National Scholar Updates

Today, both religious Zionism as a whole and the Mizrachi movement in particular are strongly associated with the philosophy of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak HaKohen Kook and his followers. Like other early religious Zionists, R. Kook saw the cultivation and settlement of the Land of Israel as an early stage in the messianic redemption. But more than any of his contemporaries, R. Kook created a theological framework that saw the secular Zionist movement as God’s holy tool for hastening the coming of the long awaited redeemer. According to R. Kook, cooperation with secular and even anti-religious Jews could be sanctioned because their awakening to Zionism stemmed from a religious spark in their souls. In fact, they were actors in a great cosmic drama that would ultimately bring about their return to traditional Judaism.[1]

But Mizrachi’s beginnings were different. Mizrachi was established as a party within Theodor Herzl’s Zionist Congress in 1902 by Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov Reines (1839–1915), a man driven by a spirit unlike that of R. Kook. Whereas R. Kook was a dreamer, poet, and an idealist, R. Reines was a realist, activist, and pragmatist. It was primarily the pernicious, unrelenting nature of anti-Semitism, not messianic idealism, that brought R. Reines into the Zionist camp.

R. Reines was a brilliant Torah scholar, and he studied briefly in the famed Yeshiva of Volozhin.[2] For much of his career, he was the Chief Rabbi of Lida, a mid-sized city near Vilna. He published many works on a variety of topics, and even more of his writing sadly remains only in manuscript. Although R. Reines’ prose is at times repetitive and disorganized, he was a creative and underappreciated thinker. For example, in 1880, he published Hoteim Tokhnit, a book that ambitiously sought to systematize halakha by uncovering the logical principles by which the Oral Torah had been derived from the Written Torah. Even though this work is incomplete and not always convincing, his attempt to create a near-scientific taxonomy of broader halakhic principles and the particulars that flowed from them remains fascinating.[3]

R. Reines was also a courageous and outspoken activist on issues concerning Eastern European Jewry aside from Zionism. In 1905, with the backing of Mizrachi, R. Reines achieved a goal he had worked at for many years: the establishment of what was essentially the first yeshiva in Eastern Europe to teach secular subjects and the Hebrew language alongside the traditional Talmud curriculum.[4] Although the yeshiva, named Torah vaDa’at for its merger of Torah and worldly culture, closed in 1915 upon R. Reines’ death, it was a path-breaking institution. Rabbi Shlomo Polachek, the Rosh Yeshiva appointed by R. Reines, went on to teach at Yeshiva University. And the well-known American yeshiva in Brooklyn, Torah Vodaath, was founded initially by students of R. Reines and named after his yeshiva.[5]

R. Reines, however, saw himself as more of a pragmatist than an idealist. In his writings, he often speaks of the exigencies that drove him to innovate. Hoteim Tokhnit was in part a response to German Reform scholars who denied the divinity of the Oral Torah.[6] Similarly, he introduced limited secular studies in his yeshiva to ensure that young men could get the training they needed to support themselves financially while remaining within the traditional religious community, among other pragmatic reasons.[7] R. Reines did not ascribe to Torah uMadda or a similar ideology; he saw no inherent value in secular education. Rather, it was the immediate needs of the nation that drove R. Reines.

On the surface at least, R. Reines’ Zionism was much the same. He came to the movement because he concluded that the Jews needed a safe haven—a homeland—where they would be free from oppression and persecution. In Kol miTziyon, a letter to Mizrachi constituents, he passionately painted a dire picture:

The blood of our brothers is now being spilled more and more like water everywhere, the hatred for our nation is increasing in all the lands, pushing the Jews more and more from [a normal] life and bringing them to poverty, famine, sickness, suffering, and submission of the spirit. … Our sons and daughters are being sold to another nation. … Judaism is being pushed aside more and more for other cultures and the name of Israel is being erased from the face of the earth. [8]

A Jewish homeland in Israel, he believed, was the way to solve the problem.

Zionism was unpopular among many traditional Jewish leaders, who maintained that making a concerted effort to settle in Israel before the proper time ordained by God violated a prohibition against hastening the messianic redemption.[9] The story goes that the saintly Hafetz Hayyim himself came to visit R. Reines to plead with him not to ally himself with the Zionist cause.[10] R. Reines responded to his detractors by arguing that pure political Zionism was acceptable because it had no connection to the Messiah. In Sha’arei Orah veSimhah he wrote:

And in all their [the Zionists] actions and efforts there is also no hint or mention of the final redemption. Their entire intention is only to improve Israel’s [the Jews’] situation and ennoble it with dignity … so that Israel should know that it has a safe place. … It is only an effort for the improvement of the nation’s physical situation. [11]

In stark contrast to the position taken by R. Kook or even the position of other religious Zionists of his time such as the Hovevei Tziyon, R. Reines believed that Zionist efforts had no connection to the ultimate redemption at the end of days. Rather, Zionism was a political movement necessary to save the Jewish people from danger in the here and now.

In this respect, R. Reines’ ideology was similar to that of the founder of the Zionist Congress, Theodor Herzl. Disillusioned by the growing anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe despite the emancipation of the Jews, Herzl gathered the Congress in 1897 to obtain a homeland for the Jews that would guarantee their security. His political Zionist party and R. Reines’ Mizrachi movement were natural allies in the Zionist Congress. R. Reines even dedicated his 1902 defense of Zionism, Or Hadash al Tziyon, to Herzl.[12]

R. Reines and his allies also established Mizrachi in part to oppose the Democratic Faction, a cultural Zionist party headed by Chaim Weizmann and Asher Hirsch Ginsberg, the writer known by his pen name Ahad Ha-Am. Weizmann and Ha-Am saw Zionism first and foremost as a secular Jewish renewal movement. They wanted to appeal to discontented Jewish youth by encouraging a new cadre of intellectuals to create a synthesis between Jewish culture and Western intellectualism, and revive Hebrew language, literature, art, and music. Some even called Ha-Am the “Agnostic Rabbi.” R. Reines and the Mizrachi—at least at first—attempted to mitigate the Democratic Faction’s influence by advocating the need to keep cultural activities out of the Zionist platform, which they believed should instead focus solely on the search for a Jewish homeland.[13] The opposite was true as well: R. Reines, ever the pragmatist, kept the finances of his Yeshiva in Lida separate from the Mizrachi treasury to avoid embroiling the school in the contentious debates over Zionism’s legitimacy.[14]

One of R. Reines’ strongest affirmations of political Zionism was his support of the Uganda Proposal. Although the Zionists desired a homeland in Palestine, the Ottoman Turks, under whose jurisdiction it lay, rebuffed Herzl’s proposals. Therefore, in 1903, Herzl proposed an alternative based on an offer from the British: an autonomous Jewish state in the African nation of Uganda. Understandably, this famous proposal precipitated enormous controversy within the ranks of the Zionist Congress. Although the plan was eventually dropped after two years, R. Reines endorsed it. In a letter to Herzl he wrote:

We agreed to the African proposal because we paid attention to the needs of the nation that is dearer to us than the Land [of Israel]—and the needs of the nation that is deteriorating both physically and spiritually requires a secure refuge wherever it may be. [15]

R. Reines had a deep religious attachment to the land of Israel. Nonetheless, in light of his pragmatic approach to solving the Jewish problem of his time, his support for the Uganda Proposal is unsurprising.[16]

A practical approach to Zionism is also what, in R. Reines’ eyes, ameliorated the concern so many traditional Jews had about working together with the non-religious. He wrote in Or Hadash al Tziyon:

There are those who claim that since they [the non-observant] are involved in the Zionist movement there is reason to be concerned that it will result in ruinous breaches in religion. … I clearly demonstrated that there is no concern at all that it will affect religion because, essentially, it is an idea whose fundamental principle is to improve our physical situation and to obtain for our brothers of the house of Israel who are oppressed and pursued without respite a place of secure refuge in our Holy Land. This has nothing to do with spiritual or religious matters. [17]

These words would have been an anathema to someone like R. Kook, for whom Zionism and religion were deeply entwined.

And yet, it’s also hard to take R. Reines’ words here at face value. It is likely they are somewhat polemical, designed to assuage the concerns of the traditional community. For in fact, throughout his writings, R. Reines saw the yearning for Zion expressed by the Zionist enterprise as an expression of deep religious identification. The return of secular Jews to their Jewish national roots was, for R. Reines, the kindling of a dormant spark of spirituality latent in every Jew. As he wrote elsewhere in Or Hadash al Tziyon, “The awakening of the non-observant to the Zionist idea is not at all because of an irreligious [nature] but because of their rejection of an irreligious [lifestyle].”[18] There are echoes of R. Kook’s approach here. R. Reines even drew the title of the book, Or Hadash al Tziyon, from the fervently messianic close of the blessing recited before the Shema entreating God to shine a new light on Zion in which all will partake.[19]

In a letter to the poet Yehuda Leib Levin, R. Reines further explained that Zionism had a great ethical potential, particularly for the Jewish youth, as it would “turn their hearts away from the delights of the larger world to gaze upon the light of Judaism and to see the radiance of their nation and its splendor.”[20] Indeed, in Kol miTziyon, R. Reines proclaimed with euphoric conviction Zionism’s ability to unite the Jewish people in a national renaissance:

Zionism powerfully raises the flag of Zion and rallies around it all the dispersed and unites them as one. It calls out from the heights the name of Israel, it goes out to fight bravely against the tendency towards assimilation and self-disparagement. … It calls out to the nation to stand up for itself and not to give up anything. It brings national pride to the hearts of many. [21]

Thus, despite his pragmatic refrains, R. Reines did not see Zionism as devoid of religious value. To the contrary, it was a movement of teshuvah, of return. R. Reines the realist knew that Mizrachi must remain a political arm of the Zionist movement. Nonetheless, he still believed that at its core, Zionism was a spiritual awakening.

This more nuanced understanding of R. Reines’ Zionism suggests that R. Kook and R. Reines were not quite as far apart as some have supposed.[22] Both thinkers cast Zionism in a profoundly religious light. Both saw it as a movement of rebirth and return, a spark of holiness in an age of secularism, and as a sign of Jewish national distinctiveness and unity in a time of rampant assimilation. And with this philosophy, both built bridges to non-religious Jews, confident that the shared project of settling the Land of Israel would ultimately bring Jews together. Still, it’s crucial to note that they differed on whether the Zionist enterprise was part of the messianic redemption. R. Reines was also more political than R. Kook, and worked from within the Zionist Congress.

But, within a few short years, as Mizrachi grew and its center of gravity and leadership shifted toward Austria-Hungary and points further west, R. Reines lost a great deal of influence in the movement he had founded. And although R. Reines had initially championed keeping Zionist activities aimed at creating a Jewish homeland separate from measures to enhance religious education, Mizrachi soon went in a different direction. In 1911, the Zionist Congress decided to support non-religious Jewish cultural activities and schools. Further, Mizrachi’s new Western European leaders were particularly concerned about rising assimilation; perhaps they even saw religious education as more important than getting to Israel itself. In truth, Mizrachi members had been divided from the get-go about whether strengthening religious education should be part of the party’s Zionist platform. For all of these reasons, Mizrachi soon abandoned pure political Zionism and dedicated itself to Jewish education and religious revival.[23]

There are many reasons why R. Reines’ more pragmatic Zionism has been largely forgotten in religious circles. For one, pragmatism rarely captures the imagination as well as grand notions of religious destiny and visions of the end of days. Indeed, when the State of Israel became a reality and its miraculous existence was affirmed again and again—such as after the Six Day War and the capture of the Temple Mount—it grew harder for many religious Zionists to see anything but the stirrings of the ultimate redemption. Some, following the teaching of R. Kook’s son R. Zvi Yehuda, turned to greater activism and even to extremism to make their dreams of a greater Israel a reality. For R. Zvi Yehuda, once the redemptive process had begun, there was no turning back.[24] And to be fair, even if R. Reines would never have gone so far, he himself sometimes couched Zionism in language that bordered on the messianic.

Yet there was another twentieth-century thinker who reaffirmed R. Reines’ merger of pragmatism and religious meaning, finding a practical and spiritual call to action in the sheer improbability of the story of the State of Israel. In Kol Dodi Dofek, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik movingly argued that the fact so many displaced Holocaust survivors and other Jews had found refuge in the newly established State of Israel was one of “six knocks” of Divine Providence designed to wake up the Jewish nation to rally in support of the new country.[25] Like R. Reines, R. Soloveitchik stressed the importance of the land of Israel as a refuge for those who had nowhere else to go. Still—and again like R. Reines—R. Soloveitchik also found deep religious meaning in Israel’s creation, explaining that the imperative to support the State stemmed from a “covenant of fate” that binds all Jews, religious and secular, to work together to ensure the nation’s survival.[26] Speaking with passion and urgency, R. Soloveitchik unpacked the Song of Songs and its theme of missed opportunity: “Can we not hear, in our own concern for the peace and security of the land of Israel today, the knocking of the Beloved pleading with His love that she let him enter? . . . It is eight years now that He has been knocking. Would that we not miss the moment!”[27] To R. Soloveitchik, the State of Israel’s religious centrality was unquestionable and yet in no way dependent on whether its creation meant that the Messiah was stirring. That God had willed Israel into being was enough.[28]

As I reflect upon Israel today, I cannot help but wonder what R. Reines would think of the contemporary situation. Even 72 years after its founding, whether Israel represents the first flowering of our redemption remains elusively difficult to predict. Yet it is clear that the modern miracle of Jewish sovereignty in its ancestral homeland has birthed a political and spiritual renaissance. Jewish pride has increased worldwide, and exiles who were dispersed to all four corners of the globe have found respite, rejuvenation, and a new life in modern Israel. In these respects, Zionist efforts have exceeded R. Reines’ most ambitious predictions.

But R. Reines also stressed the importance of national unity. He saw the Zionist movement as a way to bring all Jews, religious and secular, under the common banner of renewal and return. The political divisiveness and religious polarization in our times would disappoint this visionary. I worry too that he would not countenance the more militant messianism of some contemporary religious groups, which often further divides the country.[29] In the spirit of R. Reines, can we yet learn to minimize our differences and celebrate our shared heritage, making Israel a home of peace and prosperity for all who dwell in it?

Notes

This week, Rabbanit Shira Marili Mirvis made history as the first-ever Israeli woman appointed to be the sole rabbinic leader of an Orthodox synagogue, the Shirat Hatamar congregation in Efrat. I talked to Shira about her fascinating journey to this groundbreaking milestone.

From her earliest childhood years growing up in Jerusalem, Shira fell in love with Torah study. She loved the “sacred books” of Judaism, particularly the Talmud and rabbinic commentaries. These books were traditionally the domain of boys and men, but Shira’s father Yitzhak, a deeply pious Moroccan Jew, always encouraged her to study them.

In fact, he insisted she buy as many sacred books as her heart desired. “Kids today walk around with their parent’s credit cards, but that wasn’t the norm when I was growing up,” said Shira. “Yet I actually had my father’s credit card, not to go shopping in the mall, but in case I chanced upon another sacred book [that] I wanted… My father wanted to be sure that I would never be deprived of buying books that would help advance my knowledge and love of Torah.” Given this week’s announcement, Yitzhak’s  investment in Shira’s book-buying clearly paid off.

In between the celebrations and press interviews surrounding the exciting news of her appointment, Shira took the time to answer my questions, and despite not being with her in person, I could feel the emotions coming through the telephone.

DB: What was it like growing up in Jerusalem as a young girl who loved studying Talmud?

SM: I grew up in a religious home in the Kiryat Moshe neighborhood of Jerusalem. Both my parents were born and raised in Morocco, and our home was deeply entrenched in Moroccan-Sephardic traditions. Those traditions included a love for Torah and a deep respect for our Torah sages. We prayed in the synagogue of Hakham Mordechai Eliyahu, who became the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel. My love for Torah study was nurtured in my family from childhood.

DB: So your eventual decision to enroll in the five-year Lindenbaum Women’s Program in Talmud and Halakha was not viewed in your family as a rebellion from your traditionally religious Sephardic-Moroccan upbringing?

SM: Quite the contrary. My decision to pursue advanced Talmud study at Lindenbaum is actually a result of my Sephardic-Moroccan upbringing. The love of Torah study was a supreme value in our home, and my decision to study Talmud at the highest level was met with great enthusiasm by both of my parents. In fact, admission to the Lindenbaum program is quite competitive, and the acceptance process lasted one year. I don’t know if I would ever have made it through that year without the constant positive encouragement from my father and mother.

DB: What was your parents’ reaction when you were accepted to the program?

SM: They were both thrilled! Especially as a woman who would now be engaged in the intense study of Talmud and Halakha (Jewish Law), they saw me as a link in the chain of continuity with my ancestors. They viewed it as a privilege that their daughter would take the legacy of the pious Moroccan-Sephardic women of previous generations to the next level.

DB: As you are now about to complete this program, how does your father feel as the one who helped fund your love of sacred books from childhood?

SM: Unfortunately, my father passed away after my first year at Lindenbaum. Throughout that first year in this demanding program, my father was my greatest source of encouragement. He was constantly telling me to study, study and study some more and that whatever would come of it, he was sure I would be able to do great things to advance Torah and Judaism for the Jewish people.

Symbolically… the last Jewish holiday we spent together was Shavuot, the holiday when we celebrate receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. My father died the day after Shavuot, and his words of encouragement accompany me and inspire me to this day.

DB: Your historic appointment as Israel’s first ever female rabbinic leader of an Orthodox synagogue is both exciting and emotional. How did all of this come about?

SM: The synagogue in Efrat where my family prays — Shirat Hatamar — is a relatively new community. For the past few years, perhaps because I was studying at Lindenbaum, people in our synagogue started approaching me with serious halakhic questions… I was also asked by the community to deliver sermons on Shabbat. All of this was unofficial, and I was doing it as an individual, not in any official capacity.

DB: So how did it now become official?

SM: When Shirat Hatamar was established, we adopted Rabbi Shlomo Riskin as our official halakhic advisor and community mentor. Rabbi Riskin is the founder of the Or Torah Stone Institutions, which includes the Lindenbaum Women’s Talmud & Halakha program where I studied these past five years. Rabbi Riskin has done tremendous work in advancing women’s Torah study and leadership, turning the Lindenbaum program into the women’s equivalent of what men study here in Israel for rabbinic ordination from Israel’s Chief Rabbinate.

Knowing that I was functioning as my synagogue’s halakhic authority for the past few years, Rabbi Riskin approached the community a few months ago and said it’s time to make it official, so the process began… The community engaged in an exploratory process, which included many meetings on Zoom and discussions via WhatsApp chat groups. I stepped away from this process to allow the community to make this decision without influencing them. This past week they felt ready to take a vote, and the results were that 83% of the community voted in favor of appointing me as the rabbinic leader of the community.

DB: So, is your title the “rabbi” of the synagogue?

SM: When people address me in an official title, I go by “Rabbanit Shira.” My title in the synagogue is not “Rabbi” or “Rabbanit” but Manhiga Ruchanit Hilkhatit [“Spiritual and Halakhic Leader”].

DB: Does the difference in title alter in anyway your “rabbinic duties”?

SM: My duties in the synagogue are to serve as the sole halakhic authority for our community, teach Torah and rule in halakhic matters, which [were] always the traditional [duties] of a rabbi in halakhic Orthodox communities. I will also counsel families and individuals, deliver sermons and teach Torah classes for our community. There are no other rabbis serving in our synagogue; I will be the sole “rabbinic voice” and “spiritual leader” in all religious matters.

DB: How did your mother react to your historic appointment?

SM: My mother had a challenging year, as she unfortunately was sick with COVID-19. Thank God she is fully recovered and doing well, and upon hearing the news of my appointment, she was beaming with pride and joy. Given her health challenges this past year, she was particularly emotional and thankful to see this day in her daughter’s life. She is very supportive of what I am doing.

DB: Ten years ago, you and your husband Shlomo and your kids came to Los Angeles, where you served as emissaries (shlichim) for the Bnei Akiva Religious Zionist Youth Movement for two years. Did your time in the Los Angeles community have any impact on your journey?

SM: The two years we spent in Los Angeles had a very deep impact on my life. In Israel, synagogues are often just a place to pray. In Los Angeles, I learned how much more a synagogue can be, as I was both witness to and personal beneficiary of the tremendous support system that the synagogue community provides to one another.

We prayed in Beth Jacob, and I remember how the community came together to celebrate joyous occasions and how they supported one another during times of illness or mourning. When my family needed support during some challenging times, I still have vivid memories of every delicious meal lovingly provided to my family from the famous “community meal trains.”

Beth Jacob and the Los Angeles Jewish community exposed me to the power of community life. From the welcoming of guests to teaching us how to shop at Ralphs on Pico, the acts of loving kindness in that community were amazing.

DB: Did you find any support as a woman who loves to study and teach Talmud in the Los Angeles Orthodox community?

SM: I will always have gratitude to Beth Jacob for giving me the opportunity to teach Torah in the synagogue. Their openness helped open this path for me, and I am eternally grateful for that. Additionally, my day job in Los Angeles was as a Torah Studies teacher to Middle School girls at the Maimonides School. That teaching experience will remain with me forever, and the girls I taught were an inspiration to me. The two years we spent in LA were two of the most special years in my life, and everything I did and learned there will most definitely serve me in this position I now officially assume.

DB: As you officially assume this historic position, do you feel like a representative for the women of your generation?

SM: I don’t consider myself a representative of any movement or trend, and I am not waving any particular ideological banner as I assume this position. If God gave me the privilege to study and teach Torah to a new generation of students and congregants, it is only by the merit of the righteous and pious women of previous generations, especially those from my Sephardic-Moroccan ancestry. If I represent anyone at all, it is the women who studied Torah with deep faith and piety, raised their families with love and served their communities.

While I recognize the historic significance of my new title and position, I don’t think the essence of what I am doing in any way differs from the women of my ancestry. I’m doing what they did, only in a different capacity [and] in a modern context and setting. I hope to be blessed with the same level of faith and spiritual strength that they had.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Postscript

During my recent three-month stay in Israel, I was privileged to get to know Rabbanit Shira. In one of our conversations, I asked her if she had any particular women from the past that she considered a role model for her own life? “Rabbanit Farha Sasson,” she said. Farha Sassoon (1859-1936) was a Sephardic Iraqi woman who loved to study Talmud and Halakha. She was widely known in her circles as a female Torah scholar and extensively corresponded with some of the most prominent rabbis of her day on Halachic subjects. With this week’s historic news, Rabbanit Shira Marili Mirvis now continues Rabbanit Sassoon’s legacy.

On Thursday, May 20, President Joe Biden signed the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act, which had been passed overwhelmingly by both houses of Congress. The act was a forceful response to the disgraceful attacks on Asian-Americans by bigots who blamed them for the Covid-19 pandemic, which had originated in China. In passing the act, members of both parties in the House and Senate demonstrated that they can do the right thing, at least once in a while.

Nothing of the sort appears to be contemplated in response to the attacks by Palestinian sympathizers on Jewish-American persons, synagogues, and restaurants during and after the latest Israel-Hamas conflict. In Los Angeles, pro-Palestinian attackers threw punches and bottles at diners at a kosher sushi restaurant. In New York’s heavily Jewish Diamond District, Palestinian supporters threw fireworks at Jews from a car amid a violent street altercation. Hamas supporters also beat a Jewish man in New York’s Times Square sending him to hospital with severe injuries. They threatened Jewish residents in a heavily Jewish Miami neighborhood. Video surveillance at Chicago’s Persian Hebrew Congregation, which was defaced by attackers, captured two people, one carrying a stick and another holding a sign that read “Freedom for Palestine.”

In each of these cases, and others elsewhere in the United States, the pro-Palestinian attackers had no idea whether their Jewish targets were supporters of Israel. Indeed, polls have shown that a majority of Jewish Americans support the creation of a Palestinian state alongside the state of Israel. No matter. Those who support the Palestinian cause attacked their victims merely because they were Jews. In so doing, they confirmed that their hatred of Israel extends to all Jews everywhere, as indeed, Hamas has made clear in its own charter.

All told, the Anti-Defamation League has reported at least 200 possible anti-Semitic incidents in the United States since the onset of the fighting between Israel and Hamas. Nevertheless, despite the ongoing upsurge in attacks on Jews, especially against so-called visible Jews—that is bearded Jews who dress in black suits, or merely Jews who will sport a small yarmulke or wear a star of David necklace—the leadership of the Democratic-controlled Congress has done little more than issue sympathetic tweets. As a body, Congress has done virtually nothing to condemn the attacks, much less legislate against them.

One reason for Congressional inaction is that the pro-Palestinian attackers have the support of the so-called progressive Democratic Left. Democrats in the House have a five-seat majority, while the ultra-Left “squad,” which is blatantly anti-Israel and pro-Palestinian, now boasts six members. While Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez at least has tweeted her condemnation of anti-Jewish attacks, several of her squad colleagues have not even gone that far. Not surprisingly, therefore, Speaker Nancy Pelosi cannot afford to alienate these progressives by pressing for legislation that would bring into sharper focus attacks on Jews by Palestinian sympathizers.

Another reason for Congressional inaction is that Democrats are reluctant to criticize some of their own progressive legislators, even when the likes of Congresswoman Ilhan Omar issue blatantly anti-Semitic tweets. Indeed, in the aftermath of one such tweet, the House actually did consider a draft measure to condemn anti-Semitism. Nevertheless, under pressure from progressives, the Democratic House leadership watered the measure down so that in its final form it included not only anti-Semitism but also Islamophobia and discrimination against Latinos, Asian Americans, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, immigrants, and the LGBTQ community. That the resolution had been rendered entirely meaningless is evidenced by the fact that despite its having included Asian Americans, Congress recognized the need for separate—and meaningful—legislation that solely was geared to anti-Asian bigotry and hate crimes.

Democrats are fond of pointing out the cowardice of those of their Republican colleagues, who slavishly support Donald Trump and all that he stands for. They are right to do so. On the other hand, it is high time that Democrats showed some courage of their own. They should put an end to their own cowardly appeasement of an increasingly belligerent Left, and finally pass legislation, similar to that for Asian Americans, that would severely punish those who would verbally and physically abuse their fellow Americans simply because they happen to be Jewish.

It is well known that all mitzvoth fall into two major categories: those between humans are God-bein adam laMakom, and those between humans and their fellows-bein adam leHaveiro. The question we wish to discuss here is which of these two categories is, as it were, more weighty. Formulated differently: If there were to be a clash between two different mitzvoth from these two categories, which one would prevail?

At first blush one might well assume that our relationship toward our Maker is clearly of such primal importance, that in all such cases we must give mitzvoth directed toward God our first priority. Indeed this seems to have been a common presumption among some people during the Second Temple times, as we learn from the very disturbing story in B. Yoma 23a:

It once happened that there were two Kohanim who had equal [rights to carry out a sacrifice], and they were running up the gangway [to the altar]. One of them got ahead of his fellow by within four cubits, and he took a knife and stabbed it into his fellow kohen's heart.... The father of the young kohen came and found his son convulsing. He said: May he be your atonement, for my son is still convulsing (i.e., still alive), and the knife has not been made ritually impure. This comes to teach you that the purity of [Temple] vessels was more serious for them than bloodshed....

This very shocking story reflects a not uncommon notion as the scale of priorities to be found in certain sectors of Jewish religious society.
But the fact that we find this episode so shocking and unacceptable indicates that we must reconsider the moral and halakhic presumptions underlying the tale. And indeed, when we examine this issue more closely we shall see that the opposite is the case, namely, that interpersonal mitzvoth have a priority over those between humans and God. So formulates R. Meir ben Raphael Plotzky, in his classic K'lei Hemdah to Deuteronomy 25:26 (sect. 5, subsection 4, Pietrokow 1902. KiTetze p. 228):

Concerning the issue of one who is engaged in one mitzvah that he is exempt from another if he is engaged in a mitzvah between man and his Maker-he is not exempt from a mitzvah between a person and his fellow. ... However, this is only the case with regard a mitzvah between a person and his Maker. We have not heard that this would exempt him from a mitzvah between a person and his fellow, for the ultimate end that would serve his fellow cannot be pushed aside because one is engaged in a mitzvah directed toward one's Maker.

We see then, that when there is a clash between these two categories, it is the "social" mitzvah that overrides the "ritual" one.
We find this principle also in the S'dei Hemed of R. Hayyim Hezkiahu Medini (vol. 5, p. 233b, Klal 45) in the name of the Shem Aryeh, by R. Aryeh Leibush Bolhauer [Vilna 1873-1874], in the additional response at the end of the book sect. 3. There, he solves a certain question raised by the Tosafot to Shevuot 44b in the following manner:

In B. Rosh haShanah 28a we learn that someone who takes upon himself by a vow not to receive any sort of benefit or enjoyment from a spring, is permitted to bathe in that spring for a ritual ablution, for mitzvoth are not for personal benefit. The Tosafot ad loc. ask as follows: Surely in doing so, he will benefit according to the view of Rav Yosef in that he is a paid guardian (shomer sakhar)?

Let me explain this in greater detail. Rav Yosef is of the opinion that if someone finds a lost object and keeps it until the owner comes to claim it, his legal status is that of a paid guardian; the reason being that while he is engaged in looking after the object, making sure it is in no way damaged, he will be exempt from giving a poor man who comes to his door a small gift of charity. This is called peruta deRav Yosef, Rav Yosef's penny. In that he does not have to give out a penny, it is as if he has earned it. Hence, he is a paid guardian. According to this view, if, while the person is having his ritual oblution, a poor man would come begging for a donation, he would be exempt, since he is already engaged in a mitzvah, and there he would be having a monetary benefit from not giving the "penny." How then, ask the Tosafot, can he be permitted to bathe in the spring when he has vowed to have no sort of benefit from it? The answer that the P'nei Aryeh gives is that such exemption from charitable giving is only the case when the mitzvah he was engaged in was toward his fellow man, looking after the lost object. But if he is engaged in a ritual mitzvah, toward his Maker, he is in no way exempt from the mitzvah of giving charity, which is one directed to his fellow man. This then is fully in line with what we saw to be the principle in the K'lei Hemdah.

Although this may appear to be a rather radical view formulated by later authorities, it is actually already to be found in the Rosh (Rabbenu Asher), in his commentary to Peah 1:2. He wrote (ed. Samuel Edwin, Marlborough, Australia, no date):

For the Holy One blessed be He is more desirous of mitzvoth that are done to the satisfaction of human beings, than those that are between a person and his Maker.

See on this what Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman wrote in his Kovetz Maamarim (ed. R. Eliezer Simchah Wasserman, his son, Jerusalem 1963, pp. 42-43):

For "among two hundred is to be found a hundred" (a common rabbinic idiom), meaning that in all mitzvoth between a person and his fellow there is also a component between a person and God. Why then should they be lessened by being between a person and his fellow? And it is for this reason that the Rosh saw interpersonal mitzvoth as being weightier, for they contain both elements.

I believe this notion is also to be found in the Ramban. On the verse in Leviticus 23:22-"And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not make clean riddance of the corners of thy field when thou reapest, neither shalt thou gather any gleanings of thy havrvest; thou shalt leave them unto the poor and to the stranger: I am the Lord your God"-he writes as follows:

Rashi wrote [not in our Rashi] The Scripture repeated itself to make a person transgress two prohibitions.... Rashi seeks to answer the question why this verse appears after the section dealing with the bringing of the omer. Moreover, these commandments of Peah etc. have already appeared in Leviticus 19:9-10, in a very similar formulation.

However, Ramban rejects Rashi's explanation, and suggests:

In my view, the correct interpretation is that the harvesting mentioned refers to what is brought at the beginning of the section (verse 10), namely that when you come into the land and reap the harvest and bring a sheaf of the first fruits of the harvest, you should not reap the corner of your field for the omer, nor glean the gleanings, meaning that the mitzvah [of the omer] does not supersede those prohibitions.

The Ramban here is teaching us that the mitzvah of bringing the omer before the altar of God cannot push aside those mitzvoth aimed at helping the poor. (R. Hayyim ibn Atar, in his Orah Hayyim ad loc., follows this interpretation.)

In light of the above we can perhaps better understand the well-known rabbinic statement that whereas sins against God are expiated on Yom haKippurim, those against fellow humans are not expiated on Yom haKippurim until the sinner appeases the person against whom one sinned (B. Yoma 85b, and cf. Numbers Rabbah 11:7). [1]

My grandfather, Rabbi David Sperber, of blessed memory, in his commentary to tractate Avot 3 (Mikhtam leDavid, Brooklyn 1997, p. 64) linked this concept to the statement of Rabbi Haninah ben Dosa (Avot 3:11):

He in whom the spirit of mankind finds pleasure, in him the spirit of God finds pleasure; but he in whom the spirit of mankind finds no pleasure, in him the spirit of God finds no pleasure.

And in this context we should recall the famous difference of opinion among the later authorities, some of whom hold that if the sinner does not appease his fellow, than those sins against God will also not be expiated by Yom haKippurim.[2]

I cannot restrain myself from recalling the wonderful story that R. Yehudah Leib Maimon records in his Toledot haGra, Jerusalem 1970, p. 7, concerning the Rabbi of Frankfurt R. Avraham-Abush, a contemporary of the Gaon of Vilna:

They relate that once the shohetim of Frankfurt came before him with a query concerning [the kashruth of] a lung, a matter on which the Rama and the rest of the Polish authorities ruled most stringently. The incident took place on the eve of a festival, and the matter was one potentially involving a very considerable monetary loss for the impoverished slaughterer. The members of the Bet Din wished to rule stringently and declare the meat not kosher, but R. Avraham-Abush began to search for ways of finding it kosher. The judges of the Bet Din insisted on their position that it is impossible to rule leniently against the view of the Rama and his colleagues, but R. Avraham-Abush argued with them, discussing the halakhic issues involved, and finally ruled that the meat was kosher. The members of the Bet Din were astonished, asking him: How could one possibly rule leniently, declaring the meat kosher against the ruling of the Rama and the great authorities of Poland who held the same opinion?!

R. Avraham-Abush replied to them as follows: I prefer at the end of my days that [before the Heavenly Court] I will argue my case with the Rama and his colleagues, rather than with this poor slaughterer. The slaughterer is a simple man, and it will be very difficult for me to argue my case with him before the Heavenly Court, if he brings me to court claiming that I declared his animal tareif, and that in doing so I caused him great monetary loss [3], and that I damaged his business on the eve of the festival. But I am sure that when I lay out my arguments before the Rama and his colleagues, we will reach an agreement....

The logic in R. Avraham-Abush's position is clarified in a similar tale told by Yaakov Rimon and Yosef Zundel Wasserman in the book, Shemuel beDoro:
R. Shmuel Salant z"l Rabbah shel Yerushalayim 1841-1909, Hayyav uPoalav, Tel Aviv 1961, pp. 122-126:

Once upon a time some learned rabbis were arguing with him (R. Shmuel Salanter) on a case where he had ruled "kosher," and needless to say he refuted their counter-arguments. One of them turned to him and said to him: You have refuted our arguments, but what will happen when you come before the Heavenly Court and have to argue with the Bet Yosef and the Rama? He replied as follows: Surely you will agree with me that it will be better for me to argue my case with them, since I believe that I understood in depth their opinion, rather than having a claim against me on the part of the ox [i.e. on the part of the owner of the ox] that I incorrectly declared tareif....

Both of these tales have a common denominator: namely, that if the rabbi ruled incorrectly, declaring tareif meat kosher, he has sinned against God, and Yom haKippurim will atone for this sin. But should he have ruled kosher meat as tareif, he will have caused damage, hurt, and monetary loss to the slaughterer, and this is a sin against his fellow human, a sin for which Yom haKippurim does not automatically atone. He thus preferred to err on the side of leniency rather than risk erring on the side of stringency. (See my discussion in Darkah Shel Torah pp. 140-141.)
We find much the same idea reflected in the Netziv (R. Naftali Zvi Berlin), in his HaEmek Davar to Genesis 20:7, "[Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet], and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live":

According to what we have explained... that the sin was that [Avimelech] caused grief to our forefather Abraham, surely he only needed to appease him, and there was no need for prayer. However, from here we may learn that one who sins against his neighbor also sins against God, and it is not sufficient to appease one's neighbor alone. One must also beg foregiveness from God. And for this reason he needed Abraham's prayer, in order to be completely expiated.

Perhaps we may here add that which we find in Sefer haRokeah sect. 369 ad fin., namely that a person who is sitting in the synagogue, wrapped in his tallit and with his tefilin on his head and who is reciting liturgical songs, must, nonetheless, rise up before his teacher, since he can carry out both actions simultaneously. Now there are early authorities who held that the principle that one who is engaged in one mitzvah is exempt from another is also the case when both could be carried out. (See Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim 38:8, and in the Beur Halakha ibid., and also R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, Brit Yaakov, Jerusalem 1985, sect. 2, p. 36.) The author of the Rokeah, R. Elazar of Germaiza was a disciple of R. Yehudah (b. R. Shmuel) he-Hassid, the author of Sefer Hassidim. It is the view of R. Yehudah he-Hassid that even if one can carry out both mitzvoth, one is exempt from doing so, if one is engaged in a prior mitzvah; and this, indeed, is the view of R. Elazar Rokeah himself (Rokeah, Hilkhot Sukkah sect. 299; see Sofer ibid.). Why then should one engaged in praising the Lord in the synagogue have to rise up before his teacher? He is already engaged in a mitzvah, and therefore exempt from others! Surely, this is only because ritual synagogue worship is directed toward God, but respect for one's teacher is between a person and his fellow, and he is not exempt from it. This, too, is the ruling of the Hidah, R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai, that even in the hour of prayer one rises before a Torah scholar, (Birkei Yosef Orah Hayyim sect. 244:1; and see Sofer ibid. note 8 on p. 37).

It would then appear that this is a basic principle in halakhic and ethical thought, that interpersonal mitzvoth have some kind of greater virtue that those directed toward God.

We find this principle reflected in a passage in Rambam, Hilkhot Rotzeah 4:9. There he writes as follows (and is also quoted in the Semag [Sefer Mitzvot-Gaddol], negative commandment no. 163):

Even though there are more serious sins than murder, they do not destroy the order of society like murder. Even idolatry...and the desecration of the Sabbath are not as [serious] as murder; for these sins are of the [category of sins] between humans and the Holy One blessed be He, whereas murder is of [the category of] sins between a person and his fellow.

There is a tradition in the name of the late R. Aharon Soloveitchik that when he was asked concerning the gravity of the sin of homosexuality he replied "It is terrible. It is almost as great a sin as cheating in business."[4]

Indeed, the same R. Levi (B. Baba Batra ibid.) states that "theft from an individual is more serious than theft from that which has been dedicated to God..." Here again we see the relative weight of these two categories of mitzvoth, and conversely aveirot-sins.

We may perhaps add yet another possible insight. The Kolbo, Hilkhot Evel veTumat haGuf, ed., David Avraham, vol. 7, Jerusalem 2002, 71, raises what he calls "a very weighty question"- namely that "there are two mitzvoth that contradict one another" (or, as the Orhot Hayyim emended: "seem to contradict one another," ibid. note 314), namely: the seriousness of coming into contact with corpse-related uncleanness, and the very important mitzvah of burying an untended corpse-a met mitzvah.[5] He goes to considerable depths to solve this apparent contradiction (ibid. 71-75, and the editor's notes ad loc.). However, we would suggest that the laws of impurity are basically ritual laws, and hence God-related laws, whereas the burial of an untended body is a person-related law, since the dead were thought to be sensitive to their state, and certainly live people would wish themselves to be properly buried. Hence, the mitzvah of burying a met mitzvah has priority over the laws warning us against becoming impure by contact with the dead.

We may also call our attention to what is related in Numbers 9:6-7:

And there were certain men, who were defiled by the dead body of a man, that they could not keep the Passover on that day; and they came before Moses and before Aaron on that day: And these men said unto him: We were defiled by the dead body of a man: wherefore were we kept back, that we may not offer our offering of the Lord in his appointed season among the children of Israel?...

On this the Talmud in B. Sukkah 25b asks:

Who were these people who were dealing with a met mitzvah, a dead person that no one else was dealing with?

Rashi, ad loc., comments that this was not necessarily a met mitzvah (who has a special status), for even it if were their own dead... they would have been obligated to deal with them. See the Torah Temimah ibid. (pp. 109-110 note 4), from whose discussion it emerges that carrying out a relatively minor mitzvah would obviate the carrying out of a more serious one-and in this case, one should nonetheless carry out the minor one. We would add that seeing to the burial of a dead person is seen as an interpersonal mitzvah, and is called by the rabbis Hessed shel Emet, true benevolence, in that it is one for which one receives no recompense. Within a person's lifetime he knows that someone will always see to his last rites and burial. Hence, this is a person-directed mitzvah, whereas the sacrifice of the paschal lamb is a God-directed mitzvah; hence, the former overrode the latter.

We may move one stage further, quoting a passage from the Hidah, in his book Yair Ozen, (Lemberg 1865, 109a):

That which is written in the Yerushalmi Berakhot chapter 2 ad fin., and Shabbat 1:1, that he who is exempt from something and does it is considered an ignorant person, while in many other cases our decisors said that he who takes upon himself additional stringency, may he be blessed. (See Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim sect. 639:2, and compare with subsection 7 ibid.) One may explain [this difference] by stating that "he is considered ignorant" only with regard mitzvoth directed toward his Maker. But there is never an exemption from mitzvoth directed toward his fellow humans, for we have been directed in a generic fashion to go beyond the letter of the law, as we learned in B. Baba Metsia 30b....

In this way the Hidah resolved a question against the Rambam (Hilkhot Gezelah veAvedah 11:17), who wrote that: "He who goes on the straight and virtuous path and acts beyond the letter of the law, will return a lost object wherever it be, even if this is not in accordance with his dignity." According to the Hidah, even though this person is not obligated to return the lost object, because it is beneath his dignity to do so, he should nonetheless do so, and is not to be considered an ignorant one, since this is an interpersonal mitzvah.

And this, indeed, is the simple and deep understanding of the statement found in B. Shabbat 127a:

R. Yehudah in the name of Rav said: Greater is the hosting of guests than the hosting of the Shekhinah, as it is said (Gen. 18:3), "And he [Abraham] said: My Lord, if now I have found favor in Thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from Thy servant."[6]

Here I would recall the tradition related by R. Yaakov Tavshonsky, in his Imrei Haskel, Vilna 1909, p. 57 (cited in Dov Eliach's Avi haYeshivot, vol. 1, Jerusalem 1991, pp. 265-266), concerning R. Hayyim of Volozin:

Once R. Hayyim Voloziner, who made it a rule to come regularly to the Bet Midrash at prayer times, was late for prayer. The beadle went to call him to come and found him seated at his table happily in discussion with a group of distinguished guests who had come to visit him. Noting the expression of surprise on the beadle's face, R. Hayyim explained himself in the form of a question: "Is the issue of the importance of hosting guests, which is said to be greater than hosting the Shekhinah, of little importance in your eyes?!"

I would further suggest that it is this basic principle that is behind the well-known halakhic ruling that the danger to life takes precedence over the laws of Shabbat (B. Shabbat 132a), and indeed over other laws of great gravitas (see B. Yoma 82a). It is well known that R. Hayyim Brisker took an extreme position of leniency in matters where he saw even a hint of a life-endangering situation. Thus it is related (Aharon Sorasky, Marbitzei Torah uMusar beYeshivot Nusah Lita miTekufat Volozin veAd Yameinu, vol. 1, Israel 1976, p. 112) that:

Once a Jew from Brisk came to him with a question: His son, who had been drafted to the army, was sick and in the hospital in the nearby town of Sidlitz. On the following day, which was Shabbat, the doctors would examine him to decide whether or not he was fit enough to join the army. And so, asked the father, was it permitted for him to travel that night on Shabbat, to Sidlitz in order to intercede on his son's behalf. R. Hayyim did not hesitate for one moment, but ordered the man to do all in his power to save his son, since there was a danger to his life.

The people who were present were puzzled by his unusual ruling, and after the man had left, R. Hayyim explained his response:

If this young man will have to serve five years in the army, it is not unlikely that during this period a war will break out and he will be sent to the front and possibly be killed. And even the slightest suspicion of a life-endangering situation overrules the laws of Shabbat.

R. Hayyim's position on a sick person fasting on Yom haKippurim shows similar concern for human life. Sorasky relates (ibid. pp. 112-113) that shortly before his death, R. Hayyim dwelled in Otbosk, a place near Warsaw where people sick with tuberculosis (TB) would come for treatment in the pure fresh air. On Tisha beAv, twelve days before he died, a woman came to him weeping that her son lay sick with TB in the house next door, in a life-threatening condition, and the doctor forbade him to fast. However, the young man refused to listen to the doctor. R. Hayyim hurried to the young man's house and entreated him to listen to the doctor's directions, but despite his entreaties the young man adamantly refused. Then R. Hayyim said: "If I eat today, will you join me?" The youth replied: "If you eat, I'll eat with you."

Such tales relating to R. Hayyim are legion (see Sorasky, ibid.). R. Hayyim was wont to explain his position saying: "I do not rule leniently concerning Yom haKippurim, but stringently concerning the law 'Take ye therefore good heed unto yourselves'" (Deut. 4:15).[7]

Similarly, we can well understand the rabbinic statement that "[so] great is the [need to] respect the dignity of individuals that it has precedence over a negative commandment of biblical authority (B. Berakhot 19b, B. Menahot 36b, B. Megillah 3b, B. Eruvin 41b). I have discussed this concept in detail in my Darkah shel Halakhah, Jerusalem 2007, pp. 34-43, 67-84, and again in my Netivot Pesikah, Jerusalem 2008, pp. 150-159, with numerous examples, a rich bibliography, and a discussion as to the parameters of this principle. An examination of these sources will show that the principle of Kevod haBeriyot, the dignity of the individual, takes precedence over mitzvoth between humans and God, so that, for example, if one finds oneself wearing shaatnez of rabbinic status, one need not disrobe to remove it in a public place, because one's nakedness would be shameful in public. (Rambam, Hilkhot Kilayim 70:19).

I would like to show how this was actually practiced by one of the latter-day Gedolim, Rav Chaim Soloveitchik, the Brisker Rav. This I learned from an article R. Aharon Hersh Fried, published in Hakirah 6, 2008, pp. 49-50:

Late on a Wednesday night, a traveling Jew arrived in Brisk. The lights were out in all the homes, and he did not want to awaken the people with whom he had meant to be staying. Noticing one house in which the lights were still on, he decided to knock on the door and ask whether he could possibly stay the night. The homeowner opened the door and graciously welcomed him to stay the night. The homeowner remarked that coming from the road, the traveler must also be hungry, and went into the kitchen to prepare him something to eat. While the host was in the kitchen, the guest had a chance to look around and he noticed that he was in a a house filled with rabbinic books, and quickly surmised that he was in the home of a rav or at least a rabbinic judge. At this point he became uncomfortable with this revered personage preparing a meal for him, and he voiced his protestations, saying to the host, "You needn't trouble yourself." The host did not answer him, continued preparing the meal, and served it to him, amidst his continued protestations. The host then began to prepare a bed for the guest, who again protested, "You needn't trouble yourself. Just put the bedding down and I'll arrange the bed myself. Please, you needn't trouble yourself." Again, the host did not answer, but continued to make the bed. The next morning, the host took the man to synagogue. Being that it was Thursday morning and there was a public Torah reading, the host told the gabbai to give the guest the honor of lifting the Torah scroll. As the guest was about to lift the Sefer Torah, Rav Chaim (who was the host) tapped him on the shoulder and said, "You needn't trouble yourself."

The author writes of Rav Chaim that his "greatness in hessed was possibly even greater than his greatness in learning," and that this anecdote encapsulates the point beautifully.
This general thesis is reflected in yet a different halakhic area. The Sheiltot (to Terumah, Sheilta 62) writes:

The house of Israel is obligated to give charity from their monies to whosoever is in need thereof. And he who shows pity for the impoverished is likened by the Holy One blessed be He as if he did good deeds to God himself, as it is stated, (Exodus 25:2), "that they should bring to Me an offering," (i.e. if they give charity to the poor, it is as though they are giving it to God himself).

In B. Baba Batra 10a we read in the name of R. Yohanan:

What is the meaning of the verse in Proverbs 19:17, "He who hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord"? If it were not written, it would be impossible to say it, namely that "the borrower is servant to the lender" (ibid. 22:7).

Rashi explains that he who has pity for the poor, it is as though he is lending to God, and "the borrower"-God-becomes, as it were, "servant to the lender."

The Netziv, returning to the Sheiltot (in his Haamek Sheelah p. 413) notes that the author of the Sheiltot derived his ruling from a biblical verse relating to donations made to the tabernacle, and nonetheless, he learned from it that charity given to the poor is of greater virtue than money given to the Temple itself.

Furthermore, this is also the view of the Tosafot in B. Baba Batra 9a, who learn this from Rav Asi's statement ibid., that: "Charity may be weighed against all other mitzvoth, as it is said (Nehemiah 10:33), 'Also we made ordinances (mitzvoth) for us to charge ourselves yearly with the third of a shekel for the service of the house of our God.'" Even though this verse is talking of money for the Temple, Rav Asi learned from it-and from the plural "mitzvoth" that charity is even weightier than donations to the Temple.

This triggered a discussion among the decisors, summarized in Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 249:16:

There is an opinion that the mitzvah [to give to] the synagogue is greater than the mitzvah of charity, and the mitzvah of charity to youths or to the sick is greater than that of the synagogue. (Mahri Kolon, Shoresh 128, in the name of the Tashbetz in the name of the Rosh to Yerushalmi Zeraim).

But the Gaon of Vilna (252:2) stated explicitly that charity is greater than the building of a synagogue.

This also seems to be reflected in a passage in Pesikta Rabbati chapter 6, (25b), where the question is raised: Why did Solomon not build the Temple with his father David's treasures? For the verse in 1 Kings 1:51 states:

"So was ended all the works that King Solomon made for the house of the Lord. And Solomon brought in the things which David his father had dedicated: even the silver, and the gold, and the vessels, did he put among the treasures of the house of the Lord." There are those who explain this... negatively... For there was a famine in the days of David for three years, and David had several treasure houses of silver and gold that had been dedicated to the building of the Temple. And he should have used them to save lives, and he did not do so. God said to him: My children are dying of starvation and you are hoarding money to build a Temple. Should you not have [used it to] save lives? Since you did not do so, by your life, your son Solomon will make no use of it [when building the Temple]...

Hence the verse states that only when "was ended all the works" did Solomon bring these treasures to the house of God. So charity, and certainly saving the lives of the hungry, have greater priority even than building God's Temple.

In Yerushalmi Shekalim chapter 2 ad fin., we read that "Rabbi Avun (=Avin) made these gates "for the great synagogue (in Tiberias). "Rabbi Mana (mid-fourth century C.E.) came to him, and he said (boastingly): "See what I have done." To which Rabbi Mana responded by quoting the verse in Hosea 8:14: "For Israel hath forgotten his Maker, and buildeth Temples..." Are there no [poor] people who are studying Torah?" The Tashbetz has an additional reading: "Or sick people who lie among the rubbish." The Korban haEdah further elaborates: He should have used his money to help people's livelihood... It would be better to give to poor Torah scholars who are involved in mitzvoth at all times than building edifices. The Rambam summarizes in Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim 1:2:

One is obligated to be more careful with the mitzvah of charity more than all other mitzvoth, for charity-tsedakah-is a sign of the righteousness-tsedek-of the offspring of Abraham our forefather.

In view of all that has been said above, it is surely clear that charity, as an interpersonal mitzvah, must be seen as preferential to building a synagogue or even the Temple, which is a mitzvah between humans and God.

We have discussed rather extensively the premise that people-directed mitzvoth have a preferential status over God-directed mitzvoth. And this view may be found among numerous authorities, as referred to in Sedei Hemed vol. 3. pp. 164-177, where the issue is dealt with at length and in depth.

Perhaps we can link this with an interesting observation made by R. Yosef Hayyim Sofer (in his Menuhat Shalom. Part II, Jerusalem 2003, p. 22):

It is very clear that the Tanna of [Mishnah] Peah 1:1, who listed "those things that a person eats their fruits in this world...," only listed those acts that serve well both to God and to humans, where human beings also have real material benefit therefrom, such as honoring one's parents, righteous deeds to one's fellows; while those [mitzvoth] that are only good toward heaven, such as sending away the mother bird, are not listed.

He bases his comments on the passage in B. Kiddushin 40a, which elaborates on the verse in Isaiah 3:10, "Say to the righteous, that it shall be well with him: for they shall eat the fruits of their doings." The Talmud homiletically understood the verse to mean "Say to the righteous for [he is] good," and then asks:

And is there a righteous person who is not good? This means he is good toward heaven and good to humankind-this is a good and righteous person. Good to heaven and bad to humankind-this is a righteous person who is not good. And so similarly you may say [on the verse 11 ibid.]: "Woe unto the wicked! It shall be ill with him: for the reward of his hands shall be given him." And is there a wicked man who is bad, and one who is wicked and not bad? Yes, if he is bad toward heaven and toward humans, this is a bad wicked person. But if he is bad toward heaven but good toward humans, then he is a wicked person who is not bad.

So here again we see that a greater preference given to one who is virtuous both to God and humankind, the inference being that piety toward God alone is not sufficient, and makes for a righteous person who is nonetheless considered "not good."

Indeed, this concept, of a righteous person who is not necessarily good, is found in the Netziv's introduction (Petiha) to Genesis. There he writes that:

There were Tsaddikim and Hassidim, righteous and virtuous men, who toiled in the learning of Torah, but who had no integrity in the ways of the world .... And the Holy One blessed be He, who is integrity personified, cannot bear righteous people of this nature, but only those who walk the paths of integrity in the ways of the world, and not in a distorted manner...

Admittedly, here we do not clearly see the relative weight of the two categories, but this aspect of the issue has been discussed above. (See further the discussion of R. Aharon Lichtenstein, in his By His Light: Character and Values in the service of God, adapted by R. Reuven Ziegler, Yeshivat Har Etzion 2002, pp. 113-118, section entitled "Frumkeit Devoid of Goodness.")

Many years ago, when my late father of blessed memory was in a hospital, recovering from an operation, he shared a room with an elderly gentleman who had had a stroke and could no longer speak. This man could only make unintelligible noises. His wife and children took turns sitting by his bed, and as I also spent many hours with my father, we got to talking to one another. His wife told me that she had married at the age of fourteen, and that her husband was considerably older than she. She had brought up the family, supported it by working as a maid in various houses, while her husband sat and learned Torah. He would get up at about 3:30 in the morning [8], go to the synagogue, sit in his corner and learn all day, interrupting only for the prayers. After Shaharit, the members of the synagogue would give him some breakfast, and at midday his wife, or a child, would bring him some lunch. In the evening he would come home, and his wife would give him supper, and he would go to bed early, so as to be able to get up at 3:30. He never gave a lesson in the synagogue, nor even a sermon; in fact he never talked to the other congregants; he just set in his corner and studied. He never taught his children, and no one really knew what he was studying or how much he really knew. And now he was incapable of speaking, or even communicating in an understandable fashion, so that his "Torah" could serve no others. The members of the synagogue held him in awe as a supremely righteous person; his family held him in great respect. But I remember wondering all the while, and being not a little troubled by my thoughts, that perhaps he was not really a good person-a righteous man who, in fact, was not good; and that it was his wife, an illiterate woman, who had shouldered the burden of educating and maintaining the whole family for so many years, who was really the righteous person, righteous and good!

It is interesting to note what Rashi writes in his commentary to the book of Leviticus. This book, as is well known, deals to a large extent with ritual laws, i.e., with laws relating to the relationship between humans and God and indeed begins with them. The first verse in this book reads as follows:

"And the Lord called unto Moses, and spake unto him out of the tabernacle of the congregation, saying"...

On these first words "And [the Lord] called unto Moses," Rashi comments as follows:

All oral communications of the Lord to Moses, whether they are introduced by dabber or by emor or by tsav, were preceded by a call (to prepare him for the forthcoming address). It is a way of expressing affection, the mode used by the ministering angels when addressing each other, as is said, "And one called unto another [and said holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts]" (Isaiah 6:3)....[9]

Rashi is teaching us, basing himself on the Sifra ad loc., that before one begins to shower a spate of commandments (upon a community or an individual), one must prepare the recipient with words of affection.

It is surely significant that Rashi begins his commentary on this book of ritual with words of advice on matters of etiquette and decent behavior toward one's fellow man.

And from these same initial words of that verse, the Talmud in B. Yoma 4b comments as follows:

Tanya: Why did God "call" before he "spoke"? The Torah teaches us good behavior, that a person should not speak to his neighbor without first calling (i.e., preparing) him.

The Torah Temimah ad loc. elaborates as follows:

The reason for this is so that the audience can prepare itself to listen [to the commandments]. And this is similar to what we have learned from B. Nidah 16b, that the Holy One blessed be He hates a person who enters his neighbor's house suddenly (i.e., without knocking). And in Tractate Derekh erets [Rabba] chapter 5 we read: And all people should learn good behavior from God, who stood at the gate of the garden (of Eden) and called unto Adam, as it is said, "And the Lord God called unto Adam and said unto him, where art thou?" (Genesis 3:9). And the reason that our Gemara (in Yoma) did not cite that verse, may be explained as follows: to teach us an additional lesson, that even in the case of one who one knows intimately and loves with a deep love, even so one should not speak to him suddenly. And it is for this reason that [the Talmud] brought its proof from Moses, concerning whom God himself testified," [My servant Moses is not so], who is faithful in all Mine home. With him I speak mouth to mouth, even apparently, and not in dark speeches..." (Numbers 12:7-8)-And even so God prepared him before he actually spoke with him, (and gave him commandments).

Here too, the Talmud teaches us lessons in decency and good behavior from the first words in the book of Leviticus. Perhaps this is yet another indication that proper behavior takes precedence to Torah. As R. Yishmael ben R. Nahman said: Derekh erets came 26 generations before Torah (Leviticus Rabbah 9:3, ed. Margaliot p. 179).

Let us recall the words of the Maharal of Prague, in his Netivot Olam, Netiv Derekh Erets:

Therefore, a person should not view lightly those matters that are derekh erets, for derekh erets came before Torah... and it is impossible to read a Torah situation without derekh erets, as they said, "If there is no derekh erets there is no Torah" (Avot 3:17), for derekh erets is the basis of Torah which is the way of the Tree of Life.

To this we may add the remarkable statement of R. Simlai in B. Sota 14a:

The Torah begins with an act of kindness, and ends with an act of kindness. It begins with an act of kindness, as it is written, "Unto Adam also and to his wife did the Lord God make coats of skins, and clothed them" (Genesis 3:21). And it ends with an act of kindness, as it is written, "And He buried him [i.e., Moses] in a valley...". (Deuteronomy 34:6)[10]

Elsewhere, I have elaborated on this theme, and brought additional sources to underscore my premise, and to show how it is borne out in a variety of halakhic contexts.[11]

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How do these ideas translate themselves into everyday life, and what may we learn from the behavior of pious sages of bygone years, who may serve as role models for us in the present day?
We already related an anecdote about Reb Chaim Brisker. We shall now continue by quoting a passage from Rabbi Yehudah Leib Maimon's Sarei haMeah, vol. 2, Jerusalem 1961, pp. 272-273:

It once happened that Reb Yisrael Salanter, during his stay in Kovno, lived for a while in the house of a wealthy pious man, Reb Yaakov Karpas, and would dine at his table. Members of the household noted that when he washed his hands before the meal, he would do so with a minimal amount of water, even though a bucket full of water was prepared for him. They wondered in amazement: Should not a tsaddik like Reb Yisrael rule more stringently (mehadrin) to wash his hands with a plentiful amount of water! They went and spoke to Reb Karpas, who examined the matter and found that indeed Reb Yisrael would wash his hands with no more than a reviit haLog and no more. He too was most surprised, and when they sat together at a meal, he asked Reb Yisrael: "Forgive me, our Master, but this is a matter of Torah and I must learn about it. Why then does it suffice you to wash your hands with a reviit? Surely, it is a clear ruling in the Shulhan Arukh (Orah Hayyim 155:10), "even though the amount (for hand-washing) is a reviit, one should wash more plentifully." Why then do you, sir, not do so?"

Reb Yisrael answered as follows:

"I have seen that the maid brings the water from afar, from a well in the valley. Your house is situated high on the hill, and the maid almost collapses under the weight of her burden. And it is forbidden for a person to be overly religious at the expense of others" (emphasis added).
Indeed Reb Yisrael was wont to say:

"At times, out of excessive zeal to carry out a mitzvah between a person and his Maker, people err and transgress a much more serious interpersonal mitzvah, as for example is the case of the days of Selihot: If someone rises very early to recite the Selihot in the synagogue, and in doing so causes discomfort to the maid in his house, who, generally speaking, is a poor orphan girl who hires herself out to serve in the house of strangers, and she has to get up early in order to prepare a hot drink in the morning, then the sin of "distressing an orphan" outweighs all the mitzvah of reciting the Selihot..."

Indeed, in his own synagogue, he ruled that the Friday-night and festival services should begin early, even before the true time of reading the Shema, justifying this as follows:

"The maid in your house, just as other women, are not obliged to say the Shema, but they are obligated to hear the Kiddush, (see B. Berakhot 20ab), and they will not eat until they have partaken of the Kiddush-wine. Therefore, one should not take the stringent position to recite the Shema at the right time, thereby causing distress to the maid, who after a long day's work with much toil in preparing for Shabbat, waits eagerly to eat and satisfy her hunger.

In this context, it is worth retelling what I saw related in the Newspaper BeSheva, for Hannukah 2008: A group of yeshiva students came to Rav Steinman and asked him whether it was right that they should take the strict path of eating their meals on Hannukah in their dormitory rooms, so that the place they lit their candles would also be the place of their meals. His reply was that they do not need to do so, for their eating outside of the yeshiva cafeteria would create additional work for the yeshiva's kitchen staff. Their counter-claim was that they would use disposable dishes which they themselves would clear and clean up after their meals. But he answered that "One cannot rely on the boys to clear away the food," and, therefore, if their eating in their rooms would cause extra work for the kitchen staff, it would be better for them not to take the stringent path.

Yet another wonderful testimony about that great Torah luminary and paragon of true piety, from Rabbi Dov Katz's Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, Jerusalem 1975. pp. 45-46:

While he was living in Salant, it once happened that Reb Yisrael did not appear in the synagogue on Yom haKippurim night. The congregation waited for the Kol Nidrei prayer, and after a while they again waited for the Maariv service. They looked for him in his house; they sent out people to search for him throughout the town, but they could not find him. People were greatly surprised, and the congregation in the synagogue began to be worried about him.

After they finished citing all the piyyutim and were about to end the Maariv service, he suddenly appeared.... He wrapped himself in his tallit and began to pray. After he finished praying, he related innocently that on his way to the synagogue he heard a child crying. When he entered the house from which the crying was heard, he found a baby, some two months old, lying in a cradle and weeping. Next to the baby was a bottle of milk. By the baby on the bed slept a young girl of about six. He understood that the baby's mother had wished to go to hear the Kol Nidrei prayer and had prepared milk for her infant, whom she left under the care of his sister (who had fallen asleep and did not hear the baby's cries). Reb Yisrael took the bottle, fed the baby and put it to sleep, and afterward woke up the sister, so he could leave for the synagogue. But the young girl entreated him not to leave her, for she was afraid to remain alone. So he agreed, and stayed with her until her mother came back from the synagogue, and then left them and went to pray.

After Reb Yisrael finished his story, he expressed great joy that on this holy night he was privileged to carry out a great mitzvah of benevolence toward these children. Reb Yisrael regarded the act of benevolence as a means to cling to the ways of God, who is "abundant in goodness" [Exod. 34:6], and we have been commanded to walk in his ways: Just as He does deeds of benevolence, so too must you do deeds of benevolence."

We see then how Reb Yisrael's extreme sensitivity to the needs of the poor, the orphan maids, and small children, overrode any ritual requirement of a more complete nature, and any more stringent attachment to halakhic requirements. The needs of his fellow creatures were far more committal to him than those of his Maker.

Similar such stories are legion, and we could fill many folios with such maasei hessed. However, I believe the above will suffice to make our point clear and meaningful.
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Earlier, I referred to an article published in Hakirah by R. Aharon Hersh Fried, entitled "Is there a Disconnect between Torah Learning and Torah Living?" He argues persuasively that in our education a greater stress must be put on interpersonal mitzvoth. On pp. 48-49 he writes:

The Sefer HaBerit [part 2, section 13, chapter 3] too, writes that "the love of friends and the mitzvoth and behaviors between man and his neighbor are the main facets of the "holy path" and the foundation of the entire Holy Torah...

The Alshekh [Sefer Torat Mosheh, Shemot chapter 19, verses 1-2] writes similarly that the reason the High Court, the Sanhedrin, had its seat in the Bet HaMikdash, close to the mizbeah (altar), was to show that in Hashem's eyes the mizbeah, which represents the peace between God and man, and the Sanhedrin, which represents the law bringing peace between a person and his fellow, were both equal.

He continues in this vein, as follows:

The words of the Rishonim and the sifrei mussar are thus clear....Unfortunately, they receive little "press" in our homes and/or our schools. Thus, as far as our children are concerned, being nice and being frum are not related.

In some circles I have heard it said that "there is too much talk about ahavat yisrael, and they suggest that those who talk about ahavat yisrael and interpersonal mitzvoth are being motivated by secular humanism rather than Torah. This is a sure way to kill the message. It also places those who advocate doing more about middot on the defensive. The bizarre and twisted message becomes that the true Haredi and the true Torah Jew are not overly concerned about middot and interpersonal mitzvoth.

In seeking to explain this phenomenon, he directs our attention (pp. 44-45) to an article by Reb Shlomoh Wolbe, published in haBe'er 15, 1977, which he calls "a shmuess." The article is entitled "On Frumkeit":

In this shmuess he puts forth the thesis that there is a basic instinct, inborn in all creatures, each according to its level of soul, to be "frum," i.e. to want to come close to one's Creator. Frumkeit is not fear of heaven, it is not a quality of piety, nor is it punctiliousness in observing mitzvoth. It is simply an instinct, and like all instincts it is egotistical, i.e., concerned only with its own satisfaction, unthinking, and given to satisfaction through fantasy. The satisfaction of this instinctual drive, he writes, serves as the force behind many people's mitzvah activities, and in a positive way, serves to help us carry out mitzvoth in spite of hardships. However, because of its egotistical and unthinking nature, one cannot build one's service to Hashem on this instinct. The frum instinct, no less than any other instinct, must be harnessed, and must be guided by rational thought, i.e., by Torah knowledge and halakha. If not, it will seek satisfaction in inappropriate ways. A person driven by the need to satisfy this instinct will engage in activities that he imagines will lead to a "spiritual high," even if in the process he transgresses very real Torah prohibitions. He will push his way through a throng in a shul to get close to a visiting tsaddik, pushing one person, jabbing another, and tearing off a button from a third person's jacket, all in the pursuit of attaining imagined proximity to holiness, i.e., attaining a frum "high." He does not consider that his violation of interpersonal mitzvoth may remove him from holiness . Nor does the performance of interpersonal mitzvoth attract him; it does not make him feel more spiritual or holy, it does not satisfy his instinctual need for a frum "high."

He summarizes as follows:

Yes, this is an age-old, deeply ingrained and intractable problem, but we cannot declare ourselves free of the obligation of trying to tackle it and change it. If we don't, we will not succeed in changing the attitudes and behaviors of our children in the area of interpersonal mitzvoth. The only way we can do this is by concerted and unrelenting educational programs aimed at the entire community. Parents need to learn the sources with their children, teachers with students, rabbanim with their congregants, and each one of us with our havrutot and friends.

I believe that our message must be clear and unambiguous. We must lay a far greater emphasis on our norms of social behavior-not for humanistic reasons-but out of the true understanding of halakha. Our piety and "frumkeit" should be directed toward our fellow human beings, and our piety cannot be limited to our ritual behavior alone.

[1] In Yoma, ibid. we find the following statement:

Sins between man and his Maker Yom haKippurim atones; sins between man and his fellow Yom haKippurim does not atone until he appeases his fellow. This is what R. Eleazar ben Azariah taught: "that ye be clean from all your sins before the Lord" (Leviticus 16:30)—sins between man and his Maker Yom haKippurim atones; sins between man and his fellow Yom haKippurim does not atone until he appeases his fellow. Said R. Akiva: Blessed are you, Israel, before whom do you purify yourself and who purifies you? Your father in Heaven.

And in Numbers Rabbah, ibid. we read:

R. Akiva said: One that says "and that will clear [the guilty]," and another text says "that will by no means clear [the guilty], (Exodus 34:7; Numbers 14:18)! But [the meaning is that] something between you and your Maker "will clear," and something between you and your fellow "will by no means clear"…

[2] There is a well-known controversy among the later authorities whether according to R. Eleazar ben Azariah sins between man and his fellow where there was no appeasement also present the atonement of sins between man his Maker. This is the view of R. Yishayah Pinto in his commentary to R. Isaac Alfasi (the Rif) apud the Ein yaakov, and so too R. Hayyim Palache (in Birkat Moadim leHayyim), and Yaavetz, in a responsum Shetei haLehem sect. 31). On the other hand, the Hidah, in Birkei Yosef to sect. …..subsect. 1, is of the opposite opinion. See R. Yosef Engel's note to Yoma ibid., Peri Hadash sect. 606:1, Shoel uMeshiv Reviata, vol. 3, sect. 64; Responsa Yehaveh Daat, by R. Ovadiah Yosef, vol. 5, sect. 44.

[3] On this halakhic concept, see what I wrote in Darkah shel Halakhah. Pp. 117–118, 140–141, 175–177; Minhagei Yisrael vol. 3, Jerusalem 1994, pp. 53–54; idem vol. 8, Jerusalem 2007 p. 263; Entzaiklopedia Talmudit, vol. 10, Jerusalem 1961, 32–41.

[4] See further ir Tamari, Kesef Kasher: Sugyot Mussar beMishar, Jerusalem 2005, pp. 49–50; Edward Zipperstein, Business Ethics in Jewish Law, New York 1983, pp. 49–53.

[5] On the status of met mitzvah see what I wrote in my commentary to Derekh Erets Zuta, Chapters Five to Eight, Ramat-Gan 1990, pp. 179–182.

[6] And see what my father, Rabbi Samuel Sperber, wrote on this in his Maamarot, Jerusalem 1978 pp. 189–191.

[7] As to the inner-halakhic logic of this position, it was explained by his son R. Velvele, as related by R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, in his Ishim veShitot, third edition, Tel Aviv 1966, p. 64). And see further the response of the Radbaz, no. 287.

[8] I might here remark that my grandfather, Rabbi David Sperber, of blessed memory, used to get up every night at about three in the morning to begin learning. This was in accordance with the kabbalistic view that at the middle of the night, when the sun begins to come close to sunrise, that is the time when the attribute of Mercy comes into force, (the Arizal, cited in Shaar haMitzvot, Elhanan, Birkei Yosef Orah Hayyim 236:1, based on Zohar, Hayyei Sarah 1326).

[9] Rosenbaum and Silbermann translation; see also their note 1, in the Appendix on p. 136.

[10] And see what I wrote on this in my Darkah shel Halakhah, Jerusalem 2007, p. 62 note 78, 79.

[11] For those readers who may wish to delve more deeply into this sugya, I would refer them to my book, Netivot Pesikah, Jerusalem 2008, pp. 181–192, where I dedicated a special appendix to this subject.

“And Moses saw the entire work [of the Mishkan], and behold, they [the Israelites] had accomplished it; as God had commanded them, so had they done; and Moses blessed them.” (Shemot 39:43)

The great 18th century economist and thinker, Adam Smith, distinguished between praise and praiseworthiness. In his book, “The Theory of Moral Sentiments,” (III.I.32) he noted that “the love of praise is the desire of obtaining the favorable sentiments of our brethren. The love of praiseworthiness is the desire of rendering ourselves the proper objects of those sentiments.”

One should act in a praiseworthy manner and this should result in receiving praise from others. An example of this is found in this week’s Torah portion. The Israelites completed the building of the Mishkan just as God had commanded—i.e. they performed in a praiseworthy fashion. Moses then offered them a blessing—i.e. he praised their work.

Adam Smith observes, however, that praise and praiseworthiness do not always go together. There are people who seek and receive praise even though they have not acted in a praiseworthy fashion. Charlatans, fakers, and egotists may behave in unseemly ways, and yet they receive praise from hangers-on or from a misguided, misinformed public. Such people, though, must know that they are not deserving of the praise. If they would be honest with themselves, they would recognize their own hypocrisy. Yet, since they are egotists after all, they rarely will give themselves an honest evaluation. They want praise, even if they are not praiseworthy. Such people are to be pitied, not praised.

Adam Smith also notes that there are those who behave in a praiseworthy manner, but who receive no adequate praise for their good work. While this may well be frustrating to these individuals, they have the satisfaction of knowing that they performed admirably and correctly, even if they did not receive proper acknowledgment for their deeds. Indeed, one should behave in a praiseworthy manner without expecting or demanding anyone’s compliments or blessings. Still, isn’t it nice to actually be thanked and appreciated!?

Moses well understood the importance of being praiseworthy…and of giving praise to those who have conducted themselves well. In blessing the Israelites, he acknowledged their good work and their sacrifices. He let them know that their efforts were appreciated. In so doing, he validated their efforts; he praised their praiseworthiness; he gave them the satisfaction of being recognized and thanked for their work.

What blessing did Moses actually utter to the Israelites? The Torah does not record his words. The Midrash, though, offers a suggestion: “He said to them: May it be the will of God that the Shekhinah may rest upon the work of your hands, and may the bliss of God, our God, be upon us.” (Tanhuma, Pekudei, 11)

Moses prayed that the Israelites would merit to experience God’s presence in their work, and that the Divine presence would be a source of bliss and inner satisfaction.

If people act in a praiseworthy fashion, they should—ideally—feel the presence of God in their work. They should realize that their thoughts, words and deeds are inspired by a Higher truth, by a Higher source of ideas and ideals. They behave in a praiseworthy fashion not for the sake of personal glory, and not in the hope of attaining fame and fortune. They behave admirably because they feel the presence of God in all that they do. While it may be nice to receive praise in return for praiseworthiness, one seeks to be praiseworthy by feeling God’s presence in one’s life and in one’s work. That feeling of spiritual bliss is the ultimate human fulfillment.

May the Shekhinah rest upon the work of our hands…that is a blessing for which all good people aspire.

Rabbis Hayyim and Marc Angel recently gave Zoom classes, and each class has been posted on our Institute's website: youtube.com/jewishideasorg  Below are brief descriptions of the classes. This enables you to learn from the classes at your own convenience. Enjoy...and Learn!

Israel in the Bible

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

In this series, we get to the heart of the central values in the Torah
and the rest of the Bible pertaining to the people of Israel and the
Land of Israel. Through the study of key biblical texts and rabbinic
interpretations, we build a foundation that informs all later
discussions of the religious significance of the Land of Israel for
the Jewish people. This series focuses on biblical values, not
contemporary politics.

Israel in the Torah
Israel in the Prophets
Israel in the Early Second Temple Period

Literature and Religion

Rabbi Marc D. Angel

This series deals with important literary works with themes that impact on religious ideas and ideals. Each class connects these themes to teachings in Judaism.

1. Ralph Waldo Emerson: Personal Religion
2. Matthew Arnold: Hebraism, Hellenism, Biblical Righteousness
3. Nathaniel Hawthorne: Sin, Guilt, Punishment
4. Miguel de Unamuno: Faith/Doubt/Piety
5. George Eliot: “Daniel Deronda” and the Jewish Question
6. Henrik Ibsen: Ethics and Religion

Many are struggling today, in different ways, with Shabbat observance. This challenge is an issue for us to be sensitive to and to be responsive to in all ways possible. One dimension of the challenge for many observant Jews today (or those working to become more observant) is where they can live. Homes that are very close to the shul that they can (or want) to go to are often out of their financial reach. Given the option of driving a car to shul, it seems far more halachically responsible to ride a bike to shul[i]. This can make Shabbat observance far more palatable for many people. And we must be concerned with people being stretched financially. Our halakhic tradition teaches “Chas HaKadosh Baruch Hu al Mamonam Shel Yisrael” (G-d cares about our financial stress)!^[ii]

This is most important for rising costs in observant Jewish life in America[iii]. Homes in close walking distance to shul are often unaffordable for countless people. What if one could choose to live 2-5 miles away from shul instead of just half a mile (or one mile at most)? A family living 2-5 miles away, yet still within the eruv[iv], most certainly should consider biking to shul instead of just staying home, and certainly instead of making an imprudent decision to buy a home well out of their budget. In addition to the financial concerns, there are many who need other types of pleasurable (personal or familial) experiences on Shabbat for the day to be deeply fulfilling and we should not judge those ways but enable deeper options, where halakha can allow it.

Some suggest that it is prohibited to bike on Shabbat^[v]. Four possible reasons^[vi]:

1. Shema yitaken (lest you come to fix a broken chain or a flat tire – i.e., a problem of makeh b’patish)^[vii] and as such, it may also be marit ayin – that the act is permitted but it may be mistaken by an onlooker to be an impermissible action[viii].
2. Uvdin d’chol[ix] (it’s what we do on weekdays – i.e., it’s not Shabbosdik).^[x] Further, some suggest that one should move slowly on Shabbat, and not even walk briskly.^[xi]
3. One might leave the eruv or the borders of Shabbat accidentally^[xii][xiii] and because of this, it may be a muktzah[xiv] object^[xv]
4. One might make grooves in the dirt with the wheels[xvi], which could be a violation of the melacha[xvii] of plowing (charisha)^[xviii]

These positions have heavy-weight poskim behind them and should be taken very seriously.  But these are reasons for a beit din ha-gadol to enact new legislation. But these are not halakhic principles that can obviously, easily, and stringently, be applied to a new case in our day.^[xix] We did not have bikes in ancient times, of course, and the power to create new prohibitions was reserved for the rabbis of the Talmud. We don’t simply say that because we haven’t seen an act being done[xx] that it cannot be permitted.^[xxi] Without an explicit prohibition in the Talmud[xxii], we need not create new prohibitions. [xxiii] The Maharshag wrote that we don’t create new gezeirot about uvdin d’chol,^[xxiv] and Rabbi Chaim Zimmerman[xxv] was upset by new arguments about why biking shouldn’t be allowed also arguing that we don’t create new gezeirot.[xxvi]  

Of course, it will be a breach of the contemporary Orthodox norms if one bikes and that is something to take seriously. Just because something is technically permitted, doesn’t mean that everyone should do it. We must be sensitive to the norms of our tradition and to the norms of our religious community. So, if one were to choose to bike, they should be aware of the social implications of that choice as we should generally seek to limit areas where we diverge from communal norms to foster communal harmony. Further, for those merely looking for enjoyment, Shabbat should be meaningful and pleasurable but we should remember that the primary goal is not fun.

If one is going to bike, one should take certain precautions. Firstly, they should service their bike regularly and only use bikes that are in good reliable shape. Secondly, they should be willing and able to continue travel with a broken bike rather than repair it if some rare event occurs[xxvii]. Thirdly, they should be clear on the boundaries of the eruv and techum[xxviii] and be sure to stay inside. This should only be done with an eruv.^[xxix] Fourthly, one should use the bicycle as a means to perform a mitzvah (go to shul, attend a seudah^[xxx], teach Torah and other mitzvot such as bonding with one’s children) but not for physical exercise goals as that would indeed be uvdin d’chol.^[xxxi] Fifthly, one should focus on biking on roads, sidewalks[xxxii], and bike paths and try to avoid dirt roads. Of course, we must note the importance of safety precautions as well.^[xxxiii]

It is very common for observant Jews to push strollers, often with inflatable tires, on Shabbat. The issues one could raise with such a stroller are almost identical to issues of biking (Will one leave the eruv? What if a tire is flat? What if it makes grooves in the dirt?) and so almost all of the potential challenges of biking have already been addressed through the permission of using strollers.

The reasoning that biking is not officially prohibited should be enough. But if one’s norm is to ensure that a major rabbi has officially permitted a practice then they can rely on the Ben Ish Hai. Rav Yosef Hayyim[xxxiv] of Baghdad^[xxxv] fully permitted riding a bicycle in the streets of the walled city of Baghdad on Shabbat.^[xxxvi]

"It is allowed to ride…on both Shabbat and Yom Tov, in a city where there is an Eruv. It is not considered a non-Shabbat activity… since the rider only moves his feet and the bicycle moves by itself, it is not like being carried in a chair by other people [which is forbidden] … it is allowed without doubt in a city with Eruv even for recreational purposes, and even more so if one is going to perform a Mitzvah…"

Rav Ovadia Yosef is sympathetic with the position of the Ben Ish Hai.^[xxxvii] In regards to inflating bike tires on Shabbat, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach[xxxviii] rules that it is allowed to inflate a ball on Shabbat[xxxix]. The same reasoning should apply to inflate a bike tire. So, fixing a bike, in some ways, may not be a problem in the first place. In any case, the concerns around biking are not about any prohibition at all, just that it may end up leading to a prohibition.

Orthodoxy continues to demand more conformity to new stringencies. There is often a pervasive fear of suggesting approaches outside that mainstream. But we can take a more halakhically-pluralistic approach to Shabbat observance. Once something is permitted as a matter of halacha, then if some don’t find it enjoyable, meaningful, helpful, or in the spirit of the day to ride a bike on Shabbat, that’s great. If others find it meaningful or helpful, then they should embrace the opportunity. Observant Syrian Jews in Brooklyn, today, ride their bikes on Shabbat[xl]. We should not encourage people to refrain from the permitted absent sufficient religious concern.

If some prefer not to bike for whatever reason, there are other options in addition to biking such as non-electric scootering and rollerblading[xli] that may be more appealing to some. Just as Modern Orthodox synagogues open their parking lots to those who choose to drive (while driving is a halakhic violation of Shabbat), shuls should start offering bike racks (since biking is not a halakhic violation of Shabbat) and it could encourage more people to attend.

In many Asian cities and in some European cities, biking is closely connected to work and thus uvda d’chol may indeed be a concern[xlii]. But biking in America is not work related and thus not uvda d’chol in the classical sense of work conduct. Poskim in Europe (and perhaps Israel) who don’t allow biking have different concerns whereas biking in America is for recreation, not work. It seems that the minhag not to ride a bike came from a time when bikes were connected to work, perhaps like watches. This has changed and thus the practice should change in America (but perhaps not in Israel, China, or Europe). In this model though, perhaps someone in America who bikes to work (or uses a bike for work) should not bike on Shabbat.

What is the goal of Shabbat? To pray? To relax? To serve God? To eat and sleep? To learn Torah? To recharge? So many different explanations emerge. Many suggest some leisurely activities are not prohibited but are simply “not shabbosdik.” I believe in an approach where we empower people to make their own religious choices based upon their own religious worldviews, within the confines of halakha[xliii]. To be a religious person is to take responsibility for one’s religious life[xliv]. In an era, where the high majority of the Jewish people are not interested (and even offended by) Jewish law, we need to invoke more urgency[xlv] on making observance accessible and meaningful.^[xlvi]

“Whoever delights the Shabbat, is given all their heart’s desires!”[xlvii] May we do all we can to preserve the beautiful sanctity of the day. And do all we can to find joy in the gift of Shabbat and come closer to God and to actualize our unique life missions in service of God.

The truth is that Orthodox (i.e. halakhic) conversions require an initial acceptance of mitzvoth [kabalat mitzvoth] as a necessary element in the conversion. But the definition of “kabalat mitzvoth” is not what they [the rabbinic establishment in Israel] say, but [their view] is based on a limited group of rabbinic authorities, mainly from the Ashkenazic sector. The intention of “kabalat mitzvoth”actually entails a basic acceptance of the Jewish religion and what is implied by that acceptance: acceptance of the mitzvoth without specific connection to the degree of acceptance of mitzvoth. Even with acceptance of some of the mitzvoth, the convert is a valid convert even initially.

Isn’t complete acceptance of mitzvoth essential for conversion?

There are several answers to this.

1. According to most Rishonim (medieval rabbinic authorities), a total acceptance to observe all mitzvoth is not required. This is the opinion of Maimonides.
2. According to the great Posek, Radbaz, acceptance of mitzvoth is ideal [but not mandatory]. The requirement is rabbinic, as was written [also] by Rabbi Shlomo Kluger.
3. The Rambam and Shulhan Arukh rule that if the process of kabalat hamitzvoth was omitted, the conversion is still halakhically valid after the fact.
4. Even those who argue that kabalat hamitzvoth is essential for conversion, the intention is that this is part of the process of conversion, whose basic requirement is circumcision [for males] and immersion in a mikvah in the presence of bet din.

Is there validity to a conversion that does not include an obligation to observe the mitzvoth?

Here we must expand the discussion. One first has to understand the Talmudic discussions relating to those who come to convert. Circumcision and immersion in the mikvah, with a bet din, are requirements that are clear and well-understood. But when it comes to kabalat hamitzvoth, we must clarify that the Talmud itself does not have this phrase; it only mentions informing the candidate of the mitzvoth and the acceptance, namely the person is informed of “some of the mitzvoth” in the words of the Gemara, and if he/she “accepts” then he/she is a convert. His/her acceptance means agreement to what he/she was informed. This informing [about the mitzvoth] is not a sine qua non of the process, but is a way to let the convert know what he/she is entering into in becoming a Jew.

From the Talmuidic passages, we learn that the essential matter in becoming Jewish is to identify with the Jewish collective in all respects, “to suffer in their sorrows.” Certainly, one who wishes to become Jewish must follow the entire process, but there was never a contingency between observing the mitzvoth and getting converted. The proof is from clear Talmudic passages relating to a convert who, following conversion, reverts to his/her previous religion and way of life, that such a person is still deemed a Jew in every way. We learn that there is no requirement to demand that the would-be convert accept to observe the mitzvoth, and [a lack of such acceptance] does not invalidate the conversion.

Isn’t it the duty of the bet din to ascertain that the candidate for conversion intends to observe the mitzvoth?

This was never the responsibility of the bet din. However, there is a rule that the bet din must initially determine why the person wishes to convert; but if this was not done, such a person is a valid convert even if he/she came for an ulterior purpose e.g. to marry a Jew or for some other motive. This is a clear Talmudic position.

What are the boundaries for conversion?

Clearly, one who wishes to join the Jewish people is obligated in the basic mitzvoth that are fundamental to Judaism. The process includes circumcision and ritual immersion; faith in God and entrance into the traditions of the Jewish people.

What are these traditions of the Jewish people?

This varies depending on the times. In the past, when most Jews observed mitzvoth, then there would be an assumption that the convert be like all the other Jews i.e. fully observant of mitzvoth.  In our times, though, most Jews do not observe the mitzvoth; today, though, and especially here in the land of Israel, most Jews are “traditional.” And this blessed situation is improving. For example, a great many Jews are careful to observe the laws of mezuzah; they rest from work on Shabbat; they recite Kiddush on Shabbat and holidays; they light candles for Shabbat and holidays; they observe basic kashruth; they fast on Kippur; they avoid bread on Pessah; they observe Succoth, Hanukkah, Purim; they love fellow Jews; they guard the land of Israel; they participate in helping others and giving charity. Even if sometimes they sin and fail to observe all the mitzvoth, as a rule they understand and keep [many mitzvoth].

Is a person who converts by accepting the traditions of the Jewish people as outlined above, is such a person a valid convert according to halakha?

One must understand that there is a huge gap between our viewpoint—which is the long-held halakhic approach of Sephardic rabbis over the generations—who never required a would-be convert to transform into a meticulous observer of mitzvoth, because they knew that this would be nearly impossible or usual; but they strove to emphasize the basics i.e. that the candidate truly wants to adopt Judaism, has faith, and wants to be and live like all the other Jews. In our times, when most Jews are not scrupulously devoted to mitzvah observance, it is not reasonable to demand of a convert more than what most Jews are observing. Would that all Jews would be observant of the general traditions outlined above.

Where did the erroneous stringent approach arise?

We have explained that entering Judaism entails identification with the Jewish collective. In our times, most Jews are not fully observant of mitzvoth. One who wishes to join this majority should be accepted according to halakha, and with the hope that with time the person will advance in keeping mitzvoth. But [those who hold the stringent view] question the Jewishness of those who are not like them, thinking them Jewish only after the fact. According to them, they certainly don’t want to add non-Jews to these [non-observant] Jews, who see such converts as a burden and scab; they love the [Talmudic phrase] that “converts are as difficult for Jews as a scab.”

Are the conversions performed by the rabbis of the Israel Defense Forces and similar conversions only valid “after the fact”?

First, would that these converts would be accepted even after the fact! This would mean that the conversion was done and is accepted, following the halakhic rule that all such conversions are valid. But they [that espouse the stringent view] twist the halakhic sources so that [for them] such converts are not accepted even after the fact.

Would you expand on the position of Sephardic rabbis and their halakhic traditions?

Without going into all the details that I’ve explained in my books, we know from the rulings and protocols for conversion and from the entire spectrum of their writings, that in practice they followed the approach I’ve described above. In fact they converted all who came to convert even when most came with an ulterior motive such as in order to marry a Jew. Rabbi Benzion Uziel ruled that “the condition of accepting the mitzvoth is not a sine qua non for conversion.” Thus ruled Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim who was Rishon leTsiyon, and so ruled Rabbi Unterman, and so ruled in practice Rabbi Ovadya Yosef even though his writings sometimes point one way and sometimes another way, all depending on the situation.  It is clear that historians who will evaluate his views on conversion will see that he validated the conversions of 5000 male and female soldiers who were converted under the auspices of the Israel Defense Forces.  This was the practice of the Chief Rabbinate in the past until the predominance of the extreme position.

Since there are stringent positions, why should the halakha follow the lenient view?

First, the halakha generally follows Bet Hillel who are lenient, rather than Bet Shammai who are stringent. Second, when there is a serious crisis within the Jewish people, when assimilation is frightening, when there are people of Jewish ancestry such as the benei anousim who seek conversion but are turned away—it is a mistake to be stringent and alienate them by making unrealistically high demands that are not required by the halakha. It is a mistake not to follow the lenient position. Moreover, even if the Sephardic approach was only “after the fact”, at a time of crisis like the present it is proper to adopt this position even initially. An emergency situation is in the category of “after the fact,” as is well known.

Does the stringent position sin against would-be converts?

Definitely. Not only is it a perversion of halakha as we’ve demonstrated, it is oppression of converts which is a serious violation of the Torah, and an oppression of those who have already converted “bedi-avad”. The stringent position needlessly alienates those who wish to join the Jewish people, and this is a sin. It makes converts [who were converted according to the lenient view] question the validity of their conversions, as though they are turned back into non-Jews; this is a sin and a travesty. Stringency in matters of conversion today implies leniency when it comes to assimilation.

Is a conversion final or can it be annulled?

It is clear from the Talmud and halakhic sources that once a person has converted—and even if the conversion was dubious--the conversion is fully valid. Rabbi Yosef Karo in his Beit Yosef truly stated that “all depends on the evaluation of the bet din” that performs the conversion. This means that before a conversion, the bet din must decide whether to accept or reject the candidate for conversion; but once the conversion has taken place, it is unquestionably valid.

Is there a chance to free the State of Israel from the dilemma it confronts today?

As long as the dominant stringent approach of the rabbinic establishment is in place, there will never be a solution to the conversion problem, assimilation, and the return of those of Jewish ancestry who wish to return to their Jewish roots and faith.

What about the Chief Rabbinate of Israel?

If things do not change and the decision is to leave things in their hand, the result will be destruction, sin and divisiveness in society, hatred of religion—these will only increase in Israel.

What is the hope for the future?

The hope is that the Jewish people will understand the critical situation and will cast off the yoke of the extremists.

We are pleased to announce that Rabbi Hayyim Angel's recent three-part series on Israel and the Bible now is available on our YouTube channel.

Here are the links:

Part 1: Israel in the Torah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YT9yD9WfjsM&t=9s

Part 2: Israel in Prophecy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKVsVDX8Tpk&t=3s

Part 3: The Second Temple Period

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xxJm22vFdU&t=12s

We have many other classes and symposia on our YouTube channel, as well.

https://www.youtube.com/user/jewishideasorg/videos

Please enjoy and share with your friends!

Thank you

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

Memorable Sephardi Voices, compiled by Lucien Gubbay

(London: Montefiore Endowment, 2020)

Reviewed by Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar, Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

            Moderate voices often are hard to come by in any arena these days, and the sphere of traditional Judaism is no exception. At the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals (jewishideas.org), we are dedicated to promoting the rich diversity of Jewish voices throughout the ages, which open avenues of conversation that lead to a passionate, sensible, and intellectually vibrant commitment to Jewish life and growth.

            Sharing many of our core values, the Montefiore Endowment in London recently has published a small volume which compiles many teachings of (primarily) Sephardic rabbis which promote a traditional Jewish vision characterized by love and moderation, rather than extremism and exclusivity.

            Lucien Gubbay, the Chairman of the Montefiore Endowment, has excerpted dozens of passages from the extensive teachings of Sephardic rabbis—primarily (but not at all exclusively) from the 19^th-21^st centuries. These voices often are overlooked or even downright ignored in contemporary discourse, yet they have much to add in terms of practical halakhic ruling and broader perspective toward the vital religious issues of our time.

            As Rabbi Dr. Abraham Levy writes in his foreword, “The differing and often more lenient legal interpretations of Sephardi rabbis and others need not always be accepted; but they should be respected and not, as often happens today, be suppressed and even deleted from reissues of standard halakhic books.”

            To this value, I would add the incalculable positive significance in citing the voices of so many members of the Sephardic rabbinate—some very well-known, but others quite obscure. This volume enables the entire Jewish world to be informed of these learned perspectives. There are many legitimate traditional avenues into Jewish thought and law, and it is essential for rabbis and the wider community to be aware of these possibilities. Who knows how many more Jews would connect more strongly to tradition were they to be knowledgeable of such formidable voices presenting outlooks and rulings different from what the popular media present?

            An additional beneficial feature of this anthology is the biographical information about the rabbis who are quoted. Many communities of the Sephardic Diaspora are represented.

As with any anthology drawn from a vast database of rabbinic teachings, this book reflects the religious values of the compiler and the partnering institutions. There is a conscious effort made to present compassionate, flexible, and lenient rulings of Sephardic rabbis. Tellingly, Gubbay prefaces his book on the inner title page with two statements found in the book:

“Flexible and progressive halachic rulings will ensure the continuation of Judaism in perpetuity.”

“Leniency in halachic ruling is a better principle than stressing what is forbidden.”

            Although there is some effort to cast these perspectives as characteristic of the Sephardic world, Gubbay admits that there are more extreme voices in the Sephardic world, and more moderate voices in the Ashkenazic world as well. One of the great contributions of this volume is the addition of so many moderate Sephardic voices to the panoply of contemporary opinions. When more extreme voices garner headlines, and this phenomenon is coupled with the suppression and ignoring of the more moderate voices, we are impoverished as individuals and as a community.

            Some of the foremost points stressed in this anthology are:

• Diversity in opinion is a built-in feature of Torah learning. Different people bring their own unique perspectives, and we never should demand or expect conformity.

• Although we accept tradition and recognize the limitations of human wisdom and understanding, it is vital to critically examine issues rather than blindly accepting everything. We must evaluate each issue in light of the primary sources, rather than automatically deferring to decisions made by previous generations of rabbis.

• The volume presents lenient rulings on a wide array of critical contemporary issues. While of course there are dissenting and more restrictive opinions, it is critical to present these permissive voices as well.

• There are less restrictive roads to welcome converts into Judaism. Once someone converts halakhically, there is no annulling the conversion.

• There are several rulings allowing women greater participation in several areas of religious life.

• Torah scholarship must be fundamentally linked to ethical behavior, or it falsifies the Torah.

• Torah scholars must deeply respect all Jews, including those unlearned in Torah. Additionally, we are one Jewish community, and must remain united and inclusive even when many contemporary Jews are not fully observant of the Torah and Jewish Law.

• Jews must love and respect non-Jews who live ethically. This is a religious-moral principle, rather than simply a concession to living in harmony among others.

• There is value to the study of secular subjects, both for having the wherewithal to find a profession, and also because there is educational value to this study.

This enlightening volume should be in the hands of rabbis, educators, and interested laypeople worldwide. These precious voices should be incorporated into discourse in communities and schools. The more Jews are exposed to the treasures of our tradition, the more they are enabled to religiously connect and find their own individual paths into tradition.