National Scholar Updates

Introduction

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim (1834–1909), grandson of Rabbi Moshe Hayyim (Chief Rabbi of Baghdad at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries), was an extraordinary and unique spiritual figure. He was a person of rare intellectual talents, including a phenomenal memory and eloquence in both speech and writing, who took an interest in all branches of Torah scholarship. For those acquainted with great Ashkenazic rabbis of modern times, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim (henceforth: RYH) may be characterized as combining within himself outstanding qualities of both the Gaon of Vilna and the Maggid of Dubno: On the one hand, he was extraordinarily devoted to study and in full command of all branches of traditional Judaic knowledge, and, on the other, he was directly engaged in efforts to bring the Torah to the broad public by delivering public sermons and by composing texts specifically oriented toward a lay readership. The following pages are devoted to an exposition of his views regarding a curriculum for Jewish children and youth that includes both secular and Judaic studies.[1]

Obviously, the number of class hours in a school’s curriculum are finite. In a Jewish Day School, any hour devoted to secular studies therefore necessarily constricts the amount of hours devoted to the study of Torah. Since Torah studies are a mitzvah, many Hareidi rabbis hold that ideally, a curriculum should be totally devoid of secular studies (‘al taharat haQodesh).[2] However, RYH held that this is not the position of Torah itself; while study of Torah is a mitzvah, secular topics are in the halakhic category of “permitted activities” (mutar):

Study of writing, arithmetic and languages is defined as “permitted” (mutar).[3] And what is the point of such a definition? To tell you: “Do not say: In this hour, when I am studying writing and arithmetic, it is better that I instead study matters of Torah; why should I waste my time learning writing and arithmetic?” Therefore, these studies were categorized as “permitted,” i.e., you are permitted to devote several hours of the day to such study.[4]

What justifies this permission to devote time to the study of non-Torah topics? RYH was aware of the answer given by Rabbi Yitzhaq Bengualid (Tetuan, 1777–1870), that such studies would ensure that “when they grow up they will find a secure livelihood for their entire life.”[5] However, he did not consider this very convincing: If the goal is to ensure the future economic well-being of today’s children, it would be better for them to learn “the profession of tailors or weavers … from such crafts a person can earn more than by the craft of writing and languages [i.e., clerking].”[6] According to RYH, the primary justifications for engaging in secular studies in parallel with the study of Torah are not pragmatic but rather an expression of Jewish principles and values. These include:

1. Formation of the Students’ Personalities and Character

Rabbi Yosef Hayyim writes:

It is worthy to teach both these types of learning to the youth while they are still young in age: study of our holy Torah and study of Derekh Eretz, i.e. languages, writing and suchlike. The teachers should engage them in both types of study at the same time, when they are young, and their mind is clear. And it is with regard to this that the Tanna states in Pirqei Avot: “Study of Torah together with Derekh Eretz is fine, for toil in the two of them drives away sin,”[7] meaning: it is worthy and appropriate that one should engage in these two types of study, Torah and Derekh Eretz, at the same time. Because toil in the two of them together drives away sin—that is: the evil force that is stored in a person’s heart because of his murky physicality—for he will be engaged in matters of the mind/intellect (muskalot) and the evil impulse within him will not actualize its potential in the performance of evil deeds.[8]

Torah study and secular learning are both matters of the mind/intellect, and therefore a student’s involvement in both together has a positive effect, enabling a student to suppress one’s negative impulses and overcome them. This formative influence is especially required when the student is young of age; RYH teaches that this is the thrust of the well-known verse in Mishlei 22:6: hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko, gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimenna.

This is what is meant by hanokh laNa’ar—to guide him in a good, straight path by means of words of wisdom, piety, and matters of intellect; one should thus teach and guide him while he is ‘al pi darko—i.e., at the verge and beginning of his path, before he has entered and become set in it. For at that time, you can easily turn him from one path and lead him on another that is good and straight. And as a result gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimenna—even when he grows old he will not deviate from the path into which you lead him and he embraced.[9]

This creative reading of ‘al pi darko as “on the verge of his path,” i.e., when the young person is about to set out on his or her life’s path—seems to be an original interpretation by RYH. It fits well with his position that tandem study of Torah and secular learning should begin already at the earliest stage of a child’s education:

Therefore, the time when it is appropriate to bring children to the hall of study, to teach them Torah and its various branches by worthy and important teachers, and to teach them derekh eretz, i.e., other external topics that we shall soon specify—is from the time that the child is seven years of age, until the child is thirteen. But if these studies are only begun once the child is thirteen or more, it will be hard to receive them, unless the child has…a tremendous urge and great desire to study these topics.[10]

2. Acquaintance with Fields of Knowledge beyond Torah Is Mandated by Reason

One of the realms of knowledge that Rabbi Yosef Hayyim considers important to acquire is—geography:

A person has a great need to study geography. As we see in the words of our Rabbis of Blessed Memory (Hagiga 12b):

                        Rabbi Yosse says:

Woe to those persons who see—and do not comprehend what they see; who stand—and do not comprehend on what they stand!

Thus, a person is obligated to know and understand the qualities of the earth, and regarding those who lack this knowledge Rabbi Yose exclaims “Woe!” saying: “Woe to those persons who see—and do not comprehend what they see, etc.” From this we learn, that these and other similar facts—a person is required to set his mind upon them and to know them.[11]

However, RYH does not ground the requirement to engage in secular study only this creative interpretation of Rabbi Yosse’s apodictic statement.[12] Rather, he grounds that requirement in a completely non-textual source—straight thinking:

Truth be told, even without that text, Reason obligates this! For how can one hear the sound of thunder, and see lightning, and not understand what they are? And how can one see thunder, and clouds going and coming, and rain pouring down upon the earth—and not understand their quality, and what makes them happen? So too: How can one stand in the city of Baghdad, and now know where is Eretz Israel? And where is India? And where is Europe?—Whether ahead of him or behind him, to his right or to his left? Most certainly, a person lacking knowledge of these matters is degraded and lacking even in his own eyes! But if all Jewish persons will be perfect in knowledge of such things, their honor will be great in the eyes of all humans, and all will say of them: “This great nation is a wise and sagacious People” [Devarim 4:6].[13]

            As other great rabbis from talmudic times onward, RYH holds that a Jew’s obligations derive not only from holy texts but also from human rationality.[14] Any intelligent person realizes that a person lacking understanding of the physical and energetic world in which he lives is degraded and lacking in the eyes of others—and rightly so! Furthermore, in human socio-cultural reality, a common criterion for recognizing a person as “wise and sagacious” is his command of knowledge regarding the world in which he lives. Torah speaks of an ideal situation in which all humans will praise Israel, saying “This great nation is a wise and sagacious People.” How can Jews in Baghdad (and elsewhere) merit such praise from other peoples? “If all Jewish persons will be perfect in knowledge of such things!”[15]

            Details of the realms of knowledge that a Jew should engage in, and attribution of mastery of these topics to a great talmudic sage, are included in Rabbi Yosef Hayyim’s reading of another talmudic passage. In Bava Qama 66 it is told that Rabbi Ami and Rabbi Assi were sitting and studying under their Master, Rabbi Yitzhaq Nafha. One of them asked Rabbi Yitzhaq to teach them halakha, and the other asked Rabbi Yitzhaq to teach them aggada. RYH explains:

The meaning of this seems to be, that one wanted him to teach them matters of tradition, i.e., important halakhot, and talmudic explanations of the reasons underlying mishnayot and baraitot. And the other wanted aggada. For Rabbi Yitzhaq was perfect in his command of worldly knowledge: natural science, geometry, medicine, astronomy, knowledge regarding the nature of creation—inert, plant, and animal—as well as geography, et al. And since all these realms of wisdom are not part of Torah, they are called “aggada.”[16]

            On this reading, the terms “halakha” and “aggada” do not indicate a subdivision of Torah into normative vs. ideational matters. Rather, they indicate a division of human knowledge into a realm that is unique to the Torah of Israel, and a realm that is universal to all human beings. For Jews, involvement in both realms is important, and therefore, Jewish schools should divide the students’ hours of study accordingly:

For this reason it says: hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko gam ki yazqin lo yasur mimmena: i.e., do not say: “I will heap a heavy load upon the young person, and teach him only Torah day and night. And I will not teach him writing, and Hebrew, and grammar, and math, and knowledge of nature, and worldly matters such as geography etc., so that he will not waste his time on such things but rather study only the complete and perfect Torah!” Do not do that! Rather, educate the young person also “in matters of his Way”—i.e., in matters of this world that is called “Way” […] For although education should be mainly in study of Torah, you should “grasp the one without letting go of the other” (Qohelet 7:18).[17]

            Many rabbis who allowed time to be set aside from Torah study for the sake of other topics held it to be self-evident that only Torah study is of value per se. On this view, study of secular topics is permitted only because of their ability to enable better comprehension of Torah. Thus Rabbi Jonathan Eybeshutz (1694–1764) wrote:

All wisdom is of value only as providing support for our understanding of Torah. Thus, geometry is the wisdom of measuring [….] it is very much required for the sake of measurements concerning the ‘eglah ‘arufa, and the cities of the Levites and of Refuge, and the tracts surrounding cities … Astronomy is an Israelite science because of “the Secret of [determining] Leap Years,” to know the movements of the seasons and constellations and to sanctify [new] months.[18]

However, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim unequivocally rejected this view:

We see that the Master of the Talmud, the great Sh’muel of blessed memory, devoted great toil and effort to delve deeply into the science of astronomy, to the extent that we find him declaring: “The paths of the sky are as clear to me as the paths of [my city] Neharde’a” (Berakhot 58b). Now, if he was so proficient in the wisdom of astronomy, it is easy to imagine how much time he had to spend on the study of this wisdom, that is exceedingly deep and great. And if it was merely to learn how to calculate leap years—what need for him to delve so deeply into this wisdom, to the extent that he was as proficient in the paths of the sky as he was in the paths of Neharde’a ?! Rather, it is certainly incumbent upon a person to acquire knowledge and to understand other wisdoms that are not part of Torah wisdom.[19]

           Just as RYH dismissed the explanation that study of secular topics is justified because it facilitates earning a livelihood, he rejects the idea that such study is justified because it facilitates understanding and application of Torah. However, we have seen that he did validate other reasons for engaging in such learning:

1. Fulfilling the obligation (mandated by reason) for a person to know and understand the world in which one lives
2. Realizing the goal that the Jewish People be (correctly) perceived by all humans as “wise and sagacious”

We now turn to two additional rationales for study of non-Torah realms of knowledge, which are validated by RYH.

3. Study of Realms of Knowledge beyond Torah—Enabling Tikkun ‘Olam

A third valid reason for engaging in general (non-Torah) studies is given by Rabbi Yosef Hayyim in the following passage:

With God’s help, It seems to me that an additional explanation of scripture’s intent in the phrase hanokh laNa’ar ‘al pi darko is, that King Solomon of blessed memory sought to teach us, that a person should not reject any of the kinds of knowledge that are required for the improvement of the world (tikkun ‘olam) and the for human perfection (sh’leimut haAdam), even though it may seem that this is knowledge of mundane/physical things.[20]

           It seems that the characterization of such studies as contributing to “human perfection” relates to an idea that we have already seen in RYH’s writing, i.e., that secular knowledge contributes to the formation of a positive and worthy character. However, the justification of general knowledge because of its contribution to tikkun ‘olam is an expansion of the list of rationales that he provides for engaging in such studies.

           It is important to note the meaning of this phrase as employed in the above quotation from Imrei Binah. In the kabbalistic worldview of Rabbi Yitzhaq Luria Ashkenazi (ha-ARI) and most subsequent kabbalists, the terms “tikkun” and “tikkun ‘olam” relate to the idea that engagement by Jews in activities such as observance of mitzvoth, prayer, and study of Torah—especially if done with appropriate “intention” (kavvanah)—causes the release of “holy sparks” that had been captive in the realm of negative dark cosmic reality. Upon release, these sparks return to their original, positive place in the Cosmic scheme; this weakens the negative realm and strengthens the positive, holy side—thus contributing to the repair (“tikkun”) of the entire Cosmic system. When this process will be completed, Cosmic reality will return to its original intended state—and this, ipso facto, is the ultimate Redemption. Rabbi Yosef Hayyim was a great kabbalist in the Lurianic tradition, and the term “tikkun” appears frequently in his writing. Thus, for instance, he was asked by his disciple, Rabbi Shim’on Agassi: “When a person performs “tikkun” by engaging in Torah, mitzvoth, and prayer—does this affect also what was prior to the Sin of Adam, or not?” [21]

            Specifically in light of RYH’s extensive employment of this term in its kabbalistic meaning, it is important to realize that when he extols general knowledge as conducive to “tikkun ‘olam” he is employing this term in an alternate manner, that became prevalent in the nineteenth century, to indicate human activity that has a positive impact on mundane this-worldly reality. In a related passage in Imrei Binah he explains that in an improved social-political reality such as that prevailing in his own time, practical application of knowledge acquired from study of natural sciences brings blessing to the world:

God did not enable the minds of those who are wise in the natural sciences to be attentive and to observe these sciences until the recent years, close to our time, when the kings made a covenant via ordinances that they enacted to improve the world (ba’avur tikkun ha-’olam) that are called Tanzimat.[22] And by virtue of this enablement [by God], from these sciences of steam-ships and telegraph there resulted good and benefit for humanity, in several matters … thus, the revealing of these wisdoms in recent generations was good for the world, and is “a good thing rightly timed” (Mishlei 15:23).[23]

It is worthy of note that when praising tikkun ‘olam in the above paragraph, RYH explicitly validates activities for the benefit of humanity in general (rather than to specifically improve only the lot of Jews). By pointing out a causal link between application of general knowledge and tikkun ‘olam, RYH validates devotion of time by students and teachers in Jewish schools to the study of a wide range of topics in addition to Torah—and implicitly encourages the possibility that as a result, these students will then become empowered to facilitate the well-being of all humankind.

4. Engaging in Acquisition of General Knowledge as a Path to Deepening Our Connection to God

            Over and above the three justifications for general studies that we have seen until this point, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim adds a fourth—theological—justification: a person’s deep religious and spiritual impulse to become close to God cannot be fully achieved without knowing and understanding the world in which we live. In a manner akin to Rambam’s determination that knowledge of the Divine is impossible without knowledge of the sciences that are the necessary basis for such knowledge (Guide 1:34), RYH writes that it is irrational that a person who

Desires and yearns to learn what is in the heavens above, does not know the quality and state and condition of the earth underneath upon which he dwells, and what is happening upon it and what is taking place therein before his very eyes.[24]

He stresses that the realm of those matters defined as “permitted,”[25] that are worthy of study in addition and in parallel to Torah, extends far beyond what some persons think:

One might think that this sector defined as “permitted” includes merely writing and arithmetic. That is incorrect! Rather, there are additional kinds of study that are very much required for a person, i.e., a person should know something of natural science, such as—what is the nature of lightning, and what is the nature of thunder, and what is the nature of the rainbow, and the nature of earthquakes, and of clouds and rain, and other similar matters of the creation that the Creator (may He be praised) created in the world. With regard to some of these matters we bless Him (may He be praised) and say: “His strength and power fill the world.”[26]

            Several of the phenomena mentioned by RYH—lightning, thunder, earthquakes, and rainbows—are characterized in the last chapter of Tractate Berakhot as phenomena that, when experienced, should elicit recitation of a blessing, i.e., should be recognized as a religious experience. It follows that a person engaged in study of the natural world—and understanding of the matters mentioned by RYH requires acquisition of elements of meteorology, physics, electricity, optics, and geology inter alia—is engaged in study of matters of religious significance. God created the world and therefore, the deeper our understanding of nature, the deeper is our understanding and appreciation of the “strength and power”—and wisdom—of the Creator.[27]

           It follows, that there are two complimentary paths to knowledge of God: engaging in study of Torah, and engaging in study of aspects of creation. This idea finds clear expression in the following passage written by RYH:

This is indicated by the verse: “His left hand is under my head, and His right hand caresses me” (Shir haShirim 8:3). For the world is indicated by the letter Vav, that has the numerical value of six, and the world has six extensions: up, down, and the four directions …. And it is known that study of Torah is called "right,” for it is strong and dexterous. While matters of Derekh Eretz, that are those of this world, are called "left,” i.e., the weaker hand. And thus he says: “His left hand is under my head,” meaning: “His left” …. i.e., matters of Derekh Eretz, “is under my head”—i.e., I engage in this. In addition, “His right hand” … i.e., matters of Torah—“caresses me”; [indicating] that I should engage in it [Torah study] at the same time I am engaged in Derekh Eretz. For “grasp the one and the other” together, at the same time. For it augurs well for a person when he studies in this manner.[28]

            According to traditional interpretation, Shir haShirim presents the loving relationship and the enduring connection between God (the male figure in the Song) and the People of Israel (the female). The verse “His left hand is under my head, and His right hand caresses me” thus expresses the experience of the People of Israel, who feel embraced by the two arms of the Divine. As interpreted by RYH, the closeness of God and His embrace are experienced by Israel thanks to Israel’s simultaneous engagement in two realms of study: Study of Torah (= embrace by God’s right arm) and study of general knowledge and wisdom (= embrace by His left arm). In other words: Torah (on the one hand) and the created world (on the other hand) are two complimentary modes by which God reveals Himself to us. The ideal path for us as Jews is, to experience God both via study/understanding of His Torah and via study/understanding of His creation in all its richness and diversity.

Conclusion

            Rabbi Yosef Hayyim unequivocally endorses and supports a curriculum for Jewish education in which from the earliest age onward the student devotes hours of study to Torah and to general knowledge in parallel. He does not agree with the view, advocated by some rabbis, that the rationale for engagement in study of general subjects is to enhance the students’ future income from work. Similarly, he rejects the view that the rationale for such study is, to enhance understanding of Torah. Rather, he presents and endorses four valid rationales for study and acquisition of general knowledge:

1. Fulfilling the obligation (mandated by reason) for a person to know and understand the world in which one lives;
2. Realizing the goal that the Jewish People be a “wise and sagacious” people, and (as a result) correctly perceived as such by all humans;
3. Empowering (Jewish) students to facilitate “tikkun ‘olam, i.e., to advance the well-being of all humankind;
4. Enabling (Jewish) students to experience enhanced closeness and connection to God by study/understanding of His self-revelation via Torah as well as by study/understanding of His self-revelation via Creation in all its richness and diversity.

     In 1990, I met with the Chief Rabbi of a major city in Israel, a man who was known for his great erudition and who authored a number of volumes of halakhic responsa. He told me that a military leader of Israel had asked him to encourage yeshiva students to serve in the army. He had responded to the general:  instead of getting yeshiva students to serve in the army, all the soldiers should put down their weapons and start studying Torah.  He quoted a Midrash that God will protect the Jewish people if they all study Torah. I asked the rabbi if he would risk the security of Israel based on that Midrash. He told me without hesitation: “yes, of course! We don’t need an army, we need everyone to study Torah. We have the words of hazal, and our Sages spoke truth.”
 

     When I expressed my astonishment that he actually thought Israel did not need military defense, he expressed his astonishment that I doubted the truthfulness of the words of the Midrash. The two of us were operating on different sets of assumptions.

     The Chief Rabbi was living in a pre-modern spiritual/intellectual bubble. He relied faithfully on the words of our ancient Sages; they knew the real truth. Their words were uttered in pure holiness. The teachings of our Sages are absolutely reliable, far more trustworthy than anything that could be said or taught by military, political, or governmental experts—especially those who were not religiously observant.

     The Chief Rabbi thought it was a lack of faith on my part to give more credibility to the experts than to statements made by our Sages. For my part, I was horrified that an intelligent and pious Chief Rabbi would genuinely think that Israel did not need military defenses if everyone simply studied Torah and kept the mitzvoth. We sat in the same room, we believed in and observed the same Torah…but we were in different spiritual/intellectual worlds.

     This rabbi and others of similar mindset are advocates of their version of emunat hakhamim, requiring us to have absolute faith in our Sages and their teachings. For them, all genuine truth exists within the ken of our Sages. All “outside” information is not credible…unless the Sages themselves gave it credibility.

     This kind of thinking has gained traction within Orthodox Judaism in recent decades. It has led to an Orthodoxy that fosters authoritarianism and obscurantism. It has relegated immense power to gedolim who are supposed to have a monopoly on truth. It has fostered negative attitudes toward secular sources of knowledge, since the Sages have the keys to all real knowledge themselves. It discredits those fine Orthodox Jews who do not share their worldview, and ostracizes Orthodox rabbis who do not fall into line with their faith in the almost infallible wisdom of the gedolim.

     A venerable exponent of the emunat hakhamim view was Rabbi Avraham Karelitz,(1878-1953) popularly known as the Hazon Ish. He taught that “everything written in the Talmud, whether in the Mishnah or in the Gemara, whether in halakha or in aggadah, were things revealed to us through prophetic powers…and whoever deviates from this tenet is as one who denies the words of our Rabbis, and his ritual slaughtering is invalid and he is disqualified from giving testimony. (Kovetz Iggerot 1:59. This is cited by David Weiss Halivni, in The Midrashic Imagination: Jewish Exegesis, Thought and History, ed. Michael Fishbane (Albany: State University of NY Press, 1993, p. 40, n. 13)
 

     Not only are we instructed to believe in the prophetic powers of ancient Talmudic sages (even though they never claimed these powers for themselves), we are asked to suppress our own minds to the opinions of the sages. Even if we think their statements are unreasonable, we should assume they are right and we are wrong. Thus taught Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler, an influential Hareidi leader of the 20^th century:   “Our rabbis have told us to listen to the words of the Sages, even if they tell us that right is left and not to say, heaven forbid, that they certainly erred because little I can see their error with my own eyes. Rather, my seeing is null and void compared with the clarity of intellect and the divine aid they receive….This is the Torah view [daas Torah] concerning faith in the Sages. The absence of self-negation toward our rabbis is the root of all sin and the beginning of all destruction, while all merits are as naught compared with the root of all—faith in the Sages.” (Mikhtav me-Eliyahu 1:75-77, cited by Lawrence Kaplan “Daas Torah; A Modern Conception of Rabbinic Authority,” Rabbinic Authority and Personal Autonomy, ed. M. Sokol Northvale, NJ, Jason Aronson, 1992, pp. 16-17).

     Proponents of emunat hakhamim ascribe divine powers to the sages of all generations, including our own. They not only know Torah better than anyone else; their Torah knowledge gives them the right and authority to guide the Jewish people in all areas of life. In the words of Rabbi Bernard Weinberger:  “Gedolei Yisrael possess a special endowment or capacity to penetrate objective reality, recognize the facts as they really are and apply the pertinent halakhic principles. This endowment is a form of ru’ah haKodesh [Divine inspiration], as it were, bordering, if only, remotely, on the periphery of prophecy. ….Gedolei Yisrael inherently ought to be the final and sole arbiters of all aspects of Jewish communal policy and questions of hashkafa.” Cited by Lawrence Kaplan, p. 17).

     Rabbi Nachum Rabinovich has pointed out that emunat hakhamim actually has a very different meaning and intent (“Emunat Hakhamim, Mah Hi?”, in Darka shel Torah, Maaliyot Press, Jerusalem, 1998, pp. 206-214). We are expected to respect the wisdom of our sages, but not to assume their infallibility or their quasi-prophetic status. Rather than blindly following their words, we are expected to examine their comments carefully; to try to understand their intent; to accept or reject them only after careful consideration. “True emunat hakhamim requires deep analysis to seek the reasons for the words of the sages; this entails an obligation on the part of the student or questioner to a very careful and critical examination, to determine if there is place to dissent. Certainly their words have reason, but one is still obligated to clarify whether to follow [their words] in actual practice” (p. 213).   

     It is up to each individual to make informed decisions; it is wise to consult the advice and teachings of sages. But one is not allowed to suspend personal judgment. “There is a difference between one who seeks advice and then ultimately acts based on personal responsibility, and one who relies on a “great tree” without independent thought. There are those who ascribe this childish behavior under the name emunat hakhamim, whereas this is a perversion of this important virtue. Instead of acquiring true Torah, people who cling to this mistaken notion of emunat hakhamim thereby distance themselves from the light of Torah, and in the end don’t know their right from their left” (p. 214).

     For Rabbi Rabinovich, emunat hakhamim does not foster an attitude of blind obedience. On the contrary, it demands careful attention to the words of our sages…followed by a personal evaluation of whether those statements ought or ought not to be accepted. His views are very much in line with a long rabbinic tradition that calls for respect for the words of our sages, but not a belief in the infallibility or divine inspiration of their words.

     The Talmud and Midrashim are replete with statements by great sages on various topics…medical cures, demons, seemingly far-fetched interpretations of biblical verses. It is not a religious virtue to ascribe “truth” to all their statements, although it is important to try to understand the context of their words.

     Rabbi Hai Gaon taught that the aggada should not be considered as divinely revealed tradition. The authors of aggada were merely stating their own opinions, and "each one interpreted whatever came to his heart." Therefore, "we do not rely on them (the words of aggada)." Rabbi Hai Gaon maintained that aggadot recorded in the Talmud have more status than those not so recorded—but even these aggadot need not be relied upon (See Otsar Ha-Geonim, ed. B. M. Lewin. Jerusalem, 5692, vol. 4 (Hagigah), pp. 59–60).

Rabbi Sherira Gaon taught that aggada, Midrash, and homiletical interpretations of biblical verses were in the category of umdena, personal opinion, speculation (Ibid., p. 60). Another of the Gaonim, Rabbi Shemuel ben Hofni, stated: "If the words of the ancients contradict reason, we are not obligated to accept them" (Ibid., pp. 4-5).

     Rabbi Abraham, son of Maimonides, in an important essay concerning aggada, maintained that one may not accept an opinion without first examining it carefully. (See his Ma-amar Odot Derashot Hazal, printed in the introductory section of the EinYaacov.) To accept the truth of a statement simply on the authority of the person who stated it is both against reason and against the method of Torah itself. The Torah forbids us to accept someone's statement based on his status, whether rich or poor, whether prominent or otherwise. Each case must be evaluated by our own reason. Rabbi Abraham stated that this method also applies to the statements of our sages. It is intellectually unsound to accept blindly the teachings of our rabbis in matters of medicine, natural science, astronomy. He noted: "We, and every intelligent and wise person, are obligated to evaluate each idea and each statement, to find the way in which to understand it; to prove the truth and establish that which is worthy of being established, and to annul that which is worthy of being annulled; and to refrain from deciding a law which was not established by one of the two opposing opinions, no matter who the author of the opinion was. We see that our sages themselves said: if it is a halakha (universally accepted legal tradition) we will accept it; but if it is a ruling (based on individual opinion), there is room for discussion."

     This is not to say that the words of our sages should not be taken seriously. On the contrary, statements of great scholars must be carefully weighed and respected. But they may also be disputed, especially in non-halakhic areas. In his introduction to Perek Helek, Maimonides delineates three groups, each having a different approach to the words of our sages. The majority group, according to Rambam, accepts the words of our sages literally, without imagining any deeper meanings. By taking everything literally—even when the words of the sages violate our sense of reason—they actually disparage our rabbis. Intelligent people who are told that they must accept all the midrashim as being literally true will come to reject rabbinic teaching altogether, since no reasonable person could accept all these teachings in their literal sense. "This group of impoverished understanding—one must pity their foolishness. According to their understanding, they are honoring and elevating our sages; in fact they are lowering them to the end of lowliness. They do not even understand this. By Heaven! This group is dissipating the glory of the Torah and clouding its lights, placing the Torah of God opposite of its intention."

     Maimonides described the second group as also taking the words of the sages literally. But since so many of the statements of the rabbis are not reasonable if taken literally, this group assumes that the rabbis must not have been so great in the first place. This group dismisses rabbinic teachings as being irrelevant, even silly. Rambam rejected this point of view outright.

     The third group, which is so small that it hardly deserves to be called a group, recognizes the greatness of our sages and seeks the deeper meanings of their teachings. This group realizes that the sages hid profound wisdom in their statements, and often spoke symbolically or in riddles. When one discovers a rabbinic statement that seems irrational, one should seek its deeper meaning. While Rambam argued forcefully for a profound understanding of aggada and Midrash, he did not argue that all rabbinic statements are of divine origin. When one finds rabbinic statements to be unreasonable or incorrect—even after much thought and investigation—he is not bound to uphold them.

     Following Maimonides’ line of thinking, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote that "aggadic sayings do not have Sinaitic origin . . . they reflect the independent view of an individual sage" (See Joseph Munk, "Two Letters of Samson Raphael Hirsch, a Translation," L'Eylah, April, 1989, pp. 30–35). Rabbi Hirsch went on: "Nor must someone whose opinion differs from that of our sages in a matter of aggada be deemed a heretic, especially as the sages themselves frequently differ. . . ." He rejected the opinion that the authority of aggada is equal to the orally transmitted halakha. Indeed, he thought this was "a dangerous view to present to our pupils and could even lead to heresy."

     The Hareidi-promoted understanding of emunat hakhamim is not only rejected by significant rabbinic authorities, but is deeply offensive to those who insist on the right to think for themselves and make their own decisions. To ascribe quasi-prophetic powers to a small clique of Talmudic scholars is intellectually unsound. It undermines a thinking faith and condemns the public to sheepishly follow the opinions of an unelected group of “gedolim.”

     Aside from the untenable intellectual position, the Hareidi approach has serious practical flaws. Many questions arise. Who qualifies to be listed among the gedolim who are deemed to have divine insight? Why do different groups of Hareidim rely on different authorities? Why are gedolim often at odds with each other, sometimes bitterly opposed to each other? Why is it assumed that a Hassidic Rebbe or a Rosh Yeshiva has perfect judgment on all topics by virtue of being considered a gadol among his followers?

     Many gedolim in 20^th century Europe did not foresee the Nazi onslaught and did not warn their communities to flee or fight back. Many gedolim did not lend a hand in the establishment of the State of Israel; many continue to deny or downplay the religious significance of the return of Jews to their ancient homeland. Some gedolim encourage followers to rely on (and pay for!) their blessings, red strings and amulets. Many gedolim may have expertise in Talmud, but have little or no general knowledge in science, medicine, politics, economics, literature, history etc. Why should people be expected to trust narrowly educated men to pass judgment in areas where they have no particular expertise?

     In my article, “Reclaiming Orthodox Judaism,” (Conversations, no. 12, Winter 2012, pp.1-23), I pointed to the vital need for revitalization of a modern, intellectually vibrant Orthodox Judaism that repudiates the Hareidi notion of emunat hakhamim. How can we promote a Judaism that is faithful to tradition, and that also respects the autonomy and critical thinking of its adherents?

     In my article, I wrote: “To reclaim Orthodox Judaism, we first need to transform the intellectual climate within Orthodoxy—to foster an intellectually vibrant, compassionate, and inclusive Orthodoxy that sees Judaism as a world religion with world responsibilities. We need to halt the slide to the right, and to battle fundamentalism, authoritarianism, and obscurantism in our homes, our schools, in our communal life.”

     While it is a virtue to respect the wisdom and insights of our sages, it is not a virtue to forfeit our own individual judgment. Orthodox Judaism, at its best, challenges us to think, to take responsibility, and to act wisely. Let us rise to the challenge.

            Judaism includes the basic tenets of belief in one God, divine revelation of the Torah including an Oral Law, divine providence, reward-punishment, and a messianic redemption. Although there have been debates over the precise definitions and boundaries of Jewish belief, these core beliefs have been universally accepted as part of our tradition.[1]

            The question for believing Jews today is, how should we relate to the overwhelming majority of contemporary Jews, who likely do not fully believe in classical Jewish beliefs? Two medieval models shed light on this question.

Rambam: Dogmatic Approach

            Rambam insists that proper belief is essential. Whether one intentionally rejects Jewish beliefs, or is simply mistaken or uninformed, non-belief leads to one’s exclusion from the Jewish community and from the World to Come:

When a person affirms all these Principles, and clarifies his faith in them, he becomes part of the Jewish People. It is a mitzvah to love him, have mercy on him, and show him all the love and brotherhood that God has instructed us to show our fellow Jews. Even if he has transgressed out of desire and the overpowering influence of his base nature, he will be punished accordingly but he will have a share in the World to Come. But one who denies any of these Principles has excluded himself from the Jewish People and denied the essence [of Judaism]. He is called a heretic, an epikoros, and “one who has cut off the seedlings.” It is a mitzvah to hate and destroy such a person, as it says (Psalms 139:21), “Those who hate You, God, I shall hate.” (Rambam, Introduction to Perek Helek)

Scholars of Rambam generally explain that Rambam did not think of afterlife as a reward. Rather, it is a natural consequence of one’s religious-intellectual development. Only one prepared for afterlife may gain acceptance. Although Rambam did not invent Jewish beliefs, he did innovate this position of Judaism being primarily a community of believers in a set of dogmas.[2]

Professor Menachem Kellner explains that prior to Rambam, Jewish faith was defined by an experiential relationship with God and the Torah. There were of course underlying beliefs in God, the revelation of the Torah, the Oral Law, God’s personal involvement and providence, and the Messiah; but these beliefs were not commanded, nor were they too precisely defined. Kellner suggests that Rambam’s innovative view arose from the surrounding Muslim culture. During that period, Muslims asked, (a) who is a Muslim and who is an unbeliever? (b) Who will achieve salvation and who is damned? To be a Muslim in good standing and achieve salvation requires one to have proper beliefs, regardless of one’s actions. Therefore, the need to define proper belief was a central concern in Rambam’s world.[3] Judaism also needed to be distinguished from Islam since both are monotheistic faiths, and Jews faced intense pressure to convert to Islam in order to attain better social status.[4]

Rambam’s attempt to define the tenets of Jewish faith follows in the footsteps of the Mishnah in Sanhedrin 90a, which is the only place in the Talmud where beliefs are presented in dogmatic form:

All Israel have a portion in the World to Come, for it is written, “Your people are all righteous; they shall inherit the land forever, the branch of My planting, the work of My hands, that I be glorified.” But the following have no portion therein: He who maintains that resurrection is not a biblical doctrine, the Torah was not divinely revealed, and an epikoros…

Clearly, this Mishnah is not a roster of all Jewish belief, but rather focuses on the issues that fractured the Jewish community during that period. The Sages stressed these particular tenets of faith in order to distinguish the faithful rabbinic community from Sadducees and other sectarian groups.[5]

Although these efforts by the Mishnah are significant in terms of expressing proper Jewish belief, Rambam goes much further than the Mishnah by defining Jews as a communion of true believers. This innovative position opened the door to heretical exclusions even when one was not trying to exclude himself or herself from the Jewish community.[6]

Ra’avad-Duran-Albo: Mistaken, Not Heretics

            Rambam (Laws of Repentance 3:7) rules that there are several categories of heretics. One of those is the person who believes that God has a body. Yet, Ra’avad (Rabbi Abraham b. David, 1125–1198) disagrees, since even some great rabbis mistakenly concluded that God does have a body:[7]

Why did [Rambam] call such a person a heretic? Several greater and better rabbis than he thought [that God does have a body and likeness] based on what they see in biblical verses and even more so from rabbinic teachings that can confuse the thoughts.

Ra’avad agrees with Rambam that God does not have physical attributes. However, he insists that it is incorrect to label as heretics those who mistakenly believe otherwise. They are believing Jews who made an honest error based on an overly literal reading of Tanakh and Midrash.

            Following Ra’avad’s approach, Rabbi Shimon b. Tzemah Duran and Rabbi Yosef Albo maintained that one should be considered a heretic only if one willfully denies a principle of faith or willfully affirms a principle denied by the Torah.[8] Duran even cites statements by Rambam that Duran considers to be beyond the pale of Jewish belief. He concludes that Rambam is not a heretic for holding these views, but reached mistaken views out of purity of motive. It should be stressed that Duran agrees that there are correct beliefs, and rabbis should correct the errors of those Jews who have mistaken beliefs. However, this does not mean excluding them from the community as heretics, but rather embracing and teaching them.

In his extensive survey of medieval thinkers, Professor Menachem Kellner concludes that the decisive majority support this latter view, rather than the exclusionary dogmatic position of Rambam.[9]

Halakhah defines Jewishness by birth and nationhood, and not by belief. We ideally want all Jews to learn, observe, and believe in the Torah and tradition. However, we should not exclude as heretics those who fall short unless they intentionally wish to exclude themselves from the community.[10] Jews who make honest mistakes or who are ignorant of proper Jewish belief are not to be labeled as heretics. Rather, we should do what we can to educate them.

It is important to note that Rambam himself differentiated between the original Karaites, who were true heretics who broke from the Jewish community, and their followers and descendants who did not know better because they grew up as Karaites (Laws of Rebellious Ones 3:3). After stating that one who denies the Oral Law is a heretic (Laws of Rebellious Ones 3:1–2), Rambam exonerates the Karaites of his day for having been raised with erroneous beliefs. Menachem Kellner explains that in Rambam’s system of thought, there was no latitude for someone who makes an innocent error regarding Rambam’s first five principles of faith that pertain to the essence of God. In that arena, if a Jew believes that God has a body, that person is a heretic. However, the Karaite error is within Rambam’s eighth principle, as they deny the revelation of an Oral Law revealed to Moses along with the Written Torah. In this respect, those Karaites who actively denied this principle of faith are heretics, but later generations who grew up with miseducation should be deemed as ignorant against their will, rather than as heretics.[11]

Conclusion

            Moving this discussion to a contemporary communal level, Menachem Kellner contends that Orthodox society must properly frame the question in terms of its relationship with non-Orthodox society. If we ask how much we should tolerate heresy, we already have lost the battle. Pluralism, in the sense of saying that non-Orthodox and non-halakhic positions are legitimate within Torah and halakhah, is an impossible position. Declaring that most non-Orthodox Jews are in the category of “tinok she-nishbah”—one who was kidnapped and raised among heathens and therefore no longer accountable for one’s religious behavior—may promote greater tolerance, but is insulting.

            Kellner concludes that one should ask instead: What can we do to enhance the future of the Jewish people? A healthy family can survive disputes. We should not ignore the disputes; but areas of agreement, our shared past, and a shared concern for our future as a people, should bring us together despite fundamental differences in belief and observance.[12]

            We may define the question differently. If we view ourselves as a community of believers inside a box, and everyone else as outside that box, then Rambam gives us an objective standard of who is in our group and who is excluded. If, however, we define ourselves more positively as believing Jews who embrace God, Torah, and all Jews, then we would espouse the view of Ra’avad-Duran-Albo, who maintain proper belief while considering those who reject or do not know these beliefs as wrong or ignorant rather than as heretics.

The halakhic definition of a Jew is one who has Jewish mother or who is a halakhic convert. Not every Jew lives a full Jewish life, but there is a continuum with more and less committed Jews, rather than insiders and outsiders. The approach espoused by Ra’avad-Duran-Albo, which appears closer to the original concept of Jewish belief, also represents a more productive means of addressing today’s fragmented society from within tradition. We stand for an eternal set of beliefs and practices, and we embrace and teach all Jews as we build our community together.[13]

No less significantly, it is critical for believing Jews to understand that there are many legitimate paths within Jewish tradition. Many rifts are created when rabbis and others insist that their path is the only true path, while others are considered wrong or not even acknowledged. One of the great nineteenth-century rabbis, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (Netziv), expressed his fear based on the realities of his time that faithful Jews may brand other faithful Jews as heretics for following other legitimate paths within tradition:

It is not difficult to imagine reaching this situation in our time, Heaven forbid, that if one of the faithful thinks that a certain person does not follow his way in the service of God, then he will judge him as a heretic…the people of God will be destroyed, Heaven forfend. (Meshiv Davar, I:44)

The Sephardic-Inclusive Communal Model

One of the beacons of light emanating from the Sephardic world in the modern age is its inclusive communal model. Rather than creating separate synagogues for the devoutly Orthodox, or splintering into movements or denominations that fracture the Jewish community, this model calls for synagogues to be faithful to Jewish tradition and to welcome Jews from the entire spectrum of religious observance.

In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Jews of Germany, America, and several other major communities splintered into denominations and movements. They led us to today’s painful fragmentation with no easy resolutions presenting themselves going forward. The Sephardic inclusive communal model provides a desperately needed alternative to the realities of today.[14]

So why did so much of the Jewish world miss this point? In addition to the historical circumstances, there is a good conceptual answer to that question, explored by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in his book, Community of Faith.[15] Rabbi Sacks observes that there is a great challenge in the inclusive model: It is the least consistent, and we greatly value consistency. Some people asked: Why belong to a traditional synagogue that preaches ideals so different from my lifestyle? Why not build synagogue communities that espouse messages more consistent with my values?

Others criticized the institutions and their rabbis. How can an Orthodox synagogue be a welcoming home to people who do not live by Orthodox standards? We should build separate synagogues and schools exclusively for those who are entirely faithful to tradition. This desire for greater consistency contributed to the fracturing of the Jewish community.

These are genuine challenges to the inclusive communal model. Our response to these challenges is the positive agenda of a unified faith community. Those who join it do not necessarily adhere to all of the mitzvot or Jewish beliefs in the traditional sense. However, they want to belong to a congregation that in its public and collective expressions remains loyal to the principles by which Jews have always lived. As a result of this model, Jews who personally do not observe many mitzvot can develop a profound respect for their synagogue and community, because they correctly understand that it faithfully represents Jewish tradition.

Aside from the commitment their own members, rabbis and communal leadership also need to be open to all Jews, and work to create a welcoming environment where that attitude is fostered throughout the community. Our challenge is to the build an ideal communal setting, faithful to tradition, and welcoming to all Jews. We need to set the standard by which all participants are encouraged to bridge the gaps between their lives and the ideals of the Torah.

This vision may be easier said than done in today’s climate, but it is critical to advance it as a productive alternative to the unfortunate reality we currently experience.

Judaism is both a peoplehood and a religious covenant. Ideally, all Jews should be committed to both dimensions of the Torah. In an age when many Jews have lost or diminished their religious connection, however, our commitment to peoplehood must prevail to include Jews who are not fully committed to the Torah or Jewish belief. The winners will be the Torah and the Jewish people.

Making our Days Count: Thoughts on Counting the Omer
by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

We had a neighbor--an elderly widow--who was vibrant, intelligent and active. As she grew older, she became increasingly forgetful. Her condition gradually worsened, to the point where she needed full time help at home.

One day, several of her grandchildren came to visit her. They brought tape recorders and note pads. They wanted to know more about her life story. They asked her questions, but she gave vague or confused replies. First she told them she grew up in the Bronx; and later said she grew up in Brooklyn. She couldn't remember names, or dates, or places. She could not remember the facts that the grandchildren were trying to learn. They were frustrated; their tape recorders and note pads were useless, since the grandmother's memory had deteriorated so badly.

They had come too late. The grandmother had lived well into her nineties, but the grandchildren had never seemed to have found time to ask her their questions or to listen carefully to her stories. Now, when she was about to die, they realized that they had better interview her before it was too late. But, in fact, it was too late. Her memory was impaired. All of her stories and adventures were locked into her mind, and were forever inaccessible to them. They were unable to retrieve information that would have been meaningful to their own lives, that would have given them greater understanding of the grandmother's life and experiences. They must have asked themselves: why did we wait so long before asking her our questions?

When people suffer the loss of a loved one, they often ask: why didn't I spend more time, why wasn't I more attentive, why didn't I listen more and listen better? When people suffer a breakdown in their relationships, they often ask: why didn't I give more time and effort to the relationship? Why did I take things for granted, why did I assume that everything would just go on forever?

In relationships, small things are often the big things: kindness, attentiveness, giving extra time and energy, expressing love and respect and appreciation, not taking others for granted. To maintain good relationships, one needs to feel a sense of urgency; the relationship needs to be renewed every day. If we let time slip by, we may lose everything.

When I was a young boy, I heard a rabbi explain the importance of the mitzvah of counting the Omer--the 49 day period between the second day of Passover and Shavuoth. He said: "We count the days so that we will learn to make our days count!" By focusing on each day, by actually counting it out, we come to sense the importance of each day. We then learn, hopefully, that each day counts--each day is important and cannot be taken for granted. None of us knows how the future will unfold; we only know what we can do here and now in the present.

The Omer period is an appropriate time to remind ourselves of the importance of each day. We can make each day count by devoting proper time to our loved ones, to our friends and neighbors, to those activities that strengthen ourselves and our society. Don't wait for tomorrow or next week or next year. Life must be lived and renewed each day. Count your days to make your days count.

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

Science[5]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Non-Observant Jews

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

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

Women

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

            Tanakh teaches a principled, religious morality to all humanity. The prophets and their followers stood tall and spoke out for principled religious morality against tyranny and immorality. Others, however, compromised principle and attempted to find a “balanced” way of juggling morality and other less positive values. Of course, the biblical Mordekhai is one of the paragons of the ideal religious position, defying the evil Haman while everyone else fell over in obeisance.

            There are many other biblical models—some exemplary, and some that fall short—worthy of our consideration. In this essay, we will consider four figures: Abraham’s nephew Lot, an obscure prophet named Micaiah son of Imlah, the prophet Jeremiah, and King David. Lot and David (specifically in the story we will be considering) compromised principle in favor of less positive values, whereas Micaiah and Jeremiah heroically stood for God and the ideal principles of the Torah.

Lot: Compromising Principle for Comfort

            Lot is one of the most fascinating figures in the Torah. As the nephew of Abraham and Sarah (known as Abram and Sarai during the first stages of the narrative), he joins them on their long journey to the Land of Canaan.

            From the very beginning, God repeatedly promises the Land to Abraham’s descendants. Abraham sees no possibility of biological descendants as he and Sarah are barren, so Lot seems like the obvious heir.

            Then, famine strikes, and Abraham, Sarah, and Lot descend to Egypt to obtain food. It is a traumatic experience, as Pharaoh takes Sarah as a wife. The episode ends well thanks to God’s direct intervention and protection of Sarah. Abraham and Lot emerge from Egypt much wealthier, as a result of Pharaoh’s gifts (Genesis 12).

            While Abraham and Sarah rebuilt their lives in Canaan afterward, Lot never forgot the fact that the Nile provided material stability for Egypt. Canaan precariously depended on rainfall, leaving its inhabitants prone for future famines.

            When the shepherds of Abraham and Lot quarreled over lands for pasture, Lot chose to move to Sodom. The Torah describes Sodom’s appeal: “Lot looked about him and saw how well watered was the whole plain of the Jordan, all of it—this was before the Lord had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah—all the way to Zoar, like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt” (Genesis 13:10). The steady rise of the Jordan River resembled that of the Garden of Eden and Egypt. Lot wanted that stability and comfort.

            The Torah immediately reports the price of that comfort: “Now the inhabitants of Sodom were very wicked sinners against the Lord” (Genesis 13:13). By moving to the depraved city of Sodom, Lot abandoned the values and lifestyle Abraham and Sarah exemplified.

            Over the next several years, Lot married a woman of Sodom, and two of his daughters later married men of Sodom. Deeply entrenched as he was, he still maintained a sense of Abraham and Sarah’s hospitality. He invited the angels to his home when the other inhabitants of Sodom ignored the visitors (Genesis 19).

            Lot remained head and shoulders above the people of Sodom. Nevertheless, he compromised the dearest principles of the household of Abraham and Sarah by moving to the wicked city, all in the name of comfort. In the final analysis, he never won the respect of his neighbors, he lost his home, his two married daughters, and his wife. On a different plane, Lot also forfeited his position as the potential heir of Abraham and Sarah.

            Lot’s descendants, the nations of Ammon and Moab, were characterized by Sodom’s anti-hospitality culture:

No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted into the congregation of the Lord; none of their descendants, even in the tenth generation, shall ever be admitted into the congregation of the Lord, because they did not meet you with food and water on your journey after you left Egypt, and because they hired Balaam son of Beor, from Pethor of Aramnaharaim, to curse you.—But the Lord your God refused to heed Balaam; instead, the Lord your God turned the curse into a blessing for you, for the Lord your God loves you.—You shall never concern yourself with their welfare or benefit as long as you live. (Deuteronomy 23:4–7)

            Yet, some trace of good remained in Lot, and that streak of hospitality was manifest in Lot’s stellar descendant, Ruth the Moabite. Ruth married Boaz, and became the great-grandmother of King David.

            The Lot saga reminds us of how easy it is for generally good people or institutions to be overly tempted by financial gain and comfort to the point where they compromise their integrity and core principles. Today’s Lots may rationalize this behavior on the grounds that everyone needs financial security. Nonetheless, the price they pay in compromising their values far outweighs whatever temporary gains they obtain.

The Torah enjoins us to emulate Abraham and Sarah—righteous, hospitable, principled individuals who stood firm in their faith and ideals. With all of their struggles, they worked hard to build a righteous family with authentic values, and they prospered among their neighbors.

Ahab and His Yes Men vs. the Prophet Micaiah

            In the ninth century bce, the wicked King Ahab and Queen Jezebel began a reign of terror in the Northern Kingdom of Israel. They made the worship of Baal into the official religion of Israel. Although people worshipped God also, they constantly wavered between God and Baal. Jezebel massacred the prophets of God and others who spoke up for the truth.

            King Ahab struck an alliance with the righteous King Jehoshaphat of the Southern Kingdom of Judah. Ahab’s daughter Athaliah married Jehoshaphat’s son Jehoram. Although the alliance united the two kingdoms on the political level, it caused catastrophic religious and physical harm to the Southern Kingdom.

            The fiery Elijah served as the primary prophet who courageously opposed the wicked regime of Ahab and Jezebel. In one of the Ahab narratives (I Kings 22), a lesser-known prophet named Micaiah son of Imlah shines by maintaining his integrity against a powerful and corrupt establishment.

            Following a three-year lull in an ongoing conflict between Israel and Aram, Ahab decides to regain control of Ramoth-gilead, which Aram had captured in earlier battles. Ahab invites his ally, King Jehoshaphat, to join him in battle: “And [Ahab] said to Jehoshaphat, ‘Will you come with me to battle at Ramoth-gilead?’ Jehoshaphat answered the king of Israel, ‘I will do what you do; my troops shall be your troops, my horses shall be your horses’” (22:4).

            However, the righteous Jehoshaphat insists that they first consult the prophets to obtain the word of God (22:5). Ahab had some 400 prophets at the ready, and they offered a unified positive response to go to war: “So the king of Israel gathered the prophets, about four hundred men, and asked them, ‘Shall I march upon Ramoth-gilead for battle, or shall I not?’ ‘March,’ they said, ‘and the Lord will deliver [it] into Your Majesty’s hands’” (22:6).

            With such a unanimous prophetic response, one might have expected Jehoshaphat to enter the war without further hesitation. However, the prophetic response somehow left Jehoshaphat wanting a second opinion: “Then Jehoshaphat asked, ‘Isn’t there another prophet of the Lord here through whom we can inquire?’” (22:7).

            What signaled the need for further prophetic consultation? The 400 prophets spoke in God’s Name! Radak and Abarbanel consider this narrative in light of the overall Ahab narrative. Ahab and Jezebel supported Baal worship, and therefore these prophets must have been prophets of Baal. These idolaters tried to deceive Jehoshaphat by using God’s Name, but the righteous king saw through their evil ruse. Although reasonable, this interpretation goes beyond the local text and requires interpretation from the global narrative.

            It appears that the most likely approach requires a different way of thinking. Like the prophets of many ancient Near Eastern pagan nations, these 400 men were court prophets, who were on the king’s payroll. Receiving large salary packages and great royal honor, they understood that they must always support the king’s wishes. In this instance, Ahab clearly desired to go to war. Therefore, the 400 prophets repackaged the king’s intent into prophetic words. Any other message would have resulted in their getting fired, or worse.

            Jehoshaphat recognized that these 400 “prophets” were like pagan prophets, under their king’s thumb. True prophets of Israel served God alone. They regularly confronted kings and other powerful figures when they strayed from God’s ways. Therefore, Jehoshaphat demanded a true independent prophet, one who would honestly reflect God’s will.

            There was indeed such a prophet, Micaiah son of Imlah, available for consultation. The wicked Ahab despised him, and did all he could to silence Micaiah.

            First, Ahab expressed displeasure at the mere need to invite him: “And the king of Israel answered Jehoshaphat, ‘There is one more man through whom we can inquire of the Lord; but I hate him, because he never prophesies anything good for me, but only misfortune—Micaiah son of Imlah.’ But King Jehoshaphat said, ‘Don’t say that, Your Majesty’” (22:8).

            When that strategy failed, Ahab let his henchmen intimidate the prophet: “The messenger who had gone to summon Micaiah said to him: ‘Look, the words of the prophets are with one accord favorable to the king. Let your word be like that of the rest of them; speak a favorable word’” (22:13). Of course, the true prophet refused to kowtow to this pressure: “‘As the Lord lives,’ Micaiah answered, ‘I will speak only what the Lord tells me’” (22:14).

            When he arrives at the palace, Micaiah sarcastically mimics the false prophets. Irritated by the sarcasm, Ahab demands that Micaiah state God’s true prophetic message: “When he came before the king, the king said to him, ‘Micaiah, shall we march upon Ramoth-gilead for battle, or shall we not?’ He answered him, ‘March and triumph! The Lord will deliver [it] into Your Majesty’s hands.’ The king said to him, ‘How many times must I adjure you to tell me nothing but the truth in the name of the Lord?’” (22:15–16).

            Micaiah then replies with true prophecy, suggesting that Ahab will perish if he goes to war against Aram: “Then he said, ‘I saw all Israel scattered over the hills like sheep without a shepherd; and the Lord said, ‘These have no master; let everyone return to his home in safety’” (22:17).

After dismissing the 400 prophets as false prophets who mislead Ahab, those court prophets attempt to intimidate Micaiah: “Thereupon Zedekiah son of Chenaanah stepped up and struck Micaiah on the cheek, and demanded, ‘Which way did the spirit of the Lord pass from me to speak with you?’” (22:24). Micaiah stood his ground despite the insult and the overwhelming numerical superiority of the opposition.

Ahab had hoped his yes-men would convince Jehoshaphat. He attempted to discourage Jehoshaphat from inviting Micaiah. His emissary pressured Micaiah to join the 400 court prophets. Zedekiah struck Micaiah, attempting to intimidate the prophet. All of these strategies failed.

The wicked Ahab therefore ordered that the prophet be imprisoned: “Then the king of Israel said… ‘Put this fellow in prison, and let his fare be scant bread and scant water until I come home safe’” (22:26–27).

The process of silencing Micaiah was complete. Ahab followed his initial decision and went to war, and met his fate on the battlefront as prophesied by Micaiah. What happened to the imprisoned prophet? We never find out. Perhaps he was released after Ahab’s death, perhaps he was forgotten and died in prison.

In addition to the tragic conclusions to the story, it is worth focusing on King Jehoshaphat’s role. He initially demanded a true, God-fearing prophet to convey God’s word. He knew Ahab’s 400 court prophets were fraudulent. He witnessed Ahab’s shameless intimidation of Micaiah. He heard Micaiah’s prophetic words. And despite all that, Jehoshaphat joined Ahab in war, almost losing his own life (see the rest of the chapter). He was a king and a powerful ally, and certainly could have opposed Ahab with greater force. However, Jehoshaphat demonstrates that no longer has the courage to stand by God’s prophet against Ahab and his powerful establishment.

Ahab thus developed a self-serving and well-financed system of court prophets; he intimidated, silenced, and cancelled true prophets; and he kept righteous voices like those of Jehoshaphat adequately silent so that he could achieve whatever he wanted. If Jehoshaphat had shown more resolve, perhaps the story could have turned out differently.

Jeremiah and the False Prophets

            Jeremiah began his prophetic career in 627 bce, and gained national notoriety when he first prophesied the destruction of the Temple during the wicked King Jehoiakim’s reign in 609 bce. He warned that if the Judeans would not improve their religious behavior, the destruction of the Temple and exile would follow. Unwilling to listen, the wicked king, the nobility, and the priesthood persecuted Jeremiah and attempted to have him executed.

            After the traumatic exile of Jehoiachin (Jehoiakim’s son) and 10,000 other leading Judeans 12 years later, there was widespread concern. Suddenly, Jeremiah’s bleak prophecies appeared to be materializing. Nebuchadnezzar of Babylonia was rapidly conquering the world, and the tiny nation of Judah was extremely vulnerable. However, a group of false prophets arose in Judah who predicted a miraculous downfall of Babylonia followed by the return of Jehoiachin and the other exiles.

            On the political front, Egypt fanned the flames of revolt against Babylonia. This led King Zedekiah to host an international summit in 593 bce to discuss the formation of an anti-Babylonian coalition. The religious and political establishments opposed Jeremiah’s message of submission.

Jeremiah appeared at Zedekiah’s summit wearing a yoke, symbolizing that all the nations should submit to the yoke of Babylonia:

Thus said the Lord to me: Make for yourself thongs and bars of a yoke, and put them on your neck. And send them to the king of Edom, the king of Moab, the king of the Ammonites, the king of Tyre, and the king of Sidon, by envoys who have come to King Zedekiah of Judah in Jerusalem…The nation or kingdom that does not serve him—King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon—and does not put its neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, that nation I will visit—declares the Lord —with sword, famine, and pestilence, until I have destroyed it by his hands. As for you, give no heed to your prophets, augurs, dreamers, diviners, and sorcerers, who say to you, “Do not serve the king of Babylon.” For they prophesy falsely to you—with the result that you shall be banished from your land; I will drive you out and you shall perish. But the nation that puts its neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, and serves him, will be left by Me on its own soil—declares the Lord—to till it and dwell on it. (Jeremiah 27:2–11)

            After Jeremiah’s dramatic presentation, the false prophet Hananiah son of Azzur publicly confronted Jeremiah, breaking his yoke and announcing that Babylonia would fall in two years (Jeremiah 28). Of course, we are privy to the course of history. Jeremiah was indeed the true prophet, and Hananiah was false.

However, in the real time of the story, one must ask: How were the people—even the most sincerely religious ones—to distinguish between true and false prophets? This question was not merely a matter of academic interest. Jeremiah’s forecast of 70 years of Babylonian rule (Jeremiah 25:10–11; 29:10) came with political ramifications: Remain faithful to Babylonia or they will destroy the country. By predicting the miraculous demise of Babylonia, the false prophets supported revolt against Babylonia. These debates were a matter of national policy and survival.

Some false prophets were easier to detect than others. Their flagrant disregard for the Torah discredited them as true prophets—at least for God-fearing individuals who were confused as to whom they should follow. However, Hananiah son of Azzur and Shemaiah the Nehelamite (Jeremiah 29:24–32) both sounded righteous. Neither preached idolatry or laxity in Torah observance, and both spoke in the name of God. After each prophet made his case, Jeremiah “went on his way” (Jeremiah 28:11). There was no way for the people to know who was right, and therefore the nation would have to wait to see whose prediction would be fulfilled. Waiting, however, was not a helpful option. The false prophets were calling for revolt now, and Jeremiah was calling for loyalty to Babylonia now.

Elsewhere, Jeremiah bemoaned the mockery he endured for the non-fulfillment of his own predictions: “See, they say to me: ‘Where is the prediction of the Lord? Let it come to pass!’” (Jeremiah 17:15). Although Jeremiah ultimately was vindicated by the destruction, the prediction test of prophetic veracity was difficult to apply.

To address these difficulties, Jeremiah presented alternative criteria by which to ascertain false prophets. He staked his argument in the Torah’s assertion that a wonder worker who preaches idolatry is a false prophet regardless of successful predictions or signs:

As for that prophet or dream-diviner, he shall be put to death; for he urged disloyalty to the Lord your God (ki dibber sarah al A-donai Elohekhem)—who freed you from the land of Egypt and who redeemed you from the house of bondage—to make you stray from the path that the Lord your God commanded you to follow. Thus you will sweep out evil from your midst (Deuteronomy 13:6).

Strikingly, Jeremiah extended the Torah’s example of idolatry to include anyone who did not actively promote repentance. Since the false prophets predicted the unconditional downfall of Babylonia irrespective of any repentance on Israel’s part, they must be fraudulent:

In the prophets of Samaria I saw a repulsive thing (tiflah): They prophesied by Baal and led My people Israel astray. But what I see in the prophets of Jerusalem is something horrifying (sha’arurah): adultery and false dealing. They encourage evildoers, so that no one turns back from his wickedness. To Me they are all like Sodom, and [all] its inhabitants like Gomorrah. (Jeremiah 23:13–14)

More subtly, the Torah uses the expression, “for he urged disloyalty to the Lord your God” (ki dibber sarah al A-donai Elohekhem). This phraseology is used to refer to specific prophets only twice in Tanakh—when Jeremiah censured Hananiah and Shemaiah, the two false prophets who appeared the most righteous:

Assuredly, thus said the Lord: I am going to banish you from off the earth. This year you shall die, for you have urged disloyalty to the Lord (ki sarah dibbarta el A-donai). (Jeremiah 28:16)

Assuredly, thus said the Lord: I am going to punish Shemaiah the Nehelamite and his offspring. There shall be no man of his line dwelling among this people or seeing the good things I am going to do for My people—declares the Lord—for he has urged disloyalty toward the Lord (ki sarah dibber al A-donai). (Jeremiah 29:32)

Thus Jeremiah singled out the most undetectable false prophets so that those who genuinely wanted to follow God’s word would understand that they were as good as idolaters as they led the nation away from God by predicting unconditional salvation for undeserving people.

             Hananiah and Shemaiah may have been sincere dreamers who loved Israel. However, they were not driven to improve their society, and therefore necessarily were false prophets. In the end, their feel-good predictions contributed directly to the nation’s doom. King Zedekiah eventually capitulated to his nobles’ demands and revolted against the Babylonians, bringing about the destruction of the Temple and exile of the nation. During the final siege of Jerusalem, Jeremiah scolded Zedekiah for having ignored his counsel:

And Jeremiah said to King Zedekiah, “What wrong have I done to you, to your courtiers, and to this people, that you have put me in jail? And where are those prophets of yours who prophesied to you that the king of Babylon would never move against you and against this land?” (Jeremiah 37:18–19)

            Although some false prophets may have been sincere, there possibly also was some deficiency in that sincerity. While condemning false prophets, Jeremiah urged the Jews not to listen to them:

For thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: Let not the prophets and diviners in your midst deceive you, and pay no heed to the dreams they [Heb. “you”] dream (ve-al tishme’u el halomotekhem asher attem mahlemim). (Jeremiah 29:8)

The expression at the end of the verse is difficult to interpret, as is evidenced in the NJPS translation above. Radak submits the following:

Mahlemim: this means that they cause them to dream … i.e., you [the people] cause [the false prophets] to dream, for if you did not listen to their dreams, they would not dream these things. (Radak on Jeremiah 29:8)

Following Radak’s interpretation, Jeremiah’s critique of the false prophets includes an accusation of their being at least partially driven by a desire to please the people. A vicious cycle was created between the false prophets, the political leadership, and the masses. In contrast, Jeremiah was committed to God’s word no matter how unpopular that made him.

            Tragically, the Judeans failed to listen to Jeremiah, did not improve their religious behavior, and rebelled against Babylonia. Although he failed during his lifetime, Jeremiah’s staggering prophetic integrity, pitted against every echelon of society, remains immortalized in Tanakh as a shining model of standing against immorality and tyranny. Thousands of years later, we continue to be inspired and animated by his immortal words.

David and Mephibosheth: Being Overly “Even-Handed”

            King David is famed for his incredible righteousness, his inspiring prayers, and his powerful leadership over Israel as he brought his nation security by defeating nations that had bullied Israel for centuries. When we think of his sins, the episode of Uriah and Bathsheba quickly comes to mind. In this section, we consider a lesser-known saga in the Book of Samuel, from which we may learn from David’s mistakes.

David and King Saul’s son, Jonathan, enjoyed a singular friendship. Beyond their mutual love and admiration, the political dimension of their relationship was essential. In addition to offering his unwavering support to David, Jonathan repeatedly had David swear that he would not exterminate Jonathan’s family once David became king. Of course, David honored that request.

            Following Saul and Jonathan’s death and David’s assumption of the throne, David searched the kingdom for any living descendants of Jonathan. He learned that Jonathan had one son, named Mephibosheth. David planned to invite Mephibosheth to dine with him whenever he would like, and care for him. David could not have anticipated that he would be entering an incredibly complicated situation.

            It turns out that a man named Ziba, who had been Jonathan’s chief servant, had taken over Jonathan’s house! Mephibosheth, who was physically lame from childhood, lived with a wealthy patron east of the Jordan River. It appears Ziba forced Mephibosheth out and became the master of the house. Enjoying his transition from servant to mansion owner, Ziba lived like a king, boasting 15 children and 20 servants of his own.

            When David learns of this travesty, he immediately orders Ziba to return the house to Mephibosheth and to serve him:

The king summoned Ziba, Saul’s steward, and said to him, “I give to your master’s grandson everything that belonged to Saul and to his entire family. You and your sons and your slaves shall farm the land for him and shall bring in [its yield] to provide food for your master’s grandson to live on; but Mephibosheth, your master’s grandson, shall always eat at my table.”—Ziba had fifteen 15 and 20 slaves. (II Samuel 9:9–10)

David thus fulfills his promise to Jonathan, cares for Mephibosheth, and demonstrates how he “executed true justice among all his people” (II Samuel 8:15).

            Reluctantly, Ziba obeyed David’s decree and returned the house to Mephibosheth (II Samuel 9:11). Nevertheless, he longed for his former royal lifestyle and waited patiently for an opportunity to regain control of the house from his weak master.

            That opportunity arose years later, when David’s son Absalom rebelled against David. David and his loyal followers fled Jerusalem to the forest, feeling bewildered and abandoned. During David’s flight, Ziba brings food and donkeys for David and his weary men. He accuses Mephibosheth of treason against David, and David subsequently grants the house to Ziba:

David had passed a little beyond the summit when Ziba the servant of Mephibosheth came toward him with a pair of saddled asses carrying two hundred loaves of bread, one hundred cakes of raisin, one hundred cakes of figs, and a jar of wine. The king asked Ziba, “What are you doing with these?” Ziba answered, “The asses are for Your Majesty’s family to ride on, the bread and figs are for the attendants to eat, and the wine is to be drunk by any who are exhausted in the wilderness.” “And where is your master’s son?” the king asked. “He is staying in Jerusalem,” Ziba replied to the king, “for he thinks that the House of Israel will now give him back the throne of his grandfather.” The king said to Ziba, “Then all that belongs to Mephibosheth is now yours!” And Ziba replied, “I bow low. Your Majesty is most gracious to me” (II Samuel 16:1–4).

Ziba explains that Mephibosheth has harbored hopes for the return of the monarchy to himself! The narrative does not corroborate or refute Ziba’s claim. However, David knows Mephibosheth is physically lame and therefore may have been unable to make this journey. It also is puzzling as to how Mephibosheth would have expected to regain the throne. If Absalom wins the rebellion, he would become king. If he loses, David would remain king. In any event, Mephibosheth’s lameness makes it unlikely that he ever would vie for the throne. No less importantly, Ziba already has a proven track record of stealing this house, and therefore his credibility seems very low. There are good reasons for David to doubt Ziba’s story.

            Nevertheless, David appreciates Ziba’s generosity, and accepts Ziba’s story without being able to hear Mephibosheth’s side. David concludes that Mephibosheth is an ungrateful traitor, and therefore awards Ziba the house. Ziba is most pleased.

            David goes on to prevail over Absalom and the rebellion ends. Because the civil war had torn Israel apart, many rifts needed to be healed. A man from the Tribe of Benjamin, Shimei son of Gera, had gravely insulted David when David fled Jerusalem. As the victorious David returned to Jerusalem after the rebellion, Shimei arrived with a large delegation of 1,000 fellow tribesmen to apologize. Among them were Ziba and his 15 sons and 20 servants (II Samuel 19:18).

Ziba says nothing, but he is visibly present when Mephibosheth subsequently appears to David:

Mephibosheth, the grandson of Saul, also came down to meet the king. He had not pared his toenails, or trimmed his mustache, or washed his clothes from the day that the king left until the day he returned safe. When he came [from] Jerusalem to meet the king, the king asked him, “Why didn’t you come with me, Mephibosheth?” He replied, “My lord the king, my own servant deceived me. Your servant planned to saddle his ass and ride on it and go with Your Majesty—for your servant is lame. [Ziba] has slandered your servant to my lord the king. But my lord the king is like an angel of the Lord; do as you see fit. For all the members of my father’s family deserved only death from my lord the king; yet you set your servant among those who ate at your table. What right have I to appeal further to Your Majesty?” The king said to him, “You need not speak further. I decree that you and Ziba shall divide the property.” And Mephibosheth said to the king, “Let him take it all, as long as my lord the king has come home safe.” (II Samuel 19:25–31)

            Mephibosheth had not groomed himself from the moment David fled Jerusalem until this point. It appears that these gestures were signs of mourning and solidarity with David (Radak, Ralbag). Mephibosheth explains why he did not accompany David with the other loyal followers: He had ordered Ziba to take him on the donkey to flee the city with David, but Ziba rode off with the donkey, leaving the crippled Mephibosheth stranded in Jerusalem.

            Despite his accusations of Ziba’s slander (and likely disappointment that David had believed Ziba initially), Mephibosheth humbly expresses profound gratitude for all David had done for him and his family. He reiterates his abiding loyalty to David. Ziba remains silent, but no doubt his physical presence served to remind David that he had helped David during the rebellion.

Spread over three separate episodes, we may summarize the respective “narratives” of the two characters:

Mephibosheth: My father Jonathan’s house belongs to me. Ziba forced me out, and stole my home. You, David, justly returned it to me and ordered Ziba to serve me again. However, during Absalom’s rebellion, Ziba stole my donkey, left me stranded, bribed you and your men with food, and falsely accused me of treason. You see now that I am unkempt, having mourned for you and your kingdom from the moment you fled Jerusalem until now. Ziba’s story is an outright lie.

Ziba: I fed you when you were at your lowest point and expressed my allegiance to you. Mephibosheth supported Absalom and believed the throne would ultimately return to him. You, David, awarded me Jonathan’s house as a result of my loyalty and Mephibosheth’s treason.

Although the prophetic narrator falls short of outright justifying Mephibosheth’s claim, many facts support his narrative: Ziba is a proven house thief, Mephibosheth is lame, he was in a prolonged unkempt state, and it seems most implausible that Mephibosheth ever expected to regain the throne himself.

It is therefore shocking that David uses an “even-handed” approach to resolve the conflict: “The king said to him, ‘You need not speak further. I decree that you and Ziba shall divide the property’” (II Samuel 19:30). It is unclear if Ziba’s bribe inclined David to divide the property, or whether David simply did not want to be bothered any further because he had many other important matters to attend following Absalom’s rebellion.

            The evidence supports Mephibosheth. Instead of being treated as a criminal who exploits and abuses a handicapped man and steals his home, Ziba gains half of a mansion and continues to live as a prince. In the Talmud, Rav expresses outrage that David would rule in this manner:

Rav Yehuda said that Rav said: When David said to Mephibosheth: You and Ziba shall divide the estate, a Divine Voice emerged and said to him: Rehoboam and Jeroboam shall divide the kingdom. (Shabbat 56b)

In the earlier parts of David’s reign, he was famed for executing “true justice among all his people” (II Samuel 8:15). Now, however, his listening to patently unequal narratives to act “even-handedly” dealt a profound injustice to Mephibosheth, rewarded the dishonest Ziba, and, according to Rav, sowed the seeds for the nation itself falling apart.

By not standing for truth, justice, and principle, David directly failed his friend Jonathan and his family, and, ultimately, divided his nation. Through this intricate narrative, there is much we may learn from the prophetic author of the Book of Samuel.