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National Scholar Updates
Listen to Rabbi Hayyim Angel's Podcast on Royal Pardons in the Bible
On Wednesday, December 10, Rabbi Hayyim Angel did a podcast with Halacha Headlines. He discusses three instances of King David pardoning close relatives who had committed terrible sins.
Listen to the podcast here
Embracing Tradition and Modernity: The Religious Vision of Rabbi Haim David Halevi
Introduction
Rabbi Haim David Halevi (1923–1998) was born in Jerusalem, served as Chief Rabbi of Rishon LeTzion from 1951 to1973, and then served as Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv-Jaffa from 1973 until his death in 1998. He learned Torah at Yeshivat Porat Yosef in Jerusalem, where Rabbi Benzion Uziel was the official Rosh Yeshiva. Most rabbis who taught in the yeshiva were less Zionist, and looked askance at Rabbi Uziel’s stress on Jewish thought and philosophy. These other teachers stressed study of Talmud and halakhah.[1]
As a student, Rabbi Halevi viewed Rabbi Uziel as the exemplary rabbi, who combined intellect, knowledge, communication, leadership, moral stature, commitment to his people, love, and compassion. Throughout his life, Rabbi Halevi maintained that Rabbi Uziel modeled the ideal religious position of the school of Hillel, as he combined halakhic expertise with a deep sensitivity to the human predicament (Asei Lekha Rav 5:48; 8:97[2]).[3]
Rabbi Halevi also espoused Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook’s diagnosis of contemporary Jewish society. Many spiritual ills derive from the artificial separation of halakhah and aggadah. In his introduction to Mekor Hayyim HaShalem (pp. 9–20), he stressed the urgent need to bring halakhah and aggadah together to infuse Jewish life with the proper spirit. In his extensive writings, Rabbi Halevi also drew heavily from kabbalah, and stressed that human intellect has limitations.[4]
Acceptance of the halakhic system means commitment to eternal principles that apply to every time. Rabbi Halevi taught that rabbis need to have general worldly knowledge and to be in touch with reality to apply Torah properly.
Rabbi Halevi was fairly conservative within classical sources, and deferential to his predecessors. At the same time, he emphasized the inherent flexibility in halakhah, since there are many options within the boundaries of halakhic discourse. If one shuts down legitimate options, one harms the Jewish people and observance.
Science[5]
Rabbi Halevi addressed a wide range of issues pertaining to the interface between science and halakhah. For example, there is a halakhic principle to praise God for natural wonders, such as thunder, lightning, and rainbows. The Talmud codifies blessings for each phenomenon.
However, the Talmud considers solar and lunar eclipses to be signs of divine wrath:
The Rabbis taught in a Baraita: At the time that the sun is stricken, it is a bad omen for the entire world…. It has been taught in a Baraita: Rabbi Meir says, whenever the luminaries are stricken, it is a bad omen for the Jewish people…. (Sukkah 29a)
Someone asked Rabbi Halevi if we should make a blessing on solar eclipses today, since we now know that they are natural phenomena that are predictable.[6] Rabbi Halevi did not defend the talmudic belief; he agreed that eclipses were natural phenomena and should require a blessing. However, he maintained that we should not create new blessings that are not found in the Talmud. Therefore, he recommended that instead of making a full blessing with God’s Name, one should say the beginning of “Vayevarekh David,” biblical verses containing the essentials of the blessing formula.[7] Thus, while conceding that the ancient rabbis had incomplete scientific data, he was not willing to coin a blessing that the Talmud had not ordained. By advocating a recitation of biblical verses that have a formula similar to a blessing, Rabbi Halevi was able to remain faithful to the Talmud while accepting current scientific knowledge.[8]
In another example, halakhah insists that people take care of their health, and not harm their bodies. In 1976, someone asked Rabbi Halevi if smoking was permissible, given the growing body of evidence that smoking is harmful to one’s health. Despite the fact that many earlier rabbis had permitted smoking, Rabbi Halevi made a landmark ruling prohibiting it.[9] He explained that earlier rabbis had permitted smoking only because the scientific research demonstrating the dangers of smoking was not yet available.[10]
However, Rabbi Halevi did not always fully accept current scientific knowledge. In Mekor Hayyim HaShalem,[11] he uncritically cited Rambam’s ruling that killing bugs created by spontaneous generation is not a punishable offense on Shabbat (generally, it is a Torah prohibition to take the life of any living creature on Shabbat):
One who kills insects and worms that are conceived through male-female relations or fleas that came into being from the dust is liable as if he killed an animal or beast. In contrast, one is not liable for killing insects and worms that came into being from dung, rotten fruit, or the like, e.g., the worms found in meat or legumes.
It is permitted to kill lice on Shabbat, for they come into being from sweat. (Rambam, Laws of Shabbat 11:2–3)
Someone challenged Rabbi Halevi’s ruling based on current scientific knowledge, which has disproven spontaneous generation. Rabbi Halevi responded that he had no clear answer.[12] Perhaps he, like other halakhic decisors, was concerned that there is an additional reason underlying the Talmud’s permission to kill lice, in which case we cannot prohibit that which is permitted. Or, perhaps Rabbi Halevi had a more general reluctance to conclude that a talmudic halakhah is based on an error.[13]
Non-Observant Jews
Several classical sources say that the commandment of “Love Your Neighbor as Yourself” (Leviticus 19:18) applies exclusively to a “neighbor” in mitzvah observance. According to these sources, one should hate violators of the commandments.[14] Adopting the view of a number of halakhic decisors beginning in the nineteenth century, Rabbi Halevi rejected the application of that principle to modern times. Nowadays, many Jews violate the Torah, and are generally not willful transgressors in the classical sense.
Rabbi Halevi maintained that observant Jews should be strong in their commitments, but should not show disdain to less observant Jews, nor impose coercive measures to force them to be more observant. Instead, observant Jews should model proper behavior and teach the path of Torah. Perhaps others will be persuaded to return to a Torah lifestyle.
Women
In his ruling prohibiting the teaching of Oral Law to women, Rambam stated that a majority of women were incapable of understanding the concepts involved:
Even though [a woman studying Torah] will receive reward, the Sages commanded that one should not teach his daughter Torah, because most women cannot concentrate their attention on study, and thus transform the words of Torah into idle matters because of their lack of understanding. The Sages teach that anyone who teaches his daughter Torah teaches her idle things. This statement is in regard to the Oral Law. But [with regard to] the Written Law: Initially, one should not teach one’s daughter. However, if one teaches her, it is not considered as if she was taught idle things. (Laws of Torah Study 1:13)
Despite Rambam’s ruling, however, Rabbi Halevi noted that the success of women in so many academic fields militated against its underlying premise. Already in the eighteenth century, Rabbi Hayyim Yosef David Azulai (HIDA) listed historical instances of learned women who gave halakhic rulings. Rabbi Halevi demonstrated that within Rambam’s wording, one could permit women to study Talmud. A woman who demonstrated a willingness and capacity to study the Oral Law was not part of the “incapable majority” described by Rambam.[15] In this responsum, Rabbi Halevi did not attempt to show that Rambam’s ruling was no longer applicable. Rather, he worked within the existing textual framework to reach his conclusion.
Rabbi Halevi’s commitment to that earlier source became more pronounced in a later discussion, where he responded to members of a religious kibbutz that had begun teaching Talmud to girls.[16] The leaders of the kibbutz had complained that in light of the change in women’s social status, rabbis should have addressed the issue of females studying Talmud. Rabbi Halevi responded that (1) he did address the matter in his earlier responsum; and (2) his response had nothing to do with the current change in the social status of women. He had quoted Rabbi Azulai, who lived in the eighteenth century, to support his permissive ruling. “From here, we see that rabbis in all generations, including before there were changes in the social status of women, never rebuked women who studied Torah.” Rabbi Halevi also criticized the kibbutz leaders for suggesting that halakhot may be eliminated on the basis of social change.
In the final analysis, Rabbi Halevi reached the same halakhic decision as the kibbutz leaders, permitting and encouraging women to study the Oral Law—but they arrived at their conclusions from different starting points. Rabbi Halevi represented faithfulness to the precedents of the past, whereas the kibbutz had hoped to bypass those precedents as a result of a new social reality.
At the end of his responsum, Rabbi Halevi exhorted the members of the kibbutz:
Our rabbis were great of spirit and deep of mind; would that we could even understand their words…. They were not only great in Torah and wisdom, but also in their holiness. Therefore, it is appropriate for a person to relate to their words with all respect due to them.
Rabbi Halevi demonstrated the same consistent balance between faithfulness to Rambam’s ruling and finding permissibility for women to study the Oral Law in his guidebook for halakhot pertaining to women, Mekor Hayyim Livnot Yisrael.[17] In discussing the halakhic exemption for women to study Torah, Rabbi Halevi quoted Rambam’s ruling in full, that a father should not teach his daughters the Oral Law. In the footnote, however, he cited his own responsum (which was subsequently published in Asei Lekha Rav
Rabbi Halevi also adopted his mentor Rabbi Uziel’s ruling that women may vote and be elected to public office. The halakhic prohibition against women holding positions of authority applies only when people object to having women as leaders. However, if they are democratically elected, they may hold public office.
Rabbi Halevi opposed several ritual innovations for women. For example, he opposed women’s prayer groups and women’s recitation of sheva berakhot at weddings. He viewed these innovations as a break in tradition and a breach of modesty, respectively. At the same time, he stressed that his rulings were based on his assessment of reality, rather than halakhic prohibitions.
Conclusion
In the areas of modern science, relating to non-observant Jews, and the changing roles of women in the modern era, Rabbi Halevi developed an approach that was faithful to classical halakhah and its sources, while simultaneously having both eyes open to new realities. He sought to apply ancient halakhic principles to the modern period in every arena.
Rabbi Halevi also consciously recognized the critical importance for halakhic decisors to understand earlier halakhic precedents, not as a constraint, but rather to ensure maximal flexibility in interpreting the law in the present:
And one is very mistaken who thinks that the halakhah is frozen and that one should not veer from it to the right nor to the left. On the contrary, there is no flexibility like the flexibility of halakhah. Only due to the merit of the flexibility of the halakhah has the people of Israel been able—through the power of numerous and useful creative interpretations which were innovated by the sages of Israel in each generation—to walk in the way of Torah observance for thousands of years. And if the fortitude of the sages of our generation will serve them to innovate interpretations of halakhah [getting at the] truth of Torah, with total faithfulness to the bodies of written and transmitted halakhah…, then halakhah will continue to be the way of the people of Israel to the end of all generations. (Asei Lekha Rav 7:54)
[1] R. Marc D. Angel with Hayyim Angel, Rabbi Haim David Halevi: Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker (Jerusalem: Urim, 2006), p. 13.
[2] R. Marc D. Angel translated 8:97 into English, and it is published as “The Love of Israel as a Factor in Halakhic Decision-Making in the Works of Rabbi Benzion Uziel,” Tradition 24:3 (Spring 1989), pp. 1–20. See also R. Marc D. Angel, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1999), pp. 101–107.
[3] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 54–69.
[4] Ibid., pp. 48–50.
[5] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 89–91.
[6] Asei Lekha Rav 5:7.
[7] “Then David blessed the Lord in the sight of all the congregation and said, ‘Blessed be You, Lord God of our father Israel for ever and ever. Yours, O Lord, are the greatness, power, glory, victory and majesty, all that is in the heavens and on earth’” (I Chronicles 29:10–11).
[8] See also Asei Lekha Rav 2:1, where Rabbi Halevi emphasized the importance of rabbis following current scientific information. See also Asei Lekha Rav 1:61;
[9] R. Shlomo Brody, A Guide to the Complex: Contemporary Halakhic Debates (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2014), pp. 24–26.
[10] Asei Lekha Rav 2:1; cf. 3:25; 6:58; 7:67. In contrast, R. Moshe Feinstein permitted smoking, because he did not want to criticize earlier generations of rabbis who had permitted smoking (Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 2:49). For further study of contrasts between R. Halevi and R. Feinstein, see R. Marc D. Angel, “A Study of the Halakhic Approaches of Two Modern Posekim,” in Angel, Seeking Good, Speaking Peace: Collected Essays of Rabbi Marc D. Angel, ed. Hayyim Angel (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1994), pp. 97–111.
[11] Volume 3, chapter 161, p. 291.
[12] Asei Lekha Rav 7: short answers 17.
[13] See also Mekor Hayyim HaShalem vol. 5, chapter 264, p. 235, where Rabbi Halevi uncritically quotes the talmudic ruling that one may not eat fish and meat together, since that combination poses a health hazard. See Mayim Hayyim 3:24, for an elaborate discussion of the interrelationship of traditional teachings and contemporary scientific knowledge.
[14] See, for example, Avot DeRabbi Natan A 16, Pesahim 113b, Rashbam (on Leviticus 19:18), Rambam, Laws of Mourning 14:1, Hagahot Maimoniyot on Laws of De’ot 6:3, Or HaHayyim (on Leviticus 19:18). This view reads “Love your neighbor as yourself” to mean “love your neighbor who is like you.” For further discussion, see R. Norman Lamm, “Loving and Hating Jews as Halakhic Categories,” Tradition 24:2 (Winter, 1989), pp. 98–122.
[15] Asei Lekha Rav 2:52.
[16] Mayim Hayyim 2:89.
[17] Chapter 50, pp. 205–208.
[18] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 118–120.
Afterlife in Jewish Thought
There is a paucity of explicit references to afterlife—whether a bodily resurrection or a soul world—in Tanakh. The Torah promises this-worldly rewards and punishments for faithfulness or lack thereof to God and the Torah. It does not promise heaven for righteousness, nor does it threaten hell or the absence of heaven for sinfulness. Given the ancient world’s belief in, and even obsession with immortality and afterlife, the Torah’s silence is all the more remarkable.
Aside from the lack of explicit references to afterlife in the Torah, one might have expected an appeal to afterlife in the Book of Job. For all the arguments raised by Job’s so-called friends, they never invoke afterlife in their attempts to vindicate Job’s unfair suffering. Rather, Job and his friends agree with the biblical premise that ultimate justice must occur during one’s lifetime. Job insisted that his suffering was unjust, whereas his friends assumed that he must have deserved his punishment. [1]
Assessing the Near Absence of Explicit References to Afterlife in Tanakh
Daniel, a late biblical book, does explicitly mention a bodily resurrection:
Many of those that sleep in the dust of the earth will awake, some to eternal life, others to reproaches, to everlasting abhorrence. And the knowledgeable will be radiant like the bright expanse of sky, and those who lead the many to righteousness will be like the stars forever and ever. (Dan. 12:2–3)
In his Treatise on the Resurrection, Rambam considers this passage to be the only explicit reference to resurrection in Tanakh. [2]
For some time, academic scholars generally concluded that since Tanakh does not explicitly mention resurrection until the Book of Daniel, resurrection must have been a later belief that crept into Israel toward the end of the biblical period from another religion, most likely Zoroastrianism.[3] Until that point, Israel’s prophets believed that when people die, they never return. This academic consensus ran against Jewish tradition, which insists that belief in resurrection goes back to the Torah, even if it is only alluded to and not mentioned explicitly:
The following have no portion [in the World to Come]: He who maintains that resurrection is not a biblical doctrine,[4] the Torah was not divinely revealed, and an epikoros…. (Sanhedrin 90a)
In 2006, however, Jon D. Levenson (Harvard University) published a book, Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel: The Ultimate Victory of the God of Life. He demonstrates that Jewish belief in resurrection has an extensive range of biblical antecedents, and that it did not simply appear late in the biblical period. Rather, resurrection is an essential component in Israel’s redemption, which itself redeems history. Thus, the classical rabbinic position is fundamentally correct, that the concepts underlying the resurrection trace back to the beginning of the biblical period.
Levenson explains that contemporary scholarship, rooted in the modern world with its emphasis on individualism, has a difficult time understanding the biblical concept of identity. If one asks, “Will I have life after death?” one already misses the heart of the matter. The biblical conception of afterlife is grounded in an identity inextricably linked to the nation of Israel, and ancestors and descendants also are completely linked. Jewish belief in resurrection is rooted in God’s promises to Israel, His power over life and death, and His preference for life. Although Daniel was the first to mention resurrection explicitly, the ideas underlying this resurrection trace back to the earliest texts in Tanakh.
Tanakh Assumes Afterlife
In addition to Levenson’s thesis, James Kugel cites several biblical verses that clearly presume an existence beyond life in this world.[5] For example, Abraham “was gathered to his kin” after he died:
And Abraham breathed his last, dying at a good ripe age, old and contented; and he was gathered to his kin. (Gen. 25:8)
Abraham could be “gathered to his kin,” regardless of where his ancestors were buried, and regardless of their relative righteousness. After all, Abraham rose to religious heights infinitely above his pagan father Terah.
Numerous other biblical references similarly suggest that death is not absolutely final. There are two mysterious deaths in Tanakh: God took Enoch (Gen. 5:24), and Elijah was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot (II Kings 2:11). Malachi prophesies that Elijah will return in the future as the harbinger of the messianic era (Mal. 3:23–24). A witch evidently conjured up Samuel’s spirit (I Sam. 28:11–14), and Elijah and Elisha revived dead children (I Kings 17:19–23; II Kings 4:32–36).
From these and several other references, Kugel convincingly concludes that
Some decades ago, the cliché about the Hebrew Bible was that it really has no notion of an afterlife or the return of the soul to God or a last judgment or a world to come. But such a claim will not withstand careful scrutiny. [6]
Why Does Tanakh Give Afterlife So Little Attention?
We have seen that Tanakh regularly alludes to a belief in an afterlife despite its not discussing it explicitly until the late Book of Daniel. Additionally, the notion of resurrection is fundamentally connected to beliefs that span back to the very beginnings of the biblical period. We now must ask, however, why does Tanakh give afterlife so little attention, and why is the covenant of the Torah entirely predicted on this-worldly existence?
Moshe David (Umberto) Cassuto sheds light on this issue in his analysis of the Garden of Eden narrative. There were two trees at the center of Eden. The Tree of Life seems supernatural. Were Adam and Eve to eat from it, they would have become immortal (Gen. 3:23). An expert in the literature of the ancient Near East, Cassuto observed that nearly every ancient mythology had a tree, a plant, or something else of life. This mythology reflects the obsessive quest for immortality in the ancient world.
In stark contrast with Israel’s surrounding cultures, the Torah decisively downplays the Tree of Life. That tree becomes significant to the narrative only after Adam and Eve sinned by eating from the Tree of Knowledge and were expelled from the Garden of Eden. God then sends Cherubim to prevent Adam and Eve from eating of the Tree of Life (Gen. 3:22–24).
To understand why the Torah would diminish the role of the Tree of Life, we must consider the tree that is central to the narrative, namely, the Tree of Knowledge. Whereas the Tree of Life appears supernatural, the Tree of Knowledge seems to have been a regular fruit tree. The Sages suggested that the Tree of Knowledge was a regular fruit, whether a fig, grapevine, wheat, or etrog (Gen. Rabbah 15:7). The effects of the fruit derived from God’s prohibition, rather than from any inherent supernatural property of the fruit.
Even though the Tree of Life was prevalent in other ancient literatures, the Tree of Knowledge is otherwise unattested. The Torah is a revolution in human history, shifting focus away from nonexistent mythical fruits that give immortality and replacing them with an emphasis on developing a genuine relationship with God. It teaches that we must live religious-moral lives and take personal responsibility for our actions. The ultimate vision of the prophets is a messianic world, which will achieve a perfected, religious-moral society.
Tellingly, the Book of Proverbs transforms the Tree of Life into Torah and wisdom:
She is a tree of life to those who grasp her, and whoever holds on to her is happy. (Prov. 3:18) [7]
The Jewish Tree of Life is Torah and wisdom, representing a lifelong religious quest, rather than a supernatural fruit that promises physical immortality. [8]
Despite the purposeful emphasis on this-worldly conduct and reward and punishment throughout Tanakh, rabbinic Judaism incorporated afterlife as an essential part of its system of understanding divine justice in this world. When did this change occur?
Malachi and Daniel: Using Afterlife to Vindicate Unfairness
The problem of the righteous suffering and the wicked prospering is a prominent difficulty that runs throughout Tanakh. The classical biblical wisdom approach to justify unfairness, particularly emphasized in Psalms and Proverbs, was to insist that the suffering of the righteous or the success of the wicked was a temporary state. Any injustices would be rectified during the lifetimes of the individuals. Job and Ecclesiastes challenge this approach, leaving unfairness as a matter that lies beyond human comprehension. [9]
Toward the end of the biblical period, the Books of Malachi and Daniel addressed a new situation. For the first time, the faithful suffered precisely because they were righteous, whereas the sinners were successful as a consequence of their wickedness. Divine justice was under siege, and many righteous Jews were sinking into despair and losing faith. No longer could one appeal to the classical prophetic responses rooted in the Torah, that national suffering occurs when Israel sins. It was specifically the most righteous people who were suffering, rather than the entire nation.
Rather than offering any short-term solutions, Malachi appealed to the messianic redemption to vindicate history:
You have wearied the Lord with your talk. But you ask, “By what have we wearied [Him]?” By saying, “All who do evil are good in the sight of the Lord, and in them He delights,” or else, “Where is the God of justice?” Behold, I am sending My messenger to clear the way before Me, and the Lord whom you seek shall come to His Temple suddenly. As for the angel of the covenant that you desire, he is already coming…He shall act like a smelter and purger of silver; and he shall purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, so that they shall present offerings in righteousness. Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of yore and in the years of old…And you shall come to see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between him who has served the Lord and him who has not served Him. (Mal. 2:17; 3:1–4, 18)
Daniel invoked the resurrection that would occur during this period of redemption to vindicate injustices (Dan. 12:2–3). The innovation of Malachi and Daniel was not belief in the messiah or resurrection. Rather, their primary innovation was in linking the classical problem of unfairness with afterlife. Their appeal to the future to vindicate unfairness was a formal concession that ultimate justice will not occur during one’s lifetime.
The Sages followed in this spirit, conceding that one requires afterlife to vindicate injustices in this world:
It was taught: Rabbi Jacob says, there is no precept in the Torah, where reward is stated by its side, from which you cannot infer the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead. Thus, in connection with honoring parents it is written: “That your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you” (Deut. 5:16). Again in connection with the law of letting [the dam] go from the nest it is written: “That it may be well with you, and that you may prolong your days” (Deut. 22:7). Now, in the case where a man’s father said to him, “Go up to the top of the building and bring me down some young birds,” and he went up to the top of the building, let the dam go and took the young ones, and on his return he fell and was killed-where is this man’s length of days, and where is this man’s happiness? But “that your days may be prolonged” refers to the world that is wholly long, and “that it may go well with you” refers to the world that is wholly good. (Hullin 142a)
Heaven and Resurrection: A Medieval Debate
A second major development in the Jewish discussion of afterlife arose with Rambam’s efforts to bridge Torah and Greek philosophy.[10] Rambam was enamored by the Platonic notion of a soul-world afterlife, and discusses heaven with great passion. Simultaneously, Rambam espoused the classical Jewish belief in messiah and the resurrection. Therefore, he concluded that in the messianic era there will be a resurrection, but then everyone will die again and return to their ideal existence in heaven.
In order to conflate the prophetic ideal of messiah with the Platonic ideal of a heavenly afterlife, Rambam insisted that the prophets and sages longed for the messianic age so that they could live without distraction and thereby work on earning a share in the World to Come:
The prophets and sages longed for the messianic era, not so that they could rule the world, not that they could dominate pagans, not to receive honor from the nations, nor to eat and drink and be merry. Rather, [they longed for it] so that they would be free to learn Torah and wisdom, and there would be no oppressor or distraction. In this way they would earn a share in the World to Come, as we explained in the Laws of Repentance. (Laws of Kings 12:4) [11]
Rambam’s preference of a soul-world over the biblical ideas of a this-world messianic era and resurrection did not go unnoticed or unchallenged. Some of Rambam’s critics accused him of denying the resurrection altogether, leading to his scathing retort in his Treatise on Resurrection. Granting his resolute belief in the resurrection, however, there is little question that Rambam radically shifted emphasis away from the biblical conception of a this-world ideal society to a soul-world ideal for each individual. [12]
This debate runs throughout all of Tanakh. For example, the most prevalent metaphorical interpretation in Jewish tradition casts the Song of Songs as symbolizing the historical covenantal relationship between God and Israel as a community (e.g., Targum, R. Saadyah Gaon, Rashi, Rashbam, and Ibn Ezra).[13] In contrast, Rambam interprets the Song of Songs as a symbol of the love between the religious individual and God. [14]
Rambam also insisted that a prophet needed to reach the highest intellectual and religious levels as a prerequisite to receiving prophetic revelation (Guide for the Perplexed II:32–45). In contrast, Rabbi Judah Halevi maintained that prophecy is a divine gift. Were God to deem it necessary to send a prophet on a mission, anyone could receive a prophetic message (Kuzari, e.g., 1:4; 1:87). Abarbanel (on Amos 1:1; 7:14) supports Rabbi Halevi’s view, insisting that a prophet’s mission to his people, and not his personal perfection, is the defining characteristic of biblical prophecy. Abarbanel concluded that Rambam derived his conception of prophecy, which favors individual spirituality over one’s communal mission, from Greek philosophy, and this understanding is inconsistent with traditional Jewish thought.
To summarize, the Torah and prophets emphasize communal perfection. The ideal of Tanakh is the messianic age, a perfected society and world harmony. The plain sense of the biblical texts certainly favors the position of Rambam’s opponents over that of Rambam, who shifted attention to individual perfection and the soul-world.
Contemporary Applications
This debate is not simply an unverifiable, abstract philosophical disagreement. One’s belief in afterlife profoundly informs one’s ultimate goals, and directly affects how one lives life in this world. If one’s goal is a personal heaven, one could live in a cave completely removed from society, study Torah, pray, observe the Torah’s commandments, and reflect philosophically on God. In contrast, the prophets always lived among the people despite all the heartache that entailed, as their goal was to improve their society and bring it closer to the ideas of the Torah. They longed for Israel to become a model nation that would in turn inspire all humanity to serve God.
More broadly, the discussion of afterlife has direct implications on how our contemporary society functions. Much of secular society denies or downplays afterlife. This position leads to the conclusion that this life is all there is. Some idealists use this conclusion to do everything they can to make a positive impact during their lifetimes. Many others conclude that life has little ultimate purpose, and they overemphasize this-worldliness and self-indulgence.
At the other side of the spectrum, some religious communities teach that this world is only a way station to build up points to earn eternal heavenly reward. This system of belief dangerously gives all the power to the religious clerics, who can tell their followers what it takes to earn a place in heaven. When clerics have upright ethical values, they can achieve phenomenal results. However, when clerics preach murder in the name of their religion, it is beyond horrifying. It also is critical to stress that terrorists who murder in the name of their religion are not crazy. They are making a perfectly reasonable decision within their religious system by giving up a temporary and relatively meaningless life in this world in exchange for eternal bliss. The problem here is with the system itself, which, when dominated by clerics and other leaders preaching murder, is truly evil. [15]
In a completely different arena that should not in any way be likened to the above discussion, the Orthodox Jewish yeshiva system confronts a different challenge pertaining to belief in the afterlife. In many yeshivot, particularly those that teach boys, Tanakh receives woefully inadequate attention.[16] Concurrently, many learn the exceptional eighteenth century work by Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, the Mesilat Yesharim (Path of the Just).
This remarkable book focuses on self-perfection, and is worthy of in-depth study. However, learning Mesilat Yesharim without Tanakh creates an imbalance in the yeshiva curriculum. Rabbi Luzzatto introduces his work by stating that the purpose of our existence is to gain afterlife:
Our Sages of blessed memory have taught us that man was created for the sole purpose of rejoicing in God and deriving pleasure from the splendor of His Presence; for this is true joy and the greatest pleasure that can be found. The place where this joy may truly be derived is the World to Come, which was expressly created to provide for it; but the path to the object of our desires is this world. (Mesilat Yesharim chapter 1) [17]
Students of the prophets never would stop there, since the prophets were concerned with the perfection of their society. Learning Mesilat Yesharim without learning the soaring visions of the prophets sends the message that personal religious growth lies at the heart of religious Jewish experience. Although of course we aspire to individual personal growth (and should learn Mesilat Yesharim!), this aspiration must be accompanied by the prophetic imperative to channel our religious energies to improve the broader community. It is the longing for the messianic era, and not personal afterlife, that should shape the heart of our religious experience and actions. Lacking this prophetic vision, many students may become connected to God and the Torah, but isolate themselves from the broader community.
If there is hope for understanding and resolution, it is through serious engagement with Tanakh, which forms the very heart and soul of the Jewish vision. Individual religious strengths must be developed and channeled toward the betterment of society. The messianic visions of the prophets are for all humanity, and not just Israel. These beliefs foster a love for humanity, rather than just those who share our particular beliefs.
Tragically, we live in a world where billions overemphasize afterlife, and billions underemphasize it. Most Jews no longer stand by or even understand the alternative of the Torah and the prophets. But the vision of Tanakh has the power to change the world if we will listen to its message and promote it.
[1] There are several passages where Job seems to accept the finality of death. For example, “As a cloud fades away, so whoever goes down to Sheol does not come up; he returns no more to his home; his place does not know him” (Job 7:9). Based on this verse, Rava insisted that “this shows that Job denied the resurrection of the dead” (Bava Batra 16a). Cf. Job 10:20–22; 14:1–10.
[2] Several other biblical verses employ resurrection terminology. Three prominent examples are, (1) “He will destroy death forever. My Lord God will wipe the tears away from all faces and will put an end to the reproach of His people over all the earth—for it is the Lord who has spoken” (Is. 25:8). (2) “Oh, let Your dead revive! Let corpses arise! Awake and shout for joy, you who dwell in the dust!—for Your dew is like the dew on fresh growth; You make the land of the shades come to life” (Is. 26:19). (3) Ezekiel’s celebrated vision of the Dry Bones (Ezek. 37:1–14). However, these prophecies refer to God’s miraculous restoration of Israel in the messianic era, rather than the bodily resurrection of individual people. In contrast, Daniel refers specifically to the bodily resurrection of individuals so that God can mete out ultimate justice onto them.
[3] See, e.g., Neil Gillman, The Death of Death: Resurrection and Immortality in Jewish Thought (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 1997), p. 96. See also Jon D. Levenson, Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel: The Ultimate Victory of the God of Life (New Haven, CT: Yale, 2006), p. x, where he cites the scholarly consensus that Zoroastrianism is the likely candidate for having influenced Jewish thought regarding resurrection. Levenson goes on to reject much of that scholarly consensus.
[4] Not all versions of the Mishnah contain the text that one must believe that resurrection is “from the Torah,” min ha-Torah. Rambam stated that one must believe in the resurrection, but does not insist that one must believe that it is from the Torah. See sources in Marc Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles Reappraised (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civiliation, 2004), p. 152, n. 62.
[5] James L. Kugel, The Great Poems of the Bible: A Reader’s Companion with new Translations (New York: Free Press, 1999), pp. 192–210.
[6] Kugel, pp. 209–210.
[7] See also Prov. 11:30; 13:12; 15:4.
[8] It also is significant that the Ark, which contains the tablets of the Ten Commandments, is guarded by Cherubim. The Tabernacle represents the only other appearance of Cherubim in the Torah aside from the Garden of Eden, where they guard the Tree of Life (Gen. 3:24).
[9] For discussion and sources pertaining to this issue in Psalms, Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes, see Hayyim Angel, Vision from the Prophet and Counsel from the Elders: A Survey of Nevi’im and Ketuvim (New York: OU Press, 2013), pp. 227–234, 241–248, 249–257, 288–300.
[10] See sources and discussion in Neil Gillman, The Death of Death, pp. 143–172.
[11] See Rambam, Laws of Repentance, chapter 8.
[12] Louis Jacobs maintains that Rambam was the only medieval Jewish philosopher who committed to the idea that the future existence is in an incorporeal state in a soul world rather than in this world (Principles of the Jewish Faith [New York: Basic Books, 1964], p. 407).
[13] This was not the only midrashic understanding, however. In the summary words of David M. Carr (with minor transliteration changes): “While we see the male fairly consistently linked to God, we find the female of the Song of Songs related to the house of study (b. Eruvin 21b; b. Bava Batra 7b), an individual sage (t. Hagiga 2:3), Moses (Mekhilta Beshallah Shirah 9), Joshua the son of Nun (Sifrei Nitzavim [305] and parallels), local court (b. Sanhedrin 36b; b. Yevamot 101a; b. Kiddushin 49b and b. Sanhedrin 24a; cf. also b. Pesahim 87a), or the community of Israel as a whole (m. Ta’anit 4:8; t. Sotah 9:8; b. Shabbat 88; b. Yoma 75a; b. Sukkot 49b; b. Eruvin 21b; b. Ta’anit 4:a; Mekhilta Beshallah Shira 3)” (“The Song of Songs as a Microcosm of the Canonization and Decanonization Process,” in Canonization and Decanonization, ed. A. van der Kooij and K. van der Toorn [Leiden: Brill, 1998], pp. 175–176).
[14] See Laws of Repentance 10:3; Guide for the Perplexed III:51. See Yosef Murciano, “Rambam and the Interpretation of the Song of Songs” (Hebrew), in Teshurah le-Amos: A Collection of Studies in Biblical Interpretation Presented in Honor of Amos Hakham, ed. Moshe Bar Asher et al. (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2007), pp. 85–108. For an exploration of the religious value of adopting the views of Rashi and Rambam in one’s religious experience, see R. Shalom Carmy, “Perfect Harmony,” First Things (December, 2010); “On Cleaving as Identification: Rabbi Soloveitchik’s Account of Devekut in U-Vikkashtem Mi-Sham,” Tradition 41:2 (Summer 2008), pp. 100–112.
[15] For an illuminating study of the eradication of the idea of sin from Western literature, reflecting the frightening conclusion that many in the contemporary Western World have essentially stricken the concept of evil from their vocabularies and mindsets, see Andrew Delbanco, The Death of Satan: How Americans Have Lost the Sense of Evil (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1995).
[16] For analysis of why this has been so, see, for example, Mordechai Breuer, “Bible in the Curriculum of the Yeshiva” (Hebrew), in Mehkarim ba-Mikra u-ba-Hinnukh: Presented to Prof. Moshe Ahrend, ed. Dov Rappel (Jerusalem: Touro College, 1996), pp. 223–235; Frederick E. Greenspahn, “Jewish Ambivalence towards the Bible,” Hebrew Studies 48 (2007), pp. 7–21; Moshe Sokolow, “U-Va Le-Tzion Go’el, Kedushah De-Sidra, and the Yeshiva Curriculum,” in Mi-Tokh Ha-Ohel: The Weekday Prayers, ed. Daniel Z. Feldman and Stuart W. Halpern (New Milford, CT: Maggid, 2014), pp. 293–301.
[17] Translation in Shraga Silverstein, The Path of the Just (Jerusalem: Feldheim, 1980), p. 17.
New Beginnings: Thoughts for Parashat Vayetsei
Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Vayetsei
by Rabbi Marc D. Angel
“And Jacob went from Beersheva and went toward Haran” (Bereishith28:10).
After Jacob received Isaac’s blessing, he had to flee from his brother Esau who had wanted the blessing himself. The Torah reports that Jacob went from Beersheva. But we had thought that Isaac and Rebecca were living in Hebron and that would have been the point of departure for Jacob. Yet, the Torah specifies that Jacob left from Beersheva.
One explanation may be that Isaac and Rebecca also had residence in Beersheva, and that is where Jacob was located when he had to leave for Haran.
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz suggests that the family had been living in Hebron but that Jacob first went to Beersheva before heading for Haran. He wanted to go to Beersheva because that was where both Abraham and Isaac had significant experiences. After making a treaty with Abimelech, “Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheva and there he called on the name of the Lord, the Eternal God” (Bereishith 21: 33). And Isaac was in Beersheva when the Lord appeared to him and renewed the promises He had made to Abraham; Isaac built an altar and called upon the name of the Lord (Bereishith 26:23-24). Before setting out on his own journey, Jacob wanted to gain spiritual strength by visiting a place sacred to his father and grandfather.
As Jacob began his journey, he was facing a massive life crisis. He was leaving his parents’ home. He was heading for a new place where he would be dealing with people he did not know. He would need to earn a livelihood, marry and start a family, face unknown difficulties. At this turning point, he wanted to be connected spiritually to his parents and grandparents. He needed to visit Beersheva before setting out for the next chapter of his life.
When we face our own crises in life, we are fortunate if we can return to a powerful starting point that can strengthen us. We can recall the challenges faced by parents and grandparents and contemplate how they were able to draw on their faith, courage and determination. We sometimes can physically go back to our childhood home; or to our grandparents’ home; or we can stand at their graves and meditate about their lives. If we don’t go back to a physical “Beersheva” we can still draw on memories, episodes in their lives that demonstrated qualities that we ourselves need as we face our own challenges.
Going back to a significant starting point helps us put life into context. It reminds us of origins. It allows us to think things through quietly. As we visit—and depart from—our personal “Beersheva” we set off on the journey ahead with greater confidence, faith and wisdom.
Book Review of Dennis Prager: The Rational Bible: Numbers
Book Review
By Rabbi Hayyim Angel
Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Numbers (Regnery Faith, 2024)
Dennis Prager is far better known as a political commentator than a Bible Scholar. Nonetheless, he is animated by his belief in the Torah and its enduring moral messages for humanity. His commentary, as the book’s title suggests, is rooted in a rationalist approach to the Bible.
Whether or not one agrees with all of his politics or individual interpretations of the verses, Prager’s commentary is strikingly relevant when he emphasizes the moral and theological revolution of the Torah and the vitality of its teachings to today’s overly secularized Western world. Rather than serving as bastions of moral teachings and American values, universities are increasingly at the vanguard of attacks against God, the Bible, family values, Israel, and the very notion of an objective morality. Prager pinpoints several of the major differences between the Torah’s morality and the dangerous shortcomings of today’s secular West.
Throughout his commentary, Prager makes his case for belief in God, providence, the divine origins of the Torah, and the eternal power of the Torah’s morality. He also offers a running commentary on the Torah, bringing insights from a variety of scholars and thinkers, as well as from his personal experiences. As in my previous reviews of his volumes on Genesis, Exodus, and Deuteronomy, I will focus exclusively on the former, as it is here that Prager’s commentary makes its greatest contributions.
https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-genesis.
https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-exodus.
https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-dennis-prager-deuteronomy.
In Numbers chapter 9, several Israelites who are ritually impure approach Moses, wondering how they can bring the Passover sacrifice if they are impure, but feeling excluded if they may not participate in this nationally vital offering. God responds that they may not offer the sacrifice on the usual date since they are impure, but God creates a makeup date one month later so they may participate.
Prager uses this passage as a springboard to discuss the balance between having standards and being compassionate. God upholds the law that ritually impure people must not bring offerings, while compassionately creating a makeup date to include these individuals. Prager laments that “we live during a time when compassion is frequently regarded as more important than standards. For example, at this time, compassion has led some people to advocate that no students be given a failing grade. But if widely adopted, this would inevitably destroy academic standards.” If we abandoned the highest physical standards and training for firefighters, more people would die in fires. It is compassionate to have moral standards for society, as everyone benefits.
Western society also must continue to uphold its family standard—promoting the ideal of a nuclear family consisting of a married man and woman and their children. Numerous studies have demonstrated the palpable benefit to the children and society when this standard is met on a widespread level. In the name of compassion toward singles, single-parent homes, and same-sex relationships, many today attempt to eradicate the family standard as the ideal. However, we should instead insist on this standard in the macro, while showing compassion in the micro for the many people who for different reasons do not have a nuclear family (95-97).
Prager explores the central significance of rituals in a different essay. He addresses the frequent but undefined threat of karet, excision, in the Torah for various severe sins. Regardless of God’s method for meting out punishment, Prager focuses on a tangible, human interpretation of karet: One who abandons central rituals cannot transmit our values or identity to the following generations. This is true for Jews and Judaism, and also for American identity. Large sectors of American society are poorly educated in American history and values. For many, Memorial Day is little more than a day off, instead of a day to honor the memories of the members of our armed focuses who gave their lives for our country. Columbus Day has all but disappeared. Many schools no longer have their students recite the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of the school day. This widespread abandonment of these and other central American rituals leads many American children to be “cut off” from their American identity (98-101).
A seemingly bizarre feature of the Numbers narrative is when the Israelites long for a return to Egypt (e.g., in chapter 11). Although they were indeed fed “for free” while in Egypt (11:5), that came at the expense of back-breaking slavery, oppression, and the murder of their infant sons. Prager explains that in fact, most people value free things more than freedom. The Torah teaches that God wants us to be free, but liberty is a value that needs to be taught, rather than a human instinct. Prager cites a study which concludes that more Russians look back upon the Soviet Union with nostalgia, not disdain. This despite the fact that the Soviet Union deprived its citizens of all freedoms, and murdered tens of millions of them. The Torah stresses liberty as a core value. It builds the greatest society, and enables people to grow up and take responsibility for their own lives (116-117).
Miriam and Aaron envied Moses’ exalted level of prophecy (Numbers chapter 12). The rebel Korah insisted that all Israel was equally holy (Numbers chapter 16). Prager explains that healthy envy prods people to work harder to achieve higher levels. Unhealthy envy involves coveting what the other person has, or even harboring a desire to deprive the other of what you do not have yourself.
The Torah insists that all people are created equal, in God’s image. Such equality lies at the heart of the American Revolution. America’s three great values are “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” All people are created equal, but cannot be regarded as equal regardless of what they do. When we view all people or cultures as equal, we fail.
In contrast, the French Revolution was thoroughly secular, and placed at its highest values “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.” The demand for equality of result almost inevitably leads to confiscating money and the pursuit of power. America believed that human rights derive from God. France believed that human rights derive from the state. “One of the first things the French regime did after the French Revolution was massacre priests and destroy churches. One of the first things America’s first president did was send a note of appreciation to a synagogue.” Tellingly, the iconic symbol of the American Revolution is the Liberty Bell. The iconic symbol of the French Revolution is the guillotine. When France built the Statue of Liberty, they gave it to America.
“In the twentieth century…more people were murdered, tortured, and deprived of human rights in the name of equality than in the name of anything else. Communism, whose greatest goal was equality, resulted in the murder of more than a hundred million human beings and the enslavement of over a billion.”
Prager concludes that “Human beings are not, as Korach and modern egalitarians would have it, ‘all equally holy.’ Some people do indeed achieve greater holiness than other people. Holiness is earned through holy, moral, and ethical behavior. Moses earned it. Korach did not” (130-133, 207-213).
Through these and so many other religious-moral teachings, the Torah was a revolution in world history, and continues to bring relevant, and sorely needed, teaching to the modern world.
The Land of Israel in the Bible
The Land of Israel in the Bible[1]
by Hayyim Angel
(Rabbi Hayyim Angel is the National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, and teaches advanced undergraduate Bible courses at Yeshiva University.)
- Israel in the Book of Genesis
The Land of Israel as Divine Gift, Heart of the Covenant, and Oath
The Torah does not begin with Abraham, nor does its story begin in the Land of Israel. Instead, the Torah opens by presenting a vision for all of humanity. In his introduction to the Book of Genesis, Rabbi Obadiah Sforno (1470–1550, Italy) observes that only after the three failures of Adam and Eve, the generation of the Flood, and the Tower of Babel, does God choose Abraham and his descendants to teach religious morality to the rest of the world. The Torah celebrates Abraham as the first person who was not only personally righteous, but who was also committed to teaching righteousness to his family and society:
For I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right, in order that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what He has promised him. (Genesis 18:19)
Abraham’s family is filtered through the rest of Genesis until it becomes clear that God selects the descendants of Jacob as the Chosen People.[2]
After Abraham arrives in Israel. God promises the land to Abraham and his descendants:
The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “I will assign this land to your heirs.” And he built an altar there to the Lord who had appeared to him. (Genesis 12:7)
God reiterates this promise after Abraham’s nephew Lot—his presumed heir until that point—moves to the wicked city of Sodom:
And the Lord said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west, for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth, so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted. Up, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I give it to you.” (Genesis 13:14–17).
God again solemnly promises the land to Abraham and his descendants in the “covenant between the halves”:
On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your offspring I assign this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates....” (Genesis 15:18)
In these three instances, God grants the Land of Israel to Abraham as a unilateral gift. In chapter 17, however, God introduces the idea of a mutual covenant, fulfilled through circumcision:
I will maintain My covenant between Me and you, and your offspring to come, as an everlasting covenant throughout the ages, to be God to you and to your offspring to come. I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:7–8)
In addition to God’s promises to Abraham, God reaffirms the land covenant to Isaac and to Jacob. God’s gift of the Land of Israel to Abraham’s descendants specifically goes to Jacob’s line:
[God said to Isaac:] I will assign all these lands to you and to your heirs, fulfilling the oath that I swore to your father Abraham. (Genesis 26:3)
And the Lord was standing beside [Jacob] and He said, “I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac: the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring. Your descendants shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants….” (Genesis 28:131–14)
And God said to [Jacob], “I am El Shaddai. Be fertile and increase; a nation, yea an assembly of nations, shall descend from you. Kings shall issue from your loins. The land that I assigned to Abraham and Isaac I assign to you; and to your offspring to come will I assign the land.” (Genesis 35:11–12)
Before Jacob leaves home to go to Laban, Isaac also gives Jacob the blessing of Abraham, which includes possession of the land:
May El Shaddai bless you, make you fertile and numerous, so that you become an assembly of peoples. May He grant the blessing of Abraham to you and your offspring, that you may possess the land where you are sojourning, which God assigned to Abraham. (Genesis 28:3–4)
In addition to the divine gift of the land and the centrality of the land in the God-Israel covenant, God swears the land to Abraham following the Binding of Isaac:
The angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from heaven, and said, “By Myself I swear, the Lord declares: Because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your favored one, I will bestow My blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore; and your descendants shall seize the gates of their foes.” (Genesis 22:15–17)
After Abraham demonstrates his absolute commitment, God gives Abraham the greatest assurance. Professor Jon Levenson observes that there is no explanation in the Torah as to why God chose Abraham initially, but God’s oath ratifies the covenant when Abraham passes this ultimate test. Abraham has vindicated God’s choice.[3]
To summarize, God repeatedly promises the Land of Israel to the Patriarchs and their descendants through Jacob. In addition to the land serving as a divine gift, it also plays a central role in the mutual God-Israel covenant. God also makes an oath to give the land to Abraham and his descendants following the Binding of Isaac.
Purchasing Land in Israel
Although the Israelites conquer the land at the time of Joshua, several land purchases merit biblical attention. Abraham purchased the first family holding in Israel, the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron and its adjacent field in which he would bury Sarah:
Then Abraham rose from beside his dead, and spoke to the Hittites, saying, “I am a resident alien among you; sell me a burial site among you, that I may remove my dead for burial…. Let [Ephron] sell me the cave of Machpelah that he owns, which is at the edge of his land. Let him sell it to me, at the full price, for a burial site in your midst.” (Genesis 23:3–4, 9)
The Torah repeatedly refers to the sale of Machpelah, highlighting its significance. Abraham is buried there:
His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, facing Mamre, the field that Abraham had bought from the Hittites; there Abraham was buried, and Sarah his wife. (Genesis 25:9–10)
Jacob’s dying words are about this transaction. When his sons bury him, the Torah again mentions the purchase:
Then he instructed them, saying to them, “I am about to be gathered to my kin. Bury me with my fathers in the cave which is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, the cave which is in the field of Machpelah, facing Mamre, in the land of Canaan, the field that Abraham bought from Ephron the Hittite for a burial site—there Abraham and his wife Sarah were buried; there Isaac and his wife Rebekah were buried; and there I buried Leah—the field and the cave in it, bought from the Hittites.” (Genesis 49:29–32)
Thus his sons did for him as he had instructed them. His sons carried him to the land of Canaan, and buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah, the field near Mamre, which Abraham had bought for a burial site from Ephron the Hittite. (Genesis 50:12–13)
Later in Israel’s history, David purchases the plot that will be used as the future Temple in Jerusalem. The acquisition was originally the threshing floor of Araunah (known as “Ornan” in the book of Chronicles). Like Abraham, David refuses to accept the area as a gift and insists on paying for it instead. He even uses the same term that Abraham did: be-kesef malei, “the full price”:
But King David replied to Ornan, “No, I will buy them at the full price [be-kesef malei]. I cannot make a present to the Lord of what belongs to you, or sacrifice a burnt offering that has cost me nothing.” So David paid Ornan for the site 600 shekels’ worth of gold. (I Chronicles 21:24–25)
The other Patriarchal land purchase occurs when Jacob purchases a plot of land near Shechem, establishing the first land holding for the living in the nation’s history:
The parcel of land where he pitched his tent he purchased from the children of Hamor, Shechem’s father, for a hundred kesitahs. (Genesis 33:19)
When the people bury Joseph’s bones in Shechem at the end of the Book of Joshua, the narrative mentions the original purchase:
The bones of Joseph, which the Israelites had brought up from Egypt, were buried at Shechem, in the piece of ground which Jacob had bought for a hundred kesitahs from the children of Hamor, Shechem’s father, and which had become a heritage of the Josephites. (Joshua 24:32)
The Bible’s ongoing interest in these purchases suggests a desire to guarantee Israel’s ownership of these three areas. One Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 79:7) similarly concludes that nobody can claim that Israel stole Machpelah, Shechem, or Temple Mount.
The Land of Israel as Central to the People’s Identity
At the end of his life, Jacob asks Joseph not to bury him in Egypt but rather in Israel. Joseph agrees. Surprisingly, Jacob then makes him swear:
And when the time approached for Israel to die, he summoned his son Joseph and said to him, “Do me this favor, place your hand under my thigh as a pledge of your steadfast loyalty: please do not bury me in Egypt. When I lie down with my fathers, take me up from Egypt and bury me in their burial place.” He replied, “I will do as you have spoken.” And he said, “Swear to me.” And he swore to him. Then Israel bowed at the head of the bed. (Genesis 47:29–31)
Rashi and Ramban explain that although Jacob trusted Joseph, he believed that Pharaoh never would allow Joseph to go unless he was bound by an oath. Joseph in fact invoked the oath when requesting permission of Pharaoh:
And when the wailing period was over, Joseph spoke to Pharaoh’s court, saying, “Do me this favor, and lay this appeal before Pharaoh: ‘My father made me swear, saying, “I am about to die. Be sure to bury me in the grave which I made ready for myself in the land of Canaan.” Now, therefore, let me go up and bury my father; then I shall return.’” And Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury your father, as he made you promise on oath.” (Genesis 50:4–6)
Rabbi Shlomo Riskin,[4] however, observes that when Joseph appeals to Pharaoh, he speaks to Pharaoh’s court, that is, to Pharaoh’s underlings. Joseph was second in command in all of Egypt, so why did he not personally ask Pharaoh?
Rabbi Riskin explains that this was a moment of truth for Joseph. He had been struggling with his identity ever since he had become second in command some 25 years earlier. Pharaoh gave him the Egyptian name Zaphenath-Paneah and married him to a daughter of the priest of On (Genesis 41:45). Joseph was a success, and Pharaoh made it clear that Joseph was an Egyptian.
Rabbi Riskin explains the names of Manasseh and Ephraim in light of Joseph’s identity conflict. Manasseh represents Joseph’s new Egyptian identity: “God has made me forget completely [nashani] my hardship and my parental home.” Ephraim, on the other hand, reminds Joseph that Egypt never will become his true home: “God has made me fertile [hifrani] in the land of my affliction” (Genesis 41:51–52).
Jacob understood that Joseph’s identity would be tested severely by this request to be buried in Israel. Therefore, he made him swear. Joseph understood that by honoring his father’s will, he would be making a public declaration that his family identity belongs to Israel and not to Egypt. He therefore was afraid to confront Pharaoh directly.
Joseph addresses his brothers on his deathbed: “Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, ‘When God has taken notice of you, you shall carry up my bones from here’” (Genesis 50:25). Joseph thereby confirms his Israelite identity by insisting that he will join his people in the future exodus.
Summary
From the time Abraham arrived in Israel, God promises him and his descendants the land. This promise manifests as an outright unilateral gift, an essential part of a mutual covenant, and is ratified by divine oath after the Binding of Isaac. God repeats this promise to Isaac and Jacob, and the land goes to their line of descendants.
Abraham’s purchase of Machpelah in Hebron and Jacob’s purchase of land in Shechem both receive significant attention, highlighting the permanence of these acquisitions prior to Joshua’s later conquest of the land.
Jacob insisted on being buried in Israel, and Joseph needed to make a public statement that he too identified as an Israelite rather than as an Egyptian. On his deathbed, Joseph expressed his ultimate desire to be buried in Israel.
- Israel in Exodus through Deuteronomy
In Genesis, God makes an absolute, unbreakable covenant with Abraham. God promises that He will give the Land of Israel to Abraham’s descendants (through Jacob’s line) as an everlasting holding. The land is a gift under divine oath, and also is a central aspect of the God-Israel covenant:
I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)
In the rest of the Torah, however, God introduces a conditional aspect of this mutual covenant of the land. The blessings and curses in Leviticus 26, and several other passages, threaten exile if Israel sins:
I will lay your cities in ruin and make your sanctuaries desolate, and I will not savor your pleasing odors. I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. (Leviticus 26:31–33)
Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow to them. For the Lord’s anger will flare up against you, and He will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain and the ground will not yield its produce; and you will soon perish from the good land that the Lord is assigning to you. (Deuteronomy 11:16–17)
One passage in Leviticus adds a poetic dimension. The Land of Israel is depicted as having a sensitive stomach, and it cannot tolerate grave sins. Sins cause the land to become ill and vomit out its inhabitants, whether Canaanite or Israelite:
Do not defile yourselves in any of those ways, for it is by such that the nations that I am casting out before you defiled themselves. Thus the land became defiled; and I called it to account for its iniquity, and the land spewed out its inhabitants. But you must keep My laws and My rules, and you must not do any of those abhorrent things, neither the citizen nor the stranger who resides among you; for all those abhorrent things were done by the people who were in the land before you, and the land became defiled. So let not the land spew you out for defiling it, as it spewed out the nation that came before you. All who do any of those abhorrent things—such persons shall be cut off from their people. You shall keep My charge not to engage in any of the abhorrent practices that were carried on before you, and you shall not defile yourselves through them: I the Lord am your God. (Leviticus 18:24–30; cf. Leviticus 19:29; 20:22–25)
In addition to sexual crimes, the Torah also includes Molech worship (Leviticus 20:3; Deuteronomy 18:9–12), murder (Numbers 35:33–34), leaving a corpse of an executed person unburied (Deuteronomy 21:23), and violating the sanctity of marriage (Deuteronomy 24:1–4) as sins that pollute the land. Later prophets present idol-worship as a sin that defiles the land.[5] Thus, sin causes the land to become defiled, leading to the exile of its inhabitants.
The Torah presents antecedents for the ideas of exile and land defilement from the outset of creation. After Adam and Eve sin in Eden, God curses the earth and banishes Adam and Eve from Eden:
To Adam He said, “Because you did as your wife said and ate of the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed be the ground because of you; by toil shall you eat of it all the days of your life: Thorns and thistles shall it sprout for you. But your food shall be the grasses of the field”…. So the Lord God banished him from the garden of Eden, to till the soil from which he was taken. (Genesis 3:17–18, 23)
The Torah also expresses the poetic notion that the land cannot tolerate sin after Cain murders Abel. Having swallowed Abel’s blood, the land no longer will produce for Cain, and Cain may not remain in his land:
Then [God] said, “What have you done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground! Therefore, you shall be more cursed than the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. If you till the soil, it shall no longer yield its strength to you. You shall become a ceaseless wanderer on earth.” (Genesis 4:10–12)
Throughout Tanakh, God reminds the Israelites that the land is not truly theirs, and they can be exiled if they fail to live up to the God-Israel covenant.
Joshua reiterates this threat shortly before his death, after the people already have possessed their land:
If you break the covenant that the Lord your God enjoined upon you, and go and serve other gods and bow down to them, then the Lord’s anger will burn against you, and you shall quickly perish from the good land that He has given you. (Joshua 23:16)
God also reminds Israel of the threat of exile for infidelity to their covenant, precisely at the ideal moment when Solomon dedicates the Temple:
[But] if you and your descendants turn away from Me and do not keep the commandments [and] the laws which I have set before you, and go and serve other gods and worship them, then I will sweep Israel off the land which I gave them; I will reject the House which I have consecrated to My name; and Israel shall become a proverb and a byword among all peoples. (I Kings 9:6–7)
Sabbatical and Jubilee Years
When Abraham needed a burial plot for Sarah, he faced a paradox. On the one hand, God had promised the land to him and his descendants for the future. On the other hand, he did not own any of that land and therefore was a resident alien (ger ve-toshav) among the Canaanites:
I am a resident alien [ger ve-toshav] among you; sell me a burial site among you, that I may remove my dead for burial. (Genesis 23:4)
Abraham wanted to gain a foothold in the land to bury Sarah as a landowner, rather than simply finding a spot on the roadside to bury her as a nomad.[6]
Even as the people of Israel are crossing the desert to possess their land, God insists that the land does not truly belong to them. Rather, it belongs to God and therefore the people must observe the Sabbatical and Jubilee years. They are resident aliens, just like Abraham:
But the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident [gerim ve-toshavim] with Me. (Leviticus 25:23)
The Torah also links the threat of exile to the violation of the laws of the Sabbatical and Jubilee years:
I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. Then shall the land make up for its Sabbath years throughout the time that it is desolate and you are in the land of your enemies; then shall the land rest and make up for its Sabbath years. Throughout the time that it is desolate, it shall observe the rest that it did not observe in your Sabbath years while you were dwelling upon it…. For the land shall be forsaken of them, making up for its Sabbath years by being desolate of them, while they atone for their iniquity; for the abundant reason that they rejected My rules and spurned My laws. (Leviticus 26:32–25, 43)
Non-observance of these laws demonstrates that the Israelites do not recognize that the land is God’s, but instead consider the land to be their own.
At the very end of Tanakh, the Book of Chronicles reiterates this understanding when the people go into the Babylonian exile after the destruction of the Temple:
Those who survived the sword he exiled to Babylon, and they became his and his sons’ servants till the rise of the Persian kingdom, in fulfillment of the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah, until the land paid back its Sabbaths; as long as it lay desolate it kept Sabbath, till seventy years were completed. (II Chronicles 36:20–21)
Although Israel’s continued presence in their land depends on their faithfulness to the covenant and their recognition that the land belongs to God, the land remains a permanent inheritance of the people of Israel. If they go into exile, they will always return to their land and no other nation will possess the land:
I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)
The Book of Deuteronomy similarly reiterates the divine gift of the land to the people of Israel.[7] The Torah also restates God’s oath guaranteeing this gift.[8] Specifically at times of great sin and crisis, the prophets invoke God’s oath and eternal covenant with Israel. These include the Golden Calf (Exodus 32:13–14) and the destruction of the Temple (Jeremiah 7:3–7; 33:25–26).
The Threat of Prosperity and the Need to be Grateful to God
In addition to the Torah’s concern that the people of Israel never consider the land to be absolutely theirs, the Torah repeatedly praises the beauty and fertility of the land and warns against losing sight of the fact that all blessings come from God.
During Moses’ initiation prophecy at the burning bush, God praises Israel:
“I am,” He said, “the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. And the Lord continued, “I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters; yes, I am mindful of their sufferings. I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians and to bring them out of that land to a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey, the region of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites….” (Exodus 3:6–8)
This is the first of some twenty biblical references to Israel as the land of milk and honey.
In Deuteronomy, Moses repeatedly warns against the hazard of prosperity. If the people forget that all is from God and they become ungrateful, they will soon lapse into unfaithfulness:
For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; a land where you may eat food without limit, where you will lack nothing; a land whose rocks are iron and from whose hills you can mine copper. When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you. Take care lest you forget the Lord your God and fail to keep His commandments, His rules, and His laws, which I enjoin upon you today… and you say to yourselves, “My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.” Remember that it is the Lord your God who gives you the power to get wealth, in fulfillment of the covenant that He made on oath with your fathers, as is still the case. (Deuteronomy 8:7–18)
The Talmud derives the commandment for the Grace after Meals from 8:10, “when you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you.” The passage describes divine blessing, rather than using the typical language of commandment. However, Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik observed that this verse must be read as a commandment. The continuation of the passage warns against what occurs when people do not bless God for their produce—they will forget God. Therefore, 8:10 must be a commandment of what Israelites must do to avoid this hazard, rather than a prediction of what they will do.[9]
Israel’s Dependence on Rainfall as a Religious Value
The beautiful land depends on rainfall, requiring constant providential attention:
For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt from which you have come. There the grain you sowed had to be watered by your own labors, like a vegetable garden; but the land you are about to cross into and possess, a land of hills and valleys, soaks up its water from the rains of heaven. It is a land which the Lord your God looks after, on which the Lord your God always keeps His eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end. (Deuteronomy 11:10–12)
Because of its consistent agricultural cycle, Egypt became a refuge during famines. The Torah likens Egypt to the Garden of Eden. Lot also moved to the wicked city of Sodom because it resembled Egypt and Eden in that the Jordan River watered the area and guaranteed fertility:
Lot looked about him and saw how well watered was the whole plain of the Jordan, all of it—this was before the Lord had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah—all the way to Zoar, like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt. (Genesis 13:10)
God gave Israel a fertile land, but it is not consistently fertile as Egypt or Sodom. The latter are much easier places to obtain predictable prosperity. The consistent rising of the Nile and Jordan Rivers led to a state wherein people felt a sense of security and entitlement. There were no consequences to their sinful behavior, and both developed wicked cultures. Israel’s dependence on rainfall, in contrast, fostered a culture of constant attention to relationship-building with a personal God.
Ramban (on Deuteronomy 11:11–12) similarly explains that all people depend on God, but a sick person feels that sense of dependence much more than a healthy person. Egypt is like a healthy person, and Israel is like a sick person. Since Israel depends on rain, the people must constantly remain conscious of their dependence on God.
Professors Uriel Simon and Moshe Greenberg
Professors Uriel Simon and Moshe Greenberg contribute additional dimensions of understanding to the religious significance of the Land of Israel in the Torah. Professor Simon[10] observes that Abraham’s bond with the land is not natural, since he was not born there. Although God promises the land to Abraham and his descendants, Abraham must wait some 400 years for the fulfillment of this promise (Genesis 15:13–16). There is further uncertainty regarding the fulfillment of the divine promise because of the delay in Abraham’s fathering an heir who would perpetuate the covenant.
Israel’s connection to the land is not a natural bond; it is a connection of covenantal destiny. When a nation has a natural bond to its land, there is no constant threat of exile looming over the people. In contrast, when a nation has a covenantal relationship of destiny, this means that their rights to their land are based on a divine promise and are conditional on faithfulness to God.
A nation with a natural bond to its land loses that connection when it is exiled, and that nation ceases to exist. In contrast, a nation of destiny can temporarily lose its land, but retains an eternal bond to its land even when it goes into exile. Natural possession of one’s land feels safe, but it deadens the heart of the nation since the people take their land for granted. Possession of land through destiny forces a nation to have constant attentiveness to God. Thus, the people of Israel never could take their land for granted, but also could retain their identity through their exile and long for a return to their land.
Professor Moshe Greenberg[11] explains that the Torah was given in the desert and its narrative ends with the people still in the desert. While many of the Torah’s laws are applicable only in Israel, the basis for the God-Israel covenant is the exodus and revelation at Sinai. If Israel is faithful to the Torah covenant, they will live safely in their land forever. If Israel is unfaithful, they can be exiled from land. Since the Torah transcends the Land of Israel, it remains fully binding outside of the land.
Summary
The Torah makes the conditional aspect of the covenant explicit, threatening exile for certain grave sins. One passage in Leviticus adds the poetic dimension of the land becoming ill from sin, leading it to spew out its inhabitants. There are no purification rituals for the land, and only exile can allow the land to recover from its defilement.
The Sabbatical and Jubilee years convey the message that the land belongs to God and not to Israel. Non-fulfillment of these laws leads to exile, since Israel makes the false assumption that the land belongs to them. Even with exile, the land remains an eternal possession of the people of Israel and they will return to their land.
In addition to Israel’s need to recognize that God owns the land, they also must be eternally grateful to God for the bountiful land and its produce. Proper gratitude lies at the heart of faithfulness to God, whereas ingratitude leads to unfaithfulness.
The Land of Israel’s dependence on rainfall similarly creates a state of constant God-consciousness. Unlike Egypt and Sodom, which had the consistent rising of the Nile and Jordan Rivers, Israel felt their dependence on God at every moment.
Professor Uriel Simon develops the idea of the people of Israel’s connection of destiny to their land. God’s promises to Abraham are delayed—and are contingent on—Israel’s faithfulness to the covenant. On the other hand, Israel’s bond to its land cannot be severed by an exile, unlike nations that have a natural bond to their lands. The people of Israel always will return to their land.
Professor Moshe Greenberg highlights the fact that the Torah begins and ends outside of the Land of Israel to stress that it is an eternal covenant that transcends all land borders and applies wherever the people of Israel live. Israel is the place of ultimate fulfillment of the God-Israel relationship, but Israel has a covenantal relationship with God through the Torah everywhere.
- Israel in the Prophetic Books
The Book of Joshua
There is no biblical holiday to celebrate Israel’s entry to its land or Joshua’s conquest of the land. Joshua even uses the Torah’s language of a “proto-Seder” to commemorate the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River:
This shall serve as a symbol among you: in time to come, when your children ask, “What is the meaning of these stones for you?” you shall tell them, “The waters of the Jordan were cut off because of the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant; when it passed through the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.” And so these stones shall serve the people of Israel as a memorial for all time. (Joshua 4:6–7)
He charged the Israelites as follows: “In time to come, when your children ask their fathers, ‘What is the meaning of those stones?’ tell your children: ‘Here the Israelites crossed the Jordan on dry land.’ For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan before you until you crossed, just as the Lord your God did to the Sea of Reeds, which He dried up before us until we crossed. Thus all the peoples of the earth shall know how mighty is the hand of the Lord, and you shall fear the Lord your God always.” (Joshua 4:21–24)
Israel’s memory is codified through the Torah’s holidays to perpetuate the foundational experiences of the exodus, the revelation at Sinai, and the sojourn through the wilderness. Although the Land of Israel is a central aspect of the God-Israel relationship, the Torah applies everywhere, and not just in Israel.
The Temple in Jerusalem
David establishes Jerusalem as the political capital of Israel by moving there and building his palace (II Samuel chapter 5). He then establishes Jerusalem as God’s capital by moving the Ark there (II Samuel chapter 6). God does not permit David to build the actual Temple, but assures him that his son will rule and build the Temple (II Samuel 7). Solomon goes on to build the Temple and a palace for himself near it (I Kings 6–7).
Ramban (on Exodus 25:2) explains that the Tabernacle (and the Temple) create a perpetual re-enactment of the Revelation at Sinai. Both Sinai and the Tabernacle had a tripartite division of holiness: (1) The mountain’s summit is analogous to the Temple’s Holy of Holies, accessible only to Moses or the High Priest. (2) The middle of the mountain is analogous to the Temple’s Holy section, accessible only to the elders or the priests. (3) The base of the mountain is analogous to the Temple courtyard, where all people could gather to experience God’s revelation.
In addition to Ramban’s association of the Tabernacle-Temple with the Revelation at Sinai, several Midrashim ascertain connections between the Temple and the Garden of Eden. Ideally, Adam and Eve were supposed to follow God’s commands and remain in the Garden. Instead, they sinned and were expelled, and God guarded the Tree of Life with Cherubim:
[God] drove the man out, and stationed east of the garden of Eden the cherubim and the fiery ever-turning sword, to guard the way to the tree of life. (Genesis 3:24)
In the time of Moses, the Torah replaced the Tree of Life with the Ark of the Covenant. Cherubim were placed above it, to guard it. The Tabernacle is the only other reference to Cherubim in the Torah, and the Book of Proverbs refers to Torah and Wisdom as a Tree of Life: “She is a tree of life for those who grasp her” (Proverbs 3:18) (Midrash ha-Gadol, Genesis 3:24). Thus, the Tabernacle and Temple become a manifestation of the perfection in the Garden of Eden, where all humanity can live in harmony and serve God.
In addition to the Temple serving as the heart of the God-Israel relationship, Solomon also recognized the universalistic dimension of the Temple. In his prayer at the dedication of the Temple, Solomon stressed that all God-fearing people always are welcome. He expresses a longing for all humanity to recognize God:
Or if a foreigner who is not of Your people Israel comes from a distant land for the sake of Your name—for they shall hear about Your great name and Your mighty hand and Your outstretched arm—when he comes to pray toward this House, oh, hear in Your heavenly abode and grant all that the foreigner asks You for. Thus all the peoples of the earth will know Your name and revere You, as does Your people Israel; and they will recognize that Your name is attached to this House that I have built…. And may these words of mine, which I have offered in supplication before the Lord, be close to the Lord our God day and night, that He may provide for His servant and for His people Israel, according to each day’s needs—to the end that all the peoples of the earth may know that the Lord alone is God, there is no other. (I Kings 8:41–43, 59–60)
The worldview underlying Solomon’s prayer becomes a central feature of later prophetic visions, where the Temple serves as the religious center for both Israel and a God-fearing humanity.
The narratives in I Kings chapters 3–10 present Solomon’s reign as the ideal period in Israel’s history. Solomon is a wise king who judges the people fairly and is a prophet. The nation is religious and unified. There is peace and prosperity. God’s Presence is manifest in the Temple. The nations of the world flood to Jerusalem to see the Temple and to admire Solomon’s wisdom.
Later prophets use this imagery to depict the ideal messianic age. The only element they must add to their visions is that Israel’s exiles will return to their land. During Solomon’s reign, the Israelites still lived in their land and were not yet in exile.
The Destruction of the Temple and Exile
At the ideal moment in Israel’s history, when Solomon dedicated the Temple, God warns that Israel can remain in this pristine state eternally only if they remain faithful to the Torah. If they violate the God-Israel covenant, they will lose the Temple and forfeit their right to remain in the land:
[But] if you and your descendants turn away from Me and do not keep the commandments [and] the laws which I have set before you, and go and serve other gods and worship them, then I will sweep Israel off the land which I gave them; I will reject the House which I have consecrated to My name; and Israel shall become a proverb and a byword among all peoples. (I Kings 9:6–7)
Tragically, King Solomon opened the door to idolatry toward the end of his life (I Kings 11), leading to the division of the monarchy. Sustained idolatry through much of the remainder of the period led to the eventual exile of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians, and ultimately the destruction of the Temple and exile by the Babylonians.
Living at the time of the destruction, the prophet Jeremiah understood that God’s very creation was coming undone and returning to its primeval chaotic state:
I look at the earth, it is unformed and void [tohu va-vohu]; at the skies, and their light is gone. (Jeremiah 4:23)
This reference harks back to the second verse of the Torah, before God created order:
The earth was unformed and void [tohu va-vohu], with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water. (Genesis 1:2)
The destruction of the Temple ends the vision of its serving as a new Garden of Eden. The people of Israel are exiled to Babylonia and to Egypt (see II Kings 25), reversing Abraham’s journey from the area of Babylonia as well as the exodus from Egypt in the time of Moses.
The Temple and Solomon’s palace are destroyed together, as God’s kingdom and Israel’s kingdom fall to Babylonia:
He burned the House of the Lord, the king’s palace, and all the houses of Jerusalem; he burned down the house of every notable person. (II Kings 25:9)
The destruction of the Temple and the exile sound like they are absolute, and most surviving Jews believed that God had abandoned them. The end of the Book of Lamentations poignantly reflects this dark despair of the people:
Why have You forgotten us utterly, forsaken us for all time? Take us back, O Lord, to Yourself, and let us come back; renew our days as of old! For truly, You have rejected us, bitterly raged against us. (Lamentations 5:20–22)
Prophetic Visions of Hope
Confronting the people’s feelings of rejection, the prophets envisioned a time beyond the current reality and offered much-needed hope to the despairing people. In Isaiah 50, the prophet invokes the notion that the exile should be likened to a separation, but not a divorce:
Thus said the Lord: Where is the bill of divorce of your mother whom I dismissed? And which of My creditors was it to whom I sold you off? You were only sold off for your sins, and your mother dismissed for your crimes. (Isaiah 50:1)
Alternatively, Jeremiah posited an even more extreme position that the exile was a divorce, but God still was prepared to remarry Israel if the people were to abandon their idolatry:
[The word of the Lord came to me] as follows: If a man divorces his wife, and she leaves him and marries another man, can he ever go back to her? Would not such a land be defiled? Now you have whored with many lovers: can you return to Me?—says the Lord. (Jeremiah 3:1)
Regardless, the reality was the same: The God-Israel relationship is eternal. Either there never was a divorce, or there was a divorce with an ongoing invitation to return.
In his celebrated prophecy of the Dry Bones, Ezekiel depicts the people as feeling dead. God, however, will miraculously restore them to their vitality and to their land:
And He said to me, “O mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone [avedah tikvatenu]; we are doomed.’ Prophesy, therefore, and say to them: Thus said the Lord God: I am going to open your graves and lift you out of the graves, O My people, and bring you to the land of Israel….” (Ezekiel 37:11–12)
This vision was intended as a parable to Israel. Like dead bones, Israel felt hopeless. God promised that He would restore life to the nation and bring them back to their land.[12]
In Isaiah 51, the prophet invokes God’s eternal covenant with the Patriarchs, prophesying the nation’s return to Israel and the restoration of the state of being like the Garden of Eden:
Listen to Me, you who pursue justice, you who seek the Lord: Look to the rock you were hewn from, to the quarry you were dug from. Look back to Abraham your father and to Sarah who brought you forth. For he was only one when I called him, but I blessed him and made him many. Truly the Lord has comforted Zion, comforted all her ruins; He has made her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the Garden of the Lord. Gladness and joy shall abide there, thanksgiving and the sound of music. (Isaiah 51:1–3)
Israel’s mission is to serve as a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:6), the religious capital of the world that teaches humanity to return to the ideal state of the Garden of Eden:
In the days to come, the Mount of the Lord’s House shall stand firm above the mountains and tower above the hills; and all the nations shall gaze on it with joy. And the many peoples shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob; that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths.” For instruction shall come forth from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. Thus He will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples, and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war. (Isaiah 2:2–4)
The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard lie down with the kid; the calf, the beast of prey, and the fatling together, with a little boy to herd them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion, like the ox, shall eat straw. A babe shall play over a viper’s hole, and an infant pass his hand over an adder’s den. In all of My sacred mount nothing evil or vile shall be done; for the land shall be filled with devotion to the Lord as water covers the sea. (Isaiah 11:6–9)
Prior to the destruction of the Temple, Jeremiah corresponded with the community already exiled to Babylonia in 597 bce with King Jehoiachin, instructing them to build a Jewish life while they waited for the restoration to their land. That restoration would come some seventy years after the rise of the Babylonian Empire:
Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there, do not decrease. And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper…. For thus said the Lord: When Babylon’s seventy years are over, I will take note of you, and I will fulfill to you My promise of favor—to bring you back to this place. (Jeremiah 29:4–10)
The Jews were to retain their identity while living in the Diaspora, but they always knew that they would return home to Israel.
Summary
There are no biblical holidays to commemorate Israel’s entry into the land. The Torah thus creates a national covenantal identity that transcends the Land of Israel. Joshua’s ceremony of acceptance of the Torah after the people entered the land teaches that faithfulness to God lies at the heart of Israel’s remaining in its land. The Talmud adds that the Torah’s vision also looks outward to all humanity, as Israel has a role to play in building a model society and inspiring the nations of the world to the Torah’s level of religious morality.
David and Solomon establish Jerusalem as God’s capital in ruling the world as well as the political capital of Israel. The Temple reenacts the Revelation at Sinai, and also functions as a taste of the Garden of Eden. Solomon expresses the vision of the Torah, that the Temple is open to all God-fearing people, and not only to Israel. Solomon’s reign reflects the messianic age.
Tragically, the sin of idolatry contributed to the division of the monarchy, the exile of the ten Northern tribes, and ultimately the exile of Judah along with the destruction of the Temple. God’s very creation had come undone, and the Israelites returned to Babylonia and Egypt, reversing the journeys of Abraham and Moses. The people thought that the God-Israel covenant had come to an end.
It required prophetic vision to look beyond the dark reality of the destruction and exile. Prophets proclaimed that the exile was a separation from God, not a permanent divorce. Israel might feel dead, but God will revive them. The Patriarchal covenant is in full, eternal force, and God will restore the Eden-like state of Israel. While in exile, the people must build institutions to retain their identity. But they always will return home to Israel.
- Israel in the Second Temple Period and in the Contemporary Period
A Miracle of History
Despite the intense despair of the people in the wake of the destruction of the Temple and the exile, Jeremiah offered a prophetic vision beyond the misery. There would be a full restoration to the land, but in the interim the Jews would need to build a strong Diaspora life:
Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there, do not decrease. And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper…. For thus said the Lord: When Babylon’s seventy years are over, I will take note of you, and I will fulfill to you My promise of favor—to bring you back to this place. (Jeremiah 29:4–10)
After generations of exile, the nation experienced a shocking turn of events. Approximately seventy years after its inception, the seemingly invincible Babylonian Empire suddenly collapsed in the wake of the Persian onslaught under Cyrus. Even more remarkably, Cyrus permitted the Jews to return to Israel and rebuild the Temple. All of a sudden, the once seemingly impossible prophecies of Jeremiah were being realized before the people’s eyes. The Book of Ezra opens with a reference to Jeremiah’s prophecies, celebrating this miracle of history:
In the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, when the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah was fulfilled, the Lord roused the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia to issue a proclamation throughout his realm by word of mouth and in writing as follows: “Thus said King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord God of Heaven has given me all the kingdoms of the earth and has charged me with building Him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Anyone of you of all His people—may his God be with him, and let him go up to Jerusalem that is in Judah and build the House of the Lord God of Israel, the God that is in Jerusalem; and all who stay behind, wherever he may be living, let the people of his place assist him with silver, gold, goods, and livestock, besides the freewill offering to the House of God that is in Jerusalem.” (Ezra 1:1–4)
Ezra chapter 2 contains a lengthy list of the people who returned to Israel. The extensive coverage gives the initial impression that the Jewish response to Cyrus’ permission to return was overwhelmingly positive. This impression is diminished by the fact that only 42,360 people returned (Ezra 2:64). Evidently, most Jews chose to remain in exile.
Zechariah’s Vision of a Wall of Fire Surrounding Jerusalem
The prophet Zechariah received a series of visions to encourage the Jews to complete the rebuilding of the Second Temple. One element he addressed was the shame people felt over the walls of Jerusalem, which continued to be breached after the Babylonian invasion:
I looked up, and I saw a man holding a measuring line. “Where are you going?” I asked. “To measure Jerusalem,” he replied, “to see how long and wide it is to be.” But the angel who talked with me came forward, and another angel came forward to meet him. The former said to him, “Run to that young man and tell him: ‘Jerusalem shall be peopled as a city without walls, so many shall be the men and cattle it contains. And I Myself—declares the Lord—will be a wall of fire all around it, and I will be a glory inside it.’” (Zechariah 2:5–9).
Zechariah challenged the public perception of the broken walls of Jerusalem as being shameful, as later reported in the Book of Nehemiah:
They replied, “The survivors who have survived the captivity there in the province are in dire trouble and disgrace; Jerusalem’s wall is full of breaches, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.” (Nehemiah 1:3)
Then I said to them, “You see the bad state we are in—Jerusalem lying in ruins and its gates destroyed by fire. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem and suffer no more disgrace.” (Nehemiah 2:17)
In Zechariah’s vision, the breached walls presented an opportunity to expand the borders of the city through a massive population increase. Instead of requiring physical walls for security, God would serve as a wall of fire to protect His people.
Prophecies are not fulfilled automatically. People need to do their part to realize the potential of the moment.[13] In this spirit, Zechariah immediately follows his vision with a call to the Jews still living in Babylonia:
“Away, away! Flee from the land of the north—says the Lord—though I swept you [there] like the four winds of heaven—declares the Lord.” Away, escape, O Zion, you who dwell in Fair Babylon.... The Lord will take Judah to Himself as His portion in the Holy Land,[14] and He will choose Jerusalem once more. (Zechariah 2:10–16)
If the people want Jerusalem’s population to expand beyond the city walls, then the exiles need to leave Babylonia en masse and move to Israel!
Zechariah also prophesies that God will personally purify the land from its stains of sin:
I will remove that country’s guilt in a single day. (Zechariah 3:9)
In Zechariah chapter 5, the prophet explains that God will eliminate sinners, and then sin itself from the land.[15] In our discussions of the Land of Israel in the Torah, we observed that there is no ritual to purify the land from severe sin. Only exile of the sinners and God’s intervention can allow the land proper opportunity to recover. God’s Presence and the people now can return to a restored land.
Unfortunately, most Jews ignored Zechariah’s call to return and chose to remain in exile. The ideal vision never was fulfilled. In the final analysis, Jerusalem was better off with a wall. Approximately 75 years after Zechariah’s prophecy, Nehemiah rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem (445 bce). The city was so desolate that he decreed that one-tenth of the Jewish community must resettle in Jerusalem so that it would remain a viable city (Nehemiah 11:1–2).
Within two generations of exile, there was a severe change in the mentality of the Jews. Those who had been exiled feared that the God-Israel relationship was over, and they could not even envision praying to God while in exile: “How can we sing a song of the Lord on alien soil?” (Psalm 137:4). Two generations later, most Jews were comfortable remaining in exile. They lived a robust life in the Diaspora, and evidently no longer perceived the exile as the supreme punishment of the Torah.
Putting the evidence together, several rabbinic sources consider the Second Temple period as a missed opportunity for the full messianic redemption:
If she be a wall, we will build upon her a turret of silver; if she be a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar. Had you made yourself like a wall and had all come up in the days of Ezra, you would have been compared to silver, which no rottenness can ever affect. Now that you have come up like doors, you are like cedarwood, which rottenness prevails over. (Yoma 9b; cf. Kuzari II:24)
Simultaneously, the very existence of the Second Temple and a flourishing Jewish community in Israel convincingly demonstrated that the God-Israel relationship endures beyond the exile and is eternal. Malachi invokes the rebuilding of the land as a sign of God’s abiding love of Israel:
I have shown you love, said the Lord. But you ask, “How have You shown us love?” After all—declares the Lord—Esau is Jacob’s brother; yet I have accepted Jacob and have rejected Esau. I have made his hills a desolation, his territory a home for beasts of the desert. If Edom thinks, “Though crushed, we can build the ruins again,” thus said the Lord of Hosts: They may build, but I will tear down. And so they shall be known as the region of wickedness, the people damned forever of the Lord. Your eyes shall behold it, and you shall declare, “Great is the Lord beyond the borders of Israel!” (Malachi 1:2–5)
Similarly, the leaders during the religious revival under Ezra and Nehemiah highlight God’s eternal covenant with Abraham and his descendants:
You are the Lord God, who chose Abram, who brought him out of Ur of the Chaldeans and changed his name to Abraham. Finding his heart true to You, You made a covenant with him to give the land of the Canaanite, the Hittite, the Amorite, the Perizzite, the Jebusite, and the Girgashite—to give it to his descendants. And You kept Your word, for You are righteous. (Nehemiah 9:7–8)
Professor Yehudah Elitzur
Professor Yehudah Elitzur[16] wrote from the vantage point of Jews returning to Israel after nearly 2000 years of exile, rather than simply after seventy years of Babylonian exile. This afforded him a broader perspective of the biblical passages.
In an essay on the religious significance of the Land of Israel in the Bible, Professor Elitzur reiterates the eternality of the covenant of the land alongside the threat of exile for unfaithfulness. Even if there would be an exile, no other nation will settle permanently in Israel. The land eternally belongs to Abraham’s descendants:
I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)
The ingathering of Jewish exiles to Israel in the contemporary period is a fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham that the land is an everlasting holding.
Lands typically do not remain desolate when they are conquered. Normally, other people occupy them. However, God promises that the Land of Israel would remain desolate if the people go into exile:
I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. (Leviticus 26:32–33)
In the ancient halakhic Midrash Sifra, the Sages remark that the uninhabited land is a positive dimension within this prophecy of doom. The land remains uninhabited so that Jews could return to an empty land.
In the thirteenth century, Ramban witnessed the desolation in Israel when he moved there toward the end of his life. He understood this desolation as proof of God’s promise that the land eternally belongs to the Jews, and that God would return them to Israel one day:
[The desolation] constitutes a good tiding, proclaiming that during all our exiles, our land will not accept our enemies.... Since the time that we left it, [the land] has not accepted any nation or people, and they all try to settle it... This is a great proof and assurance to us. (Ramban on Leviticus 26:16)
In the nineteenth century, Mark Twain was flabbergasted by the fact that Israel was almost completely desolate. In his Innocents Abroad, he remarked:
Of all the lands there are for dismal scenery, I think Palestine must be the prince... Can the curse of the Deity beautify a land? Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes. Over it broods the spell of a curse that has withered its fields and fettered its energies.
Professor Elitzur observes further that the Canaanites who lived in the land prior to the Israelites succeeded in exploiting the natural resources of the land:
When the Lord your God brings you into the land that He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to assign to you—great and flourishing cities that you did not build, houses full of all good things that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant—and you eat your fill. (Deuteronomy 6:10–11)
However, the Canaanites never became a unified nation. Joshua defeated 31 kings, each a ruler of an independent city-state. In contrast, the people of Israel formed a united nation, the only people ever to do so in Israel. Moreover, no nation after Israel could exploit the natural resources of the land. Instead, the land remained a barren wasteland for nearly 2,000 years.
Professor Elitzur invokes another rule of history: All other exiled people either assimilate into the dominant culture of the host nation, or else they are dominant because they come in large groups and take over the culture of the new land (e.g., the British in America, the Spanish in Argentina).
Despite being a minority, the Jews never totally assimilated into their host nations. They also remained a minority and never were able to set up a Jewish land outside of Israel. The Torah’s curse that the people of Israel would be scattered and downtrodden in exile contains a hidden blessing, since they would always remain outsiders and therefore return one day to Israel.
The Jewish people and the Land of Israel belong to one another, and need one another. When they are together, both land and people flourish. When they are separate, Jews suffer and the land lies desolate.
Summary
At the beginning of the Second Temple period, the Jews were miraculously allowed to return to their land and rebuild the Temple. While many Jews did return, the vast majority chose to remain in exile. Instead of the full redemption occurring then, the opportunity was squandered. It appears that the non-return of many Jews contributed meaningfully to the failure to realize the messianic era.
Although the ideal age did not occur in the Second Temple period, the Jews realized that God’s covenantal promises were indeed eternal. Their return to their land demonstrated God’s abiding love and commitment to the people of Israel.
In the Torah, God promises that the Land of Israel is an everlasting holding for the people of Israel. The ingathering of exiles in the modern era, the land blooming after remaining desolate for nearly 2,000 years, and the fact that the Jews never completely assimilated nor formed a dominant culture elsewhere all fulfill divine promises. These facts are unique in human history, all attesting to the eternality of God’s promises.
We live in a miraculous age with the Jewish people returned to Israel after such a lengthy exile. We cannot know how everything will unfold without prophecy. However, we may derive several religious lessons from the biblical corpus: (1) The return of the Jewish people to Israel confirms the biblical covenantal promises dating back to Abraham. (2) It is a fulfillment of God’s promise that the land would remain a barren wasteland in the absence of the Jews, and that it would flourish once again when the Jews return. (3) The people of Israel must be grateful to God for this gift, and never take sole credit for this remarkable achievement or for the rehabilitation of the land. (4) The modern State of Israel poses a challenge to world Jewry to live up to God’s covenant through the Torah, and to participate in rebuilding the land.
Notes
[1] An earlier version of this essay appeared in Hayyim Angel, Cornerstones: The Bible and Jewish Ideology (New York: Kodesh Press, 2020), pp. 1–51.
[2] For further discussion, see Hayyim Angel, “‘The Chosen People’: An Ethical Challenge,” in Angel, Increasing Peace Through Balanced Torah Study. Conversations 27 (New York: Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2017), pp. 38–47.
[3] Jon D. Levenson, Inheriting Abraham: The Legacy of the Patriarch in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2012), p. 84.
[4] Shlomo Riskin, Torah Lights: Genesis (Jerusalem: Urim, 2005), pp. 307–312.
[5] See, for example, Jeremiah 2:7–8, 23; 7:30; 19:13; 32:34; Ezekiel 20:7, 18, 31; 22:3, 4; 23:7, 30; 36:18; 37:23.
[6] See Elhanan Samet, Iyyunim BeParashot HaShavua vol. 1 (second series) (Hebrew) ed. Ayal Fishler (Ma’aleh Adumim: Ma’aliyot Press, 2004), pp. 90–91.
[7] See, for example, Deuteronomy 5:16, 28; 6:10–11, 23; 7:13; 8:10; 9:4–6, 23; 10:11; 11:9, 17, 21, 25; 12:1, 9; 15:4, 7; 16:20; 17:4; 18:9; 19:1–2, 8, 10, 14; 20:16; 21:1, 23; 24:4; 25:15, 19; 26:1–11, 15.
[8] See, for example, Deuteronomy 6:10, 23; 7:13; 10:11; 11:9, 21; 19:8; 26:3, 15.
[9] Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Birkon Mesorat HaRav, ed. David Hellman (New York: OU Press, 2016), pp. 11–12.
[10] Uriel Simon, “Biblical Destinies: Conditional Promises,” in Jewish Bible Theology: Perspectives and Case Studies, ed. Isaac Kalimi (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012), pp. 79–87.
[11] Moshe Greenberg, Understanding Exodus (New York: Behrman House, 1969), pp. 9–17.
[12] This prophecy is so powerful that the writers of the Hatikvah drew from it when composing what became Israel’s national anthem. Ezekiel speaks of the exiles saying that “our hope is gone”—avedah tikvatenu. The anthem triumphantly responds, od lo avedah tikvatenu, “Our hope is still not lost!”
[13] For further discussion of this principle, see Hayyim Angel, “Prophecy as Potential: The Consolations of Isaiah 1–12 in Context,” in Angel, Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings: Finding the Religious Significance in Tanakh (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav-Sephardic Publication Foundation, 2009), pp. 117–126.
[14] This verse is the only time in all Tanakh where the Land of Israel is called the Holy Land. Harry M. Orlinsky observes that Christians preferred calling the Land of Israel “the Holy Land,” whereas Jews preferred Eretz Yisrael. Only as Jews left their ghettos did some adopt the term “the Holy Land.” The term “Eretz Yisrael” referring to the entire Land of Israel also is rare in Tanakh, found only in I Samuel 13:19; Ezekiel 27:17; 40:2; 47:18; and II Chronicles 34:7 (“The Biblical Concept of the Land of Israel: Cornerstone of the Covenant between God and Israel,” in The Land of Israel: Jewish Perspectives, ed. Lawrence A. Hoffman [Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1986], pp. 54–55, 64).
[15] See further analysis of this passage in Hayyim Angel, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi: Prophecy in an Age of Uncertainty (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2016), pp. 66–70.
[16] Yehudah Elitzur, “The Land of Israel in Biblical Thought” (Hebrew), in Elitzur, Yisrael ve-ha-Mikra: Mehkarim Geografiyim, Historiyim, va-Hagotiyim, ed. Yoel Elitzur and Amos Frisch (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2000), pp. 261–279.
Blessings: Thoughts for Parashat Toledot
Angel for Shabbat—Parashat Toledot
By Rabbi Marc D. Angel
The rivalry between Jacob and Esau came to a head when it was time for Isaac to give his blessing. As things turned out, Jacob received the blessing through a ruse. Esau was enraged and demanded a blessing also; but although Isaac did bless Esau, he did not revoke the main blessing he had given to Jacob.
Receiving Isaac’s blessing was obviously of great importance. The recipient would thereby be anointed as Isaac’s successor. We might have imagined that the blessing would have focused on Isaac’s prayer that his son carry on the faith of Abraham, be successful in teaching others about the One God, and generally be a role model of righteousness.
But the actual blessing was quite different: “May God give you of the dew of heaven and of the fat places of the earth and plenty of corn and wine. Let peoples serve you and nations bow to you…Cursed be everyone who curses you and blessed be everyone who blesses you.” The blessing focuses entirely on worldly matters—prosperity, power, victory over enemies.
We gain insight into Isaac’s thinking when we consider his words of blessing to Jacob later in the parasha. “May God Almighty bless you and make you fruitful, and multiply you that you may be a multitude of people; and give you the blessing of Abraham to you and to your seed with you that you may inherit the land in which you are a sojourner and which God gave to Abraham.” In these words, Isaac invokes God’s covenant with Abraham, that Abraham’s message will reach multitudes of people, that Abraham’s seed will dwell in their own land in strength and peace.
Isaac’s blessings are twofold: first, he focuses on worldly matters; and then he speaks of the spiritual mission of Abraham and descendants. Peace and prosperity provide the physical foundations for spiritual growth.
The interconnection of physical and spiritual health is reflected in Maimonides’ teachings on the messianic era (Hilkhot Melakhim 12:5): “In that era, there will be neither famine or war, envy or competition, for good will flow in abundance and all the delights will be freely available as dust. The occupation of the entire world will be solely to know God. Therefore, the Jews will be great sages and know the hidden matters, grasping the knowledge of their Creator according to the full extent of human potential, as Isaiah 11:9 states: 'The world will be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the ocean bed.’" With the blessing of peace and prosperity, people will be able to devote themselves more effectively to spiritual matters.
In “Halakhic Man,” Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik stresses Judaism’s rootedness in the realities of this world. He writes that halakha “fixes its gaze upon concrete, empirical reality and does not allow its attention to be diverted from it. Halakhic man…brings down eternity into the midst of time” (p. 92). Jewish spirituality is not an escape into the heavenly realms but a way of bringing the holy into the very real physical world in which we live.
Isaac’s blessings to Jacob reflect this general approach. He prays for prosperity, power and worldly success; these are the frameworks for a healthy spiritual life and for the fulfillment of God’s covenant with Abraham. Concern for material well-being should be linked to concern for spiritual well-being.
We pray for peace and prosperity. We pray for spiritual elevation. We pray that God’s covenant with Abraham will continue to resound in our generation and for many generations to come.
Battling for the Soul of Orthodoxy: The Essential Teachings of Rabbi Marc D. Angel
Rabbi Marc D. Angel has been one of the most prolific rabbinic scholars for over 50 years. He has written or edited almost 40 books and hundreds of scholarly articles and shorter pieces in various media. He served a distinguished career as Rabbi of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York City, and since 2007 as the Founder and Director of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. He has served in many communal and rabbinic leadership capacities, as well.
The task of writing an article to encapsulate the extensive work of Rabbi Angel is reminiscent of the celebrated talmudic story of the prospective convert who demanded of Hillel to teach him the entire Torah while the prospective convert stood on one foot. Hillel responded: “What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor: that is the whole Torah, while the rest is the commentary thereof; go and learn it” (Shabbat 31a). My goal in this essay is to present “on one foot” Rabbi Angel’s central ideas and ideals which he has promoted over the course of over 50 years.
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Rabbi Angel believes that one must first establish the proper intellectual foundations for an ideal vision of Judaism, and then attempt to build a great personal religious life and Torah community from the ground up. Judaism begins with a profound and abiding belief in God, that God revealed the Torah to the people of Israel through Moses as an eternal covenant, and that there is an accompanying Oral Law to the Written Torah. Judaism also maintains that the rabbinic sages throughout the generations have had the authority to interpret texts and traditions to apply the eternal principles of halakha to an ever-changing world.
What today is known as Orthodoxy is the faithful reflection of Jewish tradition. Streams of Judaism that are not committed to divine revelation or to halakha cannot be authentic representations of classic Jewish thought.
Living a proper halakhic life creates a deep, intimate relationship with God. Interiority, humility, love of humanity, and a desire to improve society are proper manifestations of a righteous life. Authentic religion is not about showiness, disdain for others, or authoritarianism.
The aforementioned arguments are easy to establish from within traditional Jewish sources, and Rabbi Angel therefore devotes relatively little energy to defend them. The lion’s share of his work is dedicated to a different theme, namely, delineating and advocating for what he considers to be ideal Orthodoxy. Often, Rabbi Angel’s writings are scholarly efforts to analyze and present various ideas and ideals of Judaism. There also is a regular hallmark of his writings to battle passionately and courageously for the very soul of Orthodoxy. Rabbi’s Angel’s writings are suffused with calm, thoughtful, well-researched wisdom, coupled with an urgent sense that these ideas must prevail or else our community is impoverished as a result.
Ideally, all Jews should be faithful to Torah and halakha. However, even in a less-than-ideal world, we must view all Jews, regardless of level of observance, as a family. The inclusive communal model, which never fractured into various ideological movements, provides the best paradigm for promoting Jewish unity for a fragmented contemporary Jewish community. The Sephardic world, and many Ashkenazic communities, championed the this inclusive modell. Even within the halakhically observant community, the ideal is unity without conformity. There are many legitimate avenues to a Torah lifestyle.
We must try to win the hearts of all Jews to the Torah through persuasion and through exemplifying excellent religious and moral behavior, and never through authoritarianism or coercion. We should learn from everyone: the full range of rabbinic thought throughout the ages, folk wisdom, and the wisdom of the world. Judaism is a truth-seeking religion.
Rabbi Angel regularly appeals to a passage in the Jerusalem Talmud: The way of the Torah is a narrow path. To the right is fire and to the left is ice. Overzealousness leads to fiery extremism and fanaticism, whereas too much secularization or watering down of Jewish belief and observance leads to icy skepticism. The Torah way of life is balanced, harmonious, and sensible. To be fulfilled properly, it must maintain its balance on the narrow path.
A confident faith is unafraid of questions and challenges. It is unafraid of diversity of opinion, and it is unafraid of ideas that force one to rethink one’s own assumptions. The rabbinic axiom, “know how to answer the heretic” (Mishnah, Avot 2:14), requires a deep knowledge of what that heretic thinks, and a thoughtful understanding of why the heretic rejects our traditions.
Judaism balances a particularistic aspect in which God has a singular relationship with the Jewish people through the Torah and halakha; and a universalistic aspect that fosters genuine respect for all humanity. Jews should live in their divinely-given Torah path, while simultaneously embracing the Torah’s ideal that God is everyone’s God. The Torah’s teaching, that all of humanity is created in the Image of God, should foster a genuine love and respect of humanity, and a desire to engage with the world, both its people and its wisdom. As Jews, we are responsible for all other Jews. As human beings, we are responsible for yishuvo shel olam—participating in the advancement of humanity.
Judaism is broad, and contemporary society needs its broadness to address the complex religious and communal realities of today. We also need to represent the profound sophistication and wisdom of Jewish tradition at its best to appeal to well-educated Jews.
There are two fundamental approaches to applying halakha to real life. One approach begins with a study of the classical rabbinic texts, reaching a scholarly conclusion, and then applying that conclusion to the individual or community. The other approach begins with the human reality and then studies the classical rabbinic texts for principles to apply to that reality. Rabbi Angel strongly favors the latter approach. For example, when addressing the question of saying Psalms of Praise (Hallel) on Yom HaAtzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day), we must begin by acknowledging the religious reality of the miracle of the State of Israel. Only then do we turn to the halakhic books.
Ideal rabbis must be scholars and teachers of Torah, but also must be involved with the community. There needs to be a symbiotic relationship between local rabbis who know the particular needs of their communities, and rabbinic decisors who are experts in halakhic texts. Community rabbis must have the humility to consult halakhic experts, and they also must take responsibility to make decisions armed with that expert knowledge for their local communities. The Torah gives guidance for every aspect of life, and rabbinic leadership should offer that guidance to the community. Orthodoxy can exert its greatest influence when its representatives are involved in all communal matters.
The greatest role models behind Rabbi Angel’s religious worldview are Rambam in the medieval period; and Rabbis Benzion Uziel, Haim David Halevy, and Joseph Soloveitchik in the twentieth century. On the communal leadership level, Rabbi Angel also admires two of his predecessors who led Congregation Shearith Israel: Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes and Dr. David de Sola Pool. These exceptional rabbis embodied the ideas and ideals of Judaism at the intellectual, communal, and personal levels.
We do not need to reinvent Judaism or Orthodoxy. We must find its most compelling elements from within our classical sources and promote them. The best of Judaism has the power to attract and inspire many Jews, and they in turn can create the positive model society to inspire humanity.
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Within the contemporary Orthodox world, there are powerful threats to Rabbi Angel’s comprehensive vision. There are significant and growing strains within Orthodoxy that are overly fundamentalist. They teach Tanakh and the Talmud at a hyper-literal level, and ignore science, reason, and even the diversity of sacred Jewish texts that present other opinions. Some promote superstition. Some promote isolationism from less observant Jews, non-Jews, and any ideas that are foreign to the specific narrow ideas they espouse. Some overemphasize the particularistic elements of Judaism while ignoring the universalistic elements.
When Judaism is presented as isolationist and anti-reason, it distorts Jewish teaching and creates a cult-like religious group that cares only about its idea of God and the members of its small circle. This approach also alienates many intelligent, educated Jews who are made to feel that tradition and intellectual honesty are at odds with one another. In fact, they are completely intertwined.
Rabbi Angel frequently criticizes the attempt in certain segments of the Orthodox community to stifle legitimate diversity of opinion. One dimension of this problem is the phenomenon of self-selected “gedolim” (great rabbinic sages), who maintain that they alone possess the truth of Torah, and therefore all other opinions are invalid and irrelevant. The vitality of Judaism relies on debate and conversations. A healthy Judaism allows ideas to be debated, accepted, or rejected, but never stifled or ignored.
This problem also extends to the proper balance between local rabbis and halakhic scholars who spend their time in yeshivot. The insistence of many today that halakha must derive from sacred texts first and then applied to real-life situations undermines the ideal symbiotic relationship between local rabbis and halakhic decisors. Suddenly, halakhic experts are required not only to share their knowledge with the community rabbis, but also to decide policy for individual communities. As noted above, Rabbi Angel insists that proper halakha must begin with the human reality and then turn to the classical rabbinic texts. Community rabbis must consult halakhic experts for the range of halakhic opinion, and then take responsibility for making the proper decision for their communities.
Another harmful restriction of opinion in many Orthodox circles is the frequent suppression of Sephardic voices of the past 500 years, generally through ignorance—whether willful or not. This bizarre reality is disrespectful to the sacred customs of Sephardic communities and causes pain to Sephardic yeshiva students who often feel excluded from “Jewish” experience. However, the harm on the communal level is far greater. The plethora of complex issues facing the contemporary Jewish community, including conversion to Judaism, the tragic agunah problem (a woman who is trapped in a dead marriage because her husband refuses to grant a religious writ of divorce, a get), issues pertaining to the modern State of Israel, the role of women, family values, contemporary modesty, and so many other issues, must be addressed with the full rabbinic toolbox. By stifling dissent and diversity, by ignoring the views of many Sephardic rabbis, and by adopting very restrictive positions, the Jewish community suffers irreparable damage.
Although advocates of more extremist, isolationist, restrictive, superstitious, and fundamentalist forms of Judaism cause harm on the intellectual and communal level, there is another culprit behind the flaws of the Orthodox community. Too many rabbis and laypeople remain silent or even tacitly support the more extreme views. Those who understand the ideas and ideals of the Torah must courageously stand up and promote the ideal vision of Judaism. The community must play a vital role by supporting institutions that promote these ideals.
Rabbi Angel quotes Rabbi Benzion Uziel, who in 1919 reminded his rabbinic colleagues that humility is praiseworthy, but it must never lead to shying away from the needs of the hour. Inertia cloaked in false humility is an abdication of one’s responsibility as a leader. By writing articles with titles such as “On Torah Education and Mis-Education,” “Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism,” and “Re-Imagining Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel draws his battle lines and appeals to the broader community to recognize the importance of standing up for these ideal values.
In his essay, “Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel offers a remarkable analysis of a celebrated talmudic passage, the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b–56a). After a misunderstanding over a party invitation, Bar Kamtza was furious with the rabbis present who had remained silent at his humiliation. To retaliate, Bar Kamtza accused the Jews of rebellion to the Roman Emperor, suggesting that they would reject his sacrificial offering. The Emperor sent an offering, but Bar Kamtza made a slight blemish on the animal that would technically render the sacrifice invalid. When the rabbis discovered the blemish, most maintained that they should sacrifice the animal anyway, so as not to offend the Emperor. One rabbi named Zechariah ben Avkulas objected, since the law prohibits such a sacrifice. The rabbis then suggested killing Bar Kamtza so he could not inform on them to the Roman authorities. Again, Rabbi Zechariah objected, since Bar Kamtza had not committed a capital crime. As a consequence, Bar Kamtza returned to the Emperor, who was enraged against the Jewish community and destroyed the Temple. The story ends with a condemnation of the hardline position of Rabbi Zechariah: “Rabbi Yohanan thereupon remarked: Through the scrupulousness of Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land.”
Rabbi Angel agrees with Rabbi Yohanan, that the hardline stand of Rabbi Zechariah was a disaster. Rabbi Zechariah placed book knowledge ahead of an obvious reality, namely, the Jewish community would be in dire peril if the rabbis rejected the sacrifice from the Emperor and allowed Bar Kamtza to inform against them. Clearly, the needs of the hour required the position of the majority, to make an emergency ruling to allow the sacrifice so that they could maintain the good favor of the Roman government.
However, continues Rabbi Angel, Rabbi Zechariah is not the true villain of this narrative. The ultimate failure should be ascribed to the majority of rabbis. Why did they not overrule the hardline position of this one rabbi? Evidently, they did not want to seem less religious, less committed to the sacred texts of the Torah. They had to take a risk by applying halakha to a dire reality. The cowardly majority allowed the forceful insistence of Rabbi Zechariah to win the day—and therefore are complicit in the destruction of the Second Temple.
Rabbi Angel’s analysis thereby sets out two of his central messages. First, when hardline halakhic analysis follows book knowledge prior to evaluating a living reality, halakha can be distorted and it may cause harm to the community. Second, and in many ways more importantly, those whose judgment is sound must courageously stand up against the hardline position. When the majority of reasonable voices remain silent, voices of extremism prevail and the entire Jewish community loses.
In his essay, “Re-Imagining Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel writes that “If enough of us share these ideals; if enough of us are willing to work to promote these ideals; if we can impact on synagogues, schools, and yeshivot—then perhaps these ideals will actually be realized in our community.” Rabbi Angel is right. The rest is up to us to support and build on this foundation.
Remembering Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool
Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool was the pre-eminent Sephardic rabbi in America during the mid-twentieth century. Born in England in 1885, he died on December 1, 1970, the first week of Kislev 5731, after having served Congregation Shearith Israel in New York for a period spanning 63 years.
Dr. Pool was the quintessential Sephardic rabbi of the Western Sephardic tradition. He was eloquent and dignified, and yet friendly and approachable. He was a fine scholar and author, and was also an admirable and respected communal leader. During his impressive career, he was an ardent spokesman for Zionism; a devoted spiritual guide to American Sephardim; a foremost voice in interfaith dialogue; a historian of American Jewry; editor and translator of the Sephardic and Ashkenazic prayer books.
When I began my service to Shearith Israel in September 1969, I was still a 24 year old rabbinical student. That first Rosh Hashana, I sat next to Dr. Pool on the synagogue’s Tebah, reader’s desk, where the congregation’s clergy are seated. Dr. Pool was 83 years old, frail, and in declining health. After services on the first night of Rosh Hashana, Dr. Pool placed his hand on my head and gave me his blessing, wishing me a happy and meaningful ministry.
That was a special and sacred moment for me. When I shook Dr. Pool’s hand, I was shaking the hand of a great spiritual leader who had begun his service to Shearith Israel in 1907; he had taken over from Dr. Mendes who had begun service to Shearith Israel in 1877. I was one handshake away from 1877! And just a few more handshakes separated me from Rev. Gershom Mendes Seixas who had begun serving Shearith Israel in 1768. I felt the weight of centuries, the incredible continuity of a magnificent tradition.
I remember Dr. Pool’s aura of dignity and serenity, even in his elderly years when he was increasingly frail. He was a genuinely pious and humble man who served his community with selfless devotion.
Dr. Pool had maintained Shearith Israel’s traditions during his many years of service to the congregation. He not only followed in the footsteps of his venerable predecessors, but set the standard for his successors. Dr. Pool taught by example. He instructed his immediate successor, Dr. Louis C. Gerstein, who passed on the traditions to me. I learned that the Rabbis of Shearith Israel, as well as the Hazanim, conducted the synagogue prayer services and read the Torah with precision. The synagogue’s pulpit was reserved only for the synagogue’s rabbis. (On rare occasions, guest Orthodox rabbis were invited to preach from the pulpit.) Sermons were to be instructive and inspirational; frivolity was never allowed from the pulpit, nor was the pulpit to be used to advance a political candidate or to criticize anyone by name. The rabbi was to set an example to the congregation of proper devotion in prayer—no engaging in idle chatter or silly gestures, no reading books other than the prayer book during worship. The rabbi was to be at services punctually, not missing unless prevented by illness or a serious scheduling conflict, or unless away from town. The rabbi was to set the tone for orderliness and decorum, for neatness and respectfulness.
The rabbi was to set an example for social justice, communal activism, righteous behavior. The rabbi was to be a scholar, teacher, and pastor. The rabbi was to speak with his congregants, not at them. Dr. Pool insisted that each Jew take responsibility for his and her religious lives. In September 1922, Dr. Pool wrote to his congregation: “We do not, we cannot, all think alike, and there is no one of us that dares dogmatize for others in the realm of religion. If you expect your Rabbi vicariously to think through the problem of living for you, you will weaken and paralyze your own spiritual nature, just as surely as you will destroy your Judaism if you leave it to your Rabbi to live a Jewish life for you.”
In a sermon delivered at his grandson’s Bar Mitzvah in May 1962, Dr. Pool spoke of the need for the generations of Jews to live their Judaism actively. “We must not allow ourselves to become decrepit veterans dreaming of past victories in the struggle for holiness. We have to be something more than feeble survivors of once glorious days…Our life as Jews must be the result of something more than inertia based on the physical fact that we were born into the Jewish people….Within every one of us who is worthy of bearing the Jewish name there must be a conscious sense of a divine call to serve our fellow men for today and tomorrow…. Weaklings among us may fall away as they have done in every generation. But the true spiritual descendants of Abraham, of Moses, and of all our heroic sages and saints keep the Jewish light kindled, and hand it down from generation to generation.”
In 1966, he and his wife Tamar published a book, “Is There an Answer?” They made the following observation: “It is we ourselves who can and who must make life worth living. In the face of the harshest realities, we must cling to life and exalt it by giving to its positive values a commanding place in our consciousness. …To look constantly on the seamy side of life is false to the totality of existence. We must gratefully remember life’s goodness and blessings. We must discern what is transient in experience and what is abiding in our consciousness” (p. 23).
Dr. Pool died in December 1970, a bit over a year after I began my service to Shearith Israel. Yet, I seemed to feel his guiding hand throughout my rabbinic career. I read all his publications; I went through his sermons; I edited a collection of his sermons, addresses and writings. Throughout my many years of rabbinic service, Dr. Pool has surely been an important influence. Even now, as rabbi emeritus of Shearith Israel, I still seem to feel Dr. Pool’s hand on my head and I still seem to hear his words of blessing and encouragement. They mean as much to me now as when I first heard them at age twenty four. Perhaps even more.