National Scholar Updates

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Pekudei

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Israelites contributed generously toward the construction of the Mishkan sanctuary. Upon completion of the project, Moses gave an accounting as to how the donations were applied. Although no one could have questioned Moses’s integrity, he wanted to make it absolutely clear that leaders are accountable for how contributions are spent.

The late Senator Everett Dirksen once quipped about the American budget: “A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you're talking real money.” And that was in the 1960’s. These days, we’re talking about trillions of dollars…not merely billions.

We are so accustomed to hearing of projects that entail millions, billions and trillions of dollars, we sometimes forget that these dollars are “real money.” Funds are allocated as though no human component is involved.

Moses set an example: public funds are not “anonymous.” They are generated by actual people who have a right to a proper accounting of their outlays.

The Torah refers to money as “damim”—blood!  Money represents human labor, time, and investment. It is not neutral. Each dollar represents a bit of our lives, the time and energy it took us to generate that dollar.

We learn of the government’s allocation of several hundred million dollars to this project, billions to another project, and more than a trillion for yet another massive endeavor.  While vast public expenditures are inevitable—and often necessary—we are presented with huge dollar amounts as if the money simply comes from the air. The numbers become disconnected from the actual human beings who are providing the dollars for the budgets.

 As governments and organizations deal with the public’s money, they are responsible for spending the money as wisely and fairly as possible. They are duty-bound to prevent wasteful use of funds. They need to realize that each dollar has a human component, that public funds represent the “damim” of all who pay into the system.

When allocating public funds, decisions must be made as to what is best and most needed by constituents. There will obviously be different budgetary opinions and calculations. Not every constituent will agree with every decision. Nevertheless, the process of allocating funds must be conducted with a keen sense of responsibility to the stake-holders. Dispensers of public funds need the wisdom to know how to apply resources properly. Cutting corners on important matters may well lead to increased wastefulness and damage in the future. The public is best served when long range planning is conducted calmly and carefully, taking into consideration positive and negative consequences of each decision.

Budgets are not simply a matter of neutral mathematical calculations. They represent the needs, concerns and aspirations of the human beings who have contributed their resources. Moses demonstrated the responsibility of giving proper accounting of public funds. He set a model for future generations…including our own.

Biography of author 

Dr Daniel Davies PhD is from Manchester, UK. After studying at Yeshivat ha-Kibbutz ha-Dati in Israel, he read Theology and Religious Studies at the University of Birmingham and pursued postgraduate work at Cambridge University. He has written extensively on the history of philosophy and theology.

His first book on Maimonides, Method and Metaphysics in Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed (OUP, 2011), received an honorary mention from the Jordan Schnitzer Book Awards. 

Together with Charles Manekin, he edited Interpreting Maimonides (CUP, 2020). He has worked as a Research Associate in the Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unity at Cambridge University Library, at the University of Hamburg, and at Bar-Ilan University. 

At present, he is a visiting researcher with the Averroes Edition project housed at the Thomas Institute of the University of Cologne. He is currently translating Abraham Ibn Daud’s Exalted Faith and preparing an edition and translation of New Heavens by Isaac Abarbanel. 

Review of book

Daniel Davies, Maimonides. Cambridge: Polity, 2024. Hardback £55, Paperback £17.99, ebook £16.99.

Polity’s Classic Thinkers series aims to provide serious introductions to “the greatest thinkers of history.” Daniel Davies’s contribution on Maimonides is a high-level presentation of the Rambam’s treatment of major philosophical themes. 

It focusses mostly on doctrines that are common to the Abrahamic faiths and continue to be discussed today by theologians and by scholars of medieval thought. It is not merely an introduction, however, but a serious contribution to scholarly debates about how to interpret Maimonides, in particular his Guide. 

Davies addresses highly contested questions in ways that are both original and sensibly grounded in Rambam’s text. Studies often divide between layers of the Guide and, inspired by the many works of Leo Strauss, including Persecution and the Art of Writing (The Free Press, 1952; reissued Chicago, 1988), claim that Maimonides’ true beliefs are ‘esoteric’, meaning that they are hidden behind simplistic, ‘exoteric’ religious doctrines. 

Such studies often justify their approaches by noting that Maimonides says he intentionally contradicts himself. They argue that philosophical understandings of things like the creation of the world differ from religious ones. Maimonides’ ‘exoteric’ opinion that the world is created is therefore contradicted by his ‘esoteric’, real opinion that it is eternal. 

Rather than following this well-trodden path seeking out hidden heresies, Davies instead focusses on explaining the arguments that Maimonides sets out. In the final chapter, after an excellent thumbnail sketch of the reception of Maimonides’ work in subsequent centuries, Davies offers a methodological defense. He claims that the contradictions do not hide real philosophical beliefs but are part of the Rambam’s strategy of hiding his interpretation of Ezekiel’s famous chariot vision. Furthermore, Davies’s interpretations of the issues themselves show that Maimonides’s supposedly ‘exoteric’ arguments are not simplistic and dogmatic but are philosophically serious. 

Generally, the book stands out for its philosophical approach. It focusses on explaining the arguments and the assumptions behind them, trying to clarify why Maimonides and others of the period found them compelling. 

For example, why did they speak about parts and faculties of the soul? What questions were they trying to answer when they said that everything in the world is composed of matter and form? 

It also addresses the issues arising from some of Maimonides’ arguments in ways that make them accessible and relevant to philosophers today. For example, Davies is able to explain why talk about ‘possible worlds’, (which is currently a common way of framing the difference between ‘necessary’ and ‘possible’) fails to capture what Maimonides means when he writes that God is a necessary being. 

Furthermore, after explaining how Maimonides presents his negative theology and arguments about religious language, Davies addresses problems that have been raised by philosophical theologians in recent decades to the idea of God’s necessity. In doing so, he is able to clarify and defend it. 

This book is philosophically sophisticated, but its amenable style is attractive for the serious reader, whether specialist or non specialist. It is open and inclusive, and it fully deserves Yitzhak Melamed’s blurb, which states that it is “one of the best works of Jewish philosophy of recent times.”

 https://www.politybooks.com/bookdetail?book_slug=maimonides--9781509522903

The Human Complexity of Biblical Heroes

Yitzchak Blau

Rabbi Yitzchak Blau is a Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshivat Orayta and also teaches at Midreshet Lindenbaum. He is the Associate Editor of the journal Tradition.

In several areas of Jewish thought, more conservative positions only achieved dominance in modernity. For example, most rishonim (medieval authorities) believed in the natural order before Ramhal (R. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto), R. Eliyahu Dessler, and others declared that nature was an illusion and that our human efforts produce no direct causal result. The same applies to attitude towards our biblical heroes. R. Dessler and R. Aaron Kotler avoid attributing basic human emotions to our patriarchs and matriarchs, forbid criticizing them, and depict their sins as the minutest of transgressions. However, Radak and Ramban did not interpret in this fashion nor did R. Samson Raphael Hirsch and Neziv. Arguably, R. Dessler type thinking on this topic only became widespread in the twentieth century. 

Before addressing twentieth century rabbinic luminaries, I shall use a lesser-known recent volume as a foil to help convey the issues at hand. R. Beinish Ginsburg, teacher for many years at Netiv Aryeh and Michlala, published a volume on Genesis entitled Ohr le-Netivati which includes several concluding chapters about the correct approach to the avot (patriarchs). After extended analysis of this work, we shall briefly confront the work of R. Avigdor Nebenzahl as well as other famous rabbinic predecessors. Analysis of Ohr le-Netivati reveals a one-sided presentation of traditional sources and shows how this ideology hinders our biblical study. Ginsburg very much belongs in the R. Dessler camp and let us explore the results.

The significant question here is not only can we fault our luminaries but can we attribute basic human emotion to them. In one example, avoiding this makes a patriarch look worse. According to Ginsburg: 

But at the same time, the fact that he woke up early reflects that he slept the night before. Avraham Avinu was so secure in his avodas Hashem (service of God), so confident that he was doing the right thing, that he managed to fall asleep despite the nisayon (test) that awaited him the next morning (the akedah).[i]

I would think more highly of Abraham had he experienced trouble sleeping the night before embarking on a journey to slaughter his son, divine command notwithstanding. R. Aharon Lichtenstein criticizes those who think Abraham went to the akedah as if he was attending a wedding.[ii] 

Ginsburg states that the faithful never worry once they know the correct course of action.[iii] This does not match the storyline in Genesis where Abraham is afraid (15:1), Isaac is frightened (26:24) and Jacob appears nervous on multiple occasions (32:8, 48:3). The traditional commentaries on those verses often work against Ginsburg's thesis. If Abraham was afraid that the four kings would vengefully attack or that he has used up his heavenly reward, these are fears about practical results and not about the correct course of action.[iv] It seems quite normal and human to be nervous about either an upcoming war or the aftermath of a military conflict. 

The same applies to the very natural fear of death. Ginsburg quotes R. Avigdor Miller on Rachel's attitude to mortality. "She did not fear death because of death itself. Death was a grief because she would no longer bear any sons to build the house of Israel."[v] I would not think less of Rachel if she was upset on a personal level and not only because of an inability to further contribute to Jewish destiny. If Rachel feared not surviving long enough to spend more time with her two sons, including one who was just born, I would actually think more of her. R. Joseph Soloveitchik, for one, was not embarrassed to write about his illustrious grandfather's fear of death.[vi]

One midrash emphasizes that Jacob and Moses were frightened despite their receiving divine promises and holds them up as a model for emulation. Hazal (our Talmudic sages) apparently did not view apprehension as religiously derelict.   

“Jacob was very frightened and distressed” – R. Pinḥas in the name of R. Reuben: The Holy One blessed be He made a promise to two people, but they were afraid; the chosen of the patriarchs, and the chosen of the prophets. The chosen of the patriarchs – this is Jacob, as it is stated: “For the Lord has chosen Jacob for Himself” (Psalms 135:4). The Holy One blessed be He said to him: “Behold, emphasizes I am with you” (Genesis 28:15), but ultimately he was afraid, as it is stated: “Jacob was…frightened.” The chosen of the prophets – this is Moses, as it is stated; “Were it not for Moses, His chosen” (Psalms 106:23). The Holy One blessed be He said to him: “For I will be with you” (Exodus 3:12), but ultimately, he was afraid: “The Lord said to Moses: Do not fear him” (Numbers 21:34). He says: ‘Do not fear’ only to one who is afraid. 

 

R. Berekhya and R. Ḥelbo in the name of R. Shmuel bar Naḥman in the name of R. Natan: Israel would have been worthy of elimination in the days of Haman, had they not based their mindset on the mindset of their ancestor. They said: ‘If our patriarch Jacob, to whom the Holy One blessed be He promised and said: “Behold, I am with you,” (Genesis 28:15) was afraid, we, all the more so.’ (Bereishit Rabba 76:1).

    In another portrayal of a biblical character as transcending basic humanity, Ginsburg cites R. Meir Twersky who denies that Rachel was jealous of her sister's children; she only envied Leah's good deeds which enabled the older sibling to merit offspring.[vii] Hazal do indeed suggest this (Bereishit Rabba 71:6) but Radak has no problem saying Rachel was jealous of Leah for having children.[viii] Imagine the situation. If not for a deceit in which Leah participated, Rachel would be the sole wife of Jacob but now she has to share her husband with her sister. To add to her frustration, Rachel remains barren as her sister quickly produces four children. Surely, it would be understandable and not a moral failure to experience some resentment and jealousy. 

None of the above examples involve transgression; they merely reflect simple humanity. If we deny these feelings to the avot and imahot (matriarchs), we render them irrelevant to us, who experience the full range of human emotions, as models. As noted, in some instances, we may actually be lowering their stature. 

Hazal already present a multitude of perspectives on biblical heroes. The same Talmudic passage stating it is mistaken to say that King David sinned in the Bat Sheva episode also includes Rav saying that R. Yehuda Hanasi  went out of his way to exonerate this monarch only because he descended from the Davidic line (Shabbat 56a). Furthermore, another gemara suggests that David was guilty of both adultery and rape (Ketuvot 9a). One midrash faults Jacob for not responding with enough sympathy to his frustrated wife (Bereishit Rabba 71:7). On occasion, the sages even introduce problematic behavior not explicitly in the biblical narrative. A gemara says that Joseph stayed behind that fateful day fully intending to sleep with Potiphar’s wife but was able to restrain himself at the last minute (Sotah 10b). Our sages were not singularly dedicated to whitewashing our heroes.   

Many classic commentaries assume a normal psychological makeup for our forefathers in Genesis. Why is Joseph the favored ben zekunim (child of his advanced years) if Benjamin was actually younger? Hizkuni explains that Jacob was never able to love Benjamin as he loved Joseph because he always associated Benjamin with the death of Rachel.[ix] This reaction does not reflect negatively on Jacob but it does show the complexities and difficulties of human experience. Hizkuni also suggests that the brothers sold Joseph into slavery in an attempt to save themselves from the prophecy of brit bein habetarim (the covenant between the pieces); they hoped to restrict the foreseen servitude to Joseph and his family.[x] This is quite different from asserting that the brothers convened a beit din (court) and ruled that Joseph was a rodef (a dangerous pursuer). Denying normal human apprehensions and frustrations to our biblical heroes robs biblical narrative of sensitivity and insight. 

R. David Kimhi (Radak) consistently relates to the avot and imahot as great but flawed humans. He faults Sarai for her treatment of Hagar, calling it "not the way of ethics or of the pious". In fact, the Torah includes the Hagar story to instruct us regarding this very ethical message.[xi]  For Radak, a reader who defends Sarai misses the entire point. Radak also says Jacob was punished for his method of acquiring the bekhora (privileges of the first born) from Esau. His penalty was that he ultimately had to honor his brother (precisely what he tried to avoid by purchasing the bekhora) when they met after a twenty year hiatus.[xii] Where one opinion in Hazal states that Reuben merely moved his father's bed (Shabbat 55b), Radak follows the simple meaning of the verse that Reuven slept with Bilhah.[xiii] Radak even goes so far as to explain that Joseph told his brothers his dreams in order to pain them in response to their hatred.[xiv] Nor do our biblical greats' errors only relate to the sinful variety. Radak suggests that Rivkah misunderstood her husband's plan to bless Esau. The birkat Abraham (blessing of Abraham) was going to pass on to Jacob with or without a blessing from his father; therefore, there was no need to fool Isaac in order to receive the blessing.[xv]  

Ramban walks along the same path. Ginsburg alludes to Ramban attributing sin to Abraham but does not quote the relevant passages which contradict his position.[xvi] 

Know that Abraham our father unintentionally committed a great sin by bringing his wife to a stumbling block of sin on account of his fear for his life. He should have trusted that God would save him and his wife and all his belongings for God surely has the power to help and to save. His leaving the Land, concerning which he had been commanded from the beginning, on account of the famine, was also a sin he committed, for in famine God would redeem him from death. It was because of this deed that the exile in the land of Egypt at the hands of Pharaoh was decreed for his children.[xvii]   (Charles Chavel translation)

Ramban faults Abraham for endangering his wife, lack of faith, and leaving the Land of Israel. While he does mitigate blame by saying that the transgression was not intentional, he also refers to it as a "great sin." He does not emphasize that this was only a sin for someone on Abraham's level.[xviii] Parenthetically, I note that Radak defends Abraham in this episode; willingness to criticize does not entail always doing so.[xix] 

The driving out of Hagar inspires a parallel reaction. 

Our mother did transgress by this affliction and Abraham also by permitting her to do so. And so, God heard her [Hagar's] affliction and gave her a son who would be a wild-ass of a man, to afflict the seed of Abraham and Sarah with all kinds of affliction.[xx]  

Note that Ramban thinks both transgressions were serious enough to cause long-term punishment. Regarding the category of making mistakes not necessarily sinful, Ramban explains that Abraham misjudged the character of Abimelech and Gerar and, unlike when in Egypt, Sarah was not truly in danger.[xxi]

Ginsburg argues that Ramban frequently refers to the avot as zaddikim (righteous) so he cannot be attributing serious transgressions to them.[xxii] This line of reasoning highlights the problem with the entire approach. Righteous people are not infallible and they can stumble religiously and ethically. Given the pressures of a famine and a dangerous foreign country, even an Abraham can fall into a "great sin." 

His presentation of Rambam also leaves what to be desired. Ginsburg cites a passage in Guide to the Perplexed where Rambam says that Moses and the three patriarchs were all able to cling to God even as they engaged in mundane activities.[xxiii] For Ginsburg, this shows how different they were from normal humans. However, the seventh chapter of Shmoneh Perakim (Rambam's introduction to Avot) strikes a very different note. Rambam says that a prophet must excel in the intellectual and moral spheres but that he need not be perfect regarding every character trait. Thus, the following group all prophesied even though Solomon had an excessive libido, David had a streak of cruelty, Elijah was too angry, and Samuel was overly fearful. In the fourth chapter of that same work, Rambam says that Moses became inappropriately angry in the episode of the waters of Meribah. Apparently, heroic figures can still struggle with serious character flaws

Abravanel works with analogous assumptions. He notes how Esau asks Jacob about his wife and children but Jacob only answers about the children (33:5) and he explains that Jacob was embarrassed to tell his brother that he had four wives.[xxiv] There is no claim that the righteous are above such embarrassment. Abravanel also thinks that the Egyptian exile was punishment for the sale of Joseph. They sold him into Egyptian slavery and they ended up in Egyptian servitude. The brothers "sinned a great sin in their groundless hatred for their brother Joseph and in their plotting to murder him." Reuben was not part of the plot but he did participate in the hatred. Joseph sinned inadvertently in his prideful reaction to his dreams, and Jacob sinned to some degree in favoring one child and giving Joseph the ketonet passim (ornamented tunic).[xxv] Abravanel does not try to minimize the brothers' transgression.       

He also relates to Noah as an individual with standard fears and concerns. After the deluge, Noah was saddened and scared because of the loss of friends and acquaintances, the lack of food, the possibility that the animal kingdom will overwhelm a small number of humans, and the potential repeat of the first fratricide. According to Abravanel, in the first verses of the ninth chapter, God reassures Noah regarding all four fears. For example, the allowance of meat consumption helps compensate for the reduced amount of vegetation available for eating.[xxvi] Despite being a zaddik, Noah struggled with the trauma of a world destroyed.  

     Relying on R. Yehuda Copperman's critique of R. Shlomo Riskin, Ginsburg says that the latter takes a quote from R. Hirsch about Moses' humanity out of context.[xxvii] Yet he fails to consider some far more telling Hirschian passages. 

The Torah never hides from us the faults, errors and weaknesses of our great men. Just by that it gives the stamp of veracity to what it relates. But in truth, by the knowledge which is given us of their faults and weaknesses, our great men are in no wise made lesser but actually greater and more instructive. If they stood before us as the purest models of perfection we should attribute them as having a different nature, which has been denied to us. Were they without passion without internal struggles, their outcome would seem to us the outcome of some higher nature, hardly a merit and surely no model we could hope to emulate (Isaac Levy translation).[xxviii]

            R. Hirsch offers three arguments for a more human portrayal of our great men. One, it gives our stories the stamp of truth since it reflects the reality of humanity. Second, it actually enhances their greatness because it means that their achievements depended upon overcoming various character shortcomings and were not innate from birth. Finally, it makes them relevant role models for all of us who struggle with difficult personality traits. 

            His famous commentary on the education of Jacob and Esau echoes this theme.  

Our sages, who never objected to draw attention to the small and great weaknesses in the history of our great forefathers and thereby make them just the more instructive for us.[xxix] 

            He goes on to say that Isaac and Rebecca erred in giving Jacob and Esau the identical education when their needs were so diverse. The active and energetic Esau needed a different approach than the more contemplative, reserved Jacob. Additionally, Isaac and Rebecca mistakenly failed to exhibit equal love to each of their children. It seems that Copperman and Ginsburg are truly the ones distorting the views of R. Hirsch.

            R. Hirsch's approach to Simeon and Levi in Shechem also proves instructive. While, Ginsburg tries to downplay any wrongdoing, R. Hirsch is quite adamant about their transgressions.

Now the blameworthy part begins, which we need in no way excuse. Had they killed Shechem and Hamor there would scarcely be anything to say against it. But they did not spare the unarmed men who were at their mercy, yea, and went further, and looted, altogether made the inhabitants pay for the crime of the landowner. For that, there was no justification.[xxx]

            The juxtaposition of the chapter in which Jacob confronts Esau with the Shechem episode inspires a profound comment from R. Hirsch. In chapter 33, Esau overcomes his violent nature and embraces his brother. This contrasts sharply with the following story in which Simeon and Levi pick up the sword of Esau and engage in unjustified violence.[xxxi]

            Strikingly, Ginsburg enlists Neziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) as a champion of his conservative approach even though Neziv very much humanized the patriarchs and matriarchs. R. Berlin explains that Rebecca was intimidated at her first sight of her husband, that this influenced their life-long relationship, and that she was unable to confront him directly as Rachel and Sarah did with their husbands. Therefore, she employed a deceptive strategy to get Jacob the blessing rather than just challenging Isaac's decision in an open conversation.[xxxii] 

            Furthermore, Neziv explicitly contradicts Ginsburg's reading of a midrash which states that the great and bitter cry of Mordecai in Shushan was payment for the great and bitter cry that Jacob caused in Esau (Bereishit Rabba 67:4). Ginsburg asserts that this midrash does not deem Jacob's actions blameworthy.[xxxiii] In contrast, Neziv explains that one need not have pure motivations for mizva acts but one does need such purity for performing an avera lishmah (sin with a noble impetus); using a bad trait for a good cause must come without any personal pleasure. According to Neziv, this explains why Jacob was punished for his brother's cry but not for his father's tremble. He was pained by his father's reaction but took some problematic joy in his brother's distress. R. Berlin explicitly writes that such joy is forbidden and a sin.[xxxiv] 

            In one story, R. Berlin prefers a more human explanation over the alternative. How could Judah not have recognized the look or voice of Tamar, his daughter-in- law? Our sages suggest that this reflects Tamar's great modesty (Megilla 10b). The idea that Judah and Tamar lived as part of the same family for years without his knowing what she looks like certainly portrays their lives as radically distinct from ours. R. Berlin offers an explanation more rooted in basic human psychology. Judah first saw Tamar from afar and judged her a prostitute and, when he got closer, could not imagine that the decent Tamar was acting as a prostitute.[xxxv] Indeed, we often get stuck in our preliminary judgment and cannot identify a person in an unexpected context.  

            Another midrash has Leah retort sharply to Jacob when he accuses her of deceit; she notes his own trickery in taking Esau's blessing (Bereishit Rabba 70:19). Ginsburg suggests a creative interpretation. 

This sounds like a rather strong criticism of Yaakov. But the meforshim on the midrash explain that the intention is entirely different. Leah was saying, "Everyone knows that Lavan's two daughters were destined to marry Rivka's two sons, and the oldest should go to the oldest. I'm supposed to marry the bechor – and you made yourself the bechor when you got the brachos.[xxxvi]   

Leah was arguing that even though she was originally destined for Esau since the older daughter should wed the eldest son, Jacob's usurping the bekhora now meant that Leah should marry Jacob, the newly established first-born. However, this is certainly not the simple reading of the midrash in which Leah asks Jacob: "is there a master without disciples;" in other words, I learned subterfuge from you.  This line relates to the morality of deceit and not to a question of correctly lined up marriage arrangements.   

Ginsburg misreads several other relevant sources as well. He quotes Ohr ha-Hayyim as explaining that Joseph knew his brothers acted with good intentions in selling him but Ohr ha-Hayyim does not say this. He does say that even at the time of the sale, Joseph continued to feel brotherhood with his siblings but this could be explained in many ways. A person can continue to love relatives even when they have intensely wronged him or her (45:4).[xxxvii]

I reiterate that the point is not only about wrongdoing; it is about having the aspirations and frustration of human beings. God states that He will not destroy Sodom without relating this news to Abraham first (18:17). R. Meir Simha ha-Cohen from Dvinsk offers a profound explanation as to why our first patriarch needed to know. A compassionate person wants the effects of his compassion to last. Indeed, we all want to leave a legacy and this is especially a concern for the childless. Abraham had heroically saved Sodom in the battle with the four kings, and thus would understandably not be happy about its impending destruction.[xxxviii] R. Meir Simha assumes that Abraham shared the same kind of hopes and dreams as other human beings.    

One of Ginsburg's important influences is the writings of R. Avigdor Nebenzahl, Rosh Yeshiva at Netiv Aryeh and former chief rabbi of Jerusalem's Old City. In the two concluding chapters to his volume on Genesis, R. Nebenzahl defends both Reuben and David as being nobly motivated and not driven by physical desire. Reuben only slept with BIlhah to break her connection with Jacob and restore his father's proper place with Leah. David's mistake was relying on the Holy Spirit informing him that Bat Sheva and he were destined for each other.[xxxix] Let us leave aside the fact that these interpretations have no basis in the biblical narrative. In fact, the prophet informs us that Bat Sheva (Samuel II 11:2) was good-looking, presumably explaining David's interest. One gemara cites the following line in the context of the David and Bat Sheva episode. "There is a small limb in man. If he starves it, it is satisfied. If he satiates it, it is starving" (Sanhedrin 107a), clearly relating the monarch's sin to sexual temptation. Furthermore, do the motivations suggested by R. Nebenzahl truly mitigate the sins? What would we think of someone who slept with his step-mother in order to restore his own mother's place? 

R. Nebenzahl brings support for the minimization of David's sin from the fact that David does not lose the kingship, unlike Saul who forfeits the monarchy for what seems like a relatively, lesser transgression.[xl] Earlier authorities give different answers to that question. R. Yosef Albo mentions several explanations, none of which reduce David's sin. Perhaps David sinned in a personal matter whereas Saul erred in a matter of kingship. Alternatively, David repented immediately when Natan confronted him while Saul initially denied any wrongdoing to Samuel. R. Albo outlines a series of areas in which David had superior character to Saul but he never denies the adultery with Bat Sheva or the murder of Uriah.[xli]   

Minimizing David's wrongdoing neutralizes some of the story's power. The opening verse relates that David resides in his Jerusalem palace while his men fight on the battlefield (Samuel II 11:1).This morally dubious practice starts the moral deterioration leading to the affair with Bat Sheva. David tries to send Uriah home to cover up his having impregnated Bat Sheva but Uriah refuses (Samuel II 11:8-13). Instead of viewing this as Uriah' rebelling against David's authority, we could see it as Uriah showing sensitivity to his comrades at the front in a way that the monarch does not. Alternatively, Uriah refuses because he suspects what David has done.[xlii] 

Admittedly, Ginsburg's methodology has roots in recent rabbinic authorities. However, these rabbinic personalities differ from the many rabbinic voices we have surveyed and we have sufficient motivation to prefer the more human view of biblical heroes. A comparison of the two schools reading the sale of Joseph reveals good reason for our preference. Beit ha-Levi asserts that Yaakov’s extensive sadness was due to the loss of a tribe for Am Yisrael, and not so much because of grief over a deceased son.[xliii] I am unsure why extensive grief over a son's death is a problematic emotion, especially given the added guilt and responsibility Jacob felt for sending his son off on a mission from which he never returned (as Radak explains[xliv]). This approach neutralizes the very powerful human emotion of sadness for the loss of a beloved son.

R. Nosson Tzvi Finkel, the Alter from Slobodka, insists that no one did anything seriously wrong in the entire story. Jacob had good intentions in favoring Joseph, Joseph had good intentions in tale-bearing, and the brothers sincerely judged Yosef as a rodef. The brothers were punished for the minor flaw of having some jealousy in their hearts, even though that jealousy did not warp their judgment. Based on a midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84:17), he even finds a positive element in their sitting down to a meal.[xlv] Similarly, R. Hayyim Yaakov Goldvicht, former Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Kerem be-Yavneh, understands their meal within the approach that justifies the brothers by saying they formed a rabbinic court, trying Joseph and finding him guilty. During legal deliberation, he says, they were forbidden to eat, so they naturally sat down for a meal following the verdict.[xlvi] His interpretation misses out on the narrative's subtle use of the meal to indicate indifference to pain.

These readings do not cohere with the simplest reading of Humash, and thwart appreciation of the psychological and moral insights conveyed in the brothers’ sitting down to eat, as well as the potential motivation of the brothers according to Hizkuni. As noted, Hizkuni explains that the brothers wanted the prophesied servitude to take effect on their brother Joseph. Moreover, the overall approach deviates from the standard language of the major Rishonim. Note, for instance, Abravanel’s comfort in attributing significant blame all around.

R. Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler follows the path of the Alter. Jacob had a metaphysical right to grant Joseph more honor, but he sinned slightly in allowing personal affection into the picture as well.[xlvii] As with Beit Ha-Levi, his approach seems to not value the most authentic human emotions. R. Dessler also attempts to justify Joseph’s relating his irritating dreams to his brothers. The truly righteous are so involved in otherworldly thoughts that they only get by in this world due to divine assistance. Since God wanted the Egyptian exile to begin, He removed His protection from Joseph, who then innocently told his brothers about the dreams.[xlviii] In contrast, I suggest that a zaddik very much needs to understand human interaction even without God’s help.[xlix]

In a footnote, Ginsburg says that attaching oneself to a gadol promotes the correct attitude to biblical interpretation. "If one sees and appreciates the greatness of the gedolim and witnesses how they have such complete self-control, by extrapolation one will assume that the Avos certainly had such perfect control."[l] In contrast, I posit that time around gedolim may actually lead in another direction. I have known several prominent rabbis in my time, some truly great and some not so great, but all of them knew of apprehension, frustration, and anger. Ironically enough, some of the contemporary gedolim Ginsburg cites are deeply flawed individuals, especially R. Avigdor Miller, by far the most cited rabbinic figure in the book.[li] Perusal of R. Miller's explanations for the Holocaust may be enough to show that well-known rabbis can have serious limitations. 

What is at stake here may be more serious than we initially think. The more conservative approach significantly infringes on our study of Tanakh since it prevents us from noticing many of the insights of our sacred scripture. Furthermore, it hinders our identifying with biblical heroes and their human tribulations, robbing us of potential role models. Finally, introducing encounter with contemporary gedolim into the conversation is quite telling. In response to secularization and the weakening of religion in the modern era, religious communities responded with increased emphasis on clergy authority and clergy greatness. Both papal infallibility and daas Torah are modern innovations.[lii] One contemporary manifestation of this is a strong reluctance to ever criticize prominent rabbis even if they utter insulting statements or defend abusers. Large parts of the Orthodox world (certainly not all) need a more critical attitude towards the rabbinate. There may be serious overlap between how we read Tanakh and how we relate to the shortcomings of today's rabbis. 

Of course, this does not entail going to the opposite extreme and claiming that the biblical luminaries were bad people.[liii] Recall that we are discussing the gamut of human emotions and not just sinful behavior. Remember as well Radak's defense of Abraham's behavior in Egypt. Concluding that the avot do sin does not mean they always or invariably do so. Due to the complexity of human nature, great individuals also struggle with character weaknesses. Denial of that basic fact strays from the example of Radak, Ramban and R. Hirsch, robs Tanakh of some of its most powerful messages and leaves readers without authentic role models.[liv]

Notes
 

On Mondays, March 17, 24, 31, and April 7, from 1:00-2:00 pm EST, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a four-part mini-course on How to Analyze Torah Narrative.

The classes will be held over Zoom, and are run by Lamdeinu Teaneck.

Registration is required. 

Please go to www.lamdeinu.org to register.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel has posted a new book review at Tradition Online. It reviews Rabbi Yehuda Rock's new book on literary layers within the Torah.

Read it here https://traditiononline.org/review-yehuda-rock-ahat-dibber-rivud-sifruti-ba-torah-bereshit-noah-2024-815-pages/

We asked for your responses about synagogue affiliation (or lack thereof) among younger Jews. Here are some of the responses we received.  It would be important for committees within each synagogue to deliberate about how best to maximize affiliation and attendance among Jews in their 20s, 30s and 40s.

Below are some of the responses we received.

I

1) General demographics in the neighborhood

Some locations are attractive to younger people for a variety of reasons: availability of Jewish resources and institutions, availability of general resources and cultural institutions, security, jobs that young people can actually get and commute to, etc.

2) Affordability

For a variety of reasons, neighborhoods around some synagogues that have all the above factors going for them are simply unaffordable, be it to singles or young couples.  Sometimes the neighborhood near the synagogue is expensive and also nice - this could still attract young people with access to money.  One of the even harder combinations is when a neighborhood is expensive and not particularly nice.  This the reason that I lived 44 blocks from my chosen synagogue when I lived in NYC.  I recall seeing an apartment 4 blocks away that wanted almost $2k a month for 250 square feet with a microscopic oven, a mini-fridge, and a closet-like bedroom that was barely large enough to fit a single twin bed.  When I lived in LA, the cheapest 1-bed 1-bath condos within 2 miles in any direction of my synagogue *started at half a million dollars.  As a young father in my 30s, I counted myself lucky to find a rental apartment that cost $3,500 a month.  In four years there I paid almost $170,000 with nothing to show for it other than that I wasn’t homeless.

3) Culture of the synagogue

My current synagogue is regarded as young, growing, and attractive.  People are moving here in droves for a friendly job market, and are settling down for the long term despite rapidly rising costs of living.  But the thing is that there is no singles culture here.  Almost everyone who comes is already married, and the 18-30 set has almost no reason to come to us.  The biggest complaint I get from young people who visit us is that they can’t find a match in a place where such a high percentage of the opposite sex is married.  Due to the demographics of the neighborhood, our model still works, but it basically requires that young people come to us only after having taken care of their own religious affiliation between high school and marriage.

4) Capacity of the synagogue 

Most synagogues I know, even successful ones, operate on a shoestring budget and wishful thinking.  After the mortgage, program costs, and salaries for even just a rabbi, administrator, and light custodial work, there is nothing left, or even a deficit.  Synagogues that by size ought to have many more staff members still operate with a skeleton crew.  Typically they are at or beyond their organizational capacity with just the daily grind, and they can’t really absorb the cost and effort of the kinds of outreach and inreach that it takes to make a perceptionally recalcitrant demographic group show up.

5) Challenges faced by the young people themselves

This is a demanding time of life for young people.  They are pursuing education, and have limited access to religious life that is distant from college campuses.  They are trying to find a mate, and need to be in places where they can find one.  They are trying to start out professionally, and are under high pressure with the lowest resources to deal with that pressure.  Most Jewish resources are geared at people who are older or younger than they are.  Pursuing and nourishing their religious life in this situation requires a lot of drive and commitment.

6) Support for this transitional period from their home community 

Young people retain their commitment to Jewish life the best when they are able to become Jewishly literate and build up a deep deck of positive religious experiences before graduating high school.  Communities who do not invest in this but still expect the young people to affiliate need to reallocate their resources.

7) Nationally, there aren’t many resources available to the young people

In the time between college education and settling down with kids, there is poor communal investment and programmatic development.  This reflects in part that the demographic is in a high state of flux, so they’re harder to serve.  It also reflects a broad failure of the Jewish community to imagine how to invest in them and devote money to that end.  Despite knowing full well that their own organizational health requires new people to affiliate, they are much better at complaining about the young people’s absence than they are about proactively attracting them to fill the gap.

This is based on my own anecdotal observations, and is the best judgment I can reach from my own experience,

II

 There are several issues that repel many below the age of 50 or so.  A few of these are: 1. Hypocrisy--it's obvious that much of the service is rote reading from the siddur and even the torah.  It seems that the purpose of this mouthing of syllables iis superstition-- those syllables must be said or bad things may happen. For example, I have a grandson on active combat duty in the IDF.  It's an extreme turn off to listen to a rapid fire prayer for the State of Israel and the IDF seemingly just to 'get through it.'  2. Having to sit through superstitious content such as 'Women may die in childbirth for various failures such as improper handling of the halla.  Scare tactics alienate younger people. 3. Sermons full of midrashic content taken literally a dn contrary to science.  Last shabbat, for example, the rabbinic speaker held as true that even pails of water throughout the world split at the same time as did the Red Sea and that God brought down the sun to discomfit the following Egyptian army. He also noted the importance of believing in miracles such as the sun standing still.  Even a 1st grader knows that the sun doesn't revolve around the earth and pass each night underground.  4. The length of services is also a negative consideration. 5. The lack of seriousness on the part of congregants and, way too often, synagogue leaders as evidenced by the persistent talking and gossiping during services. 6. The absence of explanations for doing what we do.  For example, almost no one seems to pay attention to the haftarah readings-- what's the connection between the parasha and the readings? 7. Related to the foregoing, when younger people are told that we do or say something just because that's the way we do it or that's the way it was done in the old country, doesn't cut it for educated younger people.  

III

While I can't speak to Orthodoxy in specific, I will say that COVID had an impact on many programs and institutions, and we are all still experiencing this effect today.   People found other routes to daven and have community...perhaps informal gatherings in their neighborhoods.   I know that for some people, large synagogues are impersonal.  And therefore, within a congregation, havurot have been formed to create tighter bonds.  Women also want to have an active role and can where there are partnership and/or women's minyans but without them, women may not feel the same pull to come shul.  

IV

 Whether or not they are coming to synagogue, perhaps it is important to understand how young people are identifying and expressing their Judaism through organizations, institutions and other activities. There is also the enormous influence of Chabad and perhaps many mainstream daveners are to be found there...with innovative programming and strong outreach.  I'm not sure that people are less involved in Judaism, just involved differently than past generations.   

V

I would recommend sitting down with those who do not attend and ask them. 

My ideas may not be accurate, but I imagine those in the age groups of interest will express openly their thoughts as to their lack of involvement. 

Perhaps a third party could do interviews on your behalf to allow a possible more open dialogue on the matter. 

VI

.I noticed not just this but an absence in daily life. Intermarriage is a large but not the only reason. I attribute a lot of this to the absence of attending Hebrew school where one can form a collective identity among peers. One learns the songs, the history and the traditions. I was born in the 1950s when these things “didn’t exist on any level” in public life so Hebrew schools/synagogue were a safe zone. Parents and grandparents were embedded in these traditions and history. Now, Hebrew school is a nuisance for many parents.

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Ki Tissa

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Moses descended Mount Sinai, found the Israelites worshiping a golden calf, and he threw down the tablets of God’s commandments.  The Torah’s account of this tragic scene unflinchingly describes the sinfulness of the Israelites, the frustration of Moses, the “anger” of the Lord. 

The Torah could have omitted this story or edited it to make it look better. But the Torah is an amazingly candid document. In setting the foundations of religious life, the Torah takes under consideration that human beings are not angels. We are capable of great achievements…but also of great failures. We can reach great heights receiving Divine Revelation and we can sink very low worshiping a golden calf.

The Torah doesn’t expect us to be perfect; it expects us to strive to be as good as we can be. According to tradition, the second set of Tablets was given on Yom Kippur. This is strikingly symbolic of the nature of life: we sin, we repent, and we have the opportunity to renew ourselves. Failure need not drag us down permanently. The Almighty has built Yom Kippur into our annual observances as a sign of Divine faith in our power to atone for past sins and to improve ourselves in the future.

The Torah teaches that spiritual life has ups and downs. The hallmark of religion at its best is an ongoing sense of striving, failing, growing, falling back, moving forward. It is dynamic and transformative. Religion is not about maintaining a dull status quo; it prods us to reach beyond.

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, who was Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Israel in the early 20th century, once compared religious life to being on a ladder. Was someone on a higher rung more “religious” than one on a lower rung? Rabbi Kook answered: it depends which direction the people were going. A person might be on a higher rung—with more knowledge and greater level of mitzvah observance—and yet be stagnant or actually on the way down the ladder. Another person might be on a lower rung of religious knowledge and observance, and yet be ascending, moving up with each passing day. So the one who is ascending is experiencing a dynamic and growing religious life, while the one on the higher rung is experiencing a dry and diminishing religious life. The one on the lower rung is aspiring to grow, while the one on the higher rung has surrendered to rote and dullness.

Religion is not a part time sideline, or something to do in our spare time. It isn’t a collection of laws and customs to perform in a mechanical way. It is, at root, a framework for striving toward a dynamic relationship with the Almighty. It is not so much a pattern of life as an attitude toward living, of reaching beyond ourselves, of climbing one more rung in our quest for self-understanding and confrontation with the Divine.

Yes, we will surely experience failures along the way, just as the Israelites in the Torah did. But we will also experience growth and achievement. It is not the failures that define who we are. It is our aspirations…and our striving to attain them.

Jewish Anti-Zionists?

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

(This op ed piece appeared in the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, March 6, 2025.)

The emergence of the modern State of Israel is one of the wonders of world history. After nearly 2,000 years of dispersion, the Jewish people have reclaimed their historic homeland. We feel the power and joy of the Psalmist’s words: “When the Lord turned back the captivity of Zion we were as in a dream.”  We are experiencing the fulfillment of centuries of Jewish dreams.

Israel has created a vibrant democracy. With a tiny population of around 10 million people (20% of whom are not Jewish) it has become a world leader in science, technology, medicine, agriculture and more. It has developed a remarkable military to defend its citizens from intractable enemies. It is ranked among the happiest and most creative countries in the world.

Yet, amazingly, some Jews have not shared the profound gratitude for the Jewish return to Zion. Not only have they not embraced Zionism, but they have been vocal and active opponents of the State of Israel.

Some of the Jewish anti-Zionists are found among Haredi Jews. Others are found among far left-wing Jews who buy into the anti-Zionist preachments of the “radical left.” Yet others are highly idealistic Jews who focus on Israel’s real or imagined faults and don’t want themselves to be associated with those faults.

Although the Jewish critics of Israel are diverse, they seem to have one thing in common. They insist that the Jewish state be inhumanly perfect.

The Haredi opponents will only be content with a miraculous establishment of Jewish sovereignty in Messianic times. They see modern Israel as the creation of a secular movement led in large measure by nonreligious Jews. For such Haredim, a Jewish state will always be illegitimate until God sends us the Messiah and when all Jews become thoroughly observant of Torah to the satisfaction of Haredi rabbis.

To “left wing” and “idealistic” opponents, a Jewish state will never be satisfactory as long as Jews have to wage wars, kill enemies, rule over non-Jews, engage in political infighting, deal with social inequalities etc.  For them, these are unseemly things that must not exist among Jews. Yes, all other nations have these issues, often to a far greater degree than Israel; but all other nations are not expected to be perfect. Only Israel is supposed to be above all negative features of modern statehood.

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935) noted that “the great idealists seek an order so noble, so firm and pure, beyond what may be found in the world of reality, and thus they destroy what has been fashioned in conformity to the norms of the world.”  Such people, through their unrealistic religiosity or idealism, in fact are part of what Rav Kook called “the world of chaos” rather than “the world of order.”  Misguided idealism is destructive. Insisting that Jews be “angels” rather than real human beings is also a form of antisemitism.

Already in the 19th century, Rabbi Yehuda Alkalai (1798-1878) lamented that rabbis of his time opposed resettlement of Jews in Israel until Messianic times. He rebuked those “who say with full mouth that Jerusalem was only created for the sake of Torah study. While their intention is acceptable, their deeds are unacceptable. It is impossible to conduct life in this world as though it were the world-to-come, where there is no need to eat or drink.”

The reality is that Israel is composed of actual human beings living under challenging conditions.  Israel has to deal with Iran, Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthis and others who seek its destruction. It has to deal with terrorism, anti-Israel attitudes in the Arab world and beyond, economic boycotts and sanctions. Israeli society is faced with rivalries between political left and right, religious and nonreligious, Sephardic and Ashkenazic, rich and poor … and more. Yes, Israel is a real country with real problems; Israelis are human beings who must make decisions that often involve unpleasantness. We are not living in Messianic times.  

The future of Israel and the Jewish People will be secured by those who share the dream of a Jewish homeland that strives to be a “light unto the nations.”  The goal is to make Israel as great as humanly possible.

For Jewish critics to demand the impossible is not only unrealistic: it is dangerous and self-destructive.