance will arise for the Jews from elsewhere. And the Jewish shandas and stoopers will go down in perfidy.

It doesn’t have to be this way. The shandas and stoopers might see the light and rise to their historic challenge.

 

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/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faith in Humanity?--Thoughts for Parashat Shofetim

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Shofetim

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

As a fifteen year old prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp, Elie Wiesel witnessed three Jewish scholars convene a Beth Din one night in the barracks. The defendant was: God! The men accused the Almighty of abandonment and cruelty, breaking the ancient covenant with the People of Israel. After due deliberations, they pronounced God chayav, guilty. God owes His people an apology. He must intervene on their behalf.

After this solemn verdict and tearful silence, the three men began to chant the evening prayers! They were upset with God, but they did not renounce their faith. They prayed.

Elie Wiesel saw this episode as characteristic of the anguished faith of the Jewish People. They expected so much more from God; and yet, they did not waiver in their faith. Somehow, Jews could still pray to their Heavenly Parent in spite of all the sufferings they endured.

But if we reflect a bit more, we will come to a different consideration. God, after all, was not rounding up Jews, torturing them, murdering them by the millions. These horrific acts were committed entirely by fellow human beings. Although God did not intervene miraculously to stop the suffering and carnage, God was not the primary guilty party: Nazis and their collaborators were the ruthless perpetrators.  The Holocaust was not caused by God, but by people.  If we were to call together a Beth Din today, the defendant should be Humanity, not God.

Strange as it may seem, it may be easier to have faith in God than faith in humanity. The Holocaust is a notorious example of how bad human beings can be. But if we look at humanity today, we still see hatred, violence, anti-Semitism/anti-Zionism, terrorism, vicious conspiracy theories, lies, crimes large and small. Although there are so many good people in the world, there are also so many who perpetrate evil; and there are so many “sheep” who either go along with the forces of evil or simply stay silent.

This week’s Torah portion calls for a righteous justice system—honest judges, proper enforcement, civic responsibility. It reminds us how the system is compromised when dishonesty creeps in. “Justice, justice you shall pursue.” The Torah’s admonition is included among the Noahide laws applicable to all the nations of the world. If hatred, lies and violence prevail, it is humanity that is on trial…not God.

Let us pray to God…for the sake of a troubled Humanity.

Paired Perspectives on the Parashah: Nitzavim-Vayelekh

Nitzavim–Vayelekh:

Renewing the Covenant through Hakhel

 

 

Among the Torah’s great educational institutions, Hakhel (Deuteronomy 31:9-13) stands alone. At the conclusion of every Shemittah (sabbatical) year, during the festival of Sukkot, the entire nation assembled to hear the Torah read publicly:

 

“Assemble the people: the men, the women, the children, and the stranger in your gates, so that they may hear and so that they may learn, and fear the Lord your God, and observe faithfully every word of this Torah” (Deuteronomy 31:12).

 

Unlike most public religious obligations, Hakhel explicitly includes every member of the covenantal community: men, women, children, and resident aliens. Torah belongs to all who reside in the Land of Israel.

 

The Torah never identifies who was to read the Torah publicly. The Mishnah (Sotah 7:8) assigns this responsibility to the king, whereas Josephus attributes it to the High Priest (Antiquities 4:8:12). The Talmud (Sotah 41b) likewise describes the Torah scroll being ceremoniously passed through several leaders before reaching the king. Several later commentators, including Ralbag, Malbim, and Netziv, suggest that when Israel lacked a king, another national leader such as the High Priest or head of the Sanhedrin fulfilled this role. Ezra’s public Torah reading after the Babylonian exile (Nehemiah 8) likewise demonstrates that the nation’s spiritual leader could gather Israel around the Torah even without a monarch.

 

Rambam identifies the deeper purpose of Hakhel. Rather than viewing it merely as a public Torah reading, he explains that every participant should experience the gathering as though standing once again at Mount Sinai (Laws of Hagigah 3:5-6). The Torah itself points in this direction. Earlier in Deuteronomy, Moses recalls God’s command at Sinai, “Gather (hakhel) the people to Me, that I may let them hear My words” (Deuteronomy 4:10). The

same rare root, k-h-l, links the original revelation at Sinai with the national assembly every seven years. Hakhel therefore serves as a covenantal reenactment of Israel’s formative religious experience.

 

Why, however, does the Torah command Hakhel specifically during Sukkot following the Shemittah year? Rabbi Yaakov Medan offers a compelling explanation. Ordinarily, Sukkot celebrates the completion of the agricultural year. The crops have been gathered, and Israel thanks God for the year’s abundance before beginning a new agricultural cycle with prayers for rain on Shemini Atzeret. Sukkot therefore became he-hag, “the Festival,” when the greatest number of pilgrims naturally assembled in Jerusalem.

 

The year following Shemittah, however, is fundamentally different. Since the land lay fallow throughout the seventh year, there is no ordinary harvest to celebrate. Ibn Ezra accordingly observes that Shemittah became a year devoted to Torah study. Rabbi Medan develops this idea further. During Shemittah, the Land of Israel itself temporarily resembles the wilderness. Just as Israel depended entirely on God’s daily provision of manna after leaving Egypt, so too during the sabbatical year the nation relinquishes normal agricultural labor and relies upon God’s blessing. At the culmination of that remarkable year, the celebration shifts naturally from agricultural abundance to spiritual renewal. Instead of celebrating the produce of the land, Israel celebrates the Torah that gives the land its meaning.

 

Hakhel is therefore far more than a periodic public reading. Every seven years, after experiencing a year of radical dependence upon God, the nation gathers once again as it gathered at Sinai. The covenant is renewed, the Torah is heard anew, and every generation is invited to stand once more before God alongside its ancestors. The ultimate celebration of the Land of Israel is not its harvest alone, but the covenant that transforms the land into the home of God’s people.

 

Mitchell First's book review of Rabbi Hayyim Angel's The Heart of the Five Megillot

Mitchell First, an accomplished scholar in his own right, has published a review of Rabbi Hayyim Angel's new commentary, The Heart of the Five Megillot. It appeared in The Jewish Link, July 30, 2026, page 127.

Reviewing: “The Heart of the Five Megillot” by Rabbi Hayyim Angel (2026)
 

Rabbi Angel has just come out with his seventeenth book. The book consists of 15 articles on the five Megillot: Two on Esther, two on Shir HaShirim, one on Eichah, three on Ruth, six on Kohelet, and anappendix. The article in the appendix is also related to Kohelet, as I will explain.


A little background on Rabbi Angel: He is the National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and
Ideals. He has taught advanced Bible courses at Yeshiva University since 1996. He lectures widely
throughout the U.S. on Tanach-related topics. He has authored over 150 articles, primarily Tanach-
related.
 

As always the case with Rabbi Angel, his articles all draw on classical rabbinical interpretation and the
best of contemporary scholarship.
 

I will briefly discuss a few of them.
 

One of the two Shir HaShirim articles is an extensive survey of the different approaches over the
centuries to the issue of the validity of a literal approach to Shir HaShirim.
 

Rabbi Angel phrases the question as: “Can a biblical text simultaneously express human erotic love
and the love of God- and be sanctified in doing so?” He explores the wide range of opinions found in
classical rabbinic commentary, modern Jewish thought, and contemporary academic scholarship.


Here is a summary of the various views among classic rabbinical commentaries:


1. The Song was initially composed as a human love poem and it was elevated to the sacred when
being edited into a biblical book. (That the poem was initially composed as a human love poem is the
view of most modern scholars.)


2. The song is an allegory in a general sense, but the interpreter must focus on the details of the
human love song.


3. The literal reading is necessary to understand the allegory, and the allegory is primary. (Rashi is one
who holds this view.)


4. Even where the simple meaning seems evident, we must interpret only the allegory. (This is the
view of Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno.)


As to the allegory, in traditional rabbinic literature most understand the Song as symbolizing the
relationship between God and Israel. (But he does cite other midrashic views as to the second party.)
Rabbi Angel then discusses some of the various views in modern times. Of the many he discusses, I
liked the view of Rabbi Yuval Cherlow. In this view (unlike many others), there is one underlying story
being told. Rabbi Angel summarizes this view: “The man-whom he identifies as a king-and the woman-
who he identifies as a peasant who tends vineyards-must learn each other’s language and overcome the
staggering gulf between them to develop their loving relationship. Similarly, there is an infinite gulf 

between God and people, leading to inherent religious challenges. Over the course of the Song, the
woman must learn the world of the king and its language rather than attempting to impose her world
onto her lover. So too Israel must learn God’s language in the Torah to develop a proper religious
relationship with God. The king must also learn the language and concerns of his beloved, and by
addressing them he gives her the opportunity to develop the relationship further. Rabbi Cherlow
maintains that the Song teaches that the key to developing one’s love of God is through an
understanding of human love.”


Rabbi Angel concludes his survey of the sources: “The Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies- not despite
its evocation of human passion, but because through it, we draw near to the deepest sanctuaries of
divine love.”


Rabbi Angel liked Rabbi Cherlow’s approach as well. His approach is set forth in a book Aharekha
Narutzah (2003) and Rabbi Angel’s second article on Shir HaShirim is entirely devoted to discussing
Rabbi Cherlow’s approach.
------
Of the three articles on the book of Ruth, one of them discusses the tremendous ambiguity we find in
the book, which he feels is deliberate.


His first example of ambiguity is the first five verses. There is a juxtaposition of Elimelech’s departure
and his death, and a juxtaposition of the sons’ marriages to Moabite women and their deaths. At first
glance this suggests that the deaths are punishment for sins. As to the sons, their sin was intermarriage.
As to Elimelech, his sin was either leaving Eretz Yisrael or being a leader who left a starving community.
However, there is a ten-year gap between the sons marrying Moabites and their deaths. By including the
lengthy time separating the two events, the text appears to exclude intermarriage as a direct cause of
their deaths. We are also not told how long Elimelech remained in Moab before he died. These
uncertainties yield at least three possible lines of interpretation.


1. Elimelech, Machlon and Chilion died after leaving Eretz Yisrael for legitimate reasons.(Ibn Ezra
insists that Ruth and Orpah converted prior to their marriages.) The introductory verses are not
describing punishment for sins. They are just giving background to the story.


2. The story is similar to the story of Job. The deaths and suffering at the outset of the book are
theologically significant, but the reader is not told why.


3. This is a story of God giving just recompense. Elimelech, and Machlon and Chilion are being
punished for their sins.


Rabbi Angel writes that reading #3 is possible but no more compelling than the other readings.
What about Naomi? Was she a passive follower of her husband, or an active participant in the
abandonment of a community (assuming there was one)? What about her motivations in attempting to

persuade Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Were they totally unselfish? He concludes that she too can
be viewed in various ways: 1) a paragon of chesed, 2) self-serving, or 3) similar to Job.
He concludes that the deliberate ambiguities are precisely the vehicles through which the short
narrative captures so many subtleties. In holding multiple truths in tension, the narrative dignifies
human complexity.


(He writes that Ruth is the only character who is unambiguously described positively.)
-----
There are many insights throughout his six articles on Kohelet. For example verse 1:18 reads: “For as
wisdom grows, vexation grows; to increase learning is to increase heartache.” How is anyone supposed
to interpret this verse? Seforno is forced to say: It refers to learning the wisdom of heretics! Rabbi Angel
views this comment as an example of a reinterpretation of the plain sense to avoid the consequences of
the meaning of the verse in the peshat—that Kohelet finds difficulty with genuine wisdom!"
The article in the Appendix is: “Afterlife in Jewish Thought.” It is relevant to Kohelet because that
work focuses on mortality, meaning and divine justice in this world alone and we might have expected
some mention of the afterlife here.


Rabbi Angel explains that the first explicit reference to a bodily resurrection in Tanach is in
the book of Daniel. But the ideas underlying the afterlife can be traced back to the earliest texts in
Tanach. For example. at Genesis 25:8, we are told that Avraham was “gathered to his kin.”
Rabbi Angel further suggests that there is a good reason why the Torah and the Nach barely refer to
the afterlife. He writes: “The Torah and the prophets emphasize communal perfection. The ideal of
Tanakh is the messianic age, a perfected society and world harmony.” The ideal for an individual is not
his individual perfection so that he can obtain the afterlife. (Rambam perhaps held such a view but many
would disagree.) “The prophets always lived among the people…. They longed for Israel to become a
model nation that would inspire all humanity to serve God …We return to the Tanakh’s foundational
vision- not only of personal growth, but of a just and sacred society grounded in this world.”
We can all learn tremendous amounts from Rabbi’s Angel’s writings!

(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.

 

A Trans-Generational Covenant: Thoughts for Parashat Nitsavim

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Nitsavim

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“You are standing this day all of you before the Lord your God….that He may establish you this day unto Himself for a people and that He may be to you a God as He spoke to you and as He swore to your fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Neither with you only do I make this covenant and this oath but with him that stands here with us this day before the Lord our God and also with him that is not here with us this day” (Devarim 29:9-14).

 

The Torah presents the eternal covenant between God and the People of Israel in three dimensions. First, it is addressed to the current generation, rich and poor, old and young, men and women. We are standing before God this day.  The covenant is experienced directly and personally.

Second, the covenant harks back to our ancestors Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (and their wives!). Our relationship with the Almighty has a long history, going back to our founding generations. We are not born in a vacuum. We have a deep history that sustains our covenant.

Third, the covenant is with the generations yet to come “who are not here with us this day.” Our actions and decisions today will have impact on our descendants. 

Living as a thinking Jew requires a trans-generational approach. We are rooted in our history and strive to be faithful to the ideals of our ancestors. But the world changes. We don’t live in the days of Abraham and Sara, or in Temple times, or in the Middle Ages or even in more recent generations. We face new circumstances and challenges and must be wise enough to apply ancient wisdom to our current realities. When I was rabbi of Congregation Shearith Israel (a historic congregation dating back to 1654) I used to say: “Our ancestors have a vote; but not veto power.”  We don’t make changes casually; we take into consideration the traditions of the past. But a living covenant necessarily entails ongoing development and renewal. We are standing before God this day.

We also must take into account generations yet to come.  Decisions today impact on our descendants in many ways.  People often worry about “a slippery slope,” i.e. once changes of any kind are introduced, the whole framework may come apart. One thing leads to another until the original traditions slip away altogether. Our task is to take into consideration the “slippery slope,” but also to strive not to become a relic chained to a frozen past.

A story is told of an episode that occurred years before the United Nations Partition Plan of November 1947 that set the stage for the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948. The Zionist leadership, headed by David Ben Gurion, was offered a very meager parcel of land; Ben Gurion was unsure whether this offer should be accepted or rejected. He had high regard for a fellow Zionist leader, Yitzhak Tabenkin, and turned to him for advice. Although Ben Gurion was not one to shun making decisions on his own, he told Tabenkin he would abide by whatever Tabenkin decided. Tabenkin asked for 24 hours so that he could consult with two individuals.

The next day, Tabenkin advised Ben Gurion to reject the plan. Ben Gurion accepted the decision, but asked Tabenkin who his two advisors were. Tabenkin replied: “I had to ask two very important individuals, my grandfather and my grandson; I took counsel with my grandfather who died ten years ago, and with my grandson who is not yet born.”

Tabenkin understood the trans-generational covenant which binds the Jewish people together. He understood that contemporary decisions must factor in the generations that came before and the generations yet to come.

When decisions are made without adequately consulting our earlier generations, we create a breach in our tradition. When decisions are made without consulting our future generations, we create a breach in Jewish continuity. 

“You are standing this day all of you before the Lord your God….that He may establish you this day unto Himself for a people.”  This is a singular honor…and awesome challenge.

 

American Jews and the Transformation of Israeli Judaism: Book Review

 

Agents of Change: American Jews and the Transformation of Israeli Judaism, Adam S. Ferziger. New York: NYU Press, 2025. 455 pp.

Ordinarily, a title claiming that a phenomenon is transformative sounds hyperbolic. In the case of this fascinating study by Bar-Ilan University professor Adam Ferziger, however, the claim is entirely justified.

This impeccably researched study, co-winner of the Shapiro Award for Best Book in Israel Studies, traces the immigration to Israel of a number of Modern Orthodox rabbis and their families. Most were trained at the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS) of Yeshiva University under the tutelage of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik. Beginning in the early 1970s, the talent, vision, and learning these rabbis and their families brought to Israel helped reshape the country's religious landscape in significant ways. What Ferziger calls Israeli Moderate Orthodoxy dramatically altered the religious scene in Israel. How?

This highly readable history answers that question by telling a series of fascinating stories. Consider Aharon Lichtenstein. Rav Soloveitchik's son-in-law (married to Tovah, an accomplished educator in her own right), Lichtenstein arrived in Israel with impeccable Jewish intellectual credentials. A brilliant Talmudist, he also earned a Ph.D. in English literature from Harvard University, writing a dissertation entitled Henry More: The Rational Theology of a Cambridge Platonist, later published by Harvard University Press.

That achievement points to a defining feature of Lichtenstein's intellectual identity. He was not only a great Torah scholar but also someone who believed that wisdom could be found beyond the walls of the yeshiva. His willingness to engage deeply with Western thought reflected an intellectual openness that distinguished him from many of his Israeli contemporaries.

This openness was hardly unique to Lichtenstein. Of the principal male figures Ferziger profiles, all but one earned doctorates, several from major North American universities. As noted, Lichtenstein studied English literature at Harvard; Nachum Rabinovitch studied the history and philosophy of science at the University of Toronto; David Hartman studied philosophy at McGill; Daniel Tropper earned a doctorate in education at Yeshiva University; and Chaim Brovender studied Semitic languages at the Hebrew University. Of the figures Ferziger studies, only Shlomo Riskin did not pursue an earned doctorate. The point is not simply that these men were highly educated. Rather, they embodied a form of Orthodoxy in which advanced secular scholarship and uncompromising Torah learning were seen as mutually enriching rather than mutually exclusive. That intellectual synthesis became one of the defining characteristics of the movement they helped transplant to Israel.

The influence of this cohort extended far beyond the classroom and synagogue.

David Hartman is a good example. He founded what has become one of Israel's most important centers of Jewish intellectual life, the Shalom Hartman Institute. Today it encompasses a major research think tank, the Kogod Research Center for Contemporary Jewish Thought; the David Hartman Center for Intellectual Excellence, which cultivates emerging scholars; the Center for Israeli and Jewish Identity, devoted to educational reform; the Center for Shared Society, promoting Jewish-Arab civic partnership; the Center for Judaism and State Policy, addressing the relationship between religion and the state; Rabbanut Yisraelit, a pluralistic Israeli rabbinical ordination program; two Jerusalem high schools; and a wide array of educational initiatives for Israeli educators, rabbis, students, and public leaders.

Ferziger's larger point becomes unmistakable: these American-trained rabbis did not merely bring new ideas to Israel. They built enduring institutions through which those ideas could shape Israeli society for generations.

Hartman's influence did not stop at Israel's borders. The Shalom Hartman Institute became a major force in North American Jewish life, offering intensive educational programs for rabbis, educators, lay leaders, college students, and Jewish professionals. Under the leadership of Dr. Yehuda Kurtzer, who serves as president alongside Donniel Hartman, the Institute has become one of the most influential centers of Jewish thought in North America, shaping contemporary conversations about Israel, Zionism, pluralism, Jewish identity, and the moral challenges facing the Jewish people.

One of Ferziger's important through lines, then, is that the movement he describes did not travel in one direction only. American Modern Orthodox ideas were brought to Israel, transformed there, and then returned to North America in new forms. This transnational circulation of ideas, institutions, and religious leadership is one of the book's most illuminating themes. The Hartman Institute is only one of many examples Ferziger points to in showing how developments within Israeli Moderate Orthodoxy came back to influence American Jewish life.

Ferziger further shows the influence of this immigration on women's education. Rabbanit Malka Bina's work, for example, led to the development of the Women's Institute for Torah Studies. Housed in a multi-story building in Jerusalem, the Institute offers a wide array of sophisticated learning opportunities, including a five-year course of study equivalent to rabbinical studies, whose graduates receive the title meshivat halachah ("one who responds to questions of Jewish law").

A related development is the work of Rabbanit Oshra Koren, who teaches at the Sharon Center of MaTaN in Ra'anana. Her programs include the "Mother-Daughter Bat Mitzvah Program," now taught in eighty locations throughout Israel.

The same pattern is evident in Hadran. Founded by Michelle Cohen Farber and Shoshana Baker, Hadran seeks "to make Talmud study accessible to Jewish women at all levels...in a unique way: by providing a wide range of resources...in the voice of women teachers" (p. 268). Hadran's online platform, which includes a women's version of Daf Yomi, extends women's Talmud study to an international audience, further illustrating Ferziger's argument that these Israeli innovations have reshaped Jewish life far beyond Israel's borders.

The book's appendix, "Representative Israel-Based Students and Protégés of the American Immigrant Pioneers for IsMO [Israeli Moderate Orthodoxy]," offers an impressively large roster of figures who have extended the work of their teachers. It reinforces Ferziger's concluding argument that a distinctly Israeli form of Moderate Orthodoxy has emerged. This evolving religious culture is rooted in tradition yet marked by an unusual degree of autonomy, as Israelis selectively embrace Orthodox practices that enrich what Shmuel Rosner and Camil Fuchs describe as Yahadut Yisraelit (Jewish-Israeli identity). Ferziger makes a persuasive case that this development owes much to the generation of American Modern Orthodox rabbis and educators whose immigration transformed Israel's religious landscape.