National Scholar Updates

Introduction

One of the overarching goals of the Torah is to refine people’s moral character. Many laws and narratives overtly focus on morality, and many others inveigh against the immorality and amorality of paganism. The biblical prophets place consistency between observance of God’s ritual and moral laws at the very heart of their message.

Rabbi Saadyah Gaon insists that God chooses only good things to command. He rejects the position of the medieval Islamic school of Ash‘ariyya, which maintained that whatever God commands is by definition good.^[1]

Similarly, Rambam asserts that every commandment teaches justice and noble qualities, or corrects philosophical errors (Guide 3:27). Rambam cites God’s desire to have all the nations of the world perceive the moral superiority of the Torah:

Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, “Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people.” For what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is the Lord our God whenever we call upon Him? Or what great nation has laws and rules as perfect as all this Teaching that I set before you this day? (Deuteronomy 4:6–8)

Many other Jewish thinkers likewise adopt the position that the Torah promotes the highest moral values.

In recent generations, this position has been augmented with the discovery of many ancient Near Eastern laws and narratives. Leading scholars of the twentieth century demonstrated how the Torah promotes moral values vastly superior to those of the prevailing cultures of that day.^[2] Contemporary writers also have demonstrated the extent to which the Torah’s values have exerted a decisive influence on contemporary Western morality.^[3]

Contemporary readers, though, confront a troubling question. Does the Torah promote the highest morality? Several commandments appear to conflict with modern moral sentiments. Although there might not be unanimity on what contemporary moral sentiments are or should be, we can point to several areas that have attracted serious attention among traditional thinkers.

For example, the Torah permits slavery and polygamy. It permits the blood relatives of one who is killed accidentally to kill the manslayer without trial if he or she fails to reach, or subsequently leaves, a City of Refuge. The Torah commands the total eradication of the Canaanites and Amalekites. Granting that both societies were depraved and evil, and that these laws are not applicable today, God’s stark commandment to kill men, women, and children remains in the Torah. There is a clash between the Torah’s severe prohibition of homosexual relations and the sentiments of many people today. While the sacrificial order of the Temple raises different issues, it also is difficult for many in the modern era to fathom.

Over the past two centuries, Jewish thinkers have engaged in a thoughtful conversation about these and related issues. Some of these discussions have roots in ancient and medieval thought, but these questions have received far more attention in the modern era, driven at least in part by humanistic values.

Rabbi Yaakov Medan, one of the Roshei Yeshiva at Yeshivat Har Etzion, rejects the dangerous fundamentalist approach that we must blindly draw our morality from Tanakh without further inquiry. He also rejects the position of Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1903–1994), who insisted that there is no connection between God and morality, and that Jews simply must obey God’s laws. Rabbi Medan states that there are two basic approaches for those who believe that the divinely revealed Torah is moral: (1) Apologetics, reconciling what we see in the text with our moral sentiments. This approach is dishonest, as it imposes the will of the reader onto the text. (2) Attempting to understand God’s word on its own terms, while simultaneously retaining our own moral sense. God is beyond our comprehension, but we never stop struggling with these complex moral issues.^[4]

In this essay, I adopt the latter view of Rabbi Medan. Although it is impossible to be objective, it appears that the evidence supports the notion of an evolutionary morality regarding certain tolerated practices. At the same time, the Torah’s mandatory commandments may reflect realities of its ancient setting, but remain eternally binding as God’s word. In the latter case, there is room for evolving interpretations of the law.

Ancient and Medieval Precedents

Talmud

            The Torah gives laws pertaining to a “beautiful captive” (yefat to’ar) taken in battle (Deuteronomy 21:10–14). Commentators debate the plain meaning of the biblical text. Some maintain that an Israelite soldier may have one-time sexual relations with her immediately at wartime (Rambam, Hilkhot Melakhim 8:2–7, Abarbanel), while others insist that the soldier first must wait 30 days and then decide if he still wants to marry her (Ibn Ezra, Ramban). The Talmud supports the former view, and therefore the one-time sexual union with the captive is permissible in halakhah. Why would God allow this act, instead of prohibiting it outright? The Talmud answers:

With respect to the first intercourse there is universal agreement that it is permitted, since the Torah only provided for man’s evil passions. (Kiddushin 21b)

In this approach, God would have outlawed this sexual union, but knew that many ancient soldiers would violate the prohibition. Therefore, God chose the lesser of the two evils and permitted but discouraged the act by focusing on the humanity and humiliation of the captive. God thus legislated for a flawed human reality, provided a realistic law and circumscribed it, and simultaneously taught the ideal value and mode of conduct, that no soldier ever should perform this act.

Rambam

Rambam maintains that God revealed many laws to wean the Israelites away from pagan culture to the service of God (Guide 3:29). Having spent so long in pagan Egypt, the Israelites had a strong predilection to offer animal sacrifices. God recognized this propensity and therefore instituted animal sacrifices. God further prescribed specific boundaries for this form of worship by insisting that animals could be sacrificed only in authorized shrines such as the Tabernacle or later the Temple. Prayer and contemplation, which are higher forms of serving God, thereby were encouraged as substitutes for animal sacrifices (Guide 3:32).

Ramban (on Leviticus 1:9) attacks Rambam on this assertion: “Behold, these words are worthless; they make a big breach, raise big questions, and pollute the table of God.” He maintains that the Temple, sacrifices, and related laws are ideal means of communing with God, and not concessions to the ancient Israelites’ historical setting. ^[5]

In addition, Rambam’s view raised the fundamental question: Now that we have become more sophisticated, what would be the relevance of these ritual commandments in our times? Living in the nineteenth century, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch lamented the terrible misapplication of Rambam’s thought among assimilating German Jews. Many were using Rambam’s logic in the Guide as precedent for abandoning other ritual commandments as well.^[6] Rambam himself was concerned with the possibility of the masses’ losing respect for many commandments if their reasons were revealed (Guide 3:26).^[7]

Elsewhere in his writings, Rambam stresses the value of animal sacrifices, considering them among the commandments that we cannot fully understand (Hebrew hukkim, Hilkhot Me’ilah 8:8). He maintains that in the messianic future, sacrifices will be restored with the rebuilding of the Temple (Hilkhot Melakhim 11:1). More broadly, Rambam maintains that all of the Torah’s commandments are eternal, including into the messianic era (ninth principle of faith; cf. Guide 2:39; 3:34).^[8] Rambam’s placing sacrifices in their historical setting, then, never renders them obsolete as laws.

To summarize, the Talmud discusses an instance where the Torah tolerates behavior as a concession to human weakness. Instead of outlawing the undesirable behavior, it circumscribes the action and makes it clear that one ideally should not do it at all. In Rambam’s explanation of the rationale behind the Temple and sacrifices, the eternal observance of the commandments is absolute regardless of the time-bound aspect of the Torah responding to its ancient pagan setting. God developed an evolutionary educational program to teach Israel certain religious ideals over time.

Regarding conventions that the Torah permits, one may pit the Torah’s ideal values against ancient social reality and explain that the Torah created an evolutionary program with the goal of eliminating certain practices that were too difficult to abolish at the time of God’s revelation of the Torah to Moses. With mandatory commandments, we may change our interpretations, but not the commandments themselves.

We now turn to a few examples where modern thinkers interpret certain tolerated practices of the Torah as parts of the Torah’s evolutionary educational program for Israel and for humanity.

Less-than-Ideal Actions Tolerated by the Torah

Polygamy

            The Torah permits polygamy; yet one may argue that this permission was a concession to ancient reality and is distant from the Torah’s ideal of monogamous relationships.

            The Torah introduces the concept of a loving monogamous marriage at the very beginning of human existence:

And the Lord God fashioned the rib that He had taken from the man into a woman; and He brought her to the man. Then the man said, “This one at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. This one shall be called Woman, for from man was she taken.” Hence a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, so that they become one flesh. (Genesis 2:22–24)

Biblical narratives that involve polygamy such as Abraham-Sarah-Hagar, Jacob-Rachel-Leah, and Elkanah-Hannah-Peninah invariably yield tension in the household. Tellingly, the biblical word for wife-in-law is tzarah, tormentor (I Samuel 1:6; Leviticus 18:18).

            Given the Torah’s ideal portrayal of a monogamous marriage in Eden, its negative portrayal of polygamy, and the fact that there is no mandatory commandment for a man to marry more than one wife, we may consider polygamy an institution that the Torah tolerated as a concession to ancient reality. A monogamous society is the Torah’s ideal from its inception. The Torah set out its ideal values so that one day, they could be realized and polygamy would be abolished.

Blood Vengeance

            The Torah permits a close relative to kill an accidental manslayer without trial. The manslayer must escape to the City of Refuge and remain inside that city for safety (Numbers 35:9–34; Deuteronomy 19:1–13).

            The nineteenth-century commentator, Rabbi Samuel David Luzzatto (Shadal on Numbers 35:12) asks: Why does the Torah not simply outlaw vigilante justice and leave the matter to the courts? He suggests that the Torah presents a weaning process. In the ancient world, people would have felt like they did not love their deceased relative if they would refrain from killing the accidental manslayer. Many therefore would violate the Torah and kill the manslayer anyway. Acknowledging that reality, the Torah circumscribes blood vengeance by protecting the accidental manslayer and emphasizing his or her innocent blood. Ideally, the relatives should not engage in blood vengeance.

            Professor Nehama Leibowitz (1905–1997) agrees with Shadal, and adds that the Torah succeeded in its evolutionary educational program. The talmudic Sages refer to going to the Cities of Refuge as “exile” (Mishnah Makkot 2:1), replacing the Torah’s usage of the term “to flee” (Exodus 21:13; Numbers 35:15; Deuteronomy 19:5). Professor Leibowitz suggests that this change in terminology stems from the fact that the Torah eradicated the urge for blood vengeance. No longer did accidental manslayers “flee” the blood relatives out of fear being killed, but instead went into “exile” as a consequence of the Torah’s legislation.^[9]

Slavery

            The Torah’s legislation regarding slavery is vastly more humane than any other form of slavery in the ancient world.^[10] And yet, why does the Torah permit slavery at all? Several contemporary rabbinic thinkers, including Rabbis Norman Lamm and Nahum Rabinovitch, discuss this phenomenon and reach similar conclusions.^[11] The following is a brief amalgam of their views.

            The ultimate goal of the Torah is for humanity to realize that slavery is wrong, and should be abolished. From Creation, the Torah teaches that all people are equal. All people derive from the same ancestry, and are created in God’s image. However, humanity went astray. Men subjugated one another and distinguished between slaves and masters. When God revealed the Torah to Moses, the world economy depended on slavery, so the Torah could not realistically outlaw slavery. Rather, it taught society to advance step by step, until the goal of the elimination of slavery could be fully achieved. 

            Many laws remind Israel to care for the downtrodden of society, since the Israelites were slaves in Egypt. Shabbat gives a taste of the ideal world, where slaves rest also. While tolerating slavery, the Torah revolutionized the institution. It set a floor that prevented descent to the vile abuses practiced by other nations. Its ultimate goal is that over time, people should question why we have slaves at all. The abolition of slavery in most of the world today is a realization of the ideals taught by the Torah.

            To summarize, God responded to a flawed human reality by revealing laws that outlawed many ancient practices immediately, while tolerating and modifying/restricting other undesirable practices with the goal of eliminating them over time. In an ideal world, God would not have permitted soldiers to take beautiful captives, polygamy, blood vengeance, or slavery. God tolerated these practices as concessions to ancient reality, and simultaneously taught ideal morality so that Israel and humanity could evolve and abolish these practices over time. The fact that many people today consider these practices morally unacceptable is a tribute to the success of the Torah’s long term educational vision of ideal divine law.

Conflicts between Mandatory Commandments and Contemporary Moral Sentiments

Sacrifices and Other Temple Rituals

            As discussed above, Rambam viewed the Temple and its sacrifices as a necessary aspect of God’s evolutionary approach to reaching the ideal society. Ancient Israelites were unable to receive a religious system devoid of a Temple and its sacrificial rites. Yet, Rambam also wrote that the Temple will be rebuilt and sacrifices restored in the messianic era (Hilkhot Melakhim 11:1). This position is no different from Rambam’s suggestion that the prohibition of cooking a kid in its mother’s milk also served to wean Israel away from pagan practices (Guide 3:48), yet those laws are fully applicable for all time.

            Beyond Rambam’s general view on the eternality of the Torah’s commandments, Professor Menachem Kellner offers additional reasons why the restoration of sacrifices is critical for Rambam’s position on the messianic era. Rambam’s messianism is non-supernatural, and idolatry is an ever-present threat even in the messianic era. Therefore, sacrifices are necessary to continue to wean humanity away from the immorality and foolishness of paganism. Additionally, the messianic era is restorative, returning all institutions from the time of David and Solomon to their former glory. The reinstitution of the Temple, sacrifices, and the Sabbatical and Jubilee years are central to that vision.^[12]

            Professor Micah Goodman adds that Rambam maintains that Abraham’s religion without commandments failed to preserve his philosophical monotheism for the long term among his descendants (Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim 1:1–3). Absent rituals, God’s ideal religious values cannot endure in society. Rituals that uphold group identity and reinforce its core principles are required for long-term survival and religious flourishing (cf. Guide 2:31).^[13]

            Despite what appears to be Rambam’s position, some extend Rambam’s approach and conclude that there will not be sacrifice in the messianic future. One contemporary thinker who has expressed his struggle from different perspectives is Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo. In one article, he concludes that were God to reveal the Torah today, it would not include laws of slavery or sacrifices:

[N]ot only would the laws concerning sacrifices and slavery be totally abolished once the people outgrew the need for them, but they would actually not have appeared in the biblical text had it been revealed at a much later stage in Jewish history.^[14]

Rabbi Cardozo makes no distinction between the Torah’s toleration of slavery, which is not commanded; and sacrifices, which are mandatory commandments. He does not address Rambam’s other writings that insist on the eternality of all of the Torah’s commandments or that the sacrificial order will be restored in the messianic era. Rabbi Cardozo’s leap from tolerated practices to mandatory commandments appears to go beyond the evidence in the Torah and in Rambam’s writings.

            In a different essay,^[15] Rabbi Cardozo restates his position that the Torah contains concessions to human weakness, and sets out an evolutionary road toward higher forms of worship. What of Rambam’s ruling that the sacrifices will be restored in the messianic era? Rabbi Cardozo submits, “I believe he thus expresses his doubt that the ought-to-be of Judaism will ever become a reality in this world.”^[16] This position resonates with the view of Professor Kellner stated above, that Rambam maintains that the idolatrous urge will remain even in the messianic era so sacrifices will be necessary to counter that urge.

            To summarize, Rambam maintains that the laws of the Torah are eternal, and that the Temple and sacrifices will be restored in the messianic future. The law remains unchanged, but the religious meaning one ascribes to the commandments can change. When the messianic era arrives, we will be in a better position to judge what actually will happen.^[17]

Homosexuality

            A similar approach can apply to the Torah’s unequivocal prohibition against male homosexual relations. The prohibition is unchangeable, but there has been a meaningful evolution within rabbinic responses in certain sectors of the contemporary Orthodox community. While there remains a wide range of opinion and approach within the Orthodox rabbinate and community, it is encouraging to see these more inclusive positions.^[18]

War Against Canaan

            Granting that the Canaanites and Amalekites were depraved and evil, the Torah’s command to exterminate their populations, men, women, and children, remains stark. A full discussion of this issue goes beyond the parameters of this essay. It is noteworthy that of our medieval commentators, only Rabbenu Bahya (14th century) raised the moral question of the Torah’s command to kill even the children. His answers likely would not satisfy modern sentiments: It was a divine decree; once God decrees their doom they are considered as dead; they no doubt will grow up to be like their parents. Like amputating a limb to save the body, the elimination of Canaanites and Amalekites was good for humanity.^[19]

It is not until the 20th century that rabbinic thinkers began to address this moral question more systematically.^[20]  Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (1865–1935) maintains that this commandment was restricted to the biblical period, and reflects ancient conventions of warfare. If Israel did not eliminate the Canaanites and Amalekites, they would regroup and attack Israel. The only way to stop enemies in an immoral world is to subdue them completely. As the moral expectations of the world regarding war improve, Israel must follow the highest moral standards and not apply the rules of the war against Canaanites and Amalekites (Iggerot HaRei’ah 1:89).

Rabbi Kook thus understands the parameters of the Torah’s commandment as God’s concession to the moral limitations and reality of the ancient world. The Oral Law enables later generations to improve moral standards, rather than remaining fixated on the ancient standards of war and applying them in later periods.^[21]

Rambam vs. Abarbanel on Monarchy

We have discussed the distinction between less-than-ideal non-mandatory practices that the Torah tolerated versus commandments where interpretations change while the law is eternal. One debate that proves this rule is the disagreement between Rambam and Abarbanel regarding monarchy (Deuteronomy 17:14–20).

Rambam considers monarchy to be a positive commandment (Hilkhot Melakhim 1:1–2). Abarbanel rejects Rambam’s view based on several textual considerations and maintains that although monarchy is permitted if requested, it is viewed negatively by the Torah. Abarbanel likens monarchy to the laws of the “beautiful captive” (Deuteronomy 21:10–14) where the Torah tolerates certain less-than-ideal actions to forestall worse eventualities. He invokes the talmudic principle discussed earlier in this essay, “the Torah states this in consideration of the evil inclination” (Kiddushin 21b).^[22]

Monarchy reflected the prevalent form of government in Israel’s ancient setting. The Torah and the people in Samuel’s time explicitly state that Israel wanted a king “as do all the nations” (Deuteronomy 17:14; I Samuel 8:5). For Rambam, however, the Torah commands this form of government so it transcends that ancient setting and is mandatory whenever it is politically feasible. For Abarbanel, monarchy is a tolerated negative practice until such time as people develop alternative forms of government.^[23]

Conclusion

            The prophets and ancient and medieval rabbinic thinkers recognized the centrality of ethics in the Torah’s vision and law. In the modern era, many traditional thinkers perceived a growing gap between the morality of some of the Torah’s laws and the ideal morals of Western humanism.

            The talmudic analysis of the beautiful captive (Kiddushin 21b) provides the precedent for later thinkers to conclude that certain elements in the Torah tolerate a less-than-ideal reality as a concession to ancient mores. Rambam’s discussion of the Temple and sacrifices provides the precedent for later thinkers to distinguish between practices that the Torah tolerates as a concession, while simultaneously providing its ideal vision so that over time the Jewish people and all humanity can move closer to the ideal morality of the Torah.

            For matters that the Torah tolerates but does not command, such as polygamy, blood vengeance, and slavery, one may ascertain a gap between the Torah’s tolerance and its ideal to abolish these practices. For mandatory commandments, such as a Temple and sacrifices and the prohibition against male homosexual relations, the laws are eternal but there remains room for different interpretations of these commandments so that our attitudes and religious-moral experience can evolve with time.

            This essay outlines several areas that have drawn the attention of modern thinkers. These discussions are a healthy and vital aspect of our relationship with God and our desire to live in accordance with the Torah’s ideal moral values.

            The world has a long way to go to realize the messianic ideal. We pray for a growing embodiment of the Torah’s ideals: A loving faithful marriage as the central bond for raising a family and transmitting religious values; a universal commitment to law and justice; a realization that all human beings are created in God’s image, with no racism, sexism, or other forms of discrimination; a universal desire to connect to God through living a life of holiness; and a world where all evil is eliminated, and humanity serves God and lives ideal moral lives.

Notes

Judaism seeks to bring us closer to God through proper thought and deed. Superstition seeks to circumvent God's power through the use of magical formulae or rituals. While Judaism demands intellectual and moral excellence and a direct relationship with God, superstition provides purported means of bypassing or manipulating God in order to ward off evil or to achieve some other desired goal.

Since religion and superstition ultimately transcend the domain of human reason, it is possible to blur the lines between the two. The Torah is emphatic in commanding that we not turn to shamans or wonderworkers, but that we stay focused on our personal relationship with God. "There shall not be found among you anyone... who uses divination, a soothsayer, or an enchanter, or a sorcerer, or a charmer, or one who consults a ghost or a familiar spirit, or a necromancer. For whoever does these things is an abomination unto the Lord" (Devarim 18:10-12).

Rambam clarifies the boundaries between religion and superstition in his discussion about using incantations to heal a wound:

Anyone who whispers a charm over a wound and reads a verse from the Torah, or one who recites a biblical verse over a child lest he be terrified, or one who places a Torah scroll or tefillin over an infant to enable him to sleep, are not only included in the category of sorcerers and charmers, but are included among those who repudiate the Torah. They use the words of the Torah as a physical cure, whereas they are exclusively a cure for the soul, as it is written, ‘they will be life to your soul.' On the other hand, one who is enjoying good health is permitted to recite biblical verses, or a psalm, that he may be shielded and saved from affliction and damage by virtue of the reading. (Hilkhot Avoda Zara, 11:12)

What are the characteristics of those individuals who "repudiate the Torah"? 1) They treat biblical verses as though they are magic formulae that can effect a cure. 2) They use religious objects e.g. Torah scroll, tefillin, as though they are endowed with independent magical powers. 3) They resort to incantations and magical rituals, rather than turning directly to God. In short, they behave superstitiously, rather than religiously.

If we were to confront these individuals, though, they would be surprised to be placed in the category of those who "repudiate the Torah". They might well think of themselves as being pious, Torah-true Jews. After all, they have not gone to soothsayers or diviners for help; they have recited the holy words of the Bible and have used religious items of our own Jewish tradition. Wherein have they sinned? The Rambam would answer: even if a person employs Torah words and symbols, he/she may yet be guilty of sinful behavior. To use the Torah's words and symbols in a superstitious way is also superstition! Indeed, such behavior repudiates the Torah's express teaching that we turn directly to God and that we not engage in magical practices.

The Rambam notes that if a healthy person chants biblical verses in the hope that the merit of this mitzvah will invite God's protection, this is still on the correct side of the line separating religion from superstition. The person is not attributing intrinsic supernatural power to the biblical verses; rather, he is directing his thoughts to God Himself, and hopes that the merit of his biblical readings will engender God's protection. Although this may not be an example of religion at its best, it is permissible-and not in the category of repudiating the Torah.

In the laws of Mezuzah (5:4), Rambam cites another case in which he distinguishes between religious and superstitious behavior.

There is a widespread custom to write the word Shaddai on the outer side of the Mezuzah, opposite the blank space between the two sections. Since it is written on the outside, there is no harm done. On the other hand, those who write inside the Mezuzah names of angels or names of saintly men, some biblical verse or some charms, are included among those who have no share in the world to come. Those fools not only fail to fulfill the commandment but they treat an important precept, which conveys God's Oneness as well as the love and worship of Him, as if it were an amulet to benefit themselves, since they foolishly believe that the Mezuzah is something advantageous for the vain pleasures of this world.

Here, too, the Rambam chastises those who treat a religious object as though it were a magical charm. People are included among "those who have no share in the world to come" even if they themselves may think they are acting piously. Rambam makes it clear that superstitious behavior-even if cloaked in traditional religious symbols-is a serious transgression of the Torah's teachings.

What leads people to superstitious behavior? Why doesn't everyone realize the foolishness of employing magical incantations and rites? Why would people rely on superstitious behavior rather than turning directly to God with their prayers?

Here are a few reasons:

True religion demands a lot from us. Superstition demands very little. True religion requires that we confront God directly. Superstition offers short cuts, ways to bypass that awe-inspiring confrontation with God.
Superstitious practices have been sanctioned by generations of people who seem to have religious credibility. If these great ones believed in demons and made amulets, then these things must be permissible (in spite of the Rambam's rulings).
When people are afraid and desperate, they may suspend their reason in order to adopt superstitious practices-"just in case" these might be efficacious. Why take chances by not trying everything?
A great challenge for religious leadership is to wean people from superstitious tendencies and bring them closer to God. People need to be reminded to use their reason, rather than to surrender to a mindless supernaturalism. The Torah itself was well aware of the human weakness of turning to diviners and magicians-and the Torah strictly forbade such practices that obstruct a direct relationship with God. Religion teaches responsibility, careful thinking, and reliance on God. Superstition promotes avoidance of personal responsibility, suspension of rational thinking, and reliance on supernatural forces other than God.

There are pressures within contemporary Orthodox Jewish life that foster a superstitious, rather than a true religious, view of Judaism. On the surface, these negative factors appear in the garb of religious words and symbols; yet, just as in the misuse of Torah scrolls, tefillin and mezuzot cited in the passages from Rambam earlier, these tendencies reflect the unfortunate and misguided features of superstition. That these behaviors pass themselves off as being authentic Orthodox Judaism should be a source of concern and anguish to all thinking Orthodox Jews.

Examples:

1. I (along with many others) periodically receive a brochure from an organization that provides charity to needy individuals and families. The brochure includes abundant pictures of saintly-looking men with long white beards, engaged in Torah study and prayer, and signing their names on behalf of this charity. The brochure promises us that "the Gedolei Hador are the official members of the organization." One of the Gedolei Hador is quoted to say: "All who contribute to [this charity] merit to see open miracles." We are asked to contribute to this cause so that the Gedolei Hador will pray on our behalf. We even are given choices of what merit we would like to receive from these prayers: to have nahat from our children; to have children; to find a worthy mate; to earn an easy livelihood. "Urgent requests are immediately forwarded to the home of the Gedolei Hador." If we are willing to contribute so much per name, we are guaranteed that a minyan of outstanding talmidei hakhamim will pray for us at the Kotel. If we contribute a lesser amount, we only will have the prayer recited by one outstanding talmid hakham. We are also told that we can write our request as a kvitel and it will be placed in the Kotel for forty days; we can even transmit our prayer requests by telephone hotline, after we have made a contribution via credit card.

This charity purports not only to be Torah-true, but to have the involvement and backing of the Gedolei Hador. Anyone looking at the brochure would see this as an Orthodox Jewish charity operated by highly religious individuals.

Let us grant that this is indeed a worthy charity that provides assistance to needy Jews. Let us grant that the people who operate this charity see themselves as pious Jews of the highest caliber, literally linked to the Gedolei Hador. Yet, the brochure is not an example of true religion at all, but of something far more akin to superstition.

Is it appropriate for a Gadol Hador to assure contributors that they will be worthy of open miracles? Can anyone rightfully speak on behalf of the Almighty's decisions relating to doing open miracles? Doesn't this statement reflect a belief that prayers uttered by so-called sages (similar to incantations uttered by shamans?!) can control God's actions, even to the extent of making Him do miracles?

Moreover, why should people be made to feel that they are not qualified to pray to God directly? Why should "religious leaders" promote the notion that if people will pay money, some pious individual will recite a prayer at the Kotel-and that the prayer uttered by such an individual at the Kotel is more efficacious than one's own prayers? How tasteless and contrary to religious values is the notion that a minyan of outstanding talmidei hakhamim will pray if you pay enough; but only one will pray for you if you choose to contribute less than the recommended sum?

In this brochure, dressed as it is in the garb of Torah-true religion, we have a blatant example of superstition-tainted Judaism. The leaders of this organization assume: 1) Gedolei Hador (we are not told who decides who is a Gadol Hador, nor why any Gadol Hador would want to run to the Kotel to pray every time a donor called in an "urgent request") have greater powers to pray than anyone else. 2) A Gadol Hador can promise us open miracles if we send in a donation. 3) A prayer uttered at the holy site of the Kotel has more value than a prayer uttered elsewhere i.e. the Kotel is treated as a sacred, magical entity. 4) A kvitel placed in a crevice in the Kotel has religious value and efficacy. This brochure relies on the public's gullible belief in the supernatural powers of Gedolei Hador and the Kotel.

Lest one think this charity is the only Orthodox Jewish group that promotes a superstitious (rather than truly religious) viewpoint, one may do a google search and find others who do pretty much the same thing. The Wailing Wall Kvitel Service advertises that it will deliver your personal prayers or requests to the Lord "even if you cannot travel to the holy land to visit Jerusalem in person." We are assured that once this Service receives our kvitel and donation, the kvitel will be placed between the stones of the Kotel and "you will receive a postcard from the wailing wall."

Nor is this behavior restricted to the "hareidi" sector of Orthodoxy. One website informs us that Jews and non-Jews have long had the practice of writing their private thoughts and prayers and having them inserted into the cracks of the Kotel "in the firm belief that at this holiest of locales God is always present and listening." (Doesn't Judaism believe that God is always present and listening everywhere?) The sponsors of this website which promises to insert the kvitels "on a same day basis", have also arranged with a kollel in Jerusalem to have Tehillim recited for the ill or to have Torah studied in someone's memory. This program is staffed by volunteers of the Orthodox Union, a mainstream Orthodox organization!

The Jewish Press of March 19, 2008 reported on the trip to Israel by Senator John McCain who traveled with Senator Joe Lieberman. The article included a photograph of Senator McCain placing a kvitel in the Kotel! He obviously was told that this was the "religiously correct" thing to do, bringing this practice to another level of public acceptance. Senator Barack Obama, on his recent trip to Israel, also placed a kvitel in the Kotel, also having been advised that this was the proper thing to do.

The Jerusalem Post (April 15, 2008) ran a news item reporting that the Rabbi of the Kotel and his assistants clean out the kvitels from the Kotel twice a year, before Pessah and Rosh HaShanah. They do so in order to make room for the millions of kvitels that come in from all over the world, from Jews and non-Jews. The kvitels are put into plastic-lined bins and then brought to the Mount of Olives cemetery for burial. The custom of the kvitels is raised to a level of holiness.

Certainly, those who write kvitels do so with a sense of piety, with a sincere desire to get their prayers to God. Yet, shouldn't religious leaders be telling people that they ought to bring their prayers to God-by praying directly to Him. There is no need whatever to write out prayers for deposit in the Kotel. On the contrary, this practice smacks of superstition, relying on magical powers that are attributed to the Kotel rather than on direct prayer to God.

Defenders of the kvitel practice will argue: this is an age-old custom, approved or tolerated by great sages; this is a harmless custom that doesn't hurt anyone; this is a way for people to feel that their words will have a better chance of reaching God. In response, we can say that there are various beliefs and practices that were approved or tolerated by great sages in the past-but that are more akin to superstition than religion e.g. belief in demons (sheidim and mazikim), writing and wearing magical amulets, conducting ceremonies to ward off evil spirits etc. The fact that great people believed or did these things does not make these things correct. The Rambam condemned those who used Torah scrolls, tefillin or mezuzot as magic charms-and I would assume that there were rabbis before (and after) his time who approved or tolerated these practices. The Rambam attempted to make people see the difference between religion and superstition; unfortunately, not everyone wanted to accept this distinction, but preferred to remain attached to superstitious beliefs and practices.

Superstitious practices do cause harm. According to Rambam, severe punishments (including loss of one's portion in the world to come!) are meted out to those who engage in superstitious rites. Moreover, a superstitious approach to Judaism undermines its intellectual and rational foundations, treating it more as a cult than a religion. This is a vast disservice to Judaism, and turns intelligent and reasonable people away from Torah.

People may feel that superstitious behavior is a way to gain supernatural results-but this feeling is repudiated by the Torah. Rabbis and teachers need to remind the community that one need not-and should not-seek superstitious means of controlling or appeasing God. Rather, people should be reminded of their right and responsibility to pray directly to God on their own, without needing to resort to the supposed powers of holy men, holy objects, holy places.

2. Another example of the fostering of superstition over religion relates to the recitation of the mourner's kaddish. The kaddish is a beautiful prayer, glorifying God's greatness and redemptive power. The text of the kaddish is ancient, and originally was recited as a prayer following a Torah study session (Sotah 49a). It seems to have been adopted as a mourner's prayer only in the 13th century, and became a widespread practice throughout the Jewish world with the passage of time.

Certainly, the kaddish has become imbued with deep emotion and religious feeling among mourners. It is meritorious for a mourner to chant this prayer, as a means of showing respect for the memory of a loved one and even as a way to add merit to the soul of the deceased.

Yet, it must be remembered that the kaddish is a prayer, not a magical incantation. A member of my Congregation, originally from Israel, recently returned to Israel for the burial of his father and for the Shiva period. A rabbi of the Hevra Kaddisha there informed him that he was obligated to say kaddish each day in order to get his father into heaven. If the mourner was not sure he could say kaddish each day, he should pay the Hevra Kaddisha a certain sum, and they would guarantee a daily recital of kaddish-thereby insuring the father's acceptance into heaven.

My congregant called me to ascertain whether the rabbi of the Hevra Kaddisha was giving him correct information. The answer: it is virtuous to recite the kaddish, and it is virtuous to give charity. When a mourner does virtuous deeds in memory of a deceased loved one, this is a tribute to the deceased. In some spiritual sense, the righteous deeds of the mourners may bring repose to the soul of the loved one. Moreover, the recitation of kaddish helps the mourner cope more meaningfully with the loss of a loved one.

However, it is not correct to treat the kaddish as a magic formula. Until the 13th century, kaddish was not recited for deceased loved ones-and yet surely God did not deprive them of their eternal reward. Also, God is the One who alone deals with the souls of the departed, and He surely judges people fairly. It would be ludicrous to think that God withholds justice depending on whether a mourner recites kaddish or not.

For many Jews, including pious Orthodox Jews, kaddish is treated as though it is a magic incantation rather than a prayer glorifying God's greatness. People go to extraordinary lengths to recite the kaddish in a minyan. In itself, this is a virtue. Yet, if they do so because they believe the kaddish is a magic formula to gain entry to heaven for the deceased, then the practice obviously passes into the domain of superstition.

3. Another indication of superstitious trends in Jewish life is the tendency to rely on "good luck" charms e.g. red string tied around the wrist; food or drink blessed by certain kabbalistic sages. I have known cases of otherwise rational people who have turned to "wonder workers" for help in saving a mortally ill loved one. Medical doctors have been unable to save the patient; out of desperation, relatives have asked for "spiritual" cures. In one case, a "saintly" rabbi was flown in from Israel to pray at the bedside of a dying child. (The child unfortunately died.) In another case, a "saintly" rabbi received a contribution after which he sent to a sick patient a bottle of Arak that he had blessed. (That patient also died.) It happens sometimes that people recover from their illnesses. When they do, they are ready to swear that the cure was the result of intervention by the saintly person who prayed for them or sent them holy things to eat or drink. This gives further fuel for desperately ill people to turn to magic workers for help; after all, it might do some good!

Although we can understand-and even sympathize-with this attitude, we must also state clearly that it represents a turn away from true religion and a turn toward superstition. As such, we should be teaching people to avoid falling into this way of thought and behavior. We should be urging people not to rely on red strings, or amulets, or foods/drinks blessed by "saintly" people: rather, they should turn their hearts and minds and souls entirely to God.

Rambam: Judaism and Reason

Rambam stressed the need for human beings to use their power of reason. Superstition is the antithesis of reason, and therefore a false path to truth. While philosophers surely understand this, what are we supposed to do with the masses who are more prone to fall into the ways of superstition? The answer is: we must teach the masses a philosophically sound and rational approach to religion. We must encourage people to use their powers of reason.

Rambam disdained those who were content to espouse truth on the basis of blind faith, without attempting to establish the intellectual foundations of truth. People who do not use their reason are deficient even in their faith; they are prone to superstition and are gullible to the pronouncements of charismatic (even if misguided) authority figures.

Rambam pointed out that there are things accepted as truth-which are not in fact true. Human reason is necessary as a constant and reliable agent to challenge, verify or reject long-held "truths". Just because a great authority taught something does not ensure that it is true. Indeed, truth stands on its own merit, not on the basis of the opinions of human beings.

For when something has been demonstrated, the correctness of the matter is not increased and certainty regarding it is not strengthened by the consensus of all men of knowledge with regard to it. Nor could its correctness be diminished and certainty regarding it be weakened even if all the people on earth disagreed with it.(Guide, II:13)

In his Mishneh Torah (Laws of Sanctification of the New Moon, 17:24), Rambam states that many books on astronomy and mathematics were composed by Greek sages. Similar works by ancient Jewish sages of the tribe of Issachar have not come down to us.

Since all these rules have been established by sound and clear proofs, free from any flaw and irrefutable, we need not be concerned about the identity of their authors, whether they be Hebrew Prophets or Gentile sages. For when we have to do with rules and propositions which have been demonstrated by good reasons and have been verified to be true by sound and flawless proofs, we rely upon the author who has discovered them or transmitted them only because of his demonstrated proofs and verified reasoning.

Intelligent people need to distinguish between what is true and what is spurious. Surely, we may rely on the wisdom of the prophets and rabbinic sages, just as we rely on the advice of skilled physicians or experts in other fields. Yet, even when receiving advice from these authorities, we should not suspend personal judgment altogether. In his Epistle to Yemen, Rambam warns:

Do not consider a statement true because you find it in a book, for the prevaricator is as little restrained with his pen as with his tongue. For the untutored and uninstructed are convinced of the veracity of a statement by the mere fact that it is written; nevertheless its accuracy must be demonstrated in another manner.[1]

Just because "authorities" and "scholars" have claimed something to be true does not make it true. Rambam, in his Letter on Astrology, remarks that "fools have composed thousands of books of nothingness and emptiness".[2] Men "great in years but not in wisdom" wasted much time studying these worthless books and came to think of themselves as experts. They taught nonsense to the public, imagining that they were conveying truth. Unsuspecting people believed these "experts" because they seemed to be erudite and convincing.

Rambam explains that we should only accept something as reliably true if it belongs to one of three categories. 1) It is proven clearly by human reasoning such as arithmetic, geometry and astronomy. 2) It is perceived with certainty through one of the five senses. 3) It is received from the prophets or the righteous. In considering whether or not something is true, we must determine through which category we have derived its truthfulness. If we cannot verify something through one of these three categories, we cannot accept it as being true.

A dilemma arises. Rambam categorically rejects the validity of astrology, considering it a foolish superstition rather than a bona fide science. Yet, the Talmud and Midrashim record the opinions of righteous sages who themselves seemed to ascribe veracity to astrology! Thus, by Rambam's own standards of determining truth, shouldn't we believe in astrology since we have received this belief from the righteous? Rambam resolves this seeming problem:

It is not proper to abandon matters of reason that have already been verified by proofs, shake loose of them, and depend on the words of a single one of the sages from whom possibly the matter was hidden. Or there may be an allusion in those words; or they may have been said with a view to the times and the business before him. You surely know how many of the verses of the holy Torah are not to be taken literally. Since it is known through proofs of reason that it is impossible for the thing to be literally so, the Targum [Aramaic translator of the Torah] rendered it in a form that reason will abide. A man should never cast his reason behind him, for the eyes are set in front, not in back.[3]

Once we have verified the truth of something on the basis of reason, we should not accept the literal meaning of texts that contradict this verified truth. If a sage has made a statement that violates a proven truth, then either 1) he was mistaken; 2) he was speaking in allegorical or poetic language, not to be taken literally; 3) he was speaking within the context of his time and place. If the Torah itself-which is Truth-records something that contradicts verified truth, then the Torah must be interpreted to conform to this established truth. For Rambam, it is axiomatic that the Torah of Truth cannot teach something that violates rational truth.

Rambam argued that reason was the best antidote to falling into a superstitious mindset. With all the risks of allowing people to use their reason, he thought it was essential to put religion on a philosophically sound basis. It was religiously and intellectually wrong to foster a fundamentalist, obscurantist, literalist view of religion that ascribed irrational teachings to the Bible and our Sages. If it is dangerous to rely on reason, it is even more dangerous to violate reason.

Conclusion:

There are strong tendencies in our day (evident in other religions, as well as Judaism) that foster authoritarianism, obscurantism, and fundamentalism. These tendencies promote uncritical thinking, surrender of autonomy, and reliance on holy "authorities". These are ingredients that make for a superstitious worldview rather than a truly religious worldview.

Rambam's insistence on our use of reason is of vital importance to all who would like to reclaim a philosophically-sound Judaism. Rambam teaches us to separate between true religion and superstition; between direct confrontation with God and spurious use of magical charms and incantations; between proper teachers of Torah and counterfeit "sages" who play on human weakness and ignorance.

It is a central challenge of modern Orthodoxy to foster an intellectually meaningful Judaism; to combat tendencies toward superstitious belief and action; to encourage individual responsibility and direct relationship with God. It is time to reclaim the lofty vision of Rambam of a Torah Judaism rooted in reason, that leads to a life of "lovingkindness, righteousness and judgment" (Guide 3:54).

[1] A Maimonides Reader, ed. Isidore Twersky (Springfield: Behrman House, 1972), p.454. For a fine discussion of Rambam's views on superstition, see Marc B. Shapiro, "Maimonidean Halakhah and Superstition", in his book Studies in Maimonides and his Interpreters, University of Scranton Press, Scranton and London, 2008, pp.95-150.

[2] Ibid., pp. 464-5.

[3] Ibid., p. 472.

Although Jews have faced anti-Semitism from time immemorial, it always comes upon us as something new. It surprises us. We don’t understand it.

We strive to be good people, good citizens; we are kind hearted and generous. We devote ourselves to the education of our children, to the betterment of society, to justice and compassion. We have our share of faults along with all other human beings; but by and large, we are a good, responsible, hard-working community.

And yet, no matter what we do, people hate us! They don’t see us as individual human beings but as a vast stereotype. They don’t care if we are religious or not religious; if we are liberals or conservatives. If we are Jewish, they are against us and want to hurt us.

It was once thought that the establishment of the State of Israel would bring anti-Semitism to an end. After all, Jews would then have a feeling of security in the world, a safe haven where no one would bother us.

But the Jewish State has simply become a new target for the anti-Semites. They now couch Jew-hatred for hatred of “the Zionists.” Anti-Semites don’t have a problem with Hamas firing thousands of missiles at civilian centers in Israel; but when Israel responds by bombing the enemy, Israel is immediately condemned and vilified by the haters. For the anti-Semites, Israel is always wrong regardless of what it does or doesn't do.

Happily, there are many millions of people who feel warmly toward Jews and the Jewish State. Happily, many millions of people admire the accomplishments of the State of Israel in the face of so many obstacles; they respect Israel’s right—and obligation—to defend its citizens.

But when we see outbreaks of blatant anti-Jewish violence, anti-Jewish rhetoric, anti-Israel demonization—it surprises and pains us!  In spite of thousands of years dealing with anti-Jewish hatred and persecution, we still are not used to it. We somehow think that humanity will improve, will judge us fairly. We grow optimistic at any sign of peace and understanding, mutual cooperation and solidarity.

We keep telling ourselves that most people are good and that reason will ultimately prevail. The haters will eventually overcome malice and violence; they will realize the value of peaceful and respectful cooperation. In a world of over seven billion human beings, surely there must be room for the infinitesimal presence of 15 million Jews. In a world with so many countries, surely there must be room for one tiny Jewish State that wants nothing more than to be able to live in peace and security.

But the anti-Semites and anti-Zionists don’t really care. They don’t want to be reasoned with; they don’t want to listen. They have their agenda of hate.

Saul Bellow, the American novelist who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1976, wrote in his book To Jerusalem and Back: A Personal Account: “…There is one fact of Jewish life unchanged by the creation of a Jewish state: you cannot take your right to live for granted. Others can; you cannot. This is not to say that everyone else is living pleasantly and well under a decent regime. No, it means only that the Jews, because they are Jews, have never been able to take the right to live as a natural right….This right is still clearly not granted them, not even in the liberal West.”

Bellow’s complaint is not new. Jews throughout the generations have had to face the same stark reality: Jews, because they are Jews, cannot take the right to live as a natural right.

That’s the sad part of the story.

But that’s not the end of the story. Even if there has long been hatred and violence directed against Jews…we are still here! We continue to live, to thrive, to hope.

The late Jewish thinker, Simon Rawidowicz, wrote an essay about “Israel: the Ever-Dying People.” He noted that Jews have often felt that theirs was the last Jewish generation. Jewish survival seemed hopeless. But although we were “ever-dying,” we were in fact ever-living! We often felt despair; but hope and persistence prevailed. Jews found ways to overcome all who would decimate us.

Although current manifestations of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism are ugly and painful, we must take the long view of things. This isn’t the first period of Jewish history where Jews faced viciousness and violence. It likely won’t be the last period either. But long experience has taught us to stay strong, stay confident, stay positive. The challenge to our generation is to stand tall as Jews, to stand strong on behalf of Israel.

And we do look forward to a time when humanity will overcome the disease of anti-Semitism.  Meanwhile, we recall the words of Rav Nahman of Bratslav: All the world is a narrow bridge; the essential thing is not to be afraid, not to be afraid at all.