National Scholar Updates

Rabbi Hayyim Angel to teach six-part Zoom series about Shavuot readings

Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a six-part series on the biblical readings of Shavuot.

Hosted by Torah in Motion in Toronto, the classes are over Zoom. 

They begin on Monday, May 6, from 10:00-11:00 am Eastern. Please see below for dates and class titles.

 

The classes are open to the public (Torah in Motion requests optional donations on the registration page). 

Please register at:

https://torahinmotion.org/programs/e-tim-the-tanakh-readings-of-shavuot

 

The Tanakh Readings of Shavuot

Mondays, 10:00am Eastern

May 6
The Ten Commandments in Classical Commentary and Contemporary Scholarship

May 13
The Revelation at Sinai (Shemot Chapters 19, 20, and 24)

May 20
Ezekiel's Vision of the Celestial Chariot: Principles of Prophecy

May 27
'The Righteous Shall Live By His Faith': The Message of Habakkuk and Shauvot

June 3
The Complex Layers of Hesed in the Book of Ruth: Chapter 1

June 10
The Complex Layers of Hesed in the Book of Ruth: Chapters 2-4

A WOMAN OF VALOR HAS BEEN FOUND

Simple glass reflects the beam of light that shines on it only once. A precious gem, in contrast, reflects different sparks with its many facets; a single beam of light that shines on it is reflected and is returned to us greatly enhanced. ~ Feivel Meltzer [1]

INTRODUCTION

This analogy can serve as a guide for understanding a literary gem, Megillat Ruth. Seldom do we come across such an ideal society, characterized by hesed (loyalty, loving-kindness), heroes, and no villains. At worst, there are average characters such as Orpah, Boaz’s foreman, and So-and-so who serve as foils to highlight the greatness of Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz.[2] R. Zeira’s classic statement captures the essence of the megillah:

R. Zeira said: This scroll [of Ruth] tells us nothing either of cleanliness or of uncleanliness, either of prohibition or permission. For what purpose then was it written? To teach how great is the reward of those who do deeds of kindness (Ruth Rabbah 2:14).

Although it appears that hesed is the predominant theme of our megillah, there is considerably less clarity over how to define that hesed, or what other religious lessons emanate from the text of Megillat Ruth. Which characters truly epitomize R. Zeira’s statement? What is the relationship between divine providence and human hesed?
Although the surface reading of the Book of Ruth appears idyllic and straightforward, many elements in the book that initially appear clear are more elusive after further scrutiny. Rather than limiting ourselves to one side or another, it is preferable to see how these viewpoints coexist. By doing so, one stands to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the text and its messages.

Mordechai Cohen sets out two criteria for ascertaining deliberate ambiguities in a biblical text: (1) one must establish the cogency of two separate readings; (2) one must demonstrate how the ambiguity contributes to the literary context by expressing something that could not be expressed in unambiguous language.[3] Taking this argument to a different level, one might contend that much in Megillat Ruth fits these criteria. This chapter will consider some of the major issues of the megillah with an eye toward its overall purposes.

THE FIRST FIVE VERSES: PUNISHMENT FOR SINS?

The Book of Ruth opens in a jarring fashion, with Elimelech, Mahlon, and Chilion dying at the outset. Some midrashim and later commentators contend that Elimelech and his sons deserved their respective deaths. They maintain that Elimelech left the Land of Israel,[4] or a starving community behind,[5] while his sons lingered in Moab and intermarried. [6]

Perhaps the juxtaposition of Elimelech’s departure and his death and the juxtaposition of the sons’ marriages and their deaths suggest these conclusions. However, there is a ten-year gap between the sons’ marrying Moabites and their deaths (1:4). By including the lengthy time separating the two events, the megillah appears to exclude intermarriage as a direct cause of their deaths.[7] We also are not told how long Elimelech remained in Moab before he died. These uncertainties yield at least three possible lines of interpretation:

1. Elimelech, Mahlon, and Chilion simply died: They maintain that the family left during a famine for legitimate reasons. Ibn Ezra (on 1:2, 15) insists that Ruth and Orpah converted prior to their marriages to Elimelech’s sons. The book’s opening verses are primarily background setting the stage for the main story of Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz, and should not be understood as punishment for sins.

2. This story is parallel to Job: Like Job, Naomi first complained about her God-given lot (1:20–21). The deaths and suffering at the outset of Ruth are theologically significant, but the reader is not told how.

Unlike the Book of Job, however, where God’s direct involvement is discussed in the beginning and end of the book, in Ruth it is not. Additionally, the characters in Megillat Ruth played an active role in changing their fate, whereas Job did not. It is unclear whether Megillat Ruth was intended to parallel the Book of Job or whether the two books should be contrasted, with Megillat Ruth’s characters held responsible for their original suffering and credited for their eventual happiness. [8]

3. This is a story of God giving just recompense: Elimelech and his family are punished for leaving a starving community behind. The unwarranted lingering of Mahlon and Chilion in Moab led them to intermarry, causing their untimely deaths. Likewise, the happy ending of Megillat Ruth may be viewed as God’s reward for the acts of hesed performed over the course of the story.

Does the text teach divine recompense? This reading is possible, but no more compelling than a non-recompense reading. This uncertainty encapsulates our difficulty in pinpointing any one specific interpretation of the ephemeral characters in the opening verses of Megillat Ruth. The initially straightforward narrative contains significant ambiguities that will continue throughout the book.

NAOMI

A second ambiguity is evidenced in the character of Naomi. It is unclear whether she was a passive follower of her husband, or an active participant in the abandonment of the community (assuming that there was anything negative about their leaving). Sensitive to the vagueness of the text, several midrashim address both sides of the question:

He was the prime mover and his wife secondary to him, and his two sons secondary to both of them (Ruth Rabbah 1:5). [9]

Why did the text mention him, his wife, and his children? To teach that all of them were stingy (Ruth Zuta 1:2).

From the text, it is difficult to determine whether Naomi did anything wrong, if she was an innocent victim of her family members’ sins, or if she was a victim of the unexplained deaths of her family members.

The motives behind Naomi’s efforts to persuade her daughters-in-law to remain in Moab also remain elusive. Although Naomi emphasized the marital prospects of Ruth and Orpah (in 1:8–15), it is possible that she was driven by other considerations as well:

R. Samuel b. Nahmani said in the name of R. Judah b. Haninah: Three times is it written here “turn back,” corresponding to the three times that a potential proselyte is repulsed; but if he persists after that, he is accepted (Ruth Rabbah 2:16).

Why did Naomi want to return them? So that she would not be embarrassed by them. We find that there were ten markets in Jerusalem, and they [the classes of people who shopped at each] never intermingled.… The people were recognized by their clothing—what one class wore, another would not (Ruth Zuta 1:8).

Ruth Rabbah 2:16 casts Naomi as unwilling to compromise Jewish religious standards. This view receives textual support from Naomi’s observation that Orpah’s return to Moab came with religious consequences as well: “So she said, ‘See, your sister-in-law has returned to her people and her gods. Go follow your sister-in-law’” (1:15; cf. Ibn Ezra, Malbim).

In contrast, Ruth Zuta 1:8 depicts a less flattering portrait of Naomi. Her professed concern for the welfare of her Moabite daughters-in-law cloaked a desire to protect her own noble self image in Judean society. The inordinate emphasis on Ruth as a “Moabite” (seven times in this tiny megillah) could support this reading as well.
Despite the potentially complex nature of her concern for their welfare, Naomi certainly emerged successful by the end of the narrative. She had her estate redeemed by Boaz; she was esteemed by her neighbors; and Ruth’s son was born into her family. It appears that there are several textually valid readings of Naomi’s character:

1. Naomi as a paragon of hesed: Who could ask for a better mother-in-law than Naomi? Bereft of her husband and sons, with only Ruth and Orpah to comfort her, Naomi was more concerned with their welfare than with tending to her own loneliness. Moreover, Naomi never stopped caring for Ruth, helping her find security via matrimony. As a consequence of her hesed, God rewarded Naomi at the end of the megillah with family, friends, and land (4:14–17).

2. Naomi as self-serving: Although Naomi always verbally expressed interest in her daughters-in-law, she really was more concerned for herself. She joined her family in abandoning her community. She wanted to drive her Moabite daughters-in-law away because they would harm her social status upon return. Naomi knew she could benefit from Boaz’s intervention; therefore, she orchestrated the encounter between Boaz and Ruth to help herself. Fittingly, the narrative concludes with Naomi’s happiness—she took the child and had the blessings of her friends along with her land. Ruth is only a tangential figure in the megillah’s climactic frame. [10]

3. Naomi as similar to Job: Naomi suffered without any explanation, complained against God, and then was restored in the end:

She said to them, Call me not Naomi; call me Mara; for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me (ki hemar Shaddai li me’od) (Ruth 1:20).

As God lives, who has taken away my judgment; and the Almighty, who has tormented my soul (ve-Shaddai hemar nafshi) (Job 27:2).

Although Naomi used similar language to that of Job, possibly indicating that she viewed herself as suffering unjustly, the narrator remains conspicuously noncommittal as to whether or not Naomi’s story parallels that of Job.

4. Complexity: Naomi was concerned with herself, and also for Ruth. One might view the happy ending either as a consequence of Naomi’s and the other characters’ actions, or as a providential reward for her goodness, or some combination thereof. This view combines the first two explanations above, and each layer of motivation appears to be simultaneously sustained by the text.

BOAZ

Yet another ambiguity can be found in the person of Boaz. According to all readings, Boaz was a hero. He protected Ruth from harassment (2:9, 15) and helped her in other ways unbeknownst to Ruth (2:15–17). He provided sustenance for Naomi (3:15), completed the redemption of Naomi’s field, and married Ruth (3:18–4:10). Boaz deserves praise for overcoming the anti-Moabite biases of Judean society.

However, Boaz allowed Ruth to glean for approximately three months (cf. Ruth Rabbah 5:11) and needed prodding from Naomi and Ruth before he took more substantial action. Why didn’t he help earlier, especially given his awareness of Ruth’s character and outstanding accomplishments (2:11–12)?

Perhaps the Moabite issue figures decisively in answering that question, since there was a stigma against marrying her. Additionally, Boaz assumed that he was too old so Ruth would not be interested in marrying him (3:10–11). These reasons may explain Boaz’s possible reluctance to marry Ruth; but how do we justify his allowing her to glean in his field for so long instead of giving her food and support directly? As Feivel Meltzer observes, “it is impossible to understand adequately why Boaz did not see it fit to visit the widows and attend their needs.” [11]

Sensitive to these cues, some midrashim cast Boaz as one who acted kindly only when he knew he would receive something in return:

R. Isaac commented: The Torah teaches you that when a person performs a good deed he should do so with a cheerful heart.… If Boaz had known that the Holy One, blessed be He, would have it written of him that he “Gave her parched corn” (2:14), he would have given her fatted calves! (Lev. Rabbah 34:8).

Rabbah, son of R. Huna, said in the name of Rav: Ibzan is Boaz. What does he come to teach us?… Boaz made for his sons a hundred and twenty wedding feasts, for it is said, “And he [Ibzan] had thirty sons, and thirty daughters he sent abroad, and thirty daughters he brought in from abroad for his sons; and he judged Israel seven years” (Jud. 12:9); and in the case of every one [of these] he made two wedding feasts, one in the house of the father and one in the house of the father-in-law. To none of them did he invite Manoah, [for] he said, “Whereby will the barren mule repay me?” All these died in his lifetime (Bava Batra 91a).

Boaz certainly is a paragon of hesed. At the same time, however, these midrashim view Boaz’s hesed as insufficient and motivated at least partially by his own interests. Both lines of interpretation are simultaneously supported by the text.

DIVINE–HUMAN CONTINUUM IN MEGILLAT RUTH

There is an apparent ambiguity in 2:20 concerning Naomi’s gratitude upon learning that Ruth was gleaning in Boaz’s field:

Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, “Blessed is he to the Lord, who has not abandoned His kindness with the living and with the dead.”

or
Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, “Blessed to the Lord is he who has not abandoned his kindness with the living and with the dead.” [12]

It is unclear whether Naomi acknowledged God for orchestrating Ruth’s chancing upon Boaz’s field, or whether she blessed Boaz for his efforts in treating Ruth well and for his potential as a redeemer. Mordechai Cohen views this verse as intentionally ambiguous, highlighting the complex relationship between human and divine action in Megillat Ruth. This ambiguity runs throughout the megillah, as it often is unclear where human initiative stops and God’s intervention begins.

While Boaz blessed Ruth by saying that God should reward her for coming under His wings (tahat kenafav, 2:12), Ruth eventually realized that nothing would get done unless Boaz actively spread his “wings” over Ruth (u-parasta kenafekha al amatekha, 3:9). Earlier, Naomi had prayed that God grant marital security (menuhah) to her daughters-in-law (1:9); but she ultimately had to orchestrate the threshing floor scene to provide that manoah, “security,” for Ruth (3:1). One might view the happy ending as a consequence of the concerted actions of the characters. It is equally possible to view the human actions as mirroring God’s plan—the divine blessings people had wished on one another had been realized.

It is noteworthy that the only two times the narrator explicitly mentions God’s involvement are regarding the end of the famine (1:6)—which is presented only as something Naomi heard—and Ruth’s getting pregnant (4:13).[13] The omission of such references in the rest of the narrative leaves the extent of God’s involvement subject to speculation. According to one reading, the megillah teaches that God “withdrew” Himself to allow greater human action. According to another, it reveals God’s providential hand constantly assisting these paragons of hesed.

THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN RUTH AND JUDGES

The opening verse of Megillat Ruth connects the narrative to the period of the Judges. What is the connection between the Dark Age of Judges and the display of hesed in Megillat Ruth, where the Judeans were religiously faithful and kind to one another?

The megillah does not offer greater precision in dating the narrative than that it occurred in the period of the Judges—a period spanning centuries. Some midrashim link Ruth to the time of the earlier judges,[14] while others identify Boaz with the later judge Ibzan (Jud. 12:8). [15] Malbim, however, suggests that the story of Ruth is not dated precisely, casting it as representative of the entire period.

How Megillat Ruth is representative of the period of the Judges, however, remains problematic. Malbim asserts that the opening verses of Megillat Ruth highlight the negative atmosphere of Judges. These verses demonstrate that people were concerned primarily for themselves, and this selfishness was characteristic of the period. According to Malbim, Megillat Ruth’s connection to the period of Judges is limited primarily to its opening verses. In contrast, the remainder of Megillat Ruth is characterized by hesed.

Alternatively, one might argue that Megillat Ruth is characteristic of the period, but in a more complex manner. Most people were generally righteous or at least average. However, the unwillingness of individuals to help one another except when they could gain themselves, demonstrates a general lack of hesed. The Talmud cited earlier regarding Boaz—one of the great figures of that era—captures this theme (Bava Batra 91a). Boaz certainly demonstrated hesed in the megillah; but the Talmud accuses even this hero of not inviting Samson’s father Manoah to his children’s wedding feasts since he would not receive a reciprocal invitation. To remedy this societal problem, and to break out from the cycle of the period, the Israelites needed an outsider like Ruth to teach them what true hesed was. One midrash captures this message:

God said: may Ruth, who is a convert, and who did not challenge her mother-in-law—come and rebuke Israel who has rebelled against Me (Ruth Zuta 1:7).

This midrash looks beneath a superficial reading of Megillat Ruth, where the Judeans are not depicted as “rebels.” Instead, the midrash forges an intimate connection between Megillat Ruth and Judges and determines the root problem inherent in Israel’s society to be selfishness.

CONCLUSION

Ruth is the only character in the megillah who is unambiguously positive, as she reflects genuine hesed. She sacrificed heroically to accompany Naomi and to accept God. A textual parallelism points to Ruth being compared to Abraham in leaving her family to serve God:

The Lord said to Abram, “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing” (Gen. 12:1–2).

Boaz said in reply [to Ruth], “I have been told of all that you did for your mother-in-law after the death of your husband, how you left your father and mother and the land of your birth and came to a people you had not known before” (Ruth 2:11).

In light of this comparison, one might argue that Ruth is portrayed even more favorably than Abraham. God spoke directly to Abraham and promised him reward. In contrast, Ruth came voluntarily and hardly could have expected anything but a lifetime of begging and discrimination in return for her sacrifices. Ruth also declined marriage opportunities with younger Judeans in order to marry Boaz in order to preserve Mahlon’s name.

The ambiguity of Ruth’s world is reflected in the many ambiguous characters and circumstances presented by the text. The extent of God’s intervention in her suffering and salvation is unclear, as are the motivations of the members of the society on whom she depended. Nevertheless, she remained steadfast in her commitment to Naomi, Mahlon, and God. Ruth has the distinction of being the only biblical woman explicitly called by the epithet eshet hayil, “woman of valor” (3:11). While Ruth struggled mightily to preserve Mahlon’s name, she in fact has immortalized her own name, winning the hearts of readers generation after generation.

Megillat Ruth is characterized by deliberate ambiguity. Not only are multiple readings possible; these ambiguities are precisely the vehicles through which the short narrative captures so many subtleties in so short a space.

NOTES
[1]Da’at Mikra: Ruth, in Five Megillot (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook, 1973), introduction p. 3 n. 1.
[2] See especially Meltzer, introduction to Da’at Mikra: Ruth, p. 8; Moshe Garsiel, “Literary Structure, Development of Plot, and the Goal of the Narrator in Megillat Ruth” (Hebrew), in Hagut ba-Mikra, vol. 3, ed. E. Menahem (Tel Aviv: Israel Society for Biblical Research, 1979), pp. 66–83.
[3] Mordechai Cohen, “Hesed: Divine or Human? The Syntactic Ambiguity of Ruth 2:20,” in Hazon Nahum: Studies in Jewish Law, Thought, and History Presented to Dr. Norman Lamm, ed. Yaakov Elman and Jeffrey S. Gurock (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1997), pp. 11–38, esp. pp. 32–33.
[4] See Bava Batra 91a; Gen. Rabbah 25:3; Rashi (on 1:2).
[5] See Ruth Rabbah 1:4; Tanhuma Behar 3; Zohar Hadash Ruth 77b; Rashi (on 1:2).
[6] See Ruth Rabbah 2:9; Targum (on 1:4), Rashi (on 1:12), Malbim (on 1:4), who maintain that Ruth and Orpah did not convert prior to their marriages to Mahlon and Chilion. Ibn Ezra (on 1:2, 15) disagrees, as does Zohar Hadash Ruth 79a. Rambam (Hil. Melakhim 5:9) maintains that the family members were punished because they were communal leaders and therefore held to a higher standard of conduct. Malbim adopts a middle position: the initial departure of Elimelech and family was justified, since they went only as a temporary measure (la-gur); once they elected to stay permanently, however (va-yeshevu sham), they brought punishment upon themselves.
[7] Sensitive to this difficulty, Tanhuma Buber Behar 8 states: “For those ten years, God was warning them. When He saw that they were not repenting, He began to strike their camels and cattle—yet they still did not repent. When He saw that they did not repent, immediately (!) ‘Mahlon and Chilion died also.’” See also Ruth Zuta 1:4: “This teaches that decrees are suspended for ten years.” Of course, without these modifications, the text is far less clear in presenting their deaths as punishment.
[8] See further discussion in R. Amnon Bazak, “The World Is Built on Hesed: Between Megillat Ruth and Job” (Hebrew), Megadim 18–19 (1993), pp. 169–175.
[9] Cf. Rashi, Malbim.
[10] The dialogue in chapter 4 intimates that Boaz considered Naomi’s field to be the primary element in the redemption altogether; Ruth is mentioned only in passing (4:3, 9–10). Ezra Z. Melammed (“Megillat Ruth in Light of the Halakhah” [Hebrew], Sinai 24 [1961], p. 156) maintains that Ruth was the more important aspect of the deal, but Boaz emphasized the field out of respect for Ruth.
[11] Meltzer, Da’at Mikra: Ruth, p. 16, n. 20.
[12] See the survey of opinions on this verse in Cohen, “Hesed: Divine or Human? The Syntactic Ambiguity of Ruth 2:20,” pp. 11–38. The above translations are from his article, pp. 11–12.
[13] The formulation that God “gave her pregnancy” (va-yitten lah herayon) is unique in Tanakh. Perhaps this expression signals divine approval of the union of Boaz with the Moabite Ruth (Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky, The Jewish Publication Society Commentary: Ruth [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2011], introduction p. li).
[14] Ruth Rabbah 1:1; Seder Olam Rabbah 12; cf. Makkot 23a.
[15] Bava Batra 91a.

How we Judge the Judges

How We Judge the Judges, or Why Personal Ethics and Character are (Even) More Important for Religious Authorities than for the Secular Judiciary

 

                                                         by Maimon Schwarzschild*

 

How does the importance of personal character, the ethical quality of the individual, compare as between a secular judge - say a United States federal judge or a state court judge - and a religious authority, specifically a rabbinic leader or decisor?  To put the question a little more narrowly, how much does a person's moral character count, both in theory and as a practical matter, in attaining and keeping such a position?

 

An American judge and a rabbinical authority are not strictly comparable, of course: there are obvious differences between the two roles.  But if there is a secular authority to which a rabbi is most comparable, especially a rabbi or rosh yeshivah whose rulings are influential among halakhically practising Jews, it is perhaps the judge.  In the American system, it is a commonplace - oversimplified of course, but broadly true - that the legislature makes the law, the executive enforces the law, but the judiciary interprets the law.  A rabbi who is considered a halakhic authority or decisor likewise - at least somewhat likewise - interprets and adjudicates Jewish law, albeit usually not in the setting of a formal court or beth din.

 

It is clear that such a rabbi is expected to be a morally exemplary person, even to be a kind of living ideal, whereas what is typically expected of a secular judge is much more limited.  The reason is partly that a rabbi is a religious leader as well as a legal authority, and as in any religion, expected to be a worthy example and instructor[1].  But beyond that, it seems to me that there are differences in the nature and institutions of Jewish and secular law which go far towards explaining why moral character looms larger for rabbinic authorities than for the judiciary of a secular, liberal state.  The differing expectations seem worth exploring for their own sake, and also for what they illustrate about secular and Jewish law as systems and ways of life.  

 

There are explicit and implicit professional and personal qualifications for becoming an American judge, but the formal requirements are fairly simple.  A Supreme Court justice or federal judge is nominated by the President and must be confirmed by majority vote in the US Senate.  There is no requirement that nominees must be lawyers, although in practice they always are.  Once confirmed, they enjoy life tenure, subject to impeachment and removal for bad behaviour.  Throughout most of American history, the personal character of nominees usually received little or no explicit scrutiny by the Senate.  Supreme Court nominees, for example, never appeared in person before the Senate until Harlan Fiske Stone was summoned before the Judiciary Committee in 1925, and personal appearance at a confirmation hearing has only been routine since 1955.  Of the thousands of Supreme Court Justices and federal judges since the country was founded, only twelve have ever been impeached, and only six convicted and removed - most recently Alcee Hastings, a federal judge in Florida who was removed in 1989 for taking $150,000 in bribes in exchange for sentencing leniency, and who is now a member of Congress.

 

 

Throughout American history, Supreme Court nominees have sometimes been rejected by the Senate, but almost always for political reasons, and until very recently, almost never with any suggestion that the personal character of the nominee was in question.  (Until the 1980s, nominees to federal judicial posts below the Supreme Court were almost invariably confirmed.)  Supreme Court and lower federal court nominees were commonly confirmed by unanimous or virtually unanimous votes: as recently as 1993 Ruth Bader Ginsburg was confirmed 96-3, and Antonin Scalia was confirmed 98-0 in 1986.

 

Political patronage traditionally played a big role in federal judicial nominations, even nominations to the Supreme Court.  True, very few federal judges have been the subject of public scandal, but in terms of their personal character it would be fair to say that the "ethical average" has probably not been much different from that of successful American lawyers generally - nominees to federal judgeships typically being successful lawyers in good political standing with a United States Senator of the President=s party.

 

Some Supreme Court justices have surely been below the ethical average.  William O. Douglas, a notable liberal and the longest-serving justice in the history of the Court, is described even by his admirers and political sympathisers as a man of "egregious personal flaws": he drank heavily, treated his wives and children badly, and behaved sourly or worse to almost all who came in contact with him.[2]  James McReynolds, a right-wing Justice who opposed the New Deal, was at least equally irascible, petty, and unpleasant.  To round out his charms, McReynolds was also an anti-semite who detested the Court's Jewish justices and refused to associate with them.[3]

 

Some of the greatest American judges, to be sure, have been people of notable personal character, and this undoubtedly contributed to their authority as jurists.  Oliver Wendell Holmes, for example, was a remarkable human being: he had been a Union soldier in the Civil War, he continued to think of himself as a soldier throughout his long life, and he was as tough-minded, and as intellectually curious, as he had been brave physically.  He was not what one would call an ethical giant in any warm-hearted or compassionate sense, but he was a man of great moral strength.  Benjamin Cardozo was a gentler spirit than Holmes: he is described as "witty, sweet-tempered, gentle, deferential to colleagues, legislatures and especially scholars, and as self-doubting as a judicial saint can be""[4]  Louis Brandeis, for his part, had a self-conscious and earnest  moral code, identified in his own mind with Jews of a refined type whom he called unser eins - descendants, as he was, of German Jewish immigrants whose ancestors had been Frankists, followers of the pseudo-messiah Jacob Frank.[5]  Perhaps ironically, Brandeis=s nomination to the Supreme Court provoked one of the most bitter confirmation battles in American history - he was opposed as a radical and hence temperamentally unsuitable - and he was eventually confirmed by a narrow vote only after President Woodrow Wilson personally vouched for his character as a man "imbued to the very heart with our American ideals of justice".

 

 

The struggle that Brandeis faced over confirmation was very unusual in its time, but in the past twenty-five years nominations to the Supreme Court, and to the lower federal courts as well, have met growing opposition, in a polarised, often far-from-genteel atmosphere.  It is no coincidence that this has happened as the courts have greatly increased their sway over American life, handing down broad rulings on issues like abortion, sexuality, end-of-life questions, and much else.  As the courts' sphere of influence grows and there appear to be fewer limits on judicial policy-making, it becomes more important - more worth fighting over - who the judges and justices shall be.  The new, contentious era began, in a sense, with the successful left-liberal campaign against Robert Bork=s nomination to the Supreme Court in 1987.  Bork was opposed for his legal and constitutional views, but he was also implicitly portrayed as arrogant, uncaring, and cold-hearted: personal, even ethical flaws (if true), not merely ideological ones.  Several other confirmation battles raised questions of ethics or character: Douglas Ginsburg withdrew from consideration for the Supreme Court because it was disclosed that he had smoked marijuana on several occasions in younger years; Clarence Thomas was luridly accused of various personal flaws and offences, although he was confirmed in the end.

 

For the most part, however, battles over Supreme Court appointments are still almost entirely about the nominees= views, not about their characters: what they have written and said, how they would rule on this issue or that; not how they conduct their personal lives.  And while appointments to lower federal judgeships have recently met more resistance than ever before, it generally takes the form of procedural delay or obstruction, not an inquiry into personal conduct and character.  There is still a kind of common understanding, albeit occasionally disregarded, that nominees to the federal bench will face scrutiny of their views, ideas, and public decisions, but not of their souls.

 

As for state court judges, who make up the great majority of the American judiciary, most are elected (or initially appointed for a term of years but retained, or not, by popular vote)The Code of Judicial Conduct, adopted by most states, concentrates on professional conduct and private conduct which might directly affect a person=s judicial duties or reputation, like breaking the law or having improper conflicts of interest.  (Judges, it is true, are broadly enjoined to avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety in all activities, and they are barred from joining discriminatory clubs.)  A recent study describes elected judges as "more politically involved, more locally connected, more temporary, and less well-educated... more like politicians and less like professionals".[6]  In their personal character, state court judges probably resemble, on average, the moderately successful local lawyers and politicians from among whom they are drawn.  Most of them are undoubtedly worthy people, but there is no expectation that they should be moral virtuosi.  There is reason to hope that not too many resemble John F. Hylan, the Tammany politician whom Jimmy Walker defeated for Mayor of New York and whose sanity Walker openly questioned during the campaign: after the election, Walker appointed Hylan to the Children=s Court, and when queried about it, memorably replied AI wanted the children to be judged by their peer@.

 

Where the great rabbinical authorities are concerned, by contrast, a very lofty personal, ethical character has traditionally been expected, or at least demanded.  This traces as far back as the strong emphasis that Judaism always placed on the personal attributes of Moshe Rabbenu - although the precise nature of Moses' character has been a subject of debate.  Maimonides insists on the perfection of Moses' character: "No defect, great or small, mingles itself with him".[7]  Other rabbinic traditions, however, attributed weaknesses to Moses such as slowness of speech, impulsiveness (as when he struck the rock), even occasional sin.  There is a legend that Moses acknowledged his own character to be naturally capricious, greedy, arrogant, and worse: that only by great self-discipline was he able to overcome these evil inclinations.[8]

 

At any rate, Judaism has always insisted on the ethical qualities as well as on the intellectual attainments of a talmid haham, a scholar eligible for rabbinic authority.  Mishnah Avot ("Ethics of the Fathers" is very largely about the personal qualities of a scholar, and often explicitly about the character of an adjudicator.[9]  There are frequent allusions, throughout the Talmud, to the human qualities required of a religious authority: "If the teacher resembles an angel of God, then let [people] seek Torah from his mouth, but if not, then let them not seek Torah from his mouth".[10]  After enumerating all the qualities a scholar must have to be eligible for the Great Sanhedrin, Maimonides lists the minimum requirements even for a member of a local beth din of three judges: "Each one must have these qualities: wisdom, humility, fear [of sin], hatred of money, love of truth, and love of his fellow human beings".[11]

 

In recent times, the musar movement has put renewed emphasis not only on studying ethical texts, such as those of R. Moshe Haim Luzzato, R. Moses ben Jacob Cordovero, and R. Israel Salanter, but also on formal and informal activities aimed at building a proper religious and ethical character.[12]   Sympathetic biographies of leading rabbis almost invariably stress the admirable personal qualities, if not the saintliness, of the rabbi in question.[13]  To be sure, sublime personal morality might sometimes be attributed to a rabbi who does not in fact possess it, or who at least does not always display it.  No doubt there has always been a range of personalities and of character types among rabbinical authorities, even among those of the highest standing.  But both in principle and in practice, how such a rabbi is seen to treat other human beings, how he raises his children, whether he can win the affection as well as the loyalty of his community - these are important to his standing and his influence, perhaps as important as his Jewish scholarship and his commitment to the Jewish people in general, and far more important than such questions would typically be for a member of the secular judiciary.

 

Why does moral character loom larger for attaining rabbinical authority than for becoming a secular judge?  Part of the answer is no doubt sociological or demographic: Jewish communities are smaller than modern secular societies, and hence - as in a village - more able, and perhaps more motivated,  to probe the personal character of their leaders.  But it seems to me that there are deeper reasons, rooted in the nature of the Jewish and secular legal systems respectively, and their institutions.

 

First, the scope of law in a secular, liberal society is limited.  A theory of this limitation is set out by John Stuart Mill in his short but enormously influential book On Liberty.  Mill argues that freedom of thought and freedom of argument are essential to arriving at better ideas and better ways of life, and that there cannot readily be freedom of thought without considerable human liberty in general.  Liberty, in turn, means that a person's acts are properly subject to legal restraint only when those acts damage other people or their legitimate interests.  When a person=s acts concern only himself or herself, and do no damage to the legitimate interests of others, then neither the law, nor perhaps even any informal social pressure, ought to intrude on the person=s freedom.

 

 

It is a standard objection to Mill than any human action stands to affect the interests of others.  Immoral acts, for example even if done in private and even if they create no risk other than to the actor, are still compromising to others.  If the person's immorality harms himself or herself, then others who may depend on the person, or who may have to support the person in the event of any disability, will be worse off; and in any event, the moral ethos of society is liable to suffer from the mere knowledge that immoral acts are being perpetrated.  On Liberty acknowledges this sort of objection, but Mill insists that "harm to others" ought to be defined narrowly - essentially as physical harm or direct harm to the property of others - in the interest of vindicating human liberty.

 

Modern secular societies, broadly along the lines traced by Mill, tend to limit the reach of the law to public-regarding interests, with a considerable zone of private choice exempt from legal restriction.  What is considered public-regarding, and hence open to regulation, and what is considered private and hence no business of the law, certainly varies somewhat from time to time and from place to place.   The law intrudes much less than it used to in adult sexual behaviour, but still forbids polygamy and in most states declines to recognise gay marriage; the drug laws are very much in force, although marijuana has been virtually decriminalised, at least in practice, in many places; tobacco, on the other hand,  is subject to more restriction than ever.  Child-rearing is perhaps more intruded-upon than it used to be, especially if one's family  attracts the attentions of the social welfare bureaucracy.  But broad areas of personal and social life - what one eats, how one dresses, how one conducts oneself with others, what one=s religious beliefs and practices are, if any - these have long been exempt from legal control, within generous limits, in every modern, secular society.  If it were otherwise, the society would not be a liberal one.

 

John Locke, Mill's precursor and a founding thinker of liberalism, argued for the fundamental importance of separation of church and state, and hence for a limit on the reach of the state and the law: "[T]he Church it self is a thing absolutely separate and distinct from the Commonwealth...  He jumbles Heaven and Earth together, the things most remote and opposite, who mixes these two Societies; which are in their Original, End, Business, and in every thing, perfectly distinct, and infinitely different from each other."[14]  Locke writes that there is a single legitimate exception to this categorical separation of state and religion, namely the Commonwealth of the Jews, [which,] different in that from all others, was an absolute Theocracy... The Laws established there concerning the Worship of One Invisible Deity, were the Civil Laws of that People, and a part of their Political Government; in which God himself was the Legislator,"and hence there was not, nor could there be, "any difference between that Commonwealth and the Church".[15]

 

Locke was right about Jewish law to this extent: the Torah governs all, or almost all, aspects of life, including many actions and interactions that are outside the scope of liberal, secular law.  As one writer recently put it, "the day-to-day interactions between people, the treatment of one another in mundane conversation, in walking in the street, in traveling on a bus, or waiting in line to be served in a store, are no less the home of halakha than are the activities of the synagogue or the kitchen, the study hall or the hospital bed".[16]

 

 

An authoritative interpreter or decisor of Jewish law, therefore, has jurisdiction over a much greater part of life than a secular judge.  True, in the modern world a rabbi does not wield the coercive power of the state.  But for anyone who accepts the rabbi=s authority, his rulings are liable to address areas of concern, including very intimate ones, where no civil court - or any other public body - would ever intervene.  Given the breadth of the rabbi=s authority, it is only reasonable that his followers should take a deep interest in his character, and that they should want to be confident of the ethical stature of a person who exercises such spiritual authority in their lives.

 

There is a second consideration that puts a premium on the rabbi=s personal character, relative to the secular judge.  The power of an American judge is hedged in by an elaborate institutional framework of constraints, whereas there are fewer such constraints, at least fewer formal constraints, on a rabbinic decisor.  American government is based on separation of powers: a principle first theorised by Montesquieu, who believed or imagined that 18th-century England exemplified it, and by Locke; and actually put into practice under the American Constitution.  The judiciary is merely one branch of American government: the "least dangerous branch", or so Alexander Hamilton called it in Federalist # 78.  The courts are checked and balanced by the legislative and executive branches, which have a role - in principle the principal role - in law making and the setting of public policy.  There is a long-standing doctrine or norm of judicial restraint, sometimes honoured in the breach, to be sure, but rooted in the idea that courts are less answerable to the people through the democratic process than the "representative" branches, and hence that judges ought to be careful not to intrude on legitimate democratic prerogatives.

 

Moreover, there is a formal hierarchy of courts, and decisions by judges lower on the totem pole are subject to appeal and correction by higher tribunals.  A trial judge can be reversed on appeal; and appellate judges -  who always sit on multi-judge panels - can be outvoted by their colleagues.   State court judges, for their part, are not only subject to appellate review, but in most states they can also be removed from office by the voters. 

 

Federalism itself is yet another check and balance: neither the national government and its federal courts nor the state governments and their courts are all-powerful.  Finally, if the people are dissatisfied with the judges= interpretation of the law, the people have the power to change the laws which the courts interpret and apply - through new legislation, or if necessary, by Constitutional amendment.

 

 

Under Jewish law, there are fewer such institutional constraints.  There is no separation of powers: no legislative or executive branch.  There are, in general, no appellate courts.[17]  This is not to say that there are no checks and balances in Jewish life.  Throughout Jewish history there has been a complex process of "legislation" - of adaptation and reform - within the halakhic system.[18]  There is the principle within the halakhah itself that "One cannot enact an ordinance unless the majority of the community will observe it".[19]  There is, very importantly, the decentralised nature of Jewish life - a kind of federalism.  Every Jewish community chooses its own rabbis, and at least in modern times, it is fair to say that every Jew ultimately chooses his or her own rabbi.  (This is "ultimately" so, but there are considerable barriers - material, psychic, and spiritual - against an individual=s choosing a new rabbi if this entails abandoning an established community of which one is a part.)   The customs (minhagim) both of the Jewish people as a whole and of particular Jewish communities have considerable force of law as a matter of halakhah.  In all these ways and more, rabbinic rulings are not made in isolation.  As R. Aharon Lichtenstein puts it about the corpus of halakhic responsa, Athe classic meshivim are likely to be among the more lenient, inasmuch as inquirers are disinclined to turn to mahamirim@.[20]

 

Yet while there are checks and balances to rabbinic leadership, they are for the most part informal.  Jewish authority is not bounded by what might be called the framework of mistrust which limits the power of the American judiciary.  The moral character of rabbinical leaders, in whom Jewish communities confide, therefore takes on especial importance.  And in fact, Jewish communities have always "tested" a potential rabbi, authority, or decisor, not only for learning but also for piety, personal adherence to a demanding halakhic way of life, and personal character generally: in short, for yir'at shamayim and ahavat yisrael.  In the absence of an elaborate system of institutional checks and balances, it could hardly be otherwise.

 

All this has a further implication.  It is a commonplace that the trend in much of the Orthodox world in recent decades has been towards greater rigour in religious observance and greater strictness - or caution, or antipathy to innovation - in interpretation of Jewish law.  The trend is palpable both in the Orthodox rabbinical leadership, and in the Orthodox communities at large.  It affects not only ritual questions, but also - among many others - such issues as conversion to Judaism, the problem of agunot, and the extent to which Orthodox Jews ought to conform to rabbinic opinion (da'at torah) on questions that are not strictly legal.  The reasons for the trend are no doubt complex: R. Haym Soloveitchik has penetratingly explored some of them.[21]  The trend is an ironic reversal, in a sense, of R. Aharon Lichtenstein=s observation that classical responsa incline toward leniency because through most of Jewish history legal rulings would more often be sought from authorities known or believed to be lenient. 

 

But given today's trends, if personal character is a qualification for any rabbinic leader or decisor, it is apt to be all the more important for a decisor who would challenge the prevailing trends.  Simply put, the standards are always higher for anyone who would swim against the current.  To rule "leniently" or innovatively, especially on issues felt to be of defining religious importance, a decisor would surely need strong Jewish scholarship but also strong personal authority, a strong ethical character, at least if such rulings are to hope for acceptance in today=s Orthodox world.  (In old-fashioned English, "character" meant both what we mean by character, and also reputation and "personal recommendation".)

 

 

Rabbinic leaders and decisors, of course, throughout Jewish history have taken a wide variety of views on almost every debatable question of Jewish law.  Whatever the rabbis= views on legal and religious questions, the Jewish world has always expected that its rabbis should be people of exemplary ethical character.  This expectation flows from the fact that they are religious leaders as well as interpreters and adjudicators of Jewish law.  But it also stems from the distinctive nature of Jewish law itself, the nature of its institutions, and the breadth of its command.  The modern American legal system is such that judges, although they are certainly expected to be law-abiding people, need not be moral virtuosi.  Even so, the personal character of some of the greatest American justices and judges has surely been important to their standing.  The expectations under Jewish law are higher.  Rabbi Benzion Uziel, the great Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel in the mid-twentieth century, summed  it up eloquently: "The entire image of Judaism is reflected in the judges of Israel, who were - and are supposed to be - the regulators standing at the rudder and the watchtower to guide the ways and to strengthen the fortifications for peace and unity, the eternal foundations of the nation of Israel and its Torah."[22]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

 

 

[1].Many Jews in particular believe, whether as a matter of hope or experience, that Torah learning itself makes its possessors better, more moral people; hence the expectation that the more learned the rabbi, the loftier the ethical character.

[2].David Garrow, AThe Tragedy of William O. Douglas@, The Nation, March 27, 2003.

[3].Laura Krugman Ray, AJustices At Home: Three Supreme Court Memoirs@, 101 Michigan Law Review 2103 (2003).  Monstrous as McReynolds was, there do seem to have been (usually well-hidden) rays of kindness in his character.  He privately supported 33 children left homeless in the London Blitz in 1940; he left a sizable fortune to charity; and both Holmes and Douglas, in their memoirs, report moments of goodness in him.

[4].Jeffrey Rosen, AThe Hopeless Moralist@, New York Times, Nov. 2, 1997 (reviewing Richard Polenberg, The World of Benjamin Cardozo, Cambridge, Mass 1997).

[5].See Melvin I. Urofsky and David W. Levy, eds, The Family Letters of Louis D. Brandeis (Norman, Okla. 2002).

[6].Stephen J Choi, G. Mitu Gulati, Eric A. Posner, AProfessionals or Politicians: The Uncertain Empirical Case for an Elected Rather Than Appointed Judiciary@, U. Of Chicago Law and Economics Working Paper No. 357, p. 41 (August 2007).

[7].Perek Helek, The Seventh Principle.  See also Guide II:35 (Moses had a fully active intellect and was without physical or character blemish).  See gen=lly Daniel Jeremy Silver, A>Moses Our Teacher Was A King=@ 1 Jewish Law Annual 123 (1978).

[8].Shnayer Z. Leiman, AR. Israel Lipschutz: The Portrait of Moses@, 24 (4) Tradition 91 (1989).  This legend may originally have been about Socrates or Aristotle, not Moses, and R. Lipschutz was criticised by other rabbis for quoting it, and attributing it to Moses.

[9].E.g. Avot 1:8,9,18.

[10].Hagigah 15b; see also Moed Kattan 17a.

 

[11].Hilhot Sanhedrin 2:7,8.  See also Shulhan Aruh, Yoreh Deah 246:8: AA rabbi who does not go in a good path, even if he is a great scholar and the whole nation needs him, they should not learn from him until he returns to the good@.

[12].Emanuel Etkes, Rabbi Israel Salanter and the Mussar Movement (Philadelphia 1993).

[13].See Eliyahu Stern, AModern Rabbinic Historiography and the Legacy of Elijah of Vilna@, 24 (1) Modern Judaism 79, 82 (2004) (on the tendency of such biographies toward hagiography).

[14].John Locke, A Letter Concerning Toleration, ed. James H. Tully, p.33 (Indianapolis 1983)

[15].Id., p. 44.

[16].Daniel Z. Feldman, The Right and the Good, p. xii (Northvale, NJ 1999).

[17].The Israeli Chief Rabbinate has established a Supreme Rabbinical Court of Appeals.  But R. David Bleich writes that the halakhic authority for appellate review is Afar from clear@, citing the general rule AIf a scholar has prohibited another scholar dare not permit@.  Nonetheless, R. Bleich does not entirely reject the idea of appeals under Jewish law.  See J. David Bleich, Contemporary Halakhic Problems pp.17-45 (New York, 1995).

[18].See Menachem Elon, Jewish Law: History, Sources, Principles (Philadelphia 1994); Aaron M. Schreiber, Jewish Law and Decision-Making: A Study Through Time (Philadelphia 1979).

[19].Bava Batra 60b.

[20].Aharon Lichtenstein, AThe Human and Social Factor in Halakha@, 36:1 Tradition 1, 7 (2002).  R. Lichtenstein quotes R. Avraham Schapira on this point.  Id.

[21].Haym Soloveitchik, ARupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy@, 28:4 Tradition 64 (1994).

[22].Hayyim David Halevy, AThe Love of Israel as a Factor in Halakhic Decision-Making in the Works of Rabbi Benzion Uziel@ (tr. Rabbi Marc D. Angel), 24:3 Tradition 1, 17 (1989).

Beyond Victimhood: A Positive Jewish Message

The Holocaust, understandably, haunts the Jewish people. We can never forget the millions of Jews who were tortured and murdered by the Germans and their collaborators. Whenever a crisis erupts that threatens Jews, there is an almost visceral reaction to call up the memory of the Holocaust.

After the Hamas massacre of Israelis on October 7, Jewish media was quick to report that this was the highest number of Jews murdered in a single day since the Holocaust.

In attempting to combat antisemitism in New York, a program was initiated to bring all eighth-grade students to the Museum of Jewish Heritage, where they could learn about the Holocaust. When international leaders visit Israel, a visit to Yad Vashem is almost always part of the itinerary.

The prevailing wisdom is that when people – especially young people – learn about the horrors of the Holocaust, they will become more sympathetic toward Jews and aware of the dangers of religious and racial hatred. With more knowledge about the Holocaust, it is assumed that people will be less prone to antisemitic attitudes and behaviors.

The various efforts at Holocaust education have had a positive impact on many. And yet, Holocaust education – unless handled very well – can have negative consequences. For those steeped in anti-Jewish hatred, the Holocaust may actually encourage their antisemitism. They view Jews as a despised minority group that is an easy target for hatred and violence. They see that millions of Jews were systematically slaughtered while much of the world stood aside. In the minds of rabid Jew-haters, the Holocaust is an ideal, not a disaster.

While maintaining the memory of the Holocaust is surely very important, we need also to project a positive image of Jews, Judaism, and Zionism. Much of the antisemitism we face today is directly related to anti-Zionism. We need to focus on conveying the historical connection of the Jewish people to our land going back to biblical days.

Even after being exiled from the Land of Israel several times over the millennia, in the last instance at the hands of the Romans in 70 CE, the Jewish People have continued to live in, pray for, and dream of a return to their historic homeland.

After nearly 1,900 years, the Jews gained sovereignty over their land with the establishment of the modern State of Israel. This is one of the most amazing adventures in human history. For an ancient people to return to their historic homeland and build a dynamic, democratic society is an unprecedented story of courage, faith, and persistence.

Our story is truly inspiring and full of hope, spirituality, creativity, courage, and resilience. Despite all the hurdles we have had to face – and still face – the Jews are a strong and vibrant people. We need to tell our story in a confident voice – not as propaganda, not in sound bites – in a sophisticated and intelligent way that will convey the power of the Jewish experience.

The re-emergence of a sovereign Jewish state is a remarkable historic achievement. Yet, as we know, it has not been received with love or understanding by many in the Arab world. In particular, we face those who foster the Hamas ideology that negates the Jewish right to our own land.

The goal of the haters, by their own admission, is the destruction of Israel. And while wars on the battlefield can achieve military victories for Israel, ultimate victory will come only when the ideology of hatred is defeated. Just as Israel devotes so much courage and brilliance to its physical defense, it needs to devote equal – and more – courage and brilliance to fighting the murderous ideology that has infected many beyond Hamas.

To combat this ideology of hatred, we need more than Holocaust education.

We need a powerful, positive presentation of Jewish history, Jewish connection to the land of Israel, Jewish idealism, and Jewish striving for peace and mutual understanding.

We would do well to remember the prophecy of Isaiah (42:6) who relates God’s wondrous promise to the people of Israel that they will become “a light unto the nations.” We need to focus on the light; on what we have given, are giving, and can give to the world.

Isaiah (51:3) foresaw a time like ours when the wasteland that was Israel turned into a beautiful and thriving country: “For the Lord comforts Zion; He comforts all her waste places and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song.”

That is Zionism that is Judaism, that is the aspiration of the Jewish people.

 

Fighting Anti-Semitism by Getting Straight As

If you’re a Jewish college student these days, chances are you’ve had to confront an epidemic of hostility against Jews and Israel in the wake of October 7.

How does one fight back without looking weak and reactive?

So far, the Jewish community has rightfully focused on calling out the hate and demanding equal protection for Jewish students. That protection must obviously continue, but it’s not enough.

There’s an additional way to fight back against the forces of hate: through the chutzpah of success.

That thought occurred to me after spending a few days in Los Angeles with my daughter who goes to NYU. We spent quite a bit of time talking about what Jewish students have faced since Oct. 7, but we also talked about her studies and her life.

After Oct. 7, she decided early on that she would help put up posters for the Israeli hostages and attend pro-Israel events, but she wouldn’t let the anti-Israel fury disrupt her life.

One reason was a lack of respect for the protests themselves. The fact that the anti-Israel animus burst out immediately after 1200 Israelis got massacred by Hamas on Oct.7 exposed them not as seekers of justice but as haters of Jews.

Over the months, as the protests grew more hysterical, they morphed into a joyless bunch of wannabe revolutionaries who think it’s cool to hijack graduation ceremonies and block roads to airports.

Why allow such purveyors of nuisance to mess up one’s life? Why give them that power?

Indeed, my daughter (and several of her Jewish friends) chose not to give them that power. She kept her eye on her goals, continued to do the things she loves, and, yes, even got a bunch of A’s.

I say this not just as a proud father but as a proud Jew. Playing the Victim Olympics has never been a winning move for Jews. Even when our victimhood is completely justified, in the long run we’re always better off by building on our accomplishments.

This sense of accomplishment a deep expression of the Jewish ethos. Especially during the college years, Jewish students want to define themselves not by their haters but by their life dreams.

Ever since we landed on these American shores, the freedom to succeed has been the Jewish drug of choice. Jews have been admired in America not for being weak victims who need protection but for being strong contributors who value opportunity.

None of this means we shouldn’t confront antisemitism; it means we should confront it without fear and without losing our Jewish mojo.

The most successful Jewish organization in the world—Chabad— has always done just that.

For the thousands of Chabad emissaries across the world, the best way to combat darkness is to spread light. Every Friday night, across hundreds of college campuses, Chabad and other groups like Hillel fortify Jewish students not with the power of protests but with the power of their tradition.

There are occasionally cases when a Chabad emissary will target a problem directly, as when the Chabad rabbi at Harvard recently confronted a commencement speaker about a remark that he found antisemitic.

But by and large, the Chabad way is to double down on Judaism. The more antisemitism they see, the more pro-semitism they bring. They know that nurturing something positive will create a deeper Jewish identity than simply taking down a negative.

Most of us, however, prefer to take down negatives. We feel more productive when we fight a threat directly. If protesters make Jewish students feel unsafe, we’ll focus on the threats, whether through legal means or by compelling authorities to fulfill their duties to protect the students. And that is the correct thing to do: Physical safety should always come first.

But as crucial as it is, safety is not everything. It’s a starting point. The Jewish ideal has always been to aim higher. It may be hard to think that way in the midst of hostility, but it behooves us to seek the path that will help us thrive as strong and proud Jews.

It’s tempting to think that because anti-Israel protesters attract so many loud supporters, they must be winning. They’re not. Those who measure their self-worth by their worship of victimhood invariably end up alone with their screams of emptiness.

The real winners aren’t screaming on their campus squares; they’re celebrating life at a warm Shabbat table, reconnecting with their friends, their ancient tradition and their life dreams.

Some of them are even celebrating getting straight A’s.

IVF and the Alabama Court Ruling

 

In a first-in-the-nation decision, The Alabama Supreme Court recently issued a ruling declaring frozen embryos in that state to be “extrauterine children” for purposes of civil liability. This decision was the first of its kind in the United States. The case involved embryos destroyed at a hospital-based Alabama fertility clinic after an unrelated inpatient accessed the clinic storage tanks through an unsecured door, removed some vials containing embryos from a tank and then dropped them to the floor. As a result, embryos belonging to three patients were destroyed. In a lengthy opinion, Chief Justice Tom Parker and all but one of the other eight justices agreed that the couples can sue the clinic’s physicians and the hospital under Alabama’s wrongful death statute.  Their opinion relied heavily on the justices’ religious beliefs. In justifying the ruling, Parker wrote “[H]uman life cannot be wrongfully destroyed without incurring the wrath of a holy God.”    In attributing human life to fertilized eggs – sometimes one cell, sometimes a few hundred, but certainly not capable of sentient life – the court determined that they are deserving of all the protections afforded living persons.

 

The public reaction was quick and, one suspects, surprising (at least to the justices), because clinics providing IVF (in vitro fertilization) in Alabama stopped their services immediately following this decision. Their actions stemmed from the fear of being brought up on criminal charges if fertilized eggs – embryos in current parlance – were discarded.  IVF involves fertilizing eggs with sperm in a laboratory and then transferring an embryo into the uterus of the woman wishing to conceive. Generally, only one embryo is transferred; the remaining embryos are then discarded if they are deemed not to be viable or frozen for future use. Once the couple completes their family, they may choose to donate them to another couple but, understandably, many choose to discard them.

 

It was not only IVF that was threatened; it was virtually all Assisted Reproductive Technologies (ART).  ART is the all-encompassing term that includes in vitro fertilization and its many spinoff technologies, including egg and embryo donation, surrogacy, preimplantation genetic testing and cryopreservation (freezing) of eggs, sperm and embryos. Since the first successful IVF baby was born in 1978, ART has been responsible for the birth of approximately twelve million persons. In the United States, where ART is thought to be underutilized due to its cost, nearly 100,000, or 2% of babies, are born from ART each year. In other countries, the utilization approaches 10%. Practitioners in the field – to include the host physicians, nurses, scientists and the myriad of professionals who daily devote themselves to building families – duly consider what they do to be the most pro-life and pro-family endeavors.  

 

 

The Torah-observant community was threatened by this Alabama ruling.  Not only was the ruling an unabashed and proudly announced decision to codify Christian interpretations of the Bible into secular law (something that we hope will eventually be declared unconstitutional), but ART is embraced by virtually all halakhists, this despite a conservative approach to abortion on demand without serious medical or psychological concerns.  The embryo, to be sure, has some protected rights, but it reaches full human status only on delivery of its head.[i]  Embryos have no such rights.  As the late Israeli Chief Rabbi Mordecai Eliyahu ruled, “The fertilized eggs that have been chosen for transfer to the womb should not be discarded but those that have not been chosen may be discarded. Regarding violation of Shabbat, the Halakha is that it is permissible to violate Shabbat to save a life, meaning one who has been born, but this has nothing to do with the type of [pre-implantation] embryos you are dealing with.[ii] Similarly, Rabbi Haim David Halevy, the late Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, ruled: “[All] the eggs that have been fertilized, while they are in the test tube, have no general or specific status as a fetus, and Shabbat laws are not violated on their behalf, and it is permissible to discard those that are not chosen for transfer [to the womb].[iii] 

 

This is not controversial at all. “Thou shall not kill” applies only for full humans. The fetus is protected because of Genesis 9:6, “One who sheds the blood of a person – shofekh dam ha’adam ba’adam – is to be killed. “The word ba’adam seems to be superfluous; it is there to include an individual who is ba’adam, meaning in a person, i.e. a fetus.[iv] But that protection does not extend to an embryo that is not inside a person.[v] Indeed, even the embryo following implantation in vivo, is considered “mere water” until the fortieth day.[vi]

 

Of course there is a general obligation to avoid unnecessary hashchatat zera, destroying “seed” without purpose. It applies not only to embryos but also to sperm and unfertilized eggs.  But it does not apply when these exist as part of a process to create life. Indeed, nature itself creates unused seed.[vii] Biological research has discovered that, even in the youngest, most fertile women, the vast majority of fertilized eggs never implant and, of those that do, many will be lost to miscarriage. Although not perfect, nature is highly selective in letting only the minority of embryos to be born. Every embryo encounters checkpoints and hurdles that allow only the most fit to develop, which is why most babies that are born are healthy. It is an established fact, therefore, that most human embryos, whether fertilized in vivo or in vitro, will never be born. For better or worse, the complexity of human genetics is such that relatively few survive.

 

The nuanced view of Halakha is aligned with science and in contrast to Christian dogma. While the latter is quick to designate full personhood to a one cell fertilized egg, our sages do not mark that as the beginning of full human life. For us, human life begins only after implantation has occurred and the fetus takes form. Full human status is granted only after delivery.

 

It took a mere three weeks for the Alabama Legislature to pass a law that will protect IVF providers in from civil and criminal liability for embryo loss or damage during IVF treatments. But the bill is narrow in its scope. Although it reassures fertility specialists in that state that they are free from criminal prosecution, it does not reverse the damage done by the court’s decision to bestow personhood on every fertilized egg. Surely, we hope and pray that none of us finds ourselves personally involved in such situations. They are heartbreaking, no doubt. But, as Torah-observant Jews, these situations must not always lead to endless pain and suffering. To be pro-life halakhically means to support the use of IVF, when necessary, to build families, including lots of Jewish families. This is something that has taken on new urgency given the difficult times that are upon us.

 

 


 


[i] Ohalot 7:6

[ii] Teshuva to Dr. Richard Grazi, Tehumin 11:272-274, 1991

[iii] Teshuva to Dr. Richard Grazi, Assia 47-48 (12:3-4), 1990

[iv] Sanhedrin 57b

[v] R. Gavriel Goldman and R. Menahem Bornstein, Sefer Puah, vol. 2, third edition, 5783 [2023], chapter 49, p. 355.

[vi] Yevamot 69b

[vii] The average seminal emission contains approximately 50-100 million sperm. Only one sperm cell is needed to fertilize an egg, and with most emissions none will get the chance. The average human female is born with approximately one million eggs (representing her entire lifetime supply) and 99.99% of those will never implant. 

fetime supply) and 99.99% of those will never implant.

The Menorah as Symbol: Thoughts for Parashat Beha'aloteha

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Beha’aloteha

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

This week’s Torah reading begins with the dramatic account of Aaron lighting the Menorah of the Mishkan. The Menorah was to be a feature of the spiritual life of Israel in its formative years, during the days of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, and for generations thereafter.

While the Torah goes into considerable detail about the construction and lighting of the Menorah, it doesn’t explain its purpose. The ark held the sacred Tablets of the Law. The altar was used for offerings. The various vessels each had a practical function. But what was the purpose of the Menorah? The Mishkan and Temples didn’t particularly need a seven-pronged candelabrum for lighting.

The Menorah, it seems, was important for its aesthetic and symbolic value. Its seven lamps have been interpreted as alluding to the traditional seven branches of wisdom. They have also been described as calling to mind the seven days of creation, with the central lamp symbolizing the Sabbath.

The Menorah was a beautiful object that drew the attention of the public. When people saw it, they felt sanctity; they internalized the spiritual light that emanated from it. In some way, the Menorah was identified with wisdom. The Talmud (Bava Batra 12a) cites the opinion of Rabbi Isaac who taught: “One who desires to become wise should incline to the south [when praying]…[since] the Menorah was on the southern side of [the Temple].”

In 1949, the newly established State of Israel adopted the Menorah flanked by olive branches as its national symbol. The Menorah not only recalled a powerful ancient symbol of Israel, but alluded to its role for all humanity. The prophet Isaiah (60:3) foresaw the day when “nations will come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” The prophet Zecharia had a vision of a gold Menorah (4:3): “And there were two olive branches by it, one upon the right of the bowl, and the other upon the left side of it.”  So the symbol of the State of Israel was a proud expression of Jewish history, tradition and prophetic vision. It reflected the hope that Israel would be a source of light for all nations. The olive branches were symbolic of Israel’s eternal desire for peace.

But there is also something deeper to be considered.

Jewish autonomy in the land of Israel came to an end with the Roman destruction of the Temple in 70 CE. Thousands of Jews were murdered; thousands sold into slavery; thousands went into exile. The remaining Jews suffered under the heavy hand of Roman rule.

The Romans celebrated their defeat of Israel by erecting the Arch of Titus in Rome. The interior wall of the arch includes a vivid depiction of Romans carrying off treasures from Jerusalem…most notably the Menorah. For the past many centuries, every visitor to the Arch of Titus could see the Romans gloating over the plundered Menorah.

But little could Titus have imagined that the defeated Jews would one day regain sovereignty over their historic homeland. It took nearly 1900 years to happen…but it happened!

The Arch of Titus depicts the Menorah as it was taken from a defeated and humiliated Jewish People. Now, the founders of the modern State of Israel reclaimed the image of the Menorah as the State’s national symbol. The long exile has come to an end. The Jewish People have reclaimed their historic land…and in a profound way have reclaimed the Menorah that Rome had stolen so long ago.

Throughout history, the Menorah has been a source of spiritual, intellectual and emotional strength for the Jewish People. In our times, with the establishment of the State of Israel, the Menorah reminds us of the power of faith, persistence, and courage. Its light should never be taken for granted.

Am Yisrael Hai. Od Avinu Hai.

Thoughts for Yom Ha'Atsmaut

Yom HaAtzmaut is, like any birthday, a time of moral reckoning and of revisiting our collective story. The trauma and the sense of hopelessness we experience demand an effort to reframe our story and reorient our attitude to life in Israel and, given how events in Israel have impacted Jewry worldwide, to Jewish life itself.

Two narratives, interwoven with one another, have provided the basic conceptual framework within which the vast majority of Israelis have understood Israel and the present moment. It is time for a new vision, based on humility and lovingkindness, to shape a new narrative.

The first common narrative is the narrative of disempowerment and regaining of power. Following years of exile, culminating in the events of the Holocaust, Israel was founded as a safe haven for Jews and as a promise for the flourishing of Jewish life. This also provided a means for the deep seated Jewish vision of being a light unto the nations to find concrete expression. Human activism and taking history into our hands characterize this narrative, which is understood as distinct from the alternative approach, characterized by greater historical passivity, in anticipation of divine action and a supernatural messianic redemption. The sense of empowerment unfolded progressively in Israel’s life as successive military victories showed Israel’s strength, as agricultural and technological capacities made it a wonder to the world and a startup nation and as a miraculous reality was experienced as part of the day to day life of the nation-state. Admiration for Israel characterizes the better part of its history and forms part of the narrative itself. While Israel did not have a particular teaching or example to offer the world, its very existence was a source of wonder and inspiration.

The second narrative is internal. It is a narrative of unity, or the quest for unity, within Israel and the claim that Israel as a state unites and serves the entire Jewish people. Deep fissures within Israeli society have existed throughout the State’s history, but for the most part have been held at bay. A sense of unity has kept society together, especially in times of crisis and war.

The events that have unfolded prior to and since October 7th call into question both narratives. That day was a day of defeat and profound humiliation. By all accounts, despite an enormous show of power following that day, we have yet to emerge victorious from this war. Something has been broken in the national spirit. In parallel, the view of Israel, on the global stage, has sunk to a nadir we could have never imagined.

Almost universally, the second narrative ties to the first, as an explanation for our failure. Accordingly, the reason put forth for everything going wrong is our lack of unity. Internal weakening led to an external attack, from which we have yet to recover.

Both narratives reference the nation and its power and both put forth human/social reasons as the sole means of understanding our historical situation. As a consequence, there is a remarkable dearth of attempts to account for Israel’s condition in other terms, especially theological terms. For the most part, God is kept out of the picture. A history of Jewish introspection and attempting to account for the present moment by examination of the past is cast aside, as these narratives are accepted almost blindly.

There are many reasons why I consider these narratives inadequate to the task of accounting for the present moment and why, I believe, we must discover new narratives by means of which to make sense of this time. The magnitude of our fall from grace cannot be accounted for simply in light of divisive leadership or government policies. Too many factors came together to bring about October 7th, including the failure of intelligence and the particular state of lack of preparedness, for us to ignore the possibility that what happened was not simply a consequence of a set of bad political choices. Theologically speaking, God allowed October 7th to happen. We could have been protected as we were during the recent massive attack from Iran. We were not. This gives pause for reflection.

Similarly, the narrative of unity also falls short in its explanatory power. Divisions in Israel have always been there, nor has any real unity been achieved since October 7th. The notion of unity has itself been used with political convenience and no serious, let alone successful, work of healing national divisions is within sight. Again, theologically – why would God allow lack of unity to lead to these results, if no successful reversal of that reality emerges from events?

So, one wonders, surely one must learn something from this period. What are lessons we should draw from it? Amazingly, no significant insight or message for the moment comes forth from Jewish leadership in response to this question. Political leaders have no new insight to offer. Events simply affirm their previous political views. Religious leaders have been universally dumb in their response, at best echoing the unity trope, or calling for teshuva in the broadest terms. No chief rabbi, Hassidic leader, rosh yeshiva, leader of a particular denomination, or the like, has come forth with a message powerful and convincing enough to constitute the kind of lesson that would make sense of the events of October 7th and beyond.

In this situation, it is impossible to learn anything from the events of the past 7 months. How can one learn if the question is not posed and an answer is not put forth? Moreover, any attempt to learn will, of necessity, echo divisions within the people. Each group will learn lessons that affirm its position and invalidate the views of the other. We need to consider the present moment in terms other than learning historical or moral lessons.

If, as I believe, God has purposes in allowing events to unfold, these should be achieved regardless of our learning capacity and in spite of our collective limitations and fractures. Therefore, we must ask whether there is another way of approaching these events that is not learning from them. Perhaps our collective experience is more important than the lessons we draw. Perhaps our humiliation and the crushing of our ego are the purpose of events as they have unfolded. Perhaps our suffering has a purifying value, in and of itself. Perhaps it is time to own again elements of thought that we have cast aside, in the process of our empowerment. Perhaps the lesson of the purifying power of suffering in exile remains relevant and plays out in our history in ways other than empowering us to take history into our hands. Perhaps the relationship of human and divine action, and the sense of power that we take for granted must be recalibrated. Might all these not be summed up under one word – humility? Is our global humiliation not a moment for collective humility? What kind of Israel might come forth, at 76, if humility, rather than power, were the subjective goal to which we strive? How might the purpose of serving as light unto the nations, largely forgotten in past decades, be rediscovered in this light?

As I contemplated these issues, between Yom Hashoah and Yom Atzmaut , I went to pray, at the tomb of the Prophet Samuel. He was, after all, the great seer (that is what he is called in the Bible) who struggled with the balance between divine and human governance and the limits of human power, as expressed in the institution of Israel’s kingdom. As I prayed, a word came to me – lovingkindness. It was not what I had expected, and yet I think it offers a message that is crucial to the creation of a new narrative, and flows directly from the recognition of how central humility must be to our going forward.

Rather than saying we know what it is all about or that we have the power to draw lessons from events, we can acknowledge that we are overpowered by events and at a loss to comprehend them. We are also at a loss to heal our divisions. More fundamentally, we are at a loss to account for what the purpose of Israel – the State and the People – is at the present moment. And we all share in this existential situation. It applies to each and every sector in society. Each sector requires transformation. Each sector seems incapable of drawing lessons of relevance from the events of October 7ththough indicators for such lessons are present. We are, collectively, at a loss.

Once we recognize this, there is a different way of approaching our society and the world. The surety of truth and the conviction of ideology must give way to another, more humble approach. To me, the most moving testimonies of the Holocaust, and how meaning was found in suffering, are the stories of caring for one another. Showing lovingkindness in the midst of suffering was a form of maintaining human dignity, without any presumption of understanding. The moments that have moved Israeli society most since October 7th have, indeed, been moments in which lovingkindness was manifested.

If our narratives have failed, if our ego has been crushed, if we lack vision, if we are all in a state of collective darkness and despair –  there is still a fundamental way of being that can provide hope and keep us open to new understandings and realization. If we could only inculcate lovingkindness under all situations, both within and without, despite all divisions, recognizing our limitations and collective failure, if chesed rather than emet became our governing ethos, new horizons could  open up. With these a new narrative could emerge. It is the narrative of human efforts reaching their limit, and the acceptance of our frailty and limitation, as we await new revelations and new beginnings. The road along which we travel in this journey is paved by humility and lovingkindness.

 

 

Happy Judaism: Thoughts for Parashat Emor

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Emor

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

 

In this week’s Torah portion, we read of the festive days that mark the Jewish religious calendar. Maimonides, in his Guide for the Perplexed (III: 43), makes a significant comment about religion and happiness: "The festivals are all for rejoicings and pleasurable gatherings, which in most cases are indispensable for man; they are also useful in the establishment of friendship, which must exist among people living in political societies." Happy occasions are essential. Pleasurable gatherings enlarge our lives by linking us with family and friends, by enabling us to meet new people and interact with them in a positive environment.

Indeed, we not only have the festival days; we have the joy of Shabbat each week. We have the happiness of so many mitzvoth each day. Judaism promotes a positive, optimistic worldview and lifestyle. The hallmark of Jewish religious life is happiness!

The Talmud (Taanit 22a) relates a story that Elijah the Prophet pointed out two people who had a place in the world-to-come. Who were these outstanding individuals? They were street comedians!  They told jokes. When asked why they devoted their time to making people laugh, they answered: we try to relieve people's sufferings; we offer them a moment of laughter to free them from their woes; we use humor to bring peace among those who are arguing with each other.

The 18th century sage, Rabbi Eliyahu ha-Cohen of Izmir, elaborated on the virtues of these street comedians. "Anyone who is happy all his days thereby indicates the greatness of his trust in God. This is why they [the street comedians] were always happy...This quality [of accepting life with happiness] is enough to give a person merit to have a place in the world-to-come; for great is trust [in the Lord], even if a person is not perfect in all other moral perfections" (Midrash Talpiot).

Especially during difficult times, celebrating Shabbat and holidays with family and friends is uplifting. These occasions provide a needed and healthful respite from the problems of our world. By bolstering our spirits in a religious context, we gain strength, courage and optimism to confront the challenges ahead.

 

 

 

Judaism and Humanity: The Messianic Era

Introduction

 

            The Bible has a singular vision for Jews and humanity. Beginning with the unprecedented declaration in the first chapter of Genesis that all people are created in God’s Image (Genesis 1:26–27), the Torah and prophets present a program for Israel and humanity that can bring about a redeemed, harmonious, religious-ethical world.

            In previous articles published in Conversations, I have discussed the biblical ideas of the Chosen People and of loving the ger—the resident alien non-Israelite who dwells in the Land of Israel when Israel has sovereignty.[1] In this article, I summarize the conclusions of those two articles, and then discuss the prophetic messianic ideal of Israel and humanity. Rabbinic interpreters debate the boundaries of what the prophets envision as the ideal relationship between Israel and the nations in the future.

 

The Chosen People

 

            The Torah begins its narrative with Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden, and not with the people or Land of Israel. All people belong to the same family created in God’s Image, with equal standing before God. God expects humanity to serve God and observe a basic level of morality, codified in Jewish law as the seven Noahide Laws.

God rejected humanity after the expulsion from Eden, the Flood, and finally the Tower of Babel. God then chose Abraham because Abraham chose God; Abraham taught his children and society about the religious-ethical lifestyle the Torah promotes for humanity.

            God’s choosing of Israel is an eternal choice, but the relationship is damaged when Israel sins. Israel’s exiles represent a separation, not a permanent divorce. God longs for Israel’s repentance and restoration of the ideal relationship between God and Israel. Similarly, God’s rejection of humanity with the Tower of Babel is a separation, not a permanent divorce. Non-Israelites who return to Godly behavior can become chosen again. All humanity will be redeemed in the messianic era.

One is chosen when one chooses God. For Jews, that means faithfulness to the God-Israel covenant in the Torah with its commandments. For non-Jews, that means faithfulness to the basic religious-ethical principles of the seven Noahide Laws.

Israel plays a special role as a nation of priests (Exodus 19:6). Israel’s priests have a genetic component (descendants of Aaron the Priest), have more commandments than regular Israelites, guard and serve in the Temple, and teach Torah to Israel. So too, Israel is a family within the community of nations, has more commandments than non-Israelites, guards and serves in the Temple, and teaches Torah to the world.

The Torah thereby establishes a particularistic religious system for Israel, while simultaneously promoting love and genuine respect of a diverse religious-ethical humanity.

 

The Resident Alien

 

            In the Torah (the Written Law), the resident alien in Israel must observe most laws of the Torah, be cared for and loved, and receive equal treatment. The resident alien is exempt from several laws that govern the unique covenantal relationship between God and Israel.

The Oral Law distinguishes between the ger tzedek (convert to Judaism) who is bound by all of the Torah’s laws and is loved and cared for by Jews, and the ger toshav (resident alien) who must accept certain minimal religious-ethical standards to live in Israel.

            The Oral Law teaches the core Jewish value of loving converts to Judaism. The Written Law teaches that identical love and inclusion of the resident alien, complete with rights and responsibilities. The Torah commands love, sensitivity, and fair treatment of all decent people living in the Land of Israel. Although we apply the laws of the Oral Law on the halakhic level, it also is critical to internalize the core values of the Written Law to envisage and build the ideal society.

 

The Messianic Future

 

We now turn to the focus of this article, prophecies that develop the contours of the ideal future for Israel and humanity. Several passages elicit debate among commentators, who disagree over the precise relationship between Israel and the nations in the ideal future.

 

Zephaniah 3:9

Nations Accept God

 

For then I will make the peoples pure of speech (safah berurah), so that they all invoke the Lord by name and serve Him with one accord. (Zephaniah 3:9)

 

After censuring the wicked societies of Israel and its neighbors, Zephaniah proffers a prophecy of consolation. All people will speak a pure speech and serve God in unity. Several commentators interpret the “pure speech” as referring to Hebrew (Rabbi Joseph Kara, Ibn Ezra, Radak). However, most explain that people will serve the one true God (Rambam Hilkhot Melakhim 11:4, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, Abarbanel, cf. Berakhot 57b, Rashi on Deuteronomy 6:4). Abarbanel adds that Zephaniah’s prophecy represents the undoing of the Tower of Babel. People no longer will be confused of language nor retreat from God. Instead, religious and social unity will prevail. Both of these components remedy the rupture from the Tower of Babel, making this dual interpretation of Zephaniah’s prophecy particularly apt.[2]

 

Isaiah 2:2–4

Nations Join Israel in the Temple

 

In the days to come, the Mount of the Lord’s House shall stand firm above the mountains and tower above the hills; and all the nations shall gaze on it with joy. And the many peoples shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob; that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths.” For instruction shall come forth from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.  Thus He will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples, and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war. (Isaiah 2:2–4)

 

In this celebrated prophecy, Isaiah envisions world peace in the context of universal worship of God. All humanity will serve God and will be welcome to the Temple. Yehezkel Kaufmann (1889–1963, Hebrew University) adds that this vision also serves as an antidote to the Tower of Babel.[3] Jerusalem represents the ideal metropolitan center, which attracts people to serve God.

We may add that the prophets generally do not enjoin Israel to actively proselytize throughout the world. Rather, they must build an ideal society and through that model inspire humanity. This picture aligns with God’s exhortation in Deuteronomy:

 

See, I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God has commanded me, for you to abide by in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, “Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people.” For what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is the Lord our God whenever we call upon Him? Or what great nation has laws and rules as perfect as all this Teaching that I set before you this day? (Deuteronomy 4:5–8)

 

Isaiah 56:3–7

Nations Join Israel in the Temple

 

Let not the foreigner say, who has attached himself to the Lord, “The Lord will keep me apart from His people”; and let not the eunuch say, “I am a withered tree.” For thus said the Lord: “As for the eunuchs who keep My Sabbaths, who have chosen what I desire and hold fast to My covenant—I will give them, in My House and within My walls, a monument and a name better than sons or daughters. I will give them an everlasting name which shall not perish. As for the foreigners who attach themselves to the Lord, to minister to Him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be His servants—all who keep the Sabbath and do not profane it, and who hold fast to My covenant—I will bring them to My sacred mount and let them rejoice in My house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices shall be welcome on My altar; for My House shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” (Isaiah 56:3–7)

 

This prophecy furthers the invitation to all God-fearing people to serve God in the Temple. Evidently, some God-fearing Gentiles felt excluded, so the prophet responds that they indeed have access to the Temple.

            Rashi, Radak, and Abarbanel interpret this prophecy as referring to full converts to Judaism (gerei tzedek).[4] Ibn Ezra and Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, however, explain the prophecy as referring to righteous Gentiles. They cite Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the First Temple:

 

Or if a foreigner who is not of Your people Israel comes from a distant land for the sake of Your name—for they shall hear about Your great name and Your mighty hand and Your outstretched arm—when he comes to pray toward this House, oh, hear in Your heavenly abode and grant all that the foreigner asks You for. Thus all the peoples of the earth will know Your name and revere You, as does Your people Israel; and they will recognize that Your name is attached to this House that I have built. (I Kings 8:41–43)

 

Righteous Gentiles always are welcome to serve God in the Temple.

 

Isaiah 66:18–21

Will Gentiles Serve as Priests in the Temple?

 

For I [know] their deeds and purposes. [The time] has come to gather all the nations and tongues; they shall come and behold My glory…. And out of all the nations, said the Lord, they shall bring all your brothers on horses, in chariots and drays, on mules and dromedaries, to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord—just as the Israelites bring an offering in a pure vessel to the House of the Lord. And from them likewise I will take some to be levitical priests, said the Lord. (Isaiah 66:18–21)

 

Depending on how one understands “from them,” it is possible to read the final verse in this passage as saying that some righteous Gentiles will serve as priests in the Temple. If that is the plain sense of the text, it is unparalleled in the Bible. Generally, the Torah prohibits any non-Aaronides—whether from Israel or the nations—from serving as priests in the Temple.[5]

            Classical commentators maintain that this prophecy does not countermand the laws of the Torah. Only Aaronide priests will serve in that capacity in the Temple. They disagree, however, over how to understand this prophecy.

            Rashi, Radak, Abarbanel, and Malbim maintain that non-Jews will bring Israelite priests and Levites back from exile with them.[6] Although those priests and Levites had assimilated while in exile, God will accept their repentance and allow them to serve in the Temple.

Alternatively, Rabbi Joseph Kimhi and Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency submit that non-Jews will serve in the Temple by assisting the Aaronide and Levitic priests as the Gibeonites and netinim did from the time of Joshua through the Second Temple period:

 

 

That day Joshua made [the Gibeonites] hewers of wood and drawers of water—as they still are—for the community and for the altar of the Lord, in the place that He would choose. (Joshua 9:27)

 

And of the temple servants (netinim) whom David and the officers had appointed for the service of the Levites—220 temple servants, all of them listed by name. (Ezra 8:20)

 

Amos Hakham also interprets the text as referring to non-Jews serving in the Temple, but understands the verses figuratively. Righteous Gentiles will bring offerings in the Temple, and God considers those who sacrifice as though they are God’s attendants, like priests and Levites.[7]

            To summarize the respective readings according to the aforementioned commentators:

 

  1. Rashi: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord…. And from them (=Jews whom the nations brought back who are of priestly and Levitic descent) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests, said the Lord.

 

  1. Rabbi Joseph Kimhi: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord.... And from them (=the non-Jewish nations) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests (=to assist the priests and Levites with attending roles), said the Lord.

 

  1. Amos Hakham: And out of all the nations…they shall bring all your brothers (=Jews)…to Jerusalem My holy mountain as an offering to the Lord.... And from them (=the non-Jewish nations) likewise I will take some to be levitical priests (=I will consider Gentiles who bring sacrifices as though they were priests), said the Lord.

 

Isaiah 19:18–25

Israel and the Nations are Chosen People When They Serve God

 

In that day, there shall be several towns in the land of Egypt speaking the language of Canaan and swearing loyalty to the Lord of Hosts; one shall be called Town of Heres. In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border…In that day, Israel shall be a third partner with Egypt and Assyria as a blessing on earth; for the Lord of Hosts will bless them, saying, “Blessed be My people Egypt, My handiwork Assyria, and My very own Israel.” (Isaiah 19:18–25)

 

            Isaiah prophetically envisions Egypt and (evidently) Assyria accepting God in the future. This is the only place in the Bible where God explicitly refers to a foreign nation as “My nation.” All humanity may become chosen by choosing God through proper worship (generally understood as commitment to the seven Noahide Laws).

            Several interpreters reject the notion that any other nation can become God’s chosen people. For example, Targum Jonathan, Rashi, and Rabbi Isaiah of Trani reinterpret the verse as referring exclusively to Israel’s chosenness: Blessed be My nation [Israel whom I chose in] Egypt, and [to whom I showed miracles with] Assyria.

            Those who understand the verse as referring to God’s choosing Egypt and Assyria generally still give Israel a distinctive advantage. Ibn Ezra, Radak, and Abarbanel explain that all three nations will be chosen by God, but Israel is God’s inheritance (nahalah), enjoying the longest standing and permanent intimate relationship with God.

Amos Hakham recognizes the equality of the three nations in the verse, but suggests that Israel is mentioned last as the most beloved nation of God (aharon aharon haviv).[8] However, the smoothest reading of the verse appears to equate the nations as having chosen status when they embrace God in the future.

 

Ezekiel 47:21–23

Do Resident Aliens Receive Land in Israel?

 

This land you shall divide for yourselves among the tribes of Israel. You shall allot it as a heritage for yourselves and for the strangers who reside among you, who have begotten children among you. You shall treat them as Israelite citizens; they shall receive allotments along with you among the tribes of Israel. You shall give the stranger an allotment within the tribe where he resides—declares the Lord God. (Ezekiel 47:21–23)

 

            Ezekiel envisions a renewed map of Israel in his prophecy of redemption in chapters 47–48. All twelve tribes will return to Israel and live west of the Jordan River. The tribal allotments no longer will follow the ancient distribution from the time of Joshua.

            One of the striking differences between the original world order in biblical Israel and Ezekiel’s prophetic forecast for the ideal future is the allotment of land to gerim. As I discussed in my article on the resident alien, all biblical instances of ger refer to the resident alien, known in halakha as the ger toshav. Therefore, it appears that Ezekiel’s prophecy allots land to all decent people who live in Israel in the future.

            Because the Torah does not allocate land to the resident alien, Sifrei Numbers 10:29 reinterprets Ezekiel’s prophecy as referring either to atonement or burial, not to land acquisition.

Several commentators explain that the ger in Ezekiel’s prophecy is the ger tzedek, or righteous convert. In their reading, those who convert to Judaism prior to the messianic era will in fact obtain land in the messianic era (Rashi, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency, Abarbanel).

The smoothest reading of the verses, however, allocates land for resident aliens in the future.

 

Joel 3:1

Will Israelites and Non-Israelites Prophesy?

After that, I will pour out My spirit on all flesh (kol basar); your sons and daughters shall prophesy; your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. (Joel 3:1–2)

 

            Joel prophesies that in the future, God will pour His spirit on all flesh (kol basar). The ensuing words refer to various manifestations of prophetic inspiration. If Joel says that all humanity will prophesy in the future, this would be a unique prophecy in the Bible.

            However, Ibn Ezra and Radak observe that Joel refers to your sons and daughters. Interpreting the verse as referring to the same group, they maintain that Israelites will prophesy in the future, and Joel does not refer to all humanity.[9] In this reading, Joel’s prophecy is parallel to that of Ezekiel:

 

I will never again hide My face from them, for I will pour out My spirit upon the House of Israel—declares the Lord God. (Ezekiel 39:29)

 

            Abarbanel splits the verse into two components. Kol basar in the first half of the verse refers to all humanity, who will recognize and serve God. Abarbanel likens Joel’s prophecy to Zephaniah’s prophecy discussed earlier that all nations will speak with a pure speech to serve God (Zephaniah 3:9). The second half of the verse refers to Jews, who will attain actual prophecy (ve-nibbe’u).

            Although Joel’s prophecy does not appear to predict universal prophetic revelation, it calls to mind a Midrash which teaches the core value that all worthy human beings may attain prophecy:

 

I call to witness the heavens and earth, that whether a Gentile or Jew, man or woman, servant or maidservant; all is according to one’s actions, and to that degree divine inspiration rests upon him. (Tanna Devei Eliyahu 10)

 

Conclusion

 

We have considered prophecies of redemption that illustrate aspects of the future relationship between Israel and righteous Gentiles.

Zephaniah 3:9 envisions a united humanity serving God properly (Rambam, Abarbanel), thereby undoing the damage represented by the Tower of Babel (Abarbanel).

Isaiah 2:2–4 predicts the worldwide recognition and service of God in Jerusalem, the ideal metropolitan center. Israel’s living up to its role as a model nation of priests inspires the nations to join them.

Isaiah 56:3–7 combats any discriminatory attitudes Jews might have toward righteous Gentiles. All God-fearing individuals have a place in the future Temple (Ibn Ezra, Rabbi Eliezer of Beaugency).

Isaiah 66:18–21 envisages the nations of the world recognizing God’s glory, and bringing Jewish exiles with them to Jerusalem and the Temple. Commentators debate whether the passage predicts that Jewish priests and Levites will be allowed to serve in the Temple despite their assimilationist tendencies while in exile (Rashi), whether righteous Gentiles will serve as attendants for the priests and Levites (Rabbi Joseph Kimhi), or whether they will bring sacrifices and God will view them as though they were priests in the Temple (Amos Hakham). It is possible to read the prophecy as referring to righteous Gentiles to actually serve as priests in the Temple. If this is the text’s meaning, it would be a unique prophecy in the Bible. It also would contradict laws in the Torah that outlaw all non-Aaronides from encroaching on the Temple space.

Isaiah 19:18–25 foresees a future age when other nations accept God and will resume being chosen nations alongside Israel. Several commentators assume that only Jews can be a chosen people (Targum, Rashi), but others interpret the prophecy to mean that nations that accept God are chosen, and this appears to be the plain sense of the text (Ibn Ezra, Amos Hakham).

Ezekiel 47:21–23 uniquely forecasts that resident aliens will receive land alongside the Jews in the messianic era. Many commentators assume that this prophecy refers to righteous converts to Judaism (Rashi, Abarbanel), but the simple meaning pertains to resident aliens, who will own land in a newly redrawn map of Israel.

Although Joel 3:1–2 initially sounded like a unique prediction of universal prophecy, it appears more likely that the prophecy is limited to Jews (Ibn Ezra, Radak). However, a Midrash (Tanna Devei Eliyahu 10) stresses that all worthy people are eligible to receive prophecy.

May we further our own building of a model community, and may we inspire many others to this vision of a united, diverse, God-fearing moral society.

 

Postscript

 

            Although this study has focused on biblical prophecies, it is appropriate to note the debate in Jewish thought between Rambam and his opponents. Professor Menachem Kellner has written extensively on this subject.[10] Many great Jewish thinkers, including Rabbi Judah Halevi in his Kuzari, followed by the Maharal of Prague, Rabbi Shneuer Zalman of Lyady, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the author of the Zohar, and others, believe in ontological essentialism. In plain English, these thinkers assert that Jews are essentially distinct and superior to non-Jews. This position leads its adherents to maintain that converts to Judaism are lesser than born Jews, since they were born with inferior souls. Additionally, this viewpoint generally rejects the possibility that non-Jews can attain prophecy.

It must be stressed that there is no biblical precedent for these ideas, nor is there much in classical rabbinic literature to support their contention. Kellner maintains that the degraded state of Jews in many medieval communities promoted this attitude as a means of maintaining self-esteem.

            In contrast to this widespread view, Rambam insists that there is no essential difference between Jew and non-Jew. All people must develop their intellect to know God and act morally. God chose Abraham because Abraham chose God, not because of any preexisting metaphysical superiority of Abraham. God gave the Torah to the people of Israel because of that choice, and not as a consequence of any inherent property in the people of Israel.

            This outlook leads Rambam to view converts to Judaism as true equals, rather than as inferior people born with lesser souls. After all, the Jewish people began as “converts” as well. Rambam also maintains that in principle, Jews and non-Jews may attain prophetic revelation if they develop themselves properly.

            Rambam’s stance on these issues dovetails the biblical portrait of Israel’s relationship with the nations.

 

Notes

 

[1] “‘The Chosen People’: An Ethical Challenge,” Conversations 27 (Winter 2017), pp. 38–47. “Love the Ger: A Biblical Perspective,” Conversations 36 (Autumn 2020), pp. 37–46.

[2] See further discussion in Hayyim Angel, “The Tower of Babel: A Case Study in Combining Traditional and Academic Bible Methodologies,” in Angel, Peshat Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study (New York: Kodesh Press, 2014), pp. 201–212.

[3] Yehezkel Kaufmann, The Religion of Israel, translated and abridged by Moshe Greenberg (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), pp. 294–295, 386–387.

[4] Cf. Mekhilta Mishpatim 22; Exodus Rabbah 19:4–5; Tanna Devei Eliyahu 29; Rambam cites Isaiah 56:3 to demonstrate that there is no difference between born Jews and sincere converts to Judaism (Letter to Obadiah the Proselyte).

[5] Shalom M. Paul (Mikra LeYisrael: Isaiah 49-66 [Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2008, 575) and Joseph Blenkinsopp (Anchor Bible: Isaiah 56-66 [New York: Doubleday, 2003], p. 140) maintain that, according to this prophecy, foreigners will in fact be able to serve in the Temple as priests. Given the legal disparity between this interpretation and the rest of the biblical corpus, Blenkinsopp concedes that “These affirmations…must have been highly controversial, and we may be sure that they would not have been acceptable to the temple authorities at any time after the restoration of the Jerusalem cult.”

[6] Cf. Midrash Psalms 7.

[7] Amos Hakham, Daat Mikra: Isaiah vol. 2 (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1984), p. 696.

[8] Amos Hakham, Daat Mikra: Isaiah vol. 1 (Jerusalem, Mossad HaRav Kook, 1984), p. 206.

[9] See also Amos Hakham, Daat Mikra: Twelve Prophets vol. 1, Joel (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1990), pp. 17-18; James L. Crenshaw, Anchor Bible: Joel (New York: Doubleday, 1995), pp. 164–165.

[10] See especially Menachem Kellner, Maimonides’ Confrontation with Mysticism (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2006); Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People (New York: State University of New York Press, 1991). See also his articles, “Chosenness, Not Chauvinism: Maimonides on the Chosen People,” in A People Apart: Chosenness and Ritual in Jewish Philosophical Thought, ed. Daniel Frank (Albany: SUNY Press, 1993), pp. 51–76, 85–89; “On Universalism and Particularism in Judaism,” Da’at 36 (1996), pp. v–xv; “We Are Not Alone,” in Radical Responsibility: Celebrating the Thought of Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, ed. Michael J. Harris, Daniel Rynhold, and Tamra Wright (Jerusalem: Maggid Books, 2012), pp. 139–154.