National Scholar Updates

All groups need discerning judgment. Even Orthodox Jews who restrict their broader exposure and encounter mostly rabbinic influences must differentiate between more and less reasonable voices. After all, rabbis are quite capable of uttering foolish statements. Nonetheless, the challenge of developing the ability to evaluate ideas and positions expands for Modern Orthodox Jews who expose themselves to so many elements of both higher and lower Western culture. Where have we succeeded in availing ourselves of the best that culture has to offer—and where have we failed by taking in the worst?

How does the college education Modern Orthodox Jews so value aid them in this endeavor? On a daily basis, I rely upon the wisdom and inspiration of great Gentile and secular Jewish thinkers, and that wisdom animates my teaching. Wordsworth’s Nuns Fret Not beautifully captures why structure does not necessarily crush individuality or creativity but can even enhance them, a significant point for halakhically observant Jews. Denise Levertov’s On Tolerance powerfully conveys how the positive concept in the poem’s title can turn destructive. The practical skills learned in college enable a much more robust and varied tikkun olam. Those who stay in yeshiva until age 30 are unlikely to attend medical school and engage in cancer research. The gap between more open and closed approaches expands to massive proportions in Israel where the lack of secular education in the Hareidi sector makes entering most professions extremely difficult.

Openness enables a richer, more accurate, and less simplistic understanding of other groups. One who reads the essays of George Orwell or Atul Gawande will have a much harder time asserting that Torah provides all the required wisdom and that we should eschew non-Jewish authors. No work of contemporary Torah literature addresses the current question of care for the elderly with the insight and compassion of Gawande’s Being Mortal. Analogously, it is easier to refer to secular Zionists as an “empty wagon” when one does not witness up close their dedication to protecting and serving their nation in the IDF and when one remains ignorant of the gastronomic sacrifices made by all the vegans and vegetarians of Tel Aviv. A person who actually speaks with soldiers and reads literature about them would more likely realize the offensiveness of saying that studying Torah is more difficult and demanding than fighting on the frontlines (a statement recently said by Yitzchak Goldknopf, current head of the Agudat Yisrael party). 

The wisdom of Gentiles has proven pivotal in helping our community understand the scourge of sexual abuse. A person who only knows Shas (the entire Talmud) might not comprehend why victims could take two decades to speak up or how those who have been violated could put themselves in the identical position a second time, granting the abuser another opportunity. That person might also think that victims’ mental disorders automatically discredits their testimony instead of considering the possibilities that the abuse caused the disorder or that abusers prefer to prey upon the unhealthy and vulnerable. The knowledge generated by (Gentile) psychological research enables us to address such issues.   

A number of ideologies and institutions that admittedly include threatening elements have nonetheless proven a boon to our community. If feminism means downplaying the importance of family or seeing every spousal discussion about who should wash the dishes as part of a war to overcome the patriarchy, we correctly reject it. On the other hand, feminism and the need for an Orthodox response to the feminist challenge have led to greater educational and professional opportunities for women. We treasure the opportunity contemporary women have to encounter the profundity of our tradition first-hand and function as more learned Jews. Women can more easily make major contributions to society as doctors, lawyers, and mental health professionals. Paradoxically, the entire kollel enterprise, a world that tends to portray feminism as pernicious, only survives due to “kollel wives” in the workforce supporting their families.   

LGBTQ+ ideology often clashes with traditional Judaism but it too has had some positive impact. In 1976, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote that no person naturally desires homosexual relations and those that want it are simply rebelling against God (Iggerot Moshe OH 4:115). Very few Orthodox rabbis would suggest this today, and we should honestly admit that the broader world has helped us realize how some individuals do indeed have intrinsic homosexual desires. We dare not add to their difficulties by accusing them of acting out of spite. Furthermore, justified theological commitments motivated some rabbis to too quickly support the reparative therapy of Project Jonah, which turned out to be a dangerous fraud. Here too, non-Jewish wisdom from the outside world had something to teach us.  

Finally, we have all benefited greatly from the institution of democracy. While we can marshal support for democratic themes in our tradition by citing Abarbanel (commentary on Deuteronomy 17), other rabbinic authorities such as Rambam (Hilkhot Melakhim 1:1) favored a monarchy and the idea that Judaism may not promote a specific position on the nature of national government. As Gerald Blidstein argued (Tradition Fall 1997), we can strongly endorse democracy and see it as an effective vessel for promoting Jewish values without thinking that our halakhic system necessarily calls for it. Democracy has allowed Judaism to flourish in the United States and has proven even more valuable in Israel, where it has enabled Jewish political parties who passionately disagree to function together and produce a thriving Jewish State despite immense military, economic, political, and cultural obstacles.  

In the foregoing examples, the entire Orthodox world has benefitted from these ideas, but Modern Orthodoxy is more forthright in admitting our debt to broader intellectual society and in explicitly promoting the values of democracy and feminism. However, we cannot ignore the less savory influences of Western society. Many Modern Orthodox students head off to college eager to experience the life of heavy drinking, frat parties, and sexual license. Some actively participate in secular party environments, while others bring that cultural universe to the Hillel and enter Shabbat after a pregame of alcohol in the Hillel parking lot. This represents mindless adoption of some of the worst values the larger world offers. 

Clearly, many do not view university as an opportunity to study great ideas or acquire skills for bettering humanity. These missed opportunities are certainly not unique to young adults from the Jewish community, but that is precisely the point. Too often, we emulate secular society when we should distinguish ourselves by acting differently. Many see a university education as primarily a means to achieve a plum job and a large salary. Those who pursue investment banking jobs that will keep them in the office until eleven at night apparently prize money over family. I appreciate how paying multiple annual yeshiva tuitions and camping fees plus the high cost of a house in Orthodox suburbia generate the need for a large income. At the same time, the amount of money spent on Pesah programs should give us pause. For families that can afford it, purchasing takeout food for the holiday, still saving any family member from major Passover domestic chores while paying a fraction of the hotel costs might be a better demonstration of our values. The nature of most of these programs raises questions of hedonism in addition to materialism. Does anyone truly need a barbecue between lunch and dinner, and does the tearoom always need to be open?  

Furthermore, certain intellectual attitudes work against the inspiration of education. If we fixate on Shakespeare as a dead White male who discriminated against Jews, Moors, and women, we will never appreciate the power and wisdom of his writings. The desire to debunk does not allow for any genuine enthusiasm and reverence. In response to the debunkers, I note that people are complex, and the same George Washington who owned slaves had several remarkable personal accomplishments, including not just leading the successful American Revolution and serving as America’s first president but also delivering an influential address about religious tolerance at the Touro Synagogue and giving a very powerful Farewell Address emphasizing education and morality. We can remain in awe of Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner’s brilliance even if we recognize that he was not the easiest of personalities. Additionally, many humanities programs have replaced long novels such as Middlemarch or Les Miserables with courses on film, television, and comic books. In my opinion, this entails sacrificing depth on the altar of entertainment. Too many Modern Orthodox Jews quickly endorse whatever educational trends currently pass as gospel at Harvard and Yale. 

Moderns tend to emphasize choice and consent as values that supersede all others. This year, a very thoughtful student of mine has struggled to understand why “open marriage” is problematic if each spouse agrees to the arrangement. The convictions that certain things should not be done even to someone who consents or that some obligations do not stem from agreement seem foreign to her. People bear debts of gratitude to their parents despite the lack of choice involved. To some degree, the same applies to peoplehood and offers a reason why born Jews should feel a connection to their fellow Jews. Furthermore, a person can say that entering marriage requires consent but still believe the institution demands a single-minded loyalty and commitment to one’s spouse for it to flourish. I decide to get married but do not determine what a thriving marriage relationship consists of. 

As mentioned, feminism brought about many positive changes. However, some feminist assertions on behalf of women actually hurt women. When I suggest that college women should not attend the kind of parties where date rape represents a lurking danger, I am criticized for blaming the victim. Would anyone suggest that purchasing a good lock in a neighborhood known for robberies is blaming the victim? Clearly, the male perpetrators are the evildoers in this story—but we can still encourage potential victims to avoid giving criminals an opportunity.                

I am very sympathetic to women upset that so much Orthodox discourse revolves around tzeniut and dress codes. Modesty applies to men as well; it is about attitude and not just dress, and it should not dominate any seminary curriculum. On the other hand, the larger Western world’s attitude to women’s dress does women no favors. Do women walking around with extremely revealing attire empower them and encourage engaging with them as serious and thoughtful individuals? I have watched a number of Academy Awards YouTube videos and I am always struck by the juxtaposition of justified complaints that women over 45 cannot get major Hollywood roles expressed at an event where many of the women are half undressed but none of the men are. Female hosts criticize women being judged by their looks while wearing clothing that encourages that very message. 

Complaining about social media has become a cliché, but only because the complaints are valid. TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter are for the most part time-wasters, shallow instruments, training in the need for instantaneous gratification, and a replacement for genuine discourse with friends. The institution of Shabbat helps observant Jews reduce these addictions, but some restrictions of usage need to carry over into the week as well. Though it is an uphill battle, schools and parents need to jointly fight against constant smart phone usage. 

For me, no live options exist beyond Modern Orthodoxy. Denominations on the left lack firm commitment to our tradition regarding both knowledge and practice, while groups to our right have too many ethical and intellectual shortcomings. As Dr. Daniel Gordis once questioned, why is there a need for rabbinical schools from other denominations to offer courses in basic Hebrew when one needs much more knowledge than that to begin studying for the rabbinate? Conservative Jews on campus who care about Shabbat and kashruth are often sociologically forced into the Orthodox community. Secondly, regarding which issues have our co-religionists to the left sided with our tradition over current Western mores? Conversely, focusing on the Israeli scene, an entire community exempting itself from army service ends any thought of entering Hareidi society for me. On an intellectual level, the Hareidi world’s monolithic portrayal of Jewish thought, its whitewashing of the sins of biblical heroes and its insistence that Hazal (the Sages of the Talmud) knew contemporary science are not tenable positions. 

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 39b) faults Am Yisrael for following the corrupt among the non-Jews rather than the noble among them. For Modern Orthodoxy to succeed, we need to diametrically reverse that equation. Reviewing the list enumerated in this essay indicates that we have work to do. 

Kedoshim:

What Is Holiness?

The opening half of the Book of Leviticus revolves around a single sacred center: the Mishkan, Tabernacle. Chapters 1–7 detail the sacrificial system; chapters 8–10 describe the dedication of the Mishkan, alongside the tragic cautionary tale of Nadab and Abihu, who approached improperly. Chapters 11–15 delineate who may not enter the Mishkan, and how one may regain access through purification. Finally, chapter 16 outlines the purification of the Mishkan itself, ensuring that God’s presence can continue to dwell among Israel.

Beginning in chapter 17, however, the Torah pivots. The focus shifts from sacred space to sacred life. The laws of chapters 17–26 extend holiness into every sphere of existence—dietary practice, interpersonal ethics, sexuality, ritual observance, and beyond. Already in Leviticus 11:44–45, within the earlier section, the Torah introduces the foundational principle: “You shall be holy, for I am holy.” This refrain reappears as a governing theme in our parashah (19:2) and beyond (20:7; 21:8).

Yet, we must ask: what does holiness actually mean?

Holiness as Imitation of God

The Torah’s central formulation—“You shall be holy, for I am holy”—defines holiness relationally—as a response to God’s own nature. Holiness is not an abstract state, but a call to emulate God. Scripture repeatedly refers to God as kadosh (e.g., Isaiah 40:25; 57:15; Habakkuk 3:3), and rabbinic tradition crystallizes this idea through imitatio Dei: just as God is compassionate, gracious, and just, so too must human beings strive to embody those traits (Sotah 14a; Shabbat 133b).

On this view, holiness is not confined to ritual precision. It is a mode of living in which one’s entire life reflects God’s values.

Two Classical Models: Restraint or Refinement

Medieval commentators debate how this ideal is realized in practice.

Rashi, following Leviticus Rabbah (24:6), understands holiness primarily as restraint—specifically, refraining from prohibited behavior. This interpretation fits the immediate context of chapters 18–20, which emphasize sexual prohibitions. For Rashi, the root k-d-sh conveys separation: to be holy is to set oneself apart from that which is forbidden. The same root can even describe something “set aside” for prostitution (kedeshah), underscoring that holiness is fundamentally about designation and separation.

Ramban, however, pushes further. Drawing on Yevamot 20a, he argues that one can technically avoid all prohibitions and still live a coarse, self-indulgent life. Such a person, though legally compliant, fails to achieve holiness. For Ramban, holiness is refinement—a disciplined, elevated mode of existence shaped by the spirit, not just the letter, of the law. The commandments aim to cultivate a morally and spiritually refined personality.

Halakhic observance alone does not necessarily produce ethical or spiritual excellence. Yet at the same time, the Torah insists that the path to holiness must pass through the framework of mitzvot.

Ethics at the Center of Holiness

Several nineteenth-century thinkers, including R. Yisrael Salanter, R. Moshe Sofer (Hatam Sofer), R. Hirsch, and Netziv, emphasize that holiness is most visibly expressed in ethical conduct, especially honesty in business and interpersonal integrity. In their view, one’s treatment of others is the truest measure of religious life.

This position captures a vital truth—but it risks reduction. Holiness in the Torah is inherently religious and cannot be limited to ethics alone.

Jacob Milgrom therefore offers a more precise formulation: what distinguishes the Torah is not ethics alone, nor ritual alone, but their integration. Ethical conduct is not optional—it is an essential component of holiness alongside ritual observance. Jeremiah Unterman sharpens this point further: in the ancient Near East, legal systems prohibited wrongdoing but did not mandate active care for the vulnerable. The Torah uniquely mandates care for the vulnerable as an obligation of justice.

Holiness, then, is not only about avoiding harm, but about actively building a just and compassionate society.

Holiness as a National Calling

A striking perspective emerges from Joshua Berman. In Tanakh, individuals are almost never described explicitly as kadosh. The lone narrative exception is the Shunammite woman’s description of Elisha as an ish kadosh, holy man (II Kings 4:9)—and even there, it is her perception, not the Torah’s or God’s designation.

By contrast, the nation of Israel is repeatedly called a holy nation (goy kadosh) beginning at Sinai. The concept of holiness, Berman argues, is fundamentally collective and covenantal. It arises only with the formation of Israel as a nation bound to God through law and mission.

Holiness, in this sense, is not merely personal piety. It is a national identity expressed through shared practices, boundaries, and commitments that distinguish Israel from other nations. Even when applied to individuals—such as priests or Nazirites—holiness is institutional, defined by roles within the broader covenantal system.

This framing yields a powerful corollary: when Israel lives up to its calling, God is sanctified in the world. When it fails, the result is hillul Hashem, a desecration of God’s name. Holiness is thus both privilege and responsibility, inseparable from the public and national life of the people.

Conclusion: A Multi-Dimensional Ideal

The command “You shall be holy” resists reduction to a single definition. It encompasses:

• Separation from the prohibited (Rashi),
• Refinement of character and conduct (Ramban),
• Integration of ritual and ethical life (Milgrom, Unterman),
• Imitation of God’s attributes (rabbinic tradition),
• And participation in a national covenantal mission (Berman). 

Together, these perspectives reveal that holiness is not a single trait, but a multi-layered religious ideal. Holiness is not one dimension of religious life—it is its totality. It demands discipline and aspiration, law and spirit, individual growth and collective identity. Above all, it calls upon Israel to live in such a way that the presence of God is reflected not only in sacred spaces, but in the entirety of life.

Angel for Shabbat: Aharei Mot/Kedoshim

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

     “Inclusive Orthodoxy” was Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ way of describing how the majority of Jewish

congregations operate in Britain and the Commonwealth. In these communities most

synagogues are run along Orthodox lines with an Orthodox Rabbi, and some

members who are observant. However, most congregants are more traditional than

strict in their religious practice. Nevertheless, they are part of an Orthodox

congregation, and when the model is working at its best, they feel at home there, are

actively welcomed and valued, and they may even grow in their religious

commitment. Beyond their commitment to maintaining Orthodox communal

standards, these congregations are not part of a dedicated ideological project of any

particular variety, but religious communities that seek to provide a home to as many

Jews as possible.

     That is the model of the United Synagogue in London, similar congregations around

Britain, and in other countries including Canada, New Zealand, South Africa and my

own home in Australia. I have been the Rabbi of one such congregation, The Great

Synagogue of Sydney, for just over ten years now. In that time I have had to reflect

on how a Rabbi can and should lead an Inclusive Orthodox community. It is not

straightforward, and raises several quandaries. How can the Rabbi uphold Orthodox

standards while still welcoming everyone? How can he make everyone feel at home

even though they might have very different lifestyles to his own, and very different

from a halakhic ideal? How can he promote increased Jewish observance without

alienating his congregation?

     I cannot claim to have all the answers to these questions, but I think that the bridge

that needs to be built may rest on three pillars: Embracing, Exemplifying and

Encouraging. Just as Rabbi Sacks argued that Inclusive Orthodoxy as a whole was

not an accommodation, but an ideal, certainly in the context of the modern world as it

actually exists, I submit that this rabbinic approach is not just a strategic choice, but

is also a religious imperative.

     First comes Embracing. It is the job of the Rabbi of any congregation, and especially

a congregation where the members are not uniform in their level of religious

observance, to embrace each and every person. My young children have a board

book called We Go To Shul (by Douglas Florian and Hannah Tolson), which includes

the line “rabbi greets all those he meets”, which captures this responsibility

perfectly. Everyone who wants to come to any activities of the congregation should

be greeted, embraced, genuinely welcomed and valued, and they should feel that is

the authentic disposition of the Rabbi. This is a different concept to being non-

judgmental. Choosing not to be judgmental implies that I harbor an unexpressed

judgement, and I am making the decision not to bring it out, but it exists and I could if

I wanted. Embracing puts all that aside, and sees only a person who wants to

connect, and celebrating and facilitating that desire. Although, as I will go on to

argue, the Rabbi can and should be ambitious for each person’s religious growth,

authentic embrace is not a tool to bring about that growth but a fundamental

expression of Jewish values in its own right. When Maimonides codified the

obligation to love another Jew in Hilkhot Deot 6:3 he did so without qualification:

“Each person is commanded to love each and every one of Israel as themselves.” It

is not dependent on the level, actual or prospective, of religious observance.

     Sometimes this can be difficult, on a personal or a religious level. Some people are

difficult, they are prickly characters, or simply have a personality that does not click

with the Rabbi’s. Sometimes the Rabbi may feel frustration or disappointment with a

congregant’s religious observance. He might feel the congregant could do more, or

has even slipped backwards. He might feel that his hopes for that congregant have

not borne fruit, or that he has poured care and effort without experiencing reciprocity.

     There are two ways for the Rabbi to address this, and they are both internal work.

The first is to try to set all these considerations aside, and return to the core values

of universal and unconditional embrace. If that is not immediately or always possible,

then it is worth remembering that religious-pastoral relationships play out over a long

time. What does not happen this year may happen next year, or in ten years.

     Patience and persistence are the keys to both a happy and a successful rabbinate.

The second pillar is Exemplifying. Yelling at people to do more or do better probably

never worked well, and certainly cannot work today. A Rabbi makes clear their

standards not by demanding them of others but by living up to them, as much as

possible, himself. Again Maimonides points us towards this, when he advises

(Hilkhot Talmud Torah 4:1) that however wise a teacher may be, he should only be

followed if his behavior exemplifies proper conduct, because teaching ultimately

resides in actions more than words. The Rabbi must therefore be scrupulous in how

he speaks and what he eats, in timely and reliable attendance at services, visible

enthusiasm for the study of Torah, hospitality, generosity, acts of personal kindness.

As the Talmud states in Yoma 86a, he should prompt observers to say of him “how

pleasant are his ways, how proper are his deeds”.

     This should not make the Rabbi appear angelic, because the Torah was not given to

the angels. He can thoughtfully give insight into his struggles, because questioning

and doubt are inevitable parts of the religious experience, and his congregants

should not be misled into believing they alone face these challenges. That would be

both dishonest and unhelpful. In a careful way, the Rabbi can share the practical

struggles of, say, raising a young family while also attending to religious and

communal obligations, or the theological struggles that come from seeing the

innocent suffer.

     The Rabbi must also demonstrate palpable intellectual integrity and moral clarity. If

he feels the need to teach difficult lessons or transmit challenging ideas, he must do

so, but not in a way that demands agreement or compliance. The stance of the

Rabbi should be “you have asked me to be your teacher, and that gives me an

obligation to teach the truth as I see it. No one is obliged to agree with me, but you

have a right to know what I think, if I believe the circumstances call on me to tell you.”

     That combination of courage and conviction with humility and openness is a

contribution in itself and also makes even the hardest messages possible to give and

receive without destabilizing relationships. They reveal a Rabbi who might be wrong,

and knows he might be wrong, but who is not prepared to be a liar or a coward. Of

course, knowing when not to speak, and how not to speak is just as important, and

verbal recklessness is no more a quality in a Rabbi than it is in anyone else. What is

true, is that with the growth of love and trust, more can be said.

     Have I detailed impossibly high standards? Probably. Which means in turn there can

be modelling of living with imperfection, honesty about falling short, the need for

repair following rupture and a continual attempt to do better.

     The final pillar is Encouraging. The challenge is to nudge without becoming a

‘noodge’. In an Inclusive Orthodox congregation the Rabbi cannot rely on a shared

understanding of the practical binding force of Halacha, or on peer pressure and

social expectations, but he still wants to see his congregants grow in their religious

observance. He is not presiding over what is sometimes called a “kiruv shul”, a place

where everyone is consciously and deliberately on a journey towards greater

religious observance and they want the Rabbi to help them on that path. That is

probably not the project or the consensus of the membership of an Inclusive

Orthodox community. What, then, can the Rabbi do? He can and should encourage.

He should engage with his congregants, as Maimonides counsels “patiently and

Gently” (Hilkhot Deot 6:7). Suggesting to someone who rarely attends services to

come, not just more often in general but on a specific occasion, whether Shabbat,

Yom Tov, or weekday; offering to take time to learn Torah with them; not just laying

tefillin for them, but teaching them how to put on tefillin; teaching them how to read a

Haftarah, perhaps the Torah, or lead a service; giving them an active role in services

as a shamash or gabbai. This is aside from a role in lay leadership, such as joining

the synagogue board; it is about deepening specifically religious activity.

     Not everyone will agree to try to do more, some will agree but not follow through,

some will follow through for a while and then participation will tail off, but the more

and the wider the Rabbi’s encouragement the greater will be the results. This

encouragement has to be personal. I have not seen exhortations from the pulpit or

appeals in emails have much effect. Success comes most often from personal

invitations made in the context of personal relationships. The greatest success for

the Rabbi is when, in the case of an individual, he no longer needs to encourage,

because that person now attends and participates because of their own internal

enthusiasm and not because of an external intervention. Of course, no longer

making specific suggestions should never mean the relationship is allowed to

atrophy. Anyone can see when the Rabbi loses interest because their presence is

taken for granted, is regarded as “in the bag”.  Instead what starts out as drawing

people in can become a warm, close and settled relationship of fellowship and

appreciation. No one should feel looked down upon because they do less, but they

should feel celebrated when they do more.

     While these three pillars represent an ideal rather than a claim of personal

achievement, they are perhaps parts of a vision to which an Inclusive Orthodox

Rabbi can aspire and strive. They are a route to combining openness with integrity, breadth with growth, 

and authenticity with ambition. For a Rabbi called to this type of community and the challenges 

and opportunities it will bring, I submit these suggestions as an approach worth attempting.

Book Launch: The Grand Worldview of Rab Uziel will happen on Tuesday, February 17, 7pm at Shearith Israel, New York. 

Angel for Shabbat HaGadol

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“And the Lord gave the people favor in the sight of the Egyptians…” (Shemot 12:36).

For centuries, the Egyptians enslaved the Israelites with malice and cruelty. But when the Israelites were about to gain their freedom, the attitude of the Egyptians changed dramatically. The Israelites now “found favor in the sight of the Egyptians,” who showered gold, silver and garments on their erstwhile slaves.  Last year they hated us; today they love us; is this for real?

This strange phenomenon came to mind when I re-read an article I wrote in 2017, reporting on the results of a survey by the Pew Research Center. The survey showed that Americans expressed more positive feelings toward Jews than any other group! “Warmer feelings are expressed by people in all the major religious groups analyzed, as well as by both Democrats and Republicans, men and women, and younger and older adults.”  They loved us!

But the situation today seems so radically different. We are constantly barraged by statements and surveys that point to increased rates of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. Anti-Semitic violence is on the rise.  Did all the goodwill cited in earlier polls simply evaporate?

The bad news: people are fickle.  Attitudes can—and do—change due to media bias, publicity campaigns, statements by celebrities etc.  Public opinion can be—and is—manipulated through many sources. Not everyone has the clarity of mind or solid facts to make informed judgments. The crowd moves with the crowd. Demagogues know this and depend on this. By generating a non-stop flow of anti-Jewish and anti-Israel propaganda, they insidiously infect public opinion.

The good news: people can change for the better. They are able to overcome past negative stereotypes and come to see things more realistically. Most Americans, as reflected in earlier polls, admire the Jewish community as a highly educated, idealistic, charitable and constructive group. They respect the dynamic democracy of Israel and its amazing creativity and strength. When the anti-Jewish/anti-Israel fulminations die down, so will public opinion veer back in a positive and honest direction.

The haftara for Shabbat HaGadol is drawn from the prophecies of Malachi. He foresaw a day when righteousness will prevail over wickedness, when goodness will be rewarded and evil will be overcome. “But unto you that fear My name shall the sun of righteousness arise with healing in its wings; and you shall go forth and gambol as calves of the stall. And you shall tread down the wicked; for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet in the day that I do make, says the Lord of hosts” (Malachi 3:20-21).

During this season, the ancient Israelites were freed from bondage. During this season, may our generation be saved from haters, oppressors and perpetrators of violence against us. "In Nisan the Israelites were redeemed; in Nisan the Israelites will be redeemed."

Shemini

Kashrut: Holiness through Separation

Introduction

Parashat Shemini concludes with the Torah’s first comprehensive presentation of the laws of kashrut. The chapter distinguishes between animals that may be eaten and those that are forbidden: land animals must possess both split hooves and chew their cud; fish must have fins and scales; many birds and most creeping creatures are prohibited.

Yet the Torah provides remarkably little explanation for these distinctions. It lists the laws in detail but offers almost no direct rationale for them. This silence has prompted centuries of interpretation as Jewish thinkers have sought to understand the deeper meaning behind the dietary laws.

Several complementary approaches emerge from Jewish interpretation across the centuries. Some interpreters emphasize possible physical or psychological effects of different foods. Others focus on the religious discipline created by these laws. Still others highlight the ethical and theological vision reflected in the Torah’s restrictions on human consumption of animals.

Together, these perspectives suggest that the laws of kashrut transform one of the most basic human activities—eating—into a domain of holiness.

Explanations for the Laws of Kashrut

Health Explanations

Some commentators suggested that the dietary laws may promote physical health. Rashbam (on Leviticus 11:3) and Rambam (Guide of the Perplexed III:48) propose that certain animals are prohibited because they are harmful to human beings.

At first glance, this approach appears plausible. Some non-kosher animals do indeed carry diseases—for example, pigs can transmit trichinosis, and hares may carry tularemia. Shellfish and other bottom feeders bring various health risks.

Nevertheless, this explanation encounters significant difficulties. The Torah itself never mentions health as a reason for these laws. Abarbanel further observes that many poisonous plants are not prohibited by the Torah. If the primary concern were human health, it would be surprising for such dangers to go unaddressed.

Rabbi Yitzhak Arama (Akedat Yitzhak) adds another challenge: many non-Jewish populations that consume these animals enjoy perfectly good health. While dietary restrictions may incidentally promote health, this was likely not the Torah’s primary concern.

Moral and Psychological Influence

Another explanation focuses on the moral and spiritual influence of the animals themselves. Ramban (on Leviticus 11:11) and Abarbanel suggest that the Torah prohibits the consumption of predatory animals because their violent nature might shape human character. In this view, people are influenced by what they eat.

This idea finds support in a broader pattern within the Torah’s laws. All predatory land animals are excluded from the list of permitted species. The Torah may be teaching that those who aspire to holiness should not nourish themselves from creatures defined by aggression and bloodshed.

At the same time, this explanation cannot fully account for the entire system. Several herbivorous animals are also prohibited, which suggests that additional considerations must be involved. Fish predators, moreover, are permitted under the Torah’s criteria of fins and scales.

Discipline and Spiritual Formation

A third approach shifts the focus from the nature of the animals to the spiritual discipline created by kashrut. Ibn Ezra (on Leviticus 11:43) explains that these laws protect Israel from impurity and preserve their sanctity. By carefully distinguishing between permitted and forbidden foods, the people cultivate constant awareness of holiness in everyday life.

Other commentators develop this idea further. Akedat Yitzhak and Shadal understand the dietary laws as a form of obedience that trains Israel to accept God’s will even in ordinary matters. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch similarly stresses that kashrut elevates the physical act of eating into a spiritual practice.

The Torah itself hints at this idea in its conclusion to the chapter:

“For I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I am holy… For I am the Lord who brought you up from the land of Egypt to be your God; you shall be holy, for I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44–45).

Holiness in the Torah frequently emerges through acts of separation and distinction. Just as God created the world by separating light from darkness, land from sea, and Israel from the nations, so too Israel learns holiness by distinguishing between what may and may not be eaten.

The Ethical System of Kashrut

Modern scholarship has also explored the ethical vision reflected in the dietary laws. Professor Jacob Milgrom (Anchor Bible) argues that kashrut forms part of a broader moral framework governing the human consumption of animals.

Limiting Human Domination

According to the Torah’s creation narrative, human beings were originally commanded to follow a vegetarian diet: “I have given you every seed-bearing plant… and every tree with fruit… they shall be yours for food” (Genesis 1:29). Only after the Flood was humanity permitted to eat meat (Genesis 9:3). Even then, the Torah immediately imposed restrictions.

The dietary laws therefore limit humanity’s domination over the animal world. Although people may eat meat, they may do so only within carefully defined boundaries.

This idea may also extend the distinction between clean and unclean animals already mentioned in the story of Noah. Noah offers sacrifices only from clean animals, and the Torah later restricts Israel’s diet in a similar way.

Excluding Predators

The Torah’s exclusion of predatory animals reinforces this ethical vision. Creatures that live by violence and bloodshed are not considered suitable food for a nation called to holiness.

This pattern lends additional support to the earlier interpretation of Ramban and Abarbanel that predatory behavior plays a role in determining which animals may be eaten.

Conclusion

The laws of kashrut transform eating into an arena of religious meaning.

Some explanations emphasize the possible physical or psychological effects of food. Others highlight the discipline created by obedience to divine law. Still others emphasize the ethical framework that governs humanity’s relationship with the animal world.

At the heart of the system lies the Torah’s call to holiness. Just as God created the world through acts of separation and distinction, Israel is called to cultivate holiness by learning to distinguish between permitted and forbidden.

Eating, one of the most ordinary activities of human life, thus becomes an opportunity to practice sanctity. Through the laws of kashrut, the Torah teaches that holiness is not confined to the sanctuary. It extends into the rhythms of daily living, shaping even the food that sustains us.

In an era when social media often amplifies hatred and outrage, something remarkable happened recently on X (formerly Twitter).

It began with a simple post I wrote on March 12. I mentioned that my sons, along with thousands of other young Israelis, are serving in the Israel Defense Forces as the Jewish state confronts Iran and its proxies. Like any father, I worry for their safety.

So I ended the post with a request directed to the people of Somaliland, a state that declared independence from Somalia in the early 1990s.

Over the years, I’ve met many Somalilanders online and been struck by their open admiration for Israel-its resilience, democracy, and ability to thrive despite hardship. Because of that, I asked them to do something unusual: pray for the IDF.

Even so, I never expected what happened next.

Replies poured in-warm, heartfelt, and sincere.

“I pray to Allah to stand with the people of Israel and protect them against Iran and all enemies who wish them harm."
- Rakad Sultan, businessman connected to Somaliland’s Ministry of Labor"

“We pray a lot for the sons of Israel who are fighting the enemy. May they be victorious!"
- Amin Ismail

“Our prayers are with you. May G-d protect and watch over you. Long live Israel."

The messages just kept coming. Again and again, religious Sunni Muslims from Somaliland expressed their willingness to pray for Jewish soldiers.

Pause and consider that.

In much of the Muslim world, public support for Israel is rare. Political rhetoric and decades of propaganda have fostered hostility toward the Jewish state. Yet here were Muslims openly praying for IDF soldiers-publicly, on a global platform.

Even more striking, it happened during Ramadan, a time of devotion and compassion. As Muslims worldwide turned to G-d, Somalilanders included Jewish soldiers in their prayers.

That is extraordinary-and deeply telling.

Located in the Horn of Africa along the Gulf of Aden, Somaliland declared independence in 1991. In three decades, it has built democratic institutions, held elections, and maintained stability in a turbulent region. Despite this, it remains unrecognized internationally. Israel, however, became the first to recognize it in December 2025.

Both societies share similarities: they arose from difficulty, were built under pressure, and survive in tough neighborhoods. But beyond geopolitics lies something more important-mutual respect between people.

The responses to my post weren’t official statements. They were simple prayers from ordinary Somalilanders.

And that’s why they matter.

Even among Arab countries that have peace with Israel, few citizens would so openly pray for its soldiers. For decades, hostility between Israel and the Muslim world was seen as inevitable.

But Somaliland offers another model - a Muslim-majority society that is pragmatic, outward-looking and open to cooperation.

Here were individuals who answered a Jewish father’s plea by asking Allah to protect his sons. That is more than a gesture. It’s a glimpse of what relations between Israel and the Muslim world could one day become.

Sometimes diplomacy doesn’t begin with treaties or official visits. Sometimes it begins somewhere far simpler: with a Jewish father asking for prayers, and Muslims answering that call.