National Scholar Updates
The Impact of Tearful Prayers
Question: The Talmud contends that "from the day that the Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, the gates of prayer were locked...but the gates of tears were never sealed". (Bava Metzia 59a-Berakhot 32b) The implication is that tears have an impact upon prayers. Or better yet, tearful prayers are always in order. How are tearful prayers more significant or potent than simple prayers without tears?
Response: The Talmud states (Sotah 11a) that prior to the enactment of the evil decrees which enslaved the Jews in Egypt, Pharaoh sought the counsel of three sages. Job was silent at this meeting and subsequently was punished by the Almighty for his silence by the affliction of pain. Yet punishment in the Bible generally relates in some form to the nature of the crime. In this situation the punishment of pain in no way relates to the sin of Job. Also, it is necessary to determine the nature of Job's immoral behavior. What sin did he commit by being silent? Yes, his silence may be construed as a form of acquiescence to the slavery of the Israelites promulgated by Pharaoh. But is it not possible that Job firmly believed that any action or statement on his part would be to no avail? What impact would his demurral have upon Pharaoh? How could one individual go against the mighty legions and the powerful Egyptian military machine? Sensing, therefore, the futility of any contrary position, Job merely was silent. Was this silence such a grievous crime that Job was subsequently punished by the agony of constant physical pain and sickness?
Our sages contend that the punishment of pain was a divine lesson to Job, and through him to all mankind, that the argument of futility is not morally adequate to sustain silence in times of danger. Job was afflicted with such severe ailments that he cried out constantly because of the unbearable agony of the pain. Why did he cry? Why did he publicly bemoan his physical pain? Did he not know that screaming and moaning do not help the condition? Is it not futile to moan when one is in pain? The answer is that it is the nature of man to cry out when he hurts. Crying does not stop the pain, but, rather, gives evidence that the pain exists. It is the manifestation that something internally is wrong. The silent person is basically the one who does not poignantly feel pain. All is well - there is no reason to cry. Job's reaction to his own plight, and his silence in the face of impending danger to the Israelites, proved that Job felt no internal pain when Israelites were killed. Job cried over his personal problems, not over pogroms to Israelites. The enslavement and the possible ultimate destruction of the Israelite people did not disturb Job's emotional tranquility. Had Job been a friend to the Israelite people, then the silence would have been impossible. The natural human strands of emotions would have evoked a verbal crescendo of pain. Silence was, therefore, evidence of no concern and no personal involvement. For this reason, Job's silence was marked as a message of immorality. (Sihot Musar; Rav Hayyim Shmuelevitz, Rosh HaYeshiva, Mir, Jerusalem - 5733, Ma'amar 5)
Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh: Israel and Humanity
Many Jews in our day, like many of our brethren of other tribes, are seeking
to mend the fractures that divide us from ourselves and from others, and to
find ways to heal the wounds that afflict us only six decades after the
Holocaust and the rebirth of Israel. Amid these efforts, an idealistic,
scholarly nineteenth-century rabbi from
to some, to provide a beacon of hope and humanity.
Elijah ben Abraham Benamozegh (1822-1900) was highly respected in his day as
one of
most eminent Jewish scholars. (See Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v.
"Benamozegh"; Elijah Benamozegh,
Humanity, trans. and ed. Maxwell
31-38, 378-402. I have drawn in several instances from material in the
Translator's Introduction to this volume.) He served for half a century as
rabbi of the important Jewish community of
(
Benamozegh now commemorates his name and distinction. R. Benamozegh was (and
remains) celebrated as
articulate proponent of Kabbalah, at a time when Jewish mysticism was widely
disdained. In Gershom Scholem's opinion, he and Franz Molitor were "the
only two scholars of the age to approach the Kabbalah out of a fundamental
sympathy and even affinity for its teachings."
(Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah ,
1974, 202. Cited by Moshe Idel
in his Appendix to
and Humanity, 397.) Later, owing
significantly to the effective advocacy of his student
and posthumous editor Aime Palliere, it was Benamozegh's persistent
support of the Noahide idea and its implications for the
spiritual life of all people that brought him most attention, and has
encouraged the translation and republication of his works. (See
and Humanity, 18-21 et passim.) Most recently, however, it is the scope of his human
sympathy and religious tolerance --- the
seemingly effortless way in which Kabbalah's cosmic universality and Noahism's religious universality are
somehow linked up in him alongside a scrupulous Orthodox rabbinism --- that have attracted
particular attention, and identified him not only as a rare
Orthodox rabbi --- "the Plato of Italian Judaism," as he was sometimes called
(see Palliere in Israel and Humanity, 31), and "incontestably in the
great line of the Sages of Israel" (Emile Touati, quoted by Luria in
Israel and Humanity, 8) --- but as a timely and useful thinker as well.
A brief glance at the Internet reveals how widely R. Benamozegh's ideas are
being discussed, in Noahide and Christian as well as in Jewish circles, and how
much research is currently being devoted to him. In recent decades, the book of
his that has received most attention, Israel et l'Humanite (Israel and
Humanity), has been published in Hebrew (1967), Italian (1990), and English
(1995) translations (see Luria in Israel and Humanity, xii), and has made a
deep impression on the contemporary Noahide movement. His other major work in
French, La Morale Juive et la Morale Chretienne (Jewish and Christian Ethics),
whose English translation had been
had long since gone out of print, was reissued in
on R. Benamozegh are appearing, especially in
of the most important recent essays in English is Moshe Idel's "Kabbalah
in Elijah Benamozegh's Thought," which appears as an Appendix in
Humanity, 378-402.) Alessandro Guetta's study Philosophie et Cabale dans la
Pensee d'Elie Benamozegh (Padua, 1993), has recently been translated by Helena
Kahan as Philosophy and Kabbalah: Elijah Benamozegh and the Reconciliation of
Western Thought and Jewish Esotericism, and is scheduled for publication in
October 2008 by the State University of New York Press in Albany.
Some current rabbinical literature, too, discloses
an awareness of R. Benamozegh. One must note in this
connection Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz's remarkable paper, "Peace Without Conciliation: The
Irrelevance of 'Toleration' in Judaism" (Common Knowledge , 2005: 11:41-47).
Steinsaltz here affirms his opinion, perhaps without parallel in Orthodox
rabbinical writings, that the Noahide criterion of monotheism -- the first
of the seven universal mitzvot -- is satisfied not only by Islam (an embarras
de richesses) but by modern Christianity as well: "By the standards
of the Noahide laws, the doctrine of the Trinity is not an idolatrous belief
to which Judaism can express an objection." And even, mirabile dictu,
by contemporary Buddhism and Hinduism. To be sure, Steinsaltz hedges
his revolutionary assertion with a discouraging title and subtitle, and
with significant qualifications, especially with respect to what he sees
as the difference between "Noahide monotheism" and "Jewish
monotheism". But no matter -- the Noahide cat is out of the bag, and this article has ---
properly and expectably --- attracted a good deal of attention.
Steinsaltz's reference to R.
Benamozegh comes in his last paragraph: ¿Even
Elijah Benamozegh, who was perhaps the rabbinic figure most open toward, most appreciative of, Christianity and Islam, viewed the relation between Judaism and those other religions in hierarchical terms.¿ His acknowledgement here of R. Benamozegh's exceptional appreciation of other religions, even while his Torah
perspective unsurprisingly obliges him to perceive these religions as
imperfect, is, I think, symptomatic of the current perception
of him.
More debatable, perhaps, is Rabbi Steinsaltz's attempt to invoke R. Benamozegh to support his contention that even an authentically realized Noahism must remain "hierarchically" inferior to Judaism. His discussion of the relation between the two is not altogether clear,
but he seems to diminish what he calls "the Noahide model" in
a way that would be alien to R. Benamozegh --- I shall discuss this
matter presently -- though perhaps congenial to a more conventional rabbinical
perspective.
He concludes his article with that most familiar of
rabbinical strategies for explaining or excusing Jewish concessions, the "shalom
bayit" formula: "Basically, [Noahism] does not
require most religions to give up, or modify the meaning of,
such words as 'true' and 'truth'. It provides
a basis for conversation among religions without the expectation of
compromise. . . . The Noahide approach, in other words,
is a formula for no more than peace."
The decisive difference between Rabbis Benamozegh and Steinsaltz on this
matter evoked a paper by Alick Isaacs, "Benamozegh's Tone: A Response to
Rabbi Steinsaltz" (Common Knowledge, 2005: 11:48-55). Isaacs expresses
gratitude for the distinguished
"extraordinary if not absolutely exceptional" assessment of
contemporary religions as "adequately monotheist, adequately
non-idolatrous, and at least adequately ethical to qualify as compliant with
the Noahide laws." But he points out that Rabbi "Benamozegh went well
beyond the uninterested recognition that Rabbi Steinsaltz recommends. What is
most exceptional, and, for us today exemplary, is Benamozegh's tone."
II
In point of fact, even Benamozegh's undoubtedly "hierarchical"
conception of the relation between Judaism and the other nineteenth-century
religions is informed by the "tone" to which Isaacs refers: its
expressions are affection, respect, regard, even embrace, at least when he
speaks of those gentile religions which he believes to be nearest to the
fulfillment of Noahism, and to which he therefore feels most akin: Islam and
(especially) Christianity. "And now we turn to the followers of the two
great messian- isms, Christian and Moslem. It is to Christians in particular
that we wish to address a frank and respectful word, and God knows that it is
with fear in our heart lest our advances be taken for hypocrisy. No! No
impartial and reasonable man can fail to recognize and appreciate, as is
appropriate, the exalted worth of these two great religions, more especially of
Christianity. There is no Jew worthy of the name who does not rejoice in the
great transformation wrought by them in a world formerly defiled. . . .As for
ourself, we have never had the experience of hearing the Psalms of David on the
lips of a priest without feeling such sensations. The reading of certain
passages of the Gospels has never left us unresponsive. The simplicity,
grandeur, infinite tenderness, which these pages breathe out overwhelms us to
the depths of our soul. . . ."
(
Humanity, 50-51.)
In the same astonishing spirit is a remark by Aime Palliere, who knew Benamozegh well:
"In the last days of his life, Rabbi Benamozegh enjoyed a reclusive
retirement in a verdant quarter of
dawn, bound in tefillin and wrapped in his ample tallit, he said his prayers,
the sound of the bells in a nearby church reached him with a melodious
sweetness which gave all of nature a religious voice, and it seemed that as he
heard this call of Catholic bells, the great thinker prayed with a more intense
fervor. . . . [Benamozegh] felt in spiritual communion not only with all his
Jewish brethren in all countries, worshiping at the same hour, but also with
all believers, spread all over the surface of the earth, who, in choosing the
first hours of the day for prayer, showed themselves without knowing it to be
faithful disciples of the ancient masters of Israel."
(
Humanity, 36.)
III
R. Benamozegh's impressive, indeed startling, tolerance and his altogether
universal perspective seem in a sense to reflect the ancient Jewish culture of
Italy into which he was born and in which he lived his long life. The famous
Latin motto "Nihil humanum me alienum puto" --- "Nothing human
is unimportant to me" --- could have been his own. (The saying is
ascribed to Terence.) His family were from
included distinguished rabbis as well as prosperous merchants.
major centers of Jewish life in
as one of the most creative, dating only from the sixteenth century. (By
contrast, the Jewish settlement in
antedating the Christian presence there.)
Benamozegh's time was one of the most tolerant places in this relatively
tolerant country. It never had a closed ghetto, and by 1800 its population of
5,000 Jews constituted an eighth of its population. Its magnificent synagogue
was admired for its beauty throughout
its destruction by the Germans, was thought to rival the great synagogue of
Humanity, 2; David Ruderman, "At the Intersection of Cultures: The
Historical Legacy of Italian Jewry," in Gardens and Ghettos, ed. Vivian B.
Mann,
is where R. Benamozegh lived and ministered. One may suppose that the
comparatively liberal spirit of the place, together with the millennial
acculturation of the Italian Jews, helped him avoid the hostilities as well as
the vulnerabilities that afflicted men of comparable rabbinical culture in less
favored lands. But, of course, we must not imagine that the genial Italian
environment could by itself account for R. Benamozegh's liberal spirit. That
was undoubtedly his own.
grow and flourish.
As a boy, we are told, R. Benamozegh was an exceptionally brilliant student
of Torah. He was instructed by his uncle, Rabbi Yehudah Coriat, who initiated
him into Kabbalah. But he had also a keen interest in secular studies, which he
seems to have nourished by self-study -- there is no record of his having
attended a university. "His exceptional intelligence," suggests
Palliere, "compensated for the lack of any precise method in his
self-instruction." (Palliere in
Humanity, 31.) His precocity is attested by his having, at the age of sixteen
or seventeen, contributed a preface in Hebrew to Rabbi Coriat's Ma'or
Va-Shemesh (Livorno, 1839), a collection of kabbalistic treatises (Palliere in
Israel and Humanity, 31-32).
He was eventually to compose his own works in
three languages, chiefly in Italian but also in Hebrew and French. Moshe Idel
has described him as "a very erudite and prolific writer, whose domains of
creativity were broad and multifaceted. . . .He was well acquainted with many
of the available texts of antiquity, in their Greek or Latin originals and also
in translation, and his writings constitute a sui generis type of erudition in
Judaism, not only in the nineteenth century." (Idel in
Humanity, 379.)
His bibliography is extensive, but according to Palliere,
writing in 1914, there remained at that time even more works still in
manuscript than had been published. (Palliere in
Humanity, 32.) His principal publications include biblical commentaries (most
importantly 'Em La-Mikra, 1862, a five-volume commentary on the Torah);
polemical works on the authenticity and importance of Kabbalah ('Eimat Mafgi
'a, 1855, and Ta'am Le-Shad, 1863); comparative ethics (La Morale Juive et La
Morale Chretienne, 1867); and historiography (Storia degli Esseni, 1865), among
many others. Of a projected work in theology (Teologia Dogmatica e Apologetica)
one volume only was published (Dio, 1877) as well as excerpts from other
portions of his manuscript, in 1904. Among his unpublished works is a study on
the origins of Christian dogma, which the French scholar Josue Jehouda regarded
as "of exceptional importance." (Luria in
Humanity, 8-9, and 333, n. 10.)
This partial survey of his writings reveals
abundantly both R.Benamozegh's very wide range of scholarly interest, and his
willingness to treat what might seem improbable subjects for a rabbi of
Livorno, despite the special features of Italian-Jewish culture to which I have
already referred. Indeed, his importance in the Italian rabbinate
notwithstanding, his writings were not always welcomed by less unconventional
colleagues. Rabbi Benamozegh's Torah commentary 'Em La-Mikra was in fact
condemned for heterodoxy by the Orthodox rabbinical establishment of Jerusalem
and Damascus, though defended by the author at once in a public letter
addressed to these rabbis. (Palliere in
Humanity, 334-335, n. 5.) His situation recalls that of a comparably
unconventional, mystically oriented successor two generations later, Rabbi
Abraham Isaac Kook. Such exceptionally independent rabbis and thinkers seem all
too likely sooner or later to agitate their less daring contemporaries.
IV
Israel et l'Humanite (1914), R. Benamozegh's posthumous
summa of Jewish thought, is undoubtedly his book
which speaks most directly to our own time, and is the principal source of his
current, and apparently growing, reputation. It has a curious history. Its editor
Palliere, who was in a position to know, tells us that R. Benamozegh worked on it for
many years and left, when he died, some 1900 "large pages of compact
writing, without paragraphing, editing, or division of any kind."
(Palliere in
and Humanity, 37.) Yet a very important part of the work,
its Introduction, had been published as early as 1885, well before the author's death in
1900, and sets out concisely the plan as well as the theme of the entire
work as it ultimately appeared: " We propose, then, to seek out
the universal character of Judaism, in both the speculative and practical domains. Our scheme calls
for three principal divisions: God, Man, and Law." (
and Humanity, 59.)
The title of this 1885 Introduction is equally revealing of R. Benamozegh's perspective: "
and Humanity; Proof of the Cosmopolitanism in Judaism's Principles, Laws, Worship,
Vocation, History, and Ideals." (Israel et l'Humanite;
Demonstration du Cosmopolitanisme dans les Dogmes, les Lois, le Culte, la
Vocation, l'Histoire, et l'Ideal de l'Hebraisme. Introduction,
1885.) In his epithets
"universal" and "cosmopolitan," R. Benamozegh adumbrates the central theme of the book.
Judaism (or Hebraism, as he usually prefers to call it) often seems
parochial and self-absorbed, and has been so perceived by others, but this is altogether misleading: "[Its particularism] has always deceived, and still
deceives, so many persons of good faith, to the point that they are
able to see in the religion of Israel only a purely national cult.
But they can easily turn from their error if they will accept our invitation to inquire, with us, whether Judaism does not possess the elements of a universal religion. They will then
recognize that it indeed contains at its heart, as the flower conceals the fruit, the religion intended for the entire human race, of which the
Mosaic law, which seems on the surface so incompatible with that high destiny, is but the husk or outer cover. It is for the
preservation and establishment of this universal religion that Judaism has endured, that it has struggled and suffered. It is with and through this
universal religion that Judaism is destined to triumph." (
and Humanity, 44.)
The same
idea appears near the end of the book, embodying a corollary metaphor:
serves a "priestly" function for "lay" Humanity: "Judaism is really two doctrines in one. There
are two laws, two codes of discipline -- in a word, two forms of
religion: the lay law, summarized in the seven precepts of the sons of Noah,
and the Mosaic or priestly law, whose code is the Torah.
The first was destined for all the human race, the second for
alone. . . . It is one Eternal Law, apprehended from
two perspectives." "Priestly" Israel
is regarded as fulfilling its mission, as justifying its very existence, by serving the spiritual needs of "lay"
Humanity, even as its prototypes, the Kohanim, were essentially exalted
functionaries, but functionaries nevertheless, who existed to serve their people. "Such is the Jewish conception of the world.
In heaven a single God, father of all men alike;
on earth a family of peoples, among whom Israel is the
"first-born", charged with teaching and administering the true religion
of mankind, of which he is priest. This "true
religion" is the Law of Noah: It is the one which the human race will embrace in
the days of the Messiah, and which
mission is to preserve and propagate meanwhile." (
and Humanity, 53-54.)
This "priestly" function explains the elaborate cultic
obligations of Mosaism: "But as the priestly people,
dedicated to the purely religious life, Israel has special
duties, peculiar obligations, which are like a kind of monastic
law, an ecclesiastical constitution which is Israel's alone by
reason of its high duties." (
and Humanity, 54.)". " We shall show
that in Judaism, universality as ends and particularism as means
have always coexisted, and that particularist Judaism has the very special
function of serving as trustee and voice for the universal
Judaism." (
and Humanity, 58.) This service is, perhaps,
raison d'etre: "Far from feeling obliged to convert non-Jews to his practices, [
confines himself to preaching to them that universal religion whose
establishment on earth was, in a sense, the purpose of his own existence."
(
and Humanity, 327.) Rabbi Benamozegh rejects
categorically the notion that
"The image of divinity on earth, the partner of the Creative Spirit, is not the Jew:
it is man." (
and Humanity, 325.)
V
This passionate
perception of the unity (which implies the essential equality) of all mankind, including Israel, is
at the heart of R. Benamozegh's vision. To articulate this vision in traditional Jewish terms, he
moved the Noahide doctrine of
relation with Humanity from the margin of Jewish thought to the center. What had been a self-flattering
and, in practice, largely conceptual obligation for Jews became, in his powerful conception, the
reason for Jewish existence. What had been a God-given but, in practice, largely
theoretical obligation for ancient "heathens" became an urgent
desideratum for modern "Gentiles".
Rabbi Benamozegh
was certainly cognizant that his grand vision was far from universally understood (let alone embraced) by the
Jews of his day, or perhaps of any other. He puts the matter with delicacy: "No doubt, the entire multitude of
were not able to grasp with equal understanding these truths which,
even in our own day, remain inaccessible to so many.
In the comprehension of every religion, there is a natural gradation, corresponding
to the intellectual and spiritual development of the
believers. This must be particularly true with respect to Judaism, whose
doctrines rise infinitely above the plane of mere intellect. . .
.It is enough for the eternal honor of Judaism that this ideal, incomparably
superior to all that surrounded it, had been preserved
at its heart, and that the voice of its Prophets and sages
did not stop proclaiming it, despite all hostile
circumstances." (
and Humanity, 325.)
Plato, too, acknowledged that
his vision of the just city was an ideal that never was and might well never be. If Rabbi Elijah
Benamozegh, the "Plato of Italian Judaism", affirmed his ideal
of the way that Israel and Humanity should relate to one another on an equally
visionary level, the ideal is not less valuable for that reason. His influence
today upon persons of both kinds would seem to justify the vision.
Torah and Social Justice: The Work of Uri L'Tzedek
For nearly two thousand years, the Jewish people experienced powerlessness wandering in exile, often without privileges, land or rights. Following the destruction of the Second Temple, we became the prototypical ger (stranger), perpetually in a state of alienation from our surroundings. During the modern period, Jews won increasing rights in the Western world and began to participate more actively in the societies in which they lived.
In the second half of the twentieth century, Jewish communities in Israel and in North America experienced unprecedented freedom and prosperity. One indicator of this has been the emergence of Jewish organizations that address social justice concerns in America and around the world. Jews have come to see themselves as "global citizens". Organizations like American Jewish World Service, PANIM, Jewish Funds for Justice, and the Religious Action Center reflect the Jewish community's desire to go beyond its own gates. In this hotbed of Jewish social justice development, the Orthodox community has notably been underrepresented. Perhaps for fear of assimilation or dilution of halakhic standards, the Orthodox community allowed the Torah's charge of tzedek tzedek tirdof (justice, justice, you shall pursue) to become the mantra of other movements as it focused inward.
In recent years, young Orthodox Jews have decided to move their efforts beyond their own communities. These young Jewish activists, born and bred on hesed projects, are not satisfied with momentary amelioration of life's difficulties. This younger generation, which grew up with the comforts and trappings of power and prosperity, craves more lasting change and more meaningful ways to better society. Out of this desire for systemic social justice led by the Orthodox community, Uri L'Tzedek was born. This essay will outline Uri L'Tzedek's mission and goals, strategies and tactics, as well as two specific case studies that demonstrate the social justice change that Uri L'Tzedek creates and promotes.
Uri L'Tzedek aims to serve and inspire the American Orthodox Jewish community toward social justice in and beyond our communities. It seeks to develop the growing discourse of social justice among traditional Jewish communities using Jewish texts and the paradigms of halakha to connect God, Torah and social-political issues, ultimately translating that discourse into action. Through its work, Uri L'Tzedek aspires to create a Jewish community of learners and leaders who will seek to improve the world, while simultaneously fulfilling and enriching their religious and ethical lives.
Uri L'Tzedek employs three principal strategies to promote and achieve its mission: (1) to create learning opportunities to allow for the reintegration of social justice issues and traditional Jewish sources; (2) to foster and train new Jewish social justice leadership; and (3) to engage in action and activism toward substantive systemic change.
At the heart of Uri L'Tzedek's success has been its beit midrash (learning) program. Through batei midrash, Uri L'Tzedek began creating an Orthodox community that wrestled with the role of social justice in the Torah, the Talmud and the halakhic literature. Topics have included immigration, healthcare, Tibet and domestic violence. Uri L'Tzedek educators and visiting scholars combined Jewish learning, compelling personal narratives, and the most recent and urgent facts and research on the pressing issues of today. These educational programs are taught in synagogues, schools, and colleges.
To bring the powerful Torah of justice outside the four walls of the beit midrash, Uri L'Tzedek began developing social justice leaders in the Orthodox community. The charge of creating a just society is greater than any single individual or small group can shoulder. With a broad, diverse and committed leadership, Uri L'Tzedek reaches more people, addresses more issues and creates more opportunities for change. Uri L'Tzedek fosters a diverse cohort of leadership through one-on-one meetings, community-driven initiatives, high school and college student mentoring, and individually mentored programs.
Uri L'Tzedek as an organization identifies pressing social justice issues that impact, or are impacted by, our community. By partnering with other organizations, neighborhood councils and community initiatives, Uri L'Tzedek identifies and addresses social justice needs ranging from inter-community race relations to domestic workers' rights.
The gemara in Kiddushin states: "Study is great, for it leads to action." Uri L'Tzedek is committed to translating the learning into real life. Learning about the halakhic mandate to care for the stranger and the oppressed is complemented by work with Jewish-owned businesses to help them treat immigrant workers according to the Torah's standards. Studying the Jewish view of forbidding racism leads to opportunities for people from diverse communities to join together for community service and dialogue. Over the course of the past year, Uri L'Tzedek addressed the challenge of workers' rights in two specific arenas.
The first such example of combining learning with activism was an initiative at Stern College for Women. In February 2008, Shmuly Yanklowitz, Uri L'Tzedek co-founder and director, taught at a social justice shabbaton at Stern College about workers' rights. After the lecture, several inspired students wanted to learn more about the issue and how they could effect change. Yanklowitz directed them to resources in both the halakhic and social justice literature and encouraged them to examine the institutions around them. The students discovered that workers at Stern College did not have a place to eat their lunches due to the restrictions against non-kosher food in the cafeteria. The students learned that there was no separate cafeteria for workers. They were forced to eat outside or in bathrooms. Concerned about this treatment of workers, students organized a petition. They approached the administration of the school asking for a change. The administration answered this request. Within a week, a temporary lunchroom for Stern College workers was made available.
A second example of combining learning with activism was Uri L'Tzedek's joining Domestic Workers United (DWU) in lobbying for a domestic workers bill of rights. While American labor law provides benefits and protection for most industries, domestic workers in homes, as well as farm workers, have been excluded. In the fall of 2007, Uri L'Tzedek identified this topic as a growing social justice concern and held an evening study program, examining this topic from both halakhic and personal perspectives. That following spring, Uri L'Tzedek joined a campaign to pass legislation in the New York State Assembly and State Senate that would guarantee domestic and farm workers the basic labor rights that all other laborers already enjoy. Joining together with a coalition comprised of clergy, advocacy groups, volunteers, academics and domestic workers, Uri L'Tzedek activists journeyed to Albany, NY to lobby for this social justice cause. This effort succeeded on two levels: it created strong new communal bonds where none had previously existed, and it significantly pushed this legislation forward, garnering additional eight multi-sponsoring congressmen and the eventual passing of the first ever domestic workers bill of rights.
For Orthodoxy to remain a relevant and a transformative force, it must speak to the souls of American Jews. Jews, today more than ever, are seeking to make meaning of their contemporary identities and to be engaged in modern society in more complex and nuanced ways. The Torah must be an enabler, not an inhibitor, in guiding a sophisticated and moral discourse and call to action. Uri L'Tzedek seeks to lead a movement wherein Jews will integrate Talmud Torah, community organizing, leadership development, and a passion for tzedek. Uri L'Tzedek maintains that a pursuit for righteousness and justice in all domains of our lives is the most powerful religious force to create social change, build community, and represent the truth of our mesorah (tradition). Rabbi Soloveitchik's Halakhic Man inspired us to answer this call: "When God created the world, He provided an opportunity for the work of His hands - humanity - to participate in His creation. The Creator, as it were, impaired reality in order that mortal humans could repair its flaws and perfect it." Uri L'Tzedek supports and challenges our community to respond to Rav Soloveitchik's charge to repair the world and perfect it.
The directors of Uri L'Tzedek are Ari Hart, Aaron Finkelstein, Tsufit Daniel, and Shmuly Yanklowitz. To learn more about Uri L'Tzedek visit uriltzedek.webnode.com or write to [email protected].
A Fair and Balanced Approach to Social Justice
Introduction
Increased awareness in social justice causes in Judaism is a most welcome development. As advocates often point out, social justice is not external to Judaism but is pervasive throughout the laws and ethics of Jewish law. From the individual perspective we believe that each human was created in the "reflection of the divine" (Bereishit 1:27), and as a people we are charged with being a "light unto the nations" in order to bring God's salvation across the earth (Yeshayahu 49:6). The latter sages of the Talmud introduced the doctrine of "Tikkun Olam," repairing the world, as a legitimate justification for legal innovations. From one point of view all the commandments serve to achieve the end of perfecting ourselves and our society.
But determining which causes or methods represent the Jewish ideal of social justice is a difficult challenge. Would an issue such as vegetarianism – notably supported by R. Abraham Isaac Kook – be considered a Jewish social justice issue if the Torah not only permits (Devarim 12:20) but occasionally requires eating meat (Shmot 12:8)? Furthermore even granting a consensus regarding the legitimacy of a cause, there may be valid disagreement on how to implement solutions. For example, there are several strategies in which people could help the poor. Welfare or charity offers immediate short-term relief, but are not terribly helpful in the long term and could provide disincentives against self-improvement. On the other hand, training programs which help individuals become self sufficient will take more time, but for Rambam this sort of charity is the highest level one can give (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Charity, 10:7). People may share the same goal, but could disagree as to the social justice merits of a particular method.
This discussion is further complicated by the relationship between the religion and politics to the point where political policies and religious ethics become blurred. In 2005 seven Jewish social justice groups opposed the nomination of Justice Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court. These groups opposed Alito not only for perceived disregard for civil liberties, but also for his positions on interstate commerce and abortion. These complaints in the name of "social justice" assume a particular social and political outlook, which even if compatible with Judaism, is not necessarily mandated by Torah.
Finally, imbuing social justice discussions with religious rhetoric may approach fundamentalism. Policies such as supporting rent control or raising the minimum wage are advocated not on its economic merits, but as a religious mandate – one which is not only representative of the entire faith, but incumbent on all Jews. Or to put it another way, this is the difference between promoting environmentalism for social grounds or asserting that God demands we purchase hybrid vehicles or change our light bulbs.
Without advocating or critiquing any particular cause, agenda, or policy, I would like to suggest here is that the Torah's general model of social justice is not one of utilitarianism promoting the greatest good for the greatest number of people, nor does it consider the plight of the domain of the destitute or disadvantaged exclusively. To the contrary, the dual Torah's model of social justice strives for individual judicial equality for all members of its population. In other words, the test for Torah based social justice would be does the policy adequately account for the rights and needs of everyone effected.
Balance in Jewish Law
One area in which we find such a balance is in the distinction and designations of the ethics of hessed . Biblical law provides social and economic protection for the most vulnerable and isolated of the Jewish community. In particular the gerim, orphans, and widows are singled out as groups which one may not oppress (Shmot 22:20-21). The poor are also considered a protected class of sorts in that Biblical law requires that the poor be supported (Devarim 15:4-9) and mandates specific mechanisms for their support such as leaving a portion of the harvest for them (Vayikra 23:22).
But there are limits to hessed, particularly in the area of justice. The Bible considers it a perversion to favor the poor over the wealthy (Vayikra 19:15), affirms the same civil law for the ger and everyone else (Vayikra 24:22). In civil matters, maintaining judicial integrity is so important that R. Yonatan states, "any judge who takes from one and gives to the other inappropriately God will take from him his life" (B. Sanhedrin 7a). Furthermore, there are limits with respect to charity. Despite the call for hessed and obligations for charity, the Talmud limits how much one is allowed to give to 20% lest the giver become poor himself, creating yet another imbalance in the society (B. Ketuvot 67b).
Seeing the complete picture of Jewish law, we find that Judaism expects compassion but it does so recognizing that the functioning society cannot become one-sided, favoring one group over another. We must provide hessed, but focusing entirely on one group of the population will lead to a different form of social injustice.
The concern for balancing multiple interests is also present in the laws relating to worker's rights. The Bible demands that employers must pay their workers on time, and failure to do so violates a biblical prohibition (Vayikra 19:13). The Talmud extends that transgression such that an employer who withholds his worker's wages violates a total of six biblical laws including stealing (B. Bava Metziah 111a). Furthermore, Jewish law would seemingly mandate employers provide safe working conditions under the general prohibition of negligently causing damage to someone else, even with the intent of compensating afterwards (B. Bava Batra 22b).
But these laws protecting the worker cannot be taken in isolation of the broader labor legislation. Just as the dual Torah assumes the employer meet certain obligations to his employees, it also assumes the employees maximize their productive efficiency while on the job. In fact, the sages were so concerned with the worker that they shorted the birkat hamazon and amida (B. Berachot 16a) to minimize the time taken from their employer's. In fact some were so careful about wasting their employer's time and money that they would not even greet sages as they passed by (B. Ta'anit 23a, B. Kiddushin 33a).
The point here is not to equate the suffering of mistreated workers with the financial costs of inefficiency. The Torah is certainly concerned with the potential exploitation of the weak. However, this sensitivity in no way precludes similar concern for the other side of the equation. As such it is inadequate to describe Jewish law as being favorably biased to either the worker or management, but rather towards a mutually beneficial interaction.
The Examples of Tikkun Olam
This sort of balance is also present in the specific cases where the Sages acted in the interests of Tikkun Olam to address several forms of injustice. For example, one type of injustice is the direct and unilateral actions of an individual to manipulate the legal system. In this regard the Sages instituted new laws to prevent such abuse, particularly in the areas of divorce (M. Gittin 4b). For example, a husband who sends his wife a document of divorce cannot convene an ad hoc court to nullify the document while in transit. In these instances the concern is only to close legal loopholes to prevent exploitation.
However where there are two legitimate parties to consider the Sages employed Tikkun Olam to balance both of their respective needs. Consider the innovation of Hillel's prusbol (M. Gittin 4:3). The Bible commands that all loans be forgiven with the shemitta year (Devarim 15:2). Naturally this proved to be a disincentive for lenders to loan money with the increased risk of loss. Hillel noticed that although the Torah forbids withholding loans on such grounds (Devarim 15:9) people were not lending money because of the shemitta year. Consequently, Hillel instituted the prusbol, a mechanism by which loans would not be automatically forgiven with the shemitta year, out of Tikkun Olam.
At first glance it appears that the beneficiaries of this Tikkun would be the borrowers since lenders would be less reluctant to loan money before shemitta. But the only way in which this Tikkun could be achieved was to address the fears of the supply side lenders, to protect their interests as well. In addressing the problem of a tighter money supply, Hillel's did not only focus on the plight of the borrowers by compelling lenders to loan, even though Hillel would have explicit biblical support to do so. Rather, the Tikkun Hillel enacted benefited both parties of the transaction such that the interests of both borrowers and lenders are protected.
We also find the balanced nature of Tikkun Olam regarding the tragic instance of a captured Jew. According to M. Gittin 4:6 it is forbidden to pay excessive sums of money to redeem captives. From a social justice perspective we can sympathize with the captivity of any human being, and our emotions may dictate that we save anyone regardless of the cost. Indeed, the Sages consider redeeming captives in particular to be "a great mitzvah" (B. Bava Batra 8a-b). On the other hand overpaying for hostages provides incentive for hostages to be taken again in the future. Despite any noble intentions, by saving one life one would actually be jeopardizing the well being of others. In the balanced model of Tikkun Olam, such an exchange of one injustice for another is unacceptable for we cannot substitute the suffering of one with the suffering of another.
Conclusions
The Torah's balanced model of social justice provides a useful framework for evaluating the various contemporary social justice issues. It reminds us that however noble a cause may seem, we need to at least consider the ramifications of a policy and who else might be affected. Jewish law dictates certain protections for the underprivileged, while simultaneously acknowledging the risks, ramifications, and potential unintended consequences of any solution. Consequently, social justice policies and causes advocated in the name of Judaism should similarly take an equally thoughtful and balanced approach.
Furthermore, given the above parameters of social justice, it is less likely to maintain fairness with more ambitious policies. Simply put the more people whom are affected by a policy, the greater the likelihood that one side will suffer some form of loss. For example, a policy of universal health care may assist some of the currently uninsured but will most likely result in negative unintended consequences for other patients, doctors, hospitals, insurance companies, and drug manufacturers. In contrast, recall that despite the global implications of Tikkun Olam, the Sages invoked the principle for a relatively narrow set of circumstances where fewer individuals are affected such as borrowers or captives, but not for large scale social engineering. This is not to say that such endeavors should not necessarily be pursued, only that careful thought be used to formulate and justify polices in the name of religious social justice.
Most social justice causes are motivated through the fundamental concern for human welfare. But as we approach such issues with compassion for one group of people, where applicable, we cannot withhold compassion from others or ignore negative repercussions which may be caused by our actions.