National Scholar Updates

Battling for the Soul of Orthodoxy: The Essential Teachings of Rabbi Marc D. Angel

           

  Rabbi Marc D. Angel has been one of the most prolific rabbinic scholars for over 50 years. He has written or edited almost 40 books and hundreds of scholarly articles and shorter pieces in various media. He served a distinguished career as Rabbi of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York City, and since 2007 as the Founder and Director of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. He has served in many communal and rabbinic leadership capacities, as well.

            The task of writing an article to encapsulate the extensive work of Rabbi Angel is reminiscent of the celebrated talmudic story of the prospective convert who demanded of Hillel to teach him the entire Torah while the prospective convert stood on one foot. Hillel responded: “What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor: that is the whole Torah, while the rest is the commentary thereof; go and learn it” (Shabbat 31a). My goal in this essay is to present “on one foot” Rabbi Angel’s central ideas and ideals which he has promoted over the course of over 50 years.

 

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Rabbi Angel believes that one must first establish the proper intellectual foundations for an ideal vision of Judaism, and then attempt to build a great personal religious life and Torah community from the ground up. Judaism begins with a profound and abiding belief in God, that God revealed the Torah to the people of Israel through Moses as an eternal covenant, and that there is an accompanying Oral Law to the Written Torah. Judaism also maintains that the rabbinic sages throughout the generations have had the authority to interpret texts and traditions to apply the eternal principles of halakha to an ever-changing world.

            What today is known as Orthodoxy is the faithful reflection of Jewish tradition. Streams of Judaism that are not committed to divine revelation or to halakha cannot be authentic representations of classic Jewish thought.

            Living a proper halakhic life creates a deep, intimate relationship with God. Interiority, humility, love of humanity, and a desire to improve society are proper manifestations of a righteous life. Authentic religion is not about showiness, disdain for others, or authoritarianism.

            The aforementioned arguments are easy to establish from within traditional Jewish sources, and Rabbi Angel therefore devotes relatively little energy to defend them. The lion’s share of his work is dedicated to a different theme, namely, delineating and advocating for what he considers to be ideal Orthodoxy. Often, Rabbi Angel’s writings are scholarly efforts to analyze and present various ideas and ideals of Judaism. There also is a regular hallmark of his writings to battle passionately and courageously for the very soul of Orthodoxy. Rabbi’s Angel’s writings are suffused with calm, thoughtful, well-researched wisdom, coupled with an urgent sense that these ideas must prevail or else our community is impoverished as a result.

            Ideally, all Jews should be faithful to Torah and halakha. However, even in a less-than-ideal world, we must view all Jews, regardless of level of observance, as a family. The inclusive communal model, which never fractured into various ideological movements, provides the best paradigm for promoting Jewish unity for a fragmented contemporary Jewish community. The Sephardic world, and many Ashkenazic communities, championed the this inclusive modell. Even within the halakhically observant community, the ideal is unity without conformity. There are many legitimate avenues to a Torah lifestyle.

We must try to win the hearts of all Jews to the Torah through persuasion and through exemplifying excellent religious and moral behavior, and never through authoritarianism or coercion. We should learn from everyone: the full range of rabbinic thought throughout the ages, folk wisdom, and the wisdom of the world. Judaism is a truth-seeking religion.

Rabbi Angel regularly appeals to a passage in the Jerusalem Talmud: The way of the Torah is a narrow path. To the right is fire and to the left is ice. Overzealousness leads to fiery extremism and fanaticism, whereas too much secularization or watering down of Jewish belief and observance leads to icy skepticism. The Torah way of life is balanced, harmonious, and sensible. To be fulfilled properly, it must maintain its balance on the narrow path.

A confident faith is unafraid of questions and challenges. It is unafraid of diversity of opinion, and it is unafraid of ideas that force one to rethink one’s own assumptions. The rabbinic axiom, “know how to answer the heretic” (Mishnah, Avot 2:14), requires a deep knowledge of what that heretic thinks, and a thoughtful understanding of why the heretic rejects our traditions.

            Judaism balances a particularistic aspect in which God has a singular relationship with the Jewish people through the Torah and halakha; and a universalistic aspect that fosters genuine respect for all humanity. Jews should live in their divinely-given Torah path, while simultaneously embracing the Torah’s ideal that God is everyone’s God. The Torah’s teaching, that all of humanity is created in the Image of God, should foster a genuine love and respect of humanity, and a desire to engage with the world, both its people and its wisdom. As Jews, we are responsible for all other Jews. As human beings, we are responsible for yishuvo shel olam—participating in the advancement of humanity.

Judaism is broad, and contemporary society needs its broadness to address the complex religious and communal realities of today. We also need to represent the profound sophistication and wisdom of Jewish tradition at its best to appeal to well-educated Jews.

There are two fundamental approaches to applying halakha to real life. One approach begins with a study of the classical rabbinic texts, reaching a scholarly conclusion, and then applying that conclusion to the individual or community. The other approach begins with the human reality and then studies the classical rabbinic texts for principles to apply to that reality. Rabbi Angel strongly favors the latter approach. For example, when addressing the question of saying Psalms of Praise (Hallel) on Yom HaAtzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day), we must begin by acknowledging the religious reality of the miracle of the State of Israel. Only then do we turn to the halakhic books.

Ideal rabbis must be scholars and teachers of Torah, but also must be involved with the community. There needs to be a symbiotic relationship between local rabbis who know the particular needs of their communities, and rabbinic decisors who are experts in halakhic texts. Community rabbis must have the humility to consult halakhic experts, and they also must take responsibility to make decisions armed with that expert knowledge for their local communities. The Torah gives guidance for every aspect of life, and rabbinic leadership should offer that guidance to the community. Orthodoxy can exert its greatest influence when its representatives are involved in all communal matters.

The greatest role models behind Rabbi Angel’s religious worldview are Rambam in the medieval period; and Rabbis Benzion Uziel, Haim David Halevy, and Joseph Soloveitchik in the twentieth century. On the communal leadership level, Rabbi Angel also admires two of his predecessors who led Congregation Shearith Israel: Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes and Dr. David de Sola Pool. These exceptional rabbis embodied the ideas and ideals of Judaism at the intellectual, communal, and personal levels.

We do not need to reinvent Judaism or Orthodoxy. We must find its most compelling elements from within our classical sources and promote them. The best of Judaism has the power to attract and inspire many Jews, and they in turn can create the positive model society to inspire humanity.

 

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Within the contemporary Orthodox world, there are powerful threats to Rabbi Angel’s comprehensive vision. There are significant and growing strains within Orthodoxy that are overly fundamentalist. They teach Tanakh and the Talmud at a hyper-literal level, and ignore science, reason, and even the diversity of sacred Jewish texts that present other opinions. Some promote superstition. Some promote isolationism from less observant Jews, non-Jews, and any ideas that are foreign to the specific narrow ideas they espouse. Some overemphasize the particularistic elements of Judaism while ignoring the universalistic elements.

When Judaism is presented as isolationist and anti-reason, it distorts Jewish teaching and creates a cult-like religious group that cares only about its idea of God and the members of its small circle. This approach also alienates many intelligent, educated Jews who are made to feel that tradition and intellectual honesty are at odds with one another. In fact, they are completely intertwined.

            Rabbi Angel frequently criticizes the attempt in certain segments of the Orthodox community to stifle legitimate diversity of opinion. One dimension of this problem is the phenomenon of self-selected “gedolim” (great rabbinic sages), who maintain that they alone possess the truth of Torah, and therefore all other opinions are invalid and irrelevant. The vitality of Judaism relies on debate and conversations. A healthy Judaism allows ideas to be debated, accepted, or rejected, but never stifled or ignored.

            This problem also extends to the proper balance between local rabbis and halakhic scholars who spend their time in yeshivot. The insistence of many today that halakha must derive from sacred texts first and then applied to real-life situations undermines the ideal symbiotic relationship between local rabbis and halakhic decisors. Suddenly, halakhic experts are required not only to share their knowledge with the community rabbis, but also to decide policy for individual communities. As noted above, Rabbi Angel insists that proper halakha must begin with the human reality and then turn to the classical rabbinic texts. Community rabbis must consult halakhic experts for the range of halakhic opinion, and then take responsibility for making the proper decision for their communities.

            Another harmful restriction of opinion in many Orthodox circles is the frequent suppression of Sephardic voices of the past 500 years, generally through ignorance—whether willful or not. This bizarre reality is disrespectful to the sacred customs of Sephardic communities and causes pain to Sephardic yeshiva students who often feel excluded from “Jewish” experience. However, the harm on the communal level is far greater. The plethora of complex issues facing the contemporary Jewish community, including conversion to Judaism, the tragic agunah problem (a woman who is trapped in a dead marriage because her husband refuses to grant a religious writ of divorce, a get), issues pertaining to the modern State of Israel, the role of women, family values, contemporary modesty, and so many other issues, must be addressed with the full rabbinic toolbox. By stifling dissent and diversity, by ignoring the views of many Sephardic rabbis, and by adopting very restrictive positions, the Jewish community suffers irreparable damage.

Although advocates of more extremist, isolationist, restrictive, superstitious, and fundamentalist forms of Judaism cause harm on the intellectual and communal level, there is another culprit behind the flaws of the Orthodox community. Too many rabbis and laypeople remain silent or even tacitly support the more extreme views. Those who understand the ideas and ideals of the Torah must courageously stand up and promote the ideal vision of Judaism. The community must play a vital role by supporting institutions that promote these ideals.

Rabbi Angel quotes Rabbi Benzion Uziel, who in 1919 reminded his rabbinic colleagues that humility is praiseworthy, but it must never lead to shying away from the needs of the hour. Inertia cloaked in false humility is an abdication of one’s responsibility as a leader. By writing articles with titles such as “On Torah Education and Mis-Education,” “Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism,” and “Re-Imagining Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel draws his battle lines and appeals to the broader community to recognize the importance of standing up for these ideal values.

In his essay, “Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel offers a remarkable analysis of a celebrated talmudic passage, the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b–56a). After a misunderstanding over a party invitation, Bar Kamtza was furious with the rabbis present who had remained silent at his humiliation. To retaliate, Bar Kamtza accused the Jews of rebellion to the Roman Emperor, suggesting that they would reject his sacrificial offering. The Emperor sent an offering, but Bar Kamtza made a slight blemish on the animal that would technically render the sacrifice invalid. When the rabbis discovered the blemish, most maintained that they should sacrifice the animal anyway, so as not to offend the Emperor. One rabbi named Zechariah ben Avkulas objected, since the law prohibits such a sacrifice. The rabbis then suggested killing Bar Kamtza so he could not inform on them to the Roman authorities. Again, Rabbi Zechariah objected, since Bar Kamtza had not committed a capital crime. As a consequence, Bar Kamtza returned to the Emperor, who was enraged against the Jewish community and destroyed the Temple. The story ends with a condemnation of the hardline position of Rabbi Zechariah: “Rabbi Yohanan thereupon remarked: Through the scrupulousness of Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land.”

Rabbi Angel agrees with Rabbi Yohanan, that the hardline stand of Rabbi Zechariah was a disaster. Rabbi Zechariah placed book knowledge ahead of an obvious reality, namely, the Jewish community would be in dire peril if the rabbis rejected the sacrifice from the Emperor and allowed Bar Kamtza to inform against them. Clearly, the needs of the hour required the position of the majority, to make an emergency ruling to allow the sacrifice so that they could maintain the good favor of the Roman government.

However, continues Rabbi Angel, Rabbi Zechariah is not the true villain of this narrative. The ultimate failure should be ascribed to the majority of rabbis. Why did they not overrule the hardline position of this one rabbi? Evidently, they did not want to seem less religious, less committed to the sacred texts of the Torah. They had to take a risk by applying halakha to a dire reality. The cowardly majority allowed the forceful insistence of Rabbi Zechariah to win the day—and therefore are complicit in the destruction of the Second Temple.

Rabbi Angel’s analysis thereby sets out two of his central messages. First, when hardline halakhic analysis follows book knowledge prior to evaluating a living reality, halakha can be distorted and it may cause harm to the community. Second, and in many ways more importantly, those whose judgment is sound must courageously stand up against the hardline position. When the majority of reasonable voices remain silent, voices of extremism prevail and the entire Jewish community loses.

            In his essay, “Re-Imagining Orthodox Judaism,” Rabbi Angel writes that “If enough of us share these ideals; if enough of us are willing to work to promote these ideals; if we can impact on synagogues, schools, and yeshivot—then perhaps these ideals will actually be realized in our community.” Rabbi Angel is right. The rest is up to us to support and build on this foundation.

 

 

Remembering Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool

Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool was the pre-eminent Sephardic rabbi in America during the mid-twentieth century. Born in England in 1885, he died on December 1, 1970, the first week of Kislev 5731, after having served Congregation Shearith Israel in New York for a period spanning 63 years.

Dr. Pool was the quintessential Sephardic rabbi of the Western Sephardic tradition. He was eloquent and dignified, and yet friendly and approachable. He was a fine scholar and author, and was also an admirable and respected communal leader. During his impressive career, he was an ardent spokesman for Zionism; a devoted spiritual guide to American Sephardim; a foremost voice in interfaith dialogue; a historian of American Jewry; editor and translator of the Sephardic and Ashkenazic prayer books.

When I began my service to Shearith Israel in September 1969, I was still a 24 year old rabbinical student. That first Rosh Hashana, I sat next to Dr. Pool on the synagogue’s Tebah, reader’s desk, where the congregation’s clergy are seated. Dr. Pool was 83 years old, frail, and in declining health. After services on the first night of Rosh Hashana, Dr. Pool placed his hand on my head and gave me his blessing, wishing me a happy and meaningful ministry.

That was a special and sacred moment for me. When I shook Dr. Pool’s hand, I was shaking the hand of a great spiritual leader who had begun his service to Shearith Israel in 1907; he had taken over from Dr. Mendes who had begun service to Shearith Israel in 1877. I was one handshake away from 1877! And just a few more handshakes separated me from Rev. Gershom Mendes Seixas who had begun serving Shearith Israel in 1768. I felt the weight of centuries, the incredible continuity of a magnificent tradition.

I remember Dr. Pool’s aura of dignity and serenity, even in his elderly years when he was increasingly frail. He was a genuinely pious and humble man who served his community with selfless devotion.

Dr. Pool had maintained Shearith Israel’s traditions during his many years of service to the congregation. He not only followed in the footsteps of his venerable predecessors, but set the standard for his successors. Dr. Pool taught by example. He instructed his immediate successor, Dr. Louis C. Gerstein, who passed on the traditions to me. I learned that the Rabbis of Shearith Israel, as well as the Hazanim, conducted the synagogue prayer services and read the Torah with precision. The synagogue’s pulpit was reserved only for the synagogue’s rabbis. (On rare occasions, guest Orthodox rabbis were invited to preach from the pulpit.) Sermons were to be instructive and inspirational; frivolity was never allowed from the pulpit, nor was the pulpit to be used to advance a political candidate or to criticize anyone by name. The rabbi was to set an example to the congregation of proper devotion in prayer—no engaging in idle chatter or silly gestures, no reading books other than the prayer book during worship. The rabbi was to be at services punctually, not missing unless prevented by illness or a serious scheduling conflict, or unless away from town. The rabbi was to set the tone for orderliness and decorum, for neatness and respectfulness.

The rabbi was to set an example for social justice, communal activism, righteous behavior. The rabbi was to be a scholar, teacher, and pastor. The rabbi was to speak with his congregants, not at them. Dr. Pool insisted that each Jew take responsibility for his and her religious lives. In September 1922, Dr. Pool wrote to his congregation: “We do not, we cannot, all think alike, and there is no one of us that dares dogmatize for others in the realm of religion. If you expect your Rabbi vicariously to think through the problem of living for you, you will weaken and paralyze your own spiritual nature, just as surely as you will destroy your Judaism if you leave it to your Rabbi to live a Jewish life for you.”

In a sermon delivered at his grandson’s Bar Mitzvah in May 1962, Dr. Pool spoke of the need for the generations of Jews to live their Judaism actively. “We must not allow ourselves to become decrepit veterans dreaming of past victories in the struggle for holiness. We have to be something more than feeble survivors of once glorious days…Our life as Jews must be the result of something more than inertia based on the physical fact that we were born into the Jewish people….Within every one of us who is worthy of bearing the Jewish name there must be a conscious sense of a divine call to serve our fellow men for today and tomorrow…. Weaklings among us may fall away as they have done in every generation. But the true spiritual descendants of Abraham, of Moses, and of all our heroic sages and saints keep the Jewish light kindled, and hand it down from generation to generation.”

In 1966, he and his wife Tamar published a book, “Is There an Answer?” They made the following observation: “It is we ourselves who can and who must make life worth living. In the face of the harshest realities, we must cling to life and exalt it by giving to its positive values a commanding place in our consciousness. …To look constantly on the seamy side of life is false to the totality of existence. We must gratefully remember life’s goodness and blessings. We must discern what is transient in experience and what is abiding in our consciousness” (p. 23).

Dr. Pool died in December 1970, a bit over a year after I began my service to Shearith Israel. Yet, I seemed to feel his guiding hand throughout my rabbinic career. I read all his publications; I went through his sermons; I edited a collection of his sermons, addresses and writings. Throughout my many years of rabbinic service, Dr. Pool has surely been an important influence. Even now, as rabbi emeritus of Shearith Israel, I still seem to feel Dr. Pool’s hand on my head and I still seem to hear his words of blessing and encouragement. They mean as much to me now as when I first heard them at age twenty four. Perhaps even more.

What do we expect from our synagogues?

Leah Bieler has an MA in Talmud and Rabbinics. She teaches Talmud to students of all ages and backgrounds. Leah spends the school year in Connecticut and summers in Jerusalem with her husband and four children. This article is reprinted from the Times of Israel, October 2, 2013.

 

In light of the new Pew study on Jewish affiliation, there will be a lot of hand-wringing about what the Jewish community can do to get people more engaged. My revolutionary
suggestion? Get to synagogue.

People are always telling me that they’d love to come to shul more often, but they’re just not as religious as I am. Its one of the hazards of being married to a rabbi. Strangers think they know my exact level of religiosity, whatever that means. So here’s what I’ll say. You have no idea what goes on inside my head. And I have no idea what you’re thinking, either. Even more blasphemous, I don’t care.

Prayer is a funny thing. Many of us, if pressed, would say that we’ve had our most transformative moments, our most intimate experiences with the divine, when we were alone. When I’m on top of a mountain and see a breathtaking vista, I marvel at the brilliance of the creator. In the moments my children were born, and the pain magically stopped, I looked into their eyes and saw God working, literally through me.
Now let’s get real. I’ve had four children, and I don’t plan on having another one every time I long for a connection with the divine. And who has time to climb mountains on a regular basis!

Any onewho expects those kind of moments continuously, spontaneously erupting out of daily or weekly prayer, is, to put it bluntly, deluded.

Here’s what coming to shul on a regular basis has the power to deliver:

Entertainment

For those of us with children at home, shabbat services provide friends and activities, a free playdate without screens which you need only minimally supervise.
We grownups also get an opportunity to socialize without 12 emails back and forth planning a dinner date/ securing a sitter/ making reservations. Just show up Saturday morning.

Real live community

During the week we focus on friends who tend to fall within a few years of our own age. We get lost in the priorities of those micro communities and forget about the real needs of everyone else. On shabbat at services we are part of a community of all ages/ backgrounds/ experiences. Children chat with elderly couples, empty nesters give new moms a break and bounce cranky babies. You notice someone newly saying Kaddish, and ask about her loss.

Cultural Fluency

Rather than sitting through dry classes on liturgy in school or adult ed, people who regularly attend services attain fluency with the service simply by being there. Children and adults who have achieved mastery over the service feel at home in shul rather than feeling alienated. Circular logic, to be sure, but true nonetheless. These people are more likely to become leaders in all aspects of the Jewish world.

A Wider Focus

There will be many who suggest that the answer to engagement is individualized programming –Torah yoga, shabbat biking clubs, kabbalah for teens. These focused programs may bring people in the building, but they do little for the goal of creating long term connection and community. On the contrary, they send a message that in order for Judaism to be meaningful it must constantly be tailored to your specific needs. Real community is a place where we learn to care about people with decidedly different experiences and perspectives. The more we fracture our programming to
reflect the perceived needs of the few, the more we send the message that Judaism is only interesting to me inasmuch as it confirms the beliefs I already have.

Holiness

Judaism is not a religion based solely on belief. We do not police the thoughts of the souls who walk through our doors. But the ancient requirement that certain prayers need a minyan means that there is holiness embedded in the connection between Jews. It doesn’t come from the unwavering belief in God held by the people in the room. It comes from our connections with one another.

Holiness is in the interactions between the generations. Its in the 15 year old helping the 9 year old find the page. In the inherently selfish middle schooler giving an arm to an elderly man not quite ready to give in to a walker. In the whispers in the pews between a newly unemployed single mother and the business owner who might be able to help her land on her feet. In the collective groan from the room when the Rabbi uses an embarrassingly bad pun. In the unmitigated joy we feel the first time the couple long struggling with infertility brings their new baby to services. In the very act of choosing to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

One of the questions in the Pew survey was whether anyone in your household is a member of a synagogue. Of the people the survey identified, 60% responded “no.” While a few of the children in these households will undoubtedly become future leaders, most of our leaders will come from the 40%. It is a countercultural choice to be part of a group less concerned with rugged individualism and more with the (gasp!) collective. And those who come to leadership in the next generation will be the beneficiaries of today’s old fashioned joiners, keeping the seats warm and the lights on and the spark alive.

Mountaintops can be transformative. But Jewish community is built by delivering shiva meals and learning a last minute torah reading and even the kvetchers in the back of the room. By looking someone else in the eye. Is there something of the divine there? I literally do not know. Faith is ever changing and intensely personal. Your belief has no effect on me. Your choice to throw your lot in with the rest of the Jewish people? That makes my life holy, every day.

Stages of Life: Thoughts for Parashat Hayyei Sarah

Angel for Shabbat—Parashat Hayyei Sarah

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

When the Torah records the death of Sarah, it states that she was then aged “a hundred years and twenty years and seven years.”  Since the Torah repeats “years” each time (instead of simply stating one hundred twenty seven years), a rabbinic interpretation was given: “She was as beautiful at one hundred as at the age of twenty; and as sinless at twenty as at seven.” (See commentary of Rabbi Joseph Hertz.)

But perhaps the Torah is alluding to something else. We might gain insight by looking at our own photo albums.

Take a look at a picture of yourself when you were a child. Then look at another photo when you were in your twenties. And then look at a recent photo of yourself, or just look in the mirror. You are the same person in each of these images; and yet you also seem to be a different person at each stage.

When we were children, we lived day to day under the protection and guidance of our parents. We had little or no idea of how our lives would unfold—where we would live, who we would marry, or what career we would choose in the years ahead. In a sense, life was uncomplicated.

When we entered adulthood, we took on responsibilities. We decided on education, marriage, career, place to live and raise children etc.  Life was no longer simple. We were not little children. We made decisions on our own.

When we grew older, we were entering a new stage in life. Our current photos may show us with grown children and grandchildren. The older we grow, the more of our lives are in the past rather than in the future. We are not children; we may no longer be at the peak of our active years; we can look back from the mountain of time at what we did—and did not—accomplish in our lives.

When the Torah records Sarah’s death, it is actually reviewing stages in her life. As a child of seven, she was being raised in a pagan family in Ur Kasdim. In her innocence, she could not possibly have imagined how her life would be transformed when she grew older. As she matured, she married Abraham and joined him in a remarkable mission that changed human history. They left the land of their births and started a new life in Canaan—a Promised Land. The childless couple taught others to worship the One God and to live righteous, compassionate lives. The Midrash states that Abraham converted the men and Sarah converted the women. 

In old age, Sarah remarkably gave birth to a son, Isaac, who was to become heir to Abraham’s teachings and blessings. She could now look back at the mission of her life and sense fulfillment in her work with Abraham. She could also take satisfaction in her son who would go on to make his own mark in history.

Although Sarah was the same person from childhood to old age, she was very different at the various stages of life. She died when she was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years—each of the “years” signifying a new stage in life.  Don’t we all go through various stages in life? Aren’t we all the “same person” throughout our lifetimes; but aren’t we also different? 

 

Please Stand With Us: End of Year Campaign

Please Stand With Us: End of Year Campaign

Embracing Tradition and Modernity: The Religious Vision of Rabbi Haim David Halevi

 

 

Introduction

 

            Rabbi Haim David Halevi (1923–1998) was born in Jerusalem, served as Chief Rabbi of Rishon LeTzion from 1951 to1973, and then served as Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv-Jaffa from 1973 until his death in 1998. He learned Torah at Yeshivat Porat Yosef in Jerusalem, where Rabbi Benzion Uziel was the official Rosh Yeshiva. Most rabbis who taught in the yeshiva were less Zionist, and looked askance at Rabbi Uziel’s stress on Jewish thought and philosophy. These other teachers stressed study of Talmud and halakhah.[1]

            As a student, Rabbi Halevi viewed Rabbi Uziel as the exemplary rabbi, who combined intellect, knowledge, communication, leadership, moral stature, commitment to his people, love, and compassion. Throughout his life, Rabbi Halevi maintained that Rabbi Uziel modeled the ideal religious position of the school of Hillel, as he combined halakhic expertise with a deep sensitivity to the human predicament (Asei Lekha Rav 5:48; 8:97[2]).[3]

Rabbi Halevi also espoused Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook’s diagnosis of contemporary Jewish society. Many spiritual ills derive from the artificial separation of halakhah and aggadah. In his introduction to Mekor Hayyim HaShalem (pp. 9–20), he stressed the urgent need to bring halakhah and aggadah together to infuse Jewish life with the proper spirit. In his extensive writings, Rabbi Halevi also drew heavily from kabbalah, and stressed that human intellect has limitations.[4]

            Acceptance of the halakhic system means commitment to eternal principles that apply to every time. Rabbi Halevi taught that rabbis need to have general worldly knowledge and to be in touch with reality to apply Torah properly.

Rabbi Halevi was fairly conservative within classical sources, and deferential to his predecessors. At the same time, he emphasized the inherent flexibility in halakhah, since there are many options within the boundaries of halakhic discourse. If one shuts down legitimate options, one harms the Jewish people and observance.

 

Science[5]

 

            Rabbi Halevi addressed a wide range of issues pertaining to the interface between science and halakhah. For example, there is a halakhic principle to praise God for natural wonders, such as thunder, lightning, and rainbows. The Talmud codifies blessings for each phenomenon.

However, the Talmud considers solar and lunar eclipses to be signs of divine wrath:

 

The Rabbis taught in a Baraita: At the time that the sun is stricken, it is a bad omen for the entire world…. It has been taught in a Baraita: Rabbi Meir says, whenever the luminaries are stricken, it is a bad omen for the Jewish people…. (Sukkah 29a)

 

Someone asked Rabbi Halevi if we should make a blessing on solar eclipses today, since we now know that they are natural phenomena that are predictable.[6] Rabbi Halevi did not defend the talmudic belief; he agreed that eclipses were natural phenomena and should require a blessing. However, he maintained that we should not create new blessings that are not found in the Talmud. Therefore, he recommended that instead of making a full blessing with God’s Name, one should say the beginning of “Vayevarekh David,” biblical verses containing the essentials of the blessing formula.[7] Thus, while conceding that the ancient rabbis had incomplete scientific data, he was not willing to coin a blessing that the Talmud had not ordained. By advocating a recitation of biblical verses that have a formula similar to a blessing, Rabbi Halevi was able to remain faithful to the Talmud while accepting current scientific knowledge.[8]

            In another example, halakhah insists that people take care of their health, and not harm their bodies. In 1976, someone asked Rabbi Halevi if smoking was permissible, given the growing body of evidence that smoking is harmful to one’s health. Despite the fact that many earlier rabbis had permitted smoking, Rabbi Halevi made a landmark ruling prohibiting it.[9] He explained that earlier rabbis had permitted smoking only because the scientific research demonstrating the dangers of smoking was not yet available.[10]

However, Rabbi Halevi did not always fully accept current scientific knowledge. In Mekor Hayyim HaShalem,[11] he uncritically cited Rambam’s ruling that killing bugs created by spontaneous generation is not a punishable offense on Shabbat (generally, it is a Torah prohibition to take the life of any living creature on Shabbat):

 

One who kills insects and worms that are conceived through male-female relations or fleas that came into being from the dust is liable as if he killed an animal or beast. In contrast, one is not liable for killing insects and worms that came into being from dung, rotten fruit, or the like, e.g., the worms found in meat or legumes.

 

It is permitted to kill lice on Shabbat, for they come into being from sweat. (Rambam, Laws of Shabbat 11:2–3)

 

Someone challenged Rabbi Halevi’s ruling based on current scientific knowledge, which has disproven spontaneous generation. Rabbi Halevi responded that he had no clear answer.[12] Perhaps he, like other halakhic decisors, was concerned that there is an additional reason underlying the Talmud’s permission to kill lice, in which case we cannot prohibit that which is permitted. Or, perhaps Rabbi Halevi had a more general reluctance to conclude that a talmudic halakhah is based on an error.[13]

 

Non-Observant Jews

 

Several classical sources say that the commandment of “Love Your Neighbor as Yourself” (Leviticus 19:18) applies exclusively to a “neighbor” in mitzvah observance. According to these sources, one should hate violators of the commandments.[14] Adopting the view of a number of halakhic decisors beginning in the nineteenth century, Rabbi Halevi rejected the application of that principle to modern times. Nowadays, many Jews violate the Torah, and are generally not willful transgressors in the classical sense.

Rabbi Halevi maintained that observant Jews should be strong in their commitments, but should not show disdain to less observant Jews, nor impose coercive measures to force them to be more observant. Instead, observant Jews should model proper behavior and teach the path of Torah. Perhaps others will be persuaded to return to a Torah lifestyle.

 

Women

 

In his ruling prohibiting the teaching of Oral Law to women, Rambam stated that a majority of women were incapable of understanding the concepts involved:

 

Even though [a woman studying Torah] will receive reward, the Sages commanded that one should not teach his daughter Torah, because most women cannot concentrate their attention on study, and thus transform the words of Torah into idle matters because of their lack of understanding. The Sages teach that anyone who teaches his daughter Torah teaches her idle things. This statement is in regard to the Oral Law. But [with regard to] the Written Law: Initially, one should not teach one’s daughter. However, if one teaches her, it is not considered as if she was taught idle things. (Laws of Torah Study 1:13)

 

Despite Rambam’s ruling, however, Rabbi Halevi noted that the success of women in so many academic fields militated against its underlying premise. Already in the eighteenth century, Rabbi Hayyim Yosef David Azulai (HIDA) listed historical instances of learned women who gave halakhic rulings. Rabbi Halevi demonstrated that within Rambam’s wording, one could permit women to study Talmud. A woman who demonstrated a willingness and capacity to study the Oral Law was not part of the “incapable majority” described by Rambam.[15] In this responsum, Rabbi Halevi did not attempt to show that Rambam’s ruling was no longer applicable. Rather, he worked within the existing textual framework to reach his conclusion.

Rabbi Halevi’s commitment to that earlier source became more pronounced in a later discussion, where he responded to members of a religious kibbutz that had begun teaching Talmud to girls.[16] The leaders of the kibbutz had complained that in light of the change in women’s social status, rabbis should have addressed the issue of females studying Talmud. Rabbi Halevi responded that (1) he did address the matter in his earlier responsum; and (2) his response had nothing to do with the current change in the social status of women. He had quoted Rabbi Azulai, who lived in the eighteenth century, to support his permissive ruling. “From here, we see that rabbis in all generations, including before there were changes in the social status of women, never rebuked women who studied Torah.” Rabbi Halevi also criticized the kibbutz leaders for suggesting that halakhot may be eliminated on the basis of social change.

In the final analysis, Rabbi Halevi reached the same halakhic decision as the kibbutz leaders, permitting and encouraging women to study the Oral Law—but they arrived at their conclusions from different starting points. Rabbi Halevi represented faithfulness to the precedents of the past, whereas the kibbutz had hoped to bypass those precedents as a result of a new social reality.

At the end of his responsum, Rabbi Halevi exhorted the members of the kibbutz:

 

Our rabbis were great of spirit and deep of mind; would that we could even understand their words…. They were not only great in Torah and wisdom, but also in their holiness. Therefore, it is appropriate for a person to relate to their words with all respect due to them.

 

Rabbi Halevi demonstrated the same consistent balance between faithfulness to Rambam’s ruling and finding permissibility for women to study the Oral Law in his guidebook for halakhot pertaining to women, Mekor Hayyim Livnot Yisrael.[17] In discussing the halakhic exemption for women to study Torah, Rabbi Halevi quoted Rambam’s ruling in full, that a father should not teach his daughters the Oral Law. In the footnote, however, he cited his own responsum (which was subsequently published in Asei Lekha Rav 2:52) that explained the permissibility of women studying Oral Law within Rambam’s formulation. By citing Rambam’s restrictive ruling in the body of the text, and his own permissive ruling in a footnote, Rabbi Halevi presented the fine balance of his educational philosophy: Anyone motivated enough to read his lengthy footnote is indeed qualified to study the Oral Law! One simply reading his book with the rulings in the body of the text probably would not have sufficient motivation to study halakhah from its roots, including its talmudic underpinnings.[18]

            Rabbi Halevi also adopted his mentor Rabbi Uziel’s ruling that women may vote and be elected to public office. The halakhic prohibition against women holding positions of authority applies only when people object to having women as leaders. However, if they are democratically elected, they may hold public office.

            Rabbi Halevi opposed several ritual innovations for women. For example, he opposed women’s prayer groups and women’s recitation of sheva berakhot at weddings. He viewed these innovations as a break in tradition and a breach of modesty, respectively. At the same time, he stressed that his rulings were based on his assessment of reality, rather than halakhic prohibitions.

 

Conclusion

 

            In the areas of modern science, relating to non-observant Jews, and the changing roles of women in the modern era, Rabbi Halevi developed an approach that was faithful to classical halakhah and its sources, while simultaneously having both eyes open to new realities. He sought to apply ancient halakhic principles to the modern period in every arena.

            Rabbi Halevi also consciously recognized the critical importance for halakhic decisors to understand earlier halakhic precedents, not as a constraint, but rather to ensure maximal flexibility in interpreting the law in the present:

 

And one is very mistaken who thinks that the halakhah is frozen and that one should not veer from it to the right nor to the left. On the contrary, there is no flexibility like the flexibility of halakhah. Only due to the merit of the flexibility of the halakhah has the people of Israel been able—through the power of numerous and useful creative interpretations which were innovated by the sages of Israel in each generation—to walk in the way of Torah observance for thousands of years. And if the fortitude of the sages of our generation will serve them to innovate interpretations of halakhah [getting at the] truth of Torah, with total faithfulness to the bodies of written and transmitted halakhah…, then halakhah will continue to be the way of the people of Israel to the end of all generations. (Asei Lekha Rav 7:54)

 

 

[1] R. Marc D. Angel with Hayyim Angel, Rabbi Haim David Halevi: Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker (Jerusalem: Urim, 2006), p. 13.

[2] R. Marc D. Angel translated 8:97 into English, and it is published as “The Love of Israel as a Factor in Halakhic Decision-Making in the Works of Rabbi Benzion Uziel,” Tradition 24:3 (Spring 1989), pp. 1–20. See also R. Marc D. Angel, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1999), pp. 101–107.

[3] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 54–69.

[4] Ibid., pp. 48–50.

[5] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 89–91.

[6] Asei Lekha Rav 5:7.

[7] “Then David blessed the Lord in the sight of all the congregation and said, ‘Blessed be You, Lord God of our father Israel for ever and ever. Yours, O Lord, are the greatness, power, glory, victory and majesty, all that is in the heavens and on earth’” (I Chronicles 29:10–11).

[8] See also Asei Lekha Rav 2:1, where Rabbi Halevi emphasized the importance of rabbis following current scientific information. See also Asei Lekha Rav 1:61; 5:13; 5:37; 6:44; 8:64; Mayim Hayyim 3:24.

[9] R. Shlomo Brody, A Guide to the Complex: Contemporary Halakhic Debates (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2014), pp. 24–26.

[10] Asei Lekha Rav 2:1; cf. 3:25; 6:58; 7:67. In contrast, R. Moshe Feinstein permitted smoking, because he did not want to criticize earlier generations of rabbis who had permitted smoking (Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 2:49). For further study of contrasts between R. Halevi and R. Feinstein, see R. Marc D. Angel, “A Study of the Halakhic Approaches of Two Modern Posekim,” in Angel, Seeking Good, Speaking Peace: Collected Essays of Rabbi Marc D. Angel, ed. Hayyim Angel (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1994), pp. 97–111.

[11] Volume 3, chapter 161, p. 291.

[12] Asei Lekha Rav 7: short answers 17.

[13] See also Mekor Hayyim HaShalem vol. 5, chapter 264, p. 235, where Rabbi Halevi uncritically quotes the talmudic ruling that one may not eat fish and meat together, since that combination poses a health hazard. See Mayim Hayyim 3:24, for an elaborate discussion of the interrelationship of traditional teachings and contemporary scientific knowledge.

[14] See, for example, Avot DeRabbi Natan A 16, Pesahim 113b, Rashbam (on Leviticus 19:18), Rambam, Laws of Mourning 14:1, Hagahot Maimoniyot on Laws of De’ot 6:3, Or HaHayyim (on Leviticus 19:18). This view reads “Love your neighbor as yourself” to mean “love your neighbor who is like you.” For further discussion, see R. Norman Lamm, “Loving and Hating Jews as Halakhic Categories,” Tradition 24:2 (Winter, 1989), pp. 98–122.

[15] Asei Lekha Rav 2:52.

[16] Mayim Hayyim 2:89.

[17] Chapter 50, pp. 205–208.

[18] See further discussion in Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker, pp. 118–120.

 

Convivencia Achieved? Jews and Non-Jews in Haifa

Convivencia Achieved? Jews and Non-Jews in Haifa

By Rivka Kellner and Menachem Kellne

 

Convivencia is the term often used to describe the coexistence of Jews and Muslims (and

Christians) in the so-called Golden Age of Spain. Jews in Haifa have not yet produced figures

like Bahya ibn Pakudah, Judah Halevi, or Maimonides, nor have the Arabs of Haifa produced

figures like Averroes, but, withal, Jews and Arabs do get along pretty well in Haifa. We are

here to report on that.

Last Simhat Torah we were blissfully unaware of what was happening down South. We 

heard in synagogue that Hamas had fired a few rockets at Tel Aviv, but nothing more. Since that

day, our lives have been consumed by little else. After a day or so, we were led to expect that

Hezbollah would fire on Haifa, and people in my Rambam class were talking about buying

generators in case the electricity went out…in the event, I do not think any of them actually

did buy a generator.

Overall, aside from the scores of thousands of refugees from Israel’s North living in

hotels around the city (and our attempts to help them, Menachem with laundry and Rivka with

English lessons and packing toys) there was very little sense in Haifa that Israel is at war.

Glued to the news, of course, horrified at our losses and the undeniable Hamas-caused

suffering of Gazans, endlessly frustrated by our useless government (and all too often

embarrassed by it), daily life went on much as before. This includes the remarkably good

relations between Jews and Arabs in Haifa. Menachem used to joke that it is no surprise that

Jews and Arabs get along in Haifa, the real surprise was that Jews and Jews got along as well.

Jews and Arabs continue to get along well in Haifa, despite the war (or perhaps even because

of it, on that more below), thank God, but the anger at the Haredi community grows day by

day.

Rivka and Menachem wrote the above a month ago. Then the other shoe dropped.

Consciously or unconsciously, we are now constantly listening for missile and drone alerts.

When entering any enclosed space, be it a mall or a synagogue, we scan our surrounding for

the nearest shelter. Our building, ten stories, forty apartments, was erected in the early 70’s.

We are therefore lucky enough to have a safe room on every floor. Our building was certainly

advanced when it was built. New buildings have safe rooms in every apartment. Older

buildings usually have no safe rooms and no shelters.

It turns out that we have several new neighbors on our floor. We have usually seen them

bleary-eyed, confused, sporting the latest pajama attire, in our floor’s safe room in the middle

of the night after an air raid alert has most rudely ripped us out of our beds. More than once

Menachem was caught in the middle of shaharit if the alert came in the morning; he zoomed

into the safe room in tallit and tefilln (photos available on request). Our new neighbors are

recent immigrants from Ukraine who probably never saw tefillin before (and do not know

Hebrew or even English) --- the Tower of Babel has reached our safe room.

Having brought you up to date, as it were, we want to write about Haifa’s unique spread 

of religions, and the way in which we all get along, despite the war, the alerts and the rockets

(which do not distinguish Jews from Arabs).

On an unremarkable day (as if any day during this war can be unremarkable), Rivka got

into a cab and noticed what was clearly a Muslim prayer book. She asked if she could look at it

(as a sign of respect to the driver) and, when she put it back down, she treated it like a siddur,

kissing the cover. She explained to the driver that halakhah mandates respectful treatment of

Jewish religious texts, and Rivka felt it appropriate to show respect to the texts of other

religions. This took place during Sukkot, and Rivka wished the driver a chag sameach (happy

holiday). She realized that he might have been offended since it was not his holiday, and she

said as much. He replied: “Why should I be offended? It is my holiday too --- I am also

Israeli.” (This is not the sort of story one will read concerning Haifa in the New York Times.)

In our experience Jews and Non-Jews in Haifa get along fine. Thus, for example, our favorite

neighborhood (kosher) coffee shop is jointly owned by a Jew and an Arab, staffed by a

variety of people, and enjoyed by the entire neighborhood. Did we not know his name, we

would not know that the Arab co-owner was an Arab (his Hebrew is certainly better than

Menachem’s!). Although the coffee shop is kosher, the clientele is diverse, including Arabs of

various types (although once we noticed that four of the patrons were members of our

synagogue).

Our family doctor has an Arab partner, Menachem’s rheumatologist is a Muslim woman 

(no hijab, but she observes Ramadan, and thinks that two 25-hour Jewish fasts are harder than

Ramadan), almost all our pharmacists are Arabs.

Unlike taxis in Jerusalem (or New York), getting into a cab driven by an Arab does not

 make Rivka nervous at all. Rivka freely engages these drivers into sometimes riveting

conversations about life, politics, and weather. Despite that, it seems to Rivka that

occasionally Arab “feminism” lags decades behind that of Jewish cabbies. Rivka suspects

that behind the rare examples of sexual harassment to which she was subjected, lay more than

“simple” sexism, but was also anti-Jewish honor-based overtone to the violence. Rivka

discussed these events with a different (Arab) cabbie, who though that she was over-reacting

and should be flattered.

One of Rivka’s cabbies told her that his relatives in Lebanon were not doing well (as is 

the case with Palestinians there). Rivka handed him a 20 shekel note and asked him to try to find

a way to alleviate their suffering. He was moved beyond words.

But neither Rivka nor Menachem ever felt that the Arabs with whom they dealt (in

 medical contexts, in malls, at the beach) harbored anti-Jewish prejudice. We have no idea what 

people feel in their hearts, but so far as outward behavior is concerned, we have never seen 

evidence of such prejudice.

Rivka has been laughingly called a JAP (Jewish American Princess); she always makes it

clear that she is a JIP (Jewish Israeli Princess). As such she is an expert on the many malls in

Haifa. In these malls she sees Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Druze working and shopping.

Recently she came across a cute little toddler who was being coaxed by his bemused mother

in Arabic to get up. Rivka crouched down next to the child and in Hebrew, English and broken

Arabic tried to get him to get up. The little angel smiled, got up, and gave Rivka a hug she

will never forget. She put her hand on his head and blessed him--and earned a smile from

the mother, who was clearly pleased.

Rivka teaches supplementary English to school children of all ages in a community

Center here in Haifa. Yesterday, one of her breaks between lessons was rudely interrupted by a 

siren. Rivka was pleasantly surprised by the way in which children and teachers all filed down to

the bomb shelter in an orderly fashion. When the mandatory 10 minutes were over, and

HKBH took care of them all, and nothing blew up, class resumed as if nothing had happened.

Rivka was impressed by the calm of her students and saddened that they appear unfazed by

the experience. No child should be used to such an event. It was clear to Rivka that we

protect our children, and do not use them as human shields.

Not long ago, Menachem stopped at a convenience store to pick up some milk. A 

customer with a complicated issue was there before him. The customer told Menachem to go 

ahead of him, since all he wanted was a liter of milk. Menachem complimented the customer for

allowing an older person to get ahead of him. Mustafa (as his name turned out to be) replied:

“it all depends on how one is raised at home.”

Why do matters work so well in Haifa? For one thing, we have a huge number of Russian

olim, strongly secular and usually very cultured, who help balance the growing Haredi

presence. For another thing, our Arab population is largely Christian and highly educated

(one of them, Prof. Mouna Maroun, a neuroscientist and expert in post-trauma stress disorder,

was recently elected to be the university’s rector). There are several varieties of Christians,

several of whom we know from our years at the University of Haifa. Among the Muslims,

very few of them appear to be Shi’ites and there is a large population of Ahmedi Muslims

whose religion commits them to peaceful coexistence 

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahmadiyya). Rivka and Menachem were invited to their

annual convocation twice, where we were given kosher food! There are also Druze, most of

whom are fervent Israeli patriots, and of course Bahai

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bah%C3%A1%CA%BC%C3%AD_World_Centre). All of the

Arabs in Haifa know well that they would be murdered by Hamas and Hezbollah. This

mosaic of non-Jewish religions and their relative assimilation helps explain Haifa’s unique

success.

We do not want to give the impression that all is hunky dory here in Haifa. We both find 

the war enervating and feel that we are suffering from Pre-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We

are also living through an old (once almost amusing) joke: 1/3 of Israelis pay taxes, 1/3 of

Israelis do army service, and 1/3 of Israelis work for a living. The problem is that it is the

same 1/3! Our shambolic government is trying to sell out that 1/3 in order to keep

Haredim in the government

Convivencia between Jews and Arabs in Haifa is strong. Convivencia between those 

Jews who serve (and die) and contribute to Israeli society and those Jews who feel no obligation

whatsoever to do so, is getting weaker by the day. That may be another cost of the war.

 

Religion and Superstition: A Maimonidean Approach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are a few reasons:

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

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

Examples:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rambam: Judaism and Reason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

[3] Ibid., p. 472.

On the Threshold: Thoughts for Parashat Vayera

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Vayera

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

“And the Lord appeared to him [Abraham] by the terebinths of Mamre as he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day” (Bereishith 18:1).

The Torah presents an amazing scene. Abraham was sitting at the opening of his tent and the Lord appeared to him. We can imagine the overwhelming experience of Abraham’s confronting the presence of God. But as Abraham was on this spiritual high, his eyes drifted outside his tent and he saw three strangers. He thought they may need hospitality.

Abraham sat at the threshold of his tent. Inside was the presence of God. Outside were three strangers. What should be done—remain in the presence of God or go out to greet three passers-by?

Abraham decided: he rushed to the strangers and offered generous hospitality. He asked his wife to bake cakes. He himself ran to the herd, fetched a tender calf and instructed his servant to prepare it. Then Abraham brought the meal to his guests.

We might have thought that Abraham made the wrong choice. How did he dare to leave the presence of God in order to greet three total strangers? Wouldn’t the Almighty be “insulted” to have been left behind?

But after this episode, God demonstrated great appreciation of Abraham. Instead of being angry or insulted, God saw Abraham’s gesture of kindness to strangers as a virtue.  God chose to inform Abraham that He will soon destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. He wanted to confide in Abraham because He knew that Abraham would command his children and household to do righteousness and justice. 

This episode teaches something important about the Jewish approach to spirituality. While we yearn for closeness to the presence of God, we also keep our eyes on the needs of fellow human beings. Our spirituality is located on a threshold; we balance the interiority of meditative relationship with the Almighty and the exteriority of connecting with human beings. But the tilt is toward humanity—and that is how God wants it!

A Midrash (Eicha Rabba Petichta 2) cites a statement attributed to Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba, who commented on a verse in Jeremiah (16:11): “’They deserted Me and did not keep My Torah.’ If only they deserted me but kept My Torah.!” In a sense, God prefers that we observe the Torah and mitzvoth rather than focus directly on a relationship with Him. By living righteously according to the Torah, we will thereby come closer to God. Acts of lovingkindness are not a diversion from God’s presence but an entryway to the Divine. (See also Jerusalem Talmud, Hagiga 1:7.)

We sit at the threshold. We seek the presence of God through prayer and meditation. But our eyes wander outside to our fellow human beings. When we leave the threshold to help others, we aren’t actually leaving God’s presence. We are coming closer to Him and His will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Incorporating Sephardic Commentary in the Tanakh Curriculum

Incorporating Sephardic Commentary in the Tanakh Curriculum


(This article appeared in Conversations 42 (Autumn 2023), pp. 71–75. It is excerpted from my
essay, “Tanakh and Sephardic Inclusion in the Yeshiva High School Curriculum,” in Hayyim
Angel, Cornerstones: The Bible and Jewish Ideology (New York: Kodesh Press, 2020), pp.
126–156. It also appears in Conversations 44.)


God’s revealed word in Tanakh lies at the very heart of Jewish thought and religious
experience. Educators of Tanakh have the singular opportunity to give their students tools and
knowledge to grow throughout their lifetime. The principles we apply in Tanakh education can
and should have a meaningful impact on all religious education.


Commentators of Tanakh lived in different lands and throughout the ages. Most of what
we learn in the realm of Tanakh has little to do with Sephardic, Ashkenazic, or other Jewish
communities. 1 We study our commentators because each one enriches our understanding of
Tanakh and deepens our religious experience and engagement.


This point should serve as a guiding principle for all religious education. Students should
consider all great rabbinic thinkers and Tanakh commentators as relevant. They also should
understand that the more voices we have access to, the broader and deeper our religious
experience. This educational worldview also serves to unify the Jewish people by teaching that
there are many legitimate avenues into tradition.


Reflecting on this aspect of this educational vision, Rabbi Marc D. Angel argues:
We study this diverse and rich literature and realize the phenomenon that all these Jewish
sages and their communities operated with the identical assumption—that God gave the
Torah to the people of Israel, that halakha is our way of following God’s ways. As we
contemplate the vast scope of the halakhic enterprise—and its essential unity—we begin
to sense the wholeness of the Jewish people. 2


There are three areas in Jewish education where we may develop this premise:
 Tanakh must play a prominent role in the general curricular philosophy.
 Even as we may focus heavily on classical medieval commentary and more contemporary
approaches, we should intentionally expose high school students to a greater diversity of
interpreters and mention where and when they lived.
 We should make brief mention of various customs within learning Tanakh when relevant.
For example, the Psalms recited in the liturgy and the Haftarot chosen by different
communities are excellent entry points. This approach teaches respect for diversity of
sacred customs, since different communities developed different means of expressing
religious experience within halakhah.


In Tanakh, students should engage with God’s word through the guidance of our greatest
interpreters and thinkers. We never would learn Tanakh only through the eyes of the Northern
French commentators such as Rashi or Rashbam, nor would we draw exclusively from the
Spanish interpreters such as Ibn Ezra or Ramban. Nor should we stop with the medieval period
of interpretation, given the wealth of insight and scholarship that emerged over the past 500
years. Even if we devote the lion’s share of our attention to the classical medieval commentators,

there is great value in the periodic mention of later commentators. It is critical to send the
message that great thinkers of every age and era have added their voices to the Torah.
There is a gap in contemporary Jewish education regarding Sephardim. Whereas
medieval Sephardic interpreters and thinkers are meaningfully studied, post-Expulsion thinkers
and interpreters are often ignored. An easy challenge for educators to illustrate this point: Name
five Sephardic rabbis who lived from 1550 to1900. If many religious educators struggle to
answer so basic a question, there is little hope that their students will fare any better. This
unfortunate educational gap often is manifest throughout the realms of biblical interpretation,
halakhah, history, and customs. 3


Later commentators from the Ashkenazic world have fared much better in contemporary
Jewish education. Names like Rabbi Eliyahu of Vilna (Gra, 1720–1797), Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi
Mecklenburg (1785–1865), Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808–1888), Malbim (Rabbi Meir
Leibush ben Yehiel Michel, 1809–1879), Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin,
1817–1893), Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann (1843–1921), and others rightly have become familiar
names to advanced students of Tanakh. In a different arena, Hassidic masters and their insightful
homiletical approaches such as Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk (1717–1786, Noam Elimelech),
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev (1740–1810, Kedushat Levi), Rabbi Yitzhak Meir Alter of Ger
(1799–1866, Hiddushei ha-Rim), Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (1847–1905, Sefat Emet),
and Rabbi Shmuel Bornsztain (1855–1926, Shem mi-Shemuel), among many others, have found
a meaningful place in religious education and conversation.


It is worth making the extra effort to sprinkle in interpreters from the pan-Sephardic
world (which includes Middle Eastern and North African communities that never went through
Spain and therefore are not technically “Sephardic”). 4 Figures such as Rabbi Moshe Alsheikh
(1508–1593, Turkey, Israel) and Rabbi Hayyim ibn Attar (Or ha-Hayyim, 1696–1743, Morocco)
are more well-known. Names such as Rabbi Avraham Gavison (1520–1578, Algeria), Rabbi
Avraham ben Shelomo (sixteenth-century Yemen), Rabbi Shemuel Laniado (died 1605, Syria),
Rabbi Yaakov Fidanque (seventeeth-century Amsterdam), Rabbi Raphael Berdugo (1747–1821,
Morocco), Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh (1823–1900, Italy), and many others, should enter the
discussion as well.


Aside from the valuable contributions these interpreters have made, this educational
approach enables students to absorb the message that the pan-Sephardic world meaningfully
contributes to our understanding of Tanakh and Jewish experience after the Expulsion from
Spain. 5 There is no need to overhaul any curriculum or lesson plan. Educators should be
informed, and then incorporate comments throughout the year to enrich the discussion and to
broaden the playing field of interpretation for their students.


On a practical level, educators should read contemporary commentaries and anthologies
that cite many works from different eras. Nehama Leibowitz’s Studies are classics in this area. A
contemporary valuable online resource is alhatorah.org, by Rabbi Hillel Novetsky. The essays on
each topic survey and analyze a wealth of classical and contemporary approaches, making access
to the more obscure commentators easy for educators.


The more commentaries educators have in their own arsenal, the more they can fathom
Tanakh texts. They also are better equipped to provide more avenues for students to connect to
tradition and to respect legitimate diversity within a commitment to Torah. Moreover, by
teaching students that interpretation of Tanakh comes from many lands and eras, our students
can identify with all Jewish thought, thinkers, and history.

It is not of primary importance for students to memorize the name, dates, or place of
every rabbi and scholar. However, educators can create the proper environment for students to
taste from the vast wellsprings of tradition and see that many voices contribute to the discussion.
The dazzling range of possibilities within Jewish tradition teaches humility and intellectual
receptivity; people may hold significantly different opinions and still be united under the roof of
the Torah.


Tanakh is the great equalizer in religious education, and should be a model for how we
approach all Jewish education. Tanakh educators have the opportunity to bring the wealth of
Jewish religious experience and learning into the classroom to teach that multiple voices enrich
our understanding of Torah, and that many avenues exist to bring people into an engaged
relationship with tradition. The wholeness of the Jewish people is a genuine value at every level. 6


Notes
1 Advanced students of Tanakh might consider the subtle distinctions between early medieval
approaches of the rabbis of Spain and France. By the thirteenth century with Radak and Ramban,
however, commentators began to seamlessly integrate and incorporate the best of both
interpretive traditions. Through high school education, the early medieval distinctions generally
are not of vital importance to the process of learning Tanakh.
2 “Teaching the ‘Wholeness’ of the Jewish People,” in Seeking Good, Speaking Peace: Collected
Essays of Rabbi Marc D. Angel, ed. Hayyim Angel (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1994), pp. 255–258.
Although this particular excerpt specifically addresses the area of halakhah, Rabbi Angel also
addresses the broader issue of a comprehensive Jewish education—including Tanakh and
history—in his article.
3 For an intellectual history of some of the important Sephardic rabbinic thinkers of this period,
see Rabbi Marc D. Angel, Voices in Exile: A Study in Sephardic Intellectual History (Hoboken,
NJ: Ktav, 1991).
4 Rabbi Marc D. Angel, Editor’s Introduction, Conversations 29 (Autumn 2017), p. vi.
5 From a pure Tanakh interpretation perspective, this approach also remedies a broader
educational gap: Most Tanakh scholars and educators ignore the contributions of nearly all
interpreters from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, deeming them inferior to the medieval
exegetes and the nineteenth- and twentieth-century commentators. See Amos Frisch, “A Re-
Evaluation of Jewish Biblical Exegesis of the Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries” (Hebrew), in
Mehkarim ba-Mikra u-ve-Hinnukh: Studies in Bible and Education Presented to Prof. Moshe
Ahrend, ed. Dov Rappel (Jerusalem: Touro, 1996), pp. 122–141.
6 See further discussion in Hayyim Angel, “‘The Disciples of the Wise Increase Peace in the
World’: The Use of Traditional Scholarship to Build Bridges and Mend Rifts,” reprinted in this
volume.