National Scholar Updates

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Emor

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

People have made a wry play on the names of this and the previous two Torah portions: Aharei Mot Kedoshim Emor: After death…call them holy. This points to the practice of glorifying people after their deaths. Faults are ignored, virtues are magnified, eulogies turn ordinary people into saints.

But the phrase also has another meaning. When people have passed on, it seems that only then do we begin fully to appreciate their virtues. During their lifetimes, we took them for granted; or underestimated them; or didn’t demonstrate the love and respect they deserved. After death, we start to relate their holiness, their goodness, their wisdom.

Some years ago, I gave a lecture to health care workers in a hospital in Baltimore on my book, “The Orphaned Adult.”  The talk included discussion of the mourning process and how we remember our parents once they are no longer with us. After my lecture, lively discussion ensued among the participants.

One of them, a Catholic nun, related a story about when her mother was growing older and frailer. Instead of waiting to eulogize her at a funeral, the family called together relatives and friends to a party to celebrate the mother’s life…while she was alive! They shared memories, expressed love and appreciation, and all in an environment that was happy and uplifting. The nun told us how happy her mother was to feel the love, hear the kind words, and sense that her life had had so much positive impact.  Why wait for a funeral to express our love? Why not celebrate the lives of our loved ones while they are alive and when our words can validate their lives?

I have often thought that eulogies come too late. All the nice words of praise and appreciation come after the person has died. If the deceased person had heard these same words while still alive, it would have been a source of ineffable happiness.

When I was in college, a friend of mine had a cousin who was killed in a gang war in the Bronx. At the Shiva home, family members reminisced about the dead young man: yes, he was tough, but he had a good heart; he got mixed up with the wrong people, but he had so much good in him; he was respectful to his parents and kind to friends and neighbors. Everyone seemed to find something good to say about him. My friend stood up and said with great emotion: if he had heard these things from you while he was still alive, maybe he would still be alive! All I ever heard you say about him was that he was a no-good hoodlum, a bad person, a violent person. There was a great hush in the room. Indeed, that young man's self-image and self-esteem might have been very different if he had heard loving words of praise during his lifetime.

Sometimes people go through life without ever knowing how much others love them, admire them, see virtue in them. I have been at many funerals where mourners have said: I wish I would have told him how much I loved him; I wish I would have done more for her; I wish I had let him/her know how much I cared.

Why don't we realize how powerful words of praise can be and how painful words of condemnation and ridicule can be? Words of sincere appreciation can change a human life. A loving hug, a pat on the back, a smile, a genuine compliment--these things can give joy and meaning to those we love, respect and admire.

We ought not wait for eulogies at funerals to express our feelings. We ought to live as loving, thoughtful and sharing human beings who honestly cherish and value our family and friends--and who let them know how much they mean to us.

Angel for Shabbat--Aharei Mot/Kedoshim

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Sifra on Vayikra 19:18 records a debate between Rabbi Akiva and Ben Azzai. Rabbi Akiva states that the verse, "and you shall love your neighbor as yourself" is a great principle of the Torah. Ben Azzai, while agreeing with Rabbi Akiva's basic point, suggests that another verse contains an even greater principle of Torah: zeh sefer toledot adam, zeh kelal gadol mizeh (This is the book of the generations of man--this is an even greater principle). This verse, drawn from Parashat Bereishith, includes the words that God created human beings in His image. Thus, we are called upon to respect all human beings--regardless of their particular backgrounds. Ben Azzai, is offering a universal vision of inclusiveness and commitment to humanity in general, not just to our own friends and neighbors. This is an even greater principle than loving one's neighbor as oneself, in the sense that it enlarges our perspective, and helps us view ourselves as part of the greater human family.

But how do we balance the particular commitment to our family and faith with a recognition of the universal value of all human beings?

Some years ago, I read a parable in the writings of Dr. Pinchas Polonsky that helped me clarify my thinking. Imagine that you have carefully studied a painting day after day, year after year. You know every brush-stroke, color, shadow… you know every detail of the painting and you understand it to the extent humanly possible. And then, one day someone comes along and turns on the light. You then realize that the painting you had studied to perfection is actually part of a much larger canvas. As you stand back, you realize that you need to re-evaluate your thinking. The segment of the canvas that you have studied all these years has not changed; you still know every detail; it is still absolutely true. Yet, you must now study your truth in context of a much larger canvas.

Each faith, at its best, has a very true understanding of its piece of the larger canvas. But when the lights go on, each faith must come to realize that it represents part of the picture but not the whole picture. A grand religious vision must necessarily entail a grand perception of God: God is great enough to create and love all human beings. God sees the whole canvas of humanity in its fullness.

One of the great challenges facing religions is to see the entire picture, not just our particular segment of it. While being fully committed to our faiths, we also need to make room for others. We need, in a sense, to see humanity from the perspective of God, to see the whole canvas not just individual segments of it.

Religious vision is faulty when it sees one, and only one, way to God. Religious vision is faulty when it promotes forced conversions, discrimination against “infidels,” violence and murder of those holding different views. How very tragic it is that much of the anti-religious persecution that takes place in our world is perpetrated by people who claim to be religious, who claim to be serving the glory of God.

While religion today should be the strongest force for a united, compassionate and tolerant humanity, it often appears in quite different garb. Religion is too often identified with terrorism, extremism, superstition, exploitation…and hypocrisy. People commit the most heinous crimes…and do so while claiming to be acting in the name of God.

The authentic religious voice should be one that fosters mutual understanding; we should remind ourselves and our fellow religionists that God loves all human beings and wants all human beings to be blessed with happy and good lives. There is room for all of us on this earth. We need to foster a religious vision that is humble, thoughtful, and appreciative of the greatness of God.

Angel For Shabbat, Parashat Tsav

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

A popular Judeo-Spanish proverb teaches: Aze bueno y echalo a la mar. Do a good deed, and cast it into the ocean. The idea is: do what is right and don’t expect any thanks or reward. The motivation for doing good…is the doing good itself, not the anticipation of gratitude or benefit.

Nevertheless, deep down in our hearts, it is difficult not to feel hurt if our goodness is not acknowledged. In “Notes from the Underground,” Fyodor Dostoevsky’s narrator says: “I’m even inclined to believe that the best definition of man is—a creature who walks on two legs and is ungrateful. But that is not all, that is not his principal failing; his greatest failing is his constant lack of moral sense…and, consequently, lack of good sense.”

Ingratitude is related to a lack of moral sense, a lack of good sense. A person who receives benefit should naturally and spontaneously express appreciation to the benefactor. It is not merely good manners, it is simple decency. Although the benefactor should not expect thanks, the recipient should give thanks.

Yet, we all sense the truth of Dostoevsky’s definition of man as a creature who is ungrateful. We receive so much from so many; and yet do not always express appreciation. We may simply be careless or thoughtless, or we may feel we are entitled to things without having to say thanks. We certainly feel the callousness of people who do not thank us for our good deeds, but we also need to introspect to be sure that we ourselves are not guilty of the same shortcoming.

In the past, I have written about what I call the “paper towel syndrome,” where people are used and then unceremoniously cast aside. As long as a person is deemed “productive” or “useful,” the person is respected. But once the person has been fully exploited, he/she is put aside and forgotten, cast into the trash bin of human history. No one says thanks any longer; no one even gives him/her a second thought. Aze bueno y echalo a la mar: do a good deed, cast it into the ocean. There’s no point expecting gratitude or appreciation. Ingratitude is a hard fact of life. Do good…and that is its own reward.

This week’s Torah portion delineates offerings that were to be brought by the Israelites in their service to the Lord in the Mishkan (sanctuary). The various sacrifices in those days covered a range of themes: sin offerings, purification offerings, thanksgiving offerings. The underlying theme of the offerings was: to come closer to the Almighty, one must have moral sense, good sense…and a sense of gratitude. A Midrash teaches that in the Messianic future, all sacrifices will become obsolete…except for the thanksgiving offering. Thanksgiving will always be a necessary component of a healthy moral life. Being ungrateful is a serious moral deficiency.

At the root of ingratitude is a basic arrogance, a self-absorbed view of life—an essential lack of humility. Egotists think of themselves, not of others. They use others to advance their own goals, and they are quick to discard people once they are no longer of use to them. Egotists validate Dostoevsky’s observation that human beings are characterized by ingratitude, lack of moral sense, lack of common sense. The Torah teaches us to be grateful, to express gratitude, to live humbly, morally and sensibly. These are difficult virtues to attain and we need to work hard to attain them. If we lack these qualities, we need to improve ourselves. If others lack these qualities, we ought to pity them.

 Meanwhile: aze bueno y echalo a la mar.

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Shemini

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“For I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore and be holy, for I am holy…” (Vayikra 11:44).

This week’s parasha delineates the laws about which animals may and may not be eaten. In doing so, it calls on us to make a separation between the impure and the pure. Holiness is identified with separation, making distinctions between what is permissible and what is forbidden.

Just as God is holy/separate, so we are instructed to sanctify ourselves by making distinctions between the holy and the profane, the pure and the impure, the permissible and the forbidden.

What is at stake is not merely a technical process of following the dos and don’ts of the rules. Holiness/separation is essentially a call for a particular worldview.

The havdallah service at the conclusion of Shabbat illustrates the point. For a secular person, the seven days of the week are simply seven twenty-four hour periods of time without any objective difference among them. For a religious Jew, though, Shabbat is not just another day, but is sanctified. The havdallah blessing notes the separation between Shabbat and weekdays, between the holy Sabbath and the regular workdays. A religious person literally feels the sanctity of Shabbat; it is qualitatively a different kind of time from the other days of the week.

Religious people view things very differently from secular people. Not only is time sanctified through Sabbath and festivals; but space and objects are viewed from a perspective of sanctity. A synagogue, for example, is not just another building; it is the dwelling place of God, a sanctified space that puts us in context with the divine. When a religious person experiences a sanctuary it is an altogether different experience from that of a secular person who enters the building.

Mircea Eliade, a thoughtful historian of religion, has noted that religious people view things as manifestations of God. “The existence of the world itself means something, wants to say something….For religious man the cosmos lives and speaks” (The Sacred and the Profane, p. 165). The sense of the sacred endows life with meaning, hope, spiritual goals. Lacking the sense of the sacred, people are deprived of a unique vision and perspective on life.

Modernity has done much to undermine the sacred. Secularization has robbed existence of ultimate meanings, divine whisperings, qualitative distinctions between the sacred and the profane. It is said: it was once the holy Sabbath; then the Sabbath; then Saturday; and now the Weekend. The depreciation of the sacred has not led to a happier, better humanity.

In Judaism, we have a wide range of halakhot that govern all aspects of our lives. Even our mundane activities are sanctified through blessings, through an awareness of fulfilling God’s directives. Eliade has noted that “for nonreligious man, all vital experiences—whether sex or eating, work or play—have been desacralized. This means that all these physiological acts are deprived of spiritual significance, hence deprived of their truly human dimension” (ibid., p.168).

When the Torah calls on us to be holy, it is not asking us to remove ourselves from the ongoing flow of life. Rather, it is calling on us to view our lives with a divine perspective. It challenges us to live on a deeper plane, to experience sanctity in all aspects of our world and our lives.

When the holy Sabbath is transformed into the Weekend, life itself is desacralized. When holy buildings and objects are treated as though they are just physical entities like all other physical entities, a vital spiritual dimension is lost.

To separate between the holy and the profane is not a mechanical task. It is a spiritual challenge encompassing the very way we view our lives and the world.

Thoughts for Pessah

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Haggada features the “four children” to whom parents are to explain the message of redemption from slavery. They are presented as four different individuals, each of whom requires a distinctive approach. The wise child is given full explanations; the naïve is given a simple story; the wicked is chastised; the dumbfounded is fed answers to questions never asked.

But what if we see these four children not as different people—but as aspects of just one person, ourself?

The grand message of Pessah is redemption from servitude. While the focus is on the national liberation of the Israelites from Egyptian oppression, the theme also relates to the life of individuals. We each have experienced moments when we’ve felt oppressed, unappreciated, abused, spiritually exiled. We’ve also experienced moments of validation, exultant victory, love and joy. Life is a series of ups and downs, oppressive moments and moments of liberation.

Sometimes the world perplexes us. We feel helpless in the face of challenges confronting humanity as a whole and Jews in particular. The problems seem so vast: warfare, climate change, crime, economic downturns etc. Is disaster inevitable? We can’t even verbalize all our concerns and anxieties.

Sometimes we feel so mentally overloaded that we look for simple answers to complex problems. We want to feel good, peaceful. We try to shut out the bad news, we look for amusements and entertainments. We don’t want to hear all the details, just simple headlines.

Sometimes we feel frustrated and angry about the way things are going. It seems that the whole system is corrupt, leaders are hypocritical, violence and hatred are rampant, the future is bleak. We rebel against the status quo in whatever ways we can.

Sometimes we are calm and reasonable. We want to know as much as we can about the problems that face us, and we seek intelligent answers to our dilemmas. We don’t want glib soundbites or superficial analyses. We think carefully, we speak carefully and we act responsibly.

The “four children” struggle within each of us. Each has legitimate claims; but how are we to address all the children within us?

The Haggada provides a framework for dealing with the internal struggles we all face.

When we feel perplexed by the challenges, the Haggada reminds us: We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and the Lord redeemed us from Egypt with a strong hand and outstretched arm. What could have been bleaker than the situation of the ancient Israelite slaves? What could have seemed more hopeless than generations of demeaning servitude? But the seemingly hopeless and overwhelming situation was overcome. God redeemed the slaves. They left Egypt in high spirits. They found words in the beautiful Song of Moses sung after the Israelites crossed the Sea. They were silent no more.

When we are mentally overloaded and only want simple answers to our questions, we need to remind ourselves: Yes, there are short answers available, and these are important for calming us temporarily. But avoidance is ultimately self-defeating. The problems don’t disappear on their own. When the Israelite slaves heard Moses speak of freedom, they initially did not take heed due to their crushed spirits and hard labor. They wanted to go from day to day without contemplating long-term solutions to their dilemma. The Haggada teaches us to deal patiently with ourselves and with the desire for simple answers.  Be patient, but get over the impasse! We have a Promised Land ahead of us.

When we feel angry and disappointed, it’s easy enough to blame the “leaders,” the “system,” and God. We allow negativity to overcome us and we want to lash out however we can. The Haggada reminds us that these feelings are part of who we are, and actually are healthy in some ways. We should be angry and frustrated by evil, foolishness, and immorality. But the Haggada tells us that we must not let negative emotions dominate us. It reminds us that negativity is essentially a dead end; it does not lead to redemption. When we feel the negative emotions arising within us, we need to direct them constructively.

When we feel wise and reasonable, that’s a good feeling. We can analyze, think, dream, plan for the future. We feel competent and confident.  But beware: unless we listen to the other three children within us we can become complacent and self-righteous.

The story of Pessah is a realistic/optimistic story. It tells candidly about slavery, hatred, cruelty, loss of human dignity. But it also tells of redemption, freedom, God’s providence, human development. As it relates to the national history of the people of Israel, it also relates to each one of us.

Our individual stories—our lives—are composed of a variety of experiences and emotions—some negative and painful, some positive and redemptive. The ultimate message of Pessah is that optimism and redemption will ultimately prevail.

We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and the Lord redeemed us with strong hand and outstretched arm. The four children within us crave for redemption…and the redemption will surely come through our personal efforts and with the help of God.

Angel for Shabbat--Tazria/Metsora

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Torah describes a certain ailment known as tsara’at. While this word has often been translated as leprosy, Maimonides wrote that we do not really know what it means. It seems not to be a medical condition at all, but rather a physical sign of a spiritual blemish.

Rabbinic tradition has connected tsara’at with the sin of lashon hara—slander, evil gossip. Obviously, tsara’at does not manifest itself today in all those who utter negative comments about others; if it did, almost everyone would be afflicted with it. However, the moral intent of the rabbinic tradition is important; it relates to an affliction of the soul rather than the body.

The Torah teaches that one who contracts tsara’at is sent into isolation “outside the camp.”  Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz comments: “When one is isolated with tsara’at, one remains alone and only then can one truly ponder one’s own faults. Only after one is told that he is beset with faults and is isolated with them can he begin to grapple with them until they disappear” (Talks on the Parasha, p. 224).

Being isolated gives one an opportunity for self-reflection and for honest thinking about moral shortcomings.

But isolation provides something else.

It is natural for people to compare ourselves to others. Yes, I have made sins…but others are much worse than I am. Yes, I’ve spoken slander and gossip…but hardly as much as many people I know. Consciously or subconsciously, we tend to evaluate ourselves favorably in contrast with others.

When one is isolated, there’s no one there to compare oneself against! The isolated individual suddenly realizes that he/she must self-judge without the advantage of having anyone to look down upon.

One of the root causes of slander and gossip is comparing ourselves to others. People often see themselves in a general competition. If others have more or better, the tendency is to want to cut them down to size, to find faults, to speak disparagingly about them. If others have less or worse, the tendency is to gloat and publicize their shortcomings in comparison to ourselves. Lashon hara stems from lack of self-esteem. In order to bolster one’s ego, one seeks to compare others unfavorably to oneself.

That is the source of the moral blemish of tsara’at and that’s why isolation is a suitable cure. Isolation helps one to realize that making negative comparisons to others is a sign of personal weakness. We shouldn’t be comparing ourselves to others; we should be comparing ourselves to our ideal selves, to what we can be. It is a way to develop the inner poise and strength of character so that we don’t feel a need to run others down in order to bolster ourselves?

Today, we don’t have the physical manifestations of tsara’at and we don’t punish anyone by sending them into isolation. However, we can each find occasion to make private time for self-reflection. The goal is to enable us to rise above the pettiness of lashon hara. We aren’t better when we demean others; we actually demean ourselves when we do so.

What does it mean to say that the State of Israel is the “State of the Jews” or, more accurately, the “Jewish State”? The State’s Declaration of Independence defines it as a “Jewish State.” It goes on to promise that “it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel,” “will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race, or sex,” and “guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education, and culture.” I read these words as meaning: Since our State is a Jewish state based on the vision of our Prophets, it guarantees liberty and equality to all its citizens. In other words, the Jewishness of the State guarantees its liberal democratic commitment. Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Amos mean democracy.

Israel is the State of all its citizens, Jews and non-Jews. It is thus awkward to speak of it as “the State of the Jews,” for this phrase may be misconstrued to mean that a Jew in Brooklyn or Antwerp is more of an Israeli than a Muslim in Kafr Qara, a Christian in Nazareth, or a Druze in Daliyat al-Karmel. The phrase could be justified by saying that it means only that all Jews should consider Israel to be their cultural center, as it is written “for out of Zion shall go forth the Law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3). Nonetheless, it is less confusing to speak of a “Jewish State,” as did the Declaration of Independence. Moreover, the State is constitutionally defined as “Jewish” in its Basic Laws (Human Dignity and Liberty, 1992; Freedom of Occupation, 1994; cf. The Knesset, amendment, 1985). But in what sense is it Jewish?

In terms of numbers, Israel today has almost 8 million citizens, roughly three-quarters of whom are Jewish. If one includes the Arabs living in Judea, Samaria, the Golan Heights, and the Gaza Strip, then Israel has almost 12 million subjects, but only about half are Jewish. It goes without saying that if Israel loses its Jewish majority, it will be difficult for it to remain a Jewish State in any meaningful sense. This demographic consideration will have to be taken into account when Israel negotiates its permanent borders with its neighbors. However, I am not concerned here with demography, but with content. In what respects should the State privilege or advance Jewish content?

Certainly the State’s laws must not discriminate in any way between Jew and non-Jew, since the Declaration of Independence guarantees “complete equality” to all citizens. The Law of Return (1950) might be considered an exception to this. However, it does not discriminate between citizens but between applicants for citizenship. Moreover, the Declaration explicitly promises that the State is “open to Jewish immigration.” That promise had at the time of Israel’s birth a vital significance for stateless Holocaust refugees who could then enter the Land as free and enfranchised citizens. Had the State been proclaimed only one decade earlier, who knows how many Jews could have been rescued from the Topheth?

It cannot be overemphasized that the principle of the equality of citizens in the State of Israel is not a grudging compromise that Judaism has made with modern secular ideologies, but it derives from within Judaism—from the vision of its Prophets. Indeed, in the years before the establishment of the State, leading rabbinic authorities, including the illustrious Chief Rabbis Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel and Isaac Halevi Herzog, planned for the future Jewish State to be governed in accordance with Jewish law, and ruled that the halakha ensures the equality of all citizens (see, for example, Rabbi Uziel, Mishpetei Uziel, Hoshen Mishpat, 1940, no. 17; Rabbi Herzog, “Rights of Minorities according to Halakhah,” Tehumin 2 [1981], pp. 169–179).

Unfortunately, the principle of equality has not always been carefully guarded by Israel's Knesset and Supreme Court, especially in the past few years. One example of an infringement upon the principle of equality is the Knesset’s legislation of Hatikvah as the national anthem of Israel in 2004. This stirring poem, written by Naphtali Herz Imber in 1877 (with later revisions by him and others) and put to music by Samuel Cohen in 1888, has been the beloved anthem of the Zionist movement since its early days. It speaks of the age-old yearning of the "soul of the Jew" (nefesh Yehudi) for Zion, and proclaims the Jewish people's desire to be a "free nation in our Land" (`am hofshi beArtsenu). As the anthem of the Zionist movement, it was a superb choice. However, it is not appropriate as the national anthem of the State of Israel, since non-Jewish citizens lack the "soul of the Jew." Even though Hatikvah had always functioned as the Israeli national anthem de facto, its status was not made official until 2004. There had been serious objections to it because of its exclusionary nature and also for other reasons (for example, it’s too secular, too Ashkenazi, and simply anachronistic in speaking of “the hope” of a stateless people). Many alternatives have been suggested to replace it as Israel’s national anthem—including biblical texts, medieval poems by Rabbi Judah Halevi and others, and modern poems by Bialik, Tchernichovsky, Naomi Shemer, and others. It has also been suggested that the melody of Hatikvah be retained but new words substituted. Hatikvah will always be the cherished anthem of the Zionist movement, but the State of Israel deserves an anthem that can be sung with equal commitment and passion by all its citizens.

To be sure, the Declaration of Independence’s guarantee of “freedom of religion, conscience, language, education, and culture” applies not only to Muslims, Christians, Druze, and other non-Jews, but also to Jews. This means that Jewish religious coercion is unacceptable, and Jews may freely pursue all brands of Judaism: Orthodox, Ultra-Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and the sundry forms of Atheism, Agnosticism, and Secularism. In this connection, it should be mentioned that Israel’s laws concerning personal status (marriage, divorce, conversion, and so forth), which derive from the old Ottoman millet system, are very problematic, especially as interpreted by a Chief Rabbinate that is increasingly estranged from the people. Rulings of Israeli Rabbinical Courts are often discriminatory against women, converts, and the non-Orthodox. These laws are in need of revision.

The rejection of religious coercion is fundamental to the Zionist project. Zionism, from its beginning, was a political movement, not a religious one. It has always been open to religious and non-religious alike. It is a project of the entire Jewish people, including all groups and sectors, all ideologies and all philosophies, all theologies, and all heresies. Rabbi Isaac Jacob Reines, the visionary founder of the Mizrahi faction of Zionism in 1902, explained to his fellow religionists how it was possible that the movement’s leader, Theodor Herzl, was not religious. He begins by noting that the great Jewish leaders of yore were all distinguished by their holiness and piety, and then writes: “Yet here we see a political man who has not gone out to meditate in the deserts or forests, who has not sanctified himself by ablutions of the body, who does not adorn himself with prayer shawl and phylacteries, who does not ponder over the divine Torah, who does not afflict his soul by fasting, who has not rolled about in the snow or slept among ants, and who nonetheless is succeeding!” Rabbi Reines asks, “Is this not an astonishing thing?!” And he answers: No, not at all, it is a “very simple thing.” It is simple, he explains, because those previous Jewish leaders were spiritual leaders concerned about spiritual redemption, while Herzl is nothing but a political leader concerned about political redemption.

The Zionist movement, continues Rabbi Reines, is not spiritual but “material, economic, and political.” It is not a spiritual movement of religious Jews but a political movement of all Jews. It may thus have non-religious leaders, since its policies are to be determined wholly in accordance with material, economic, and political considerations, and not in accordance with spiritual genius or messianic faith (Or Hadash `al Zion, X, 2).

In short, in our desire to cultivate the Jewishness of the State of Israel, we must be careful not to do so at the expense of the equality and liberty of its citizens; and we must remember that many citizens are not Jewish, and many of the Jewish citizens are not religious.

I would like now to say some words about three areas in which the Jewish dimension of the State may be beneficially promoted: (1) the Hebrew language, (2) the Hebrew calendar, and (3) Jewish law.

The Hebrew Language

The revival of Hebrew as the primary spoken language in the Land of Israel is an amazing phenomenon. Israeli children grow up today speaking the language of the Prophets and Sages. They read the Hebrew Bible with a naturalness that is impossible even for learned rabbis in the Diaspora. The treasures of classical Jewish literature are accessible to them in a way they were not accessible to their ancestors who were not native Hebrew speakers. It may be said, with only a modicum of exaggeration, that the most Jewish thing about the State of Israel is its use of the Hebrew tongue.
However, mention of the Jewishness of Israeli Hebrew raises a serious question; for contemporary Israeli Hebrew is every day moving further and further away from its biblical, rabbinic, and medieval roots. I just wrote that Israeli children read the Bible in a natural way and the Jewish classics are open before them. While this is still true, it was truer in the past, and becoming less and less true all the time.

Maimonides taught us that the principle for determining correct usage in any language is the practice of its native speakers. Not the grammarians but the native speakers are the authorities on what constitutes proper usage (Commentary on the Mishnah, Terumot 1:1). Correct Hebrew is thus determined by its native speakers, the Israelis; and the language of the native speakers is obviously influenced by the speech they have heard and the literature to which they have been exposed. Israelis who have been educated on classical Hebrew literature will speak a Hebrew that is connected to that literature, while those who have not been educated on it will speak a Hebrew disconnected from its roots.

I have been teaching in Israel at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem since 1977, when I moved to Israel from North America. Over the years, I have noticed a steep decline in the familiarity of my students with the Hebrew Bible. This decline reflects the progressive neglect of biblical studies in Israeli schools. In response to the dramatic erosion of the ability of young Israelis to comprehend the Hebrew Bible, there is now being published in Israel a “translation” of the Bible into “Israeli Hebrew” by the veteran educator Avraham Ahuvia. The “translation” is known as Tanakh Ram, and thus far the Pentateuch (2008) and Major Prophets (2011) have appeared. One may debate the pedagogic value of Ahuvia’s “translation,” but it cannot be denied that contemporary Israeli Hebrew is undergoing a process of disengagement from classical Hebrew. It is, in other words, undergoing a process of disengagement from Judaism.

I am convinced that contemporary Israeli Hebrew, i.e., what is sometimes called “tzabbarit” or, in the term coined by the poet Avot Yeshurun, “Tel-Avivrit,” is still essentially the same language as biblical, rabbinic, and medieval Hebrew. One can still today see an Israeli child pick up a Hebrew Bible and read it fluently and joyfully. I believe the regrettable process of disengagement of Israeli Hebrew from its historic sources can be reversed. All that is needed is a return—even a partial return—to the old Israeli educational ethos, which gave priority to the teaching of the Hebrew Bible and other classical Hebrew texts. Needless to say, I am not talking about theology or ideology, but literature. I am not talking about teaching “Judaism” or “Zionism,” but Hebrew and its literature. I’m talking about language.

It is the native speakers, according to Maimonides’ principle, who determine the nature of a language. If Israeli children are given a solid education in classical Jewish literature, then their Israeli Hebrew—no matter how vibrant and innovative— will remain Hebrew, that is, it will remain Jewish; and few of them will want a crutch like Tanakh Ram.

The Hebrew Calendar

The public use of the Hebrew calendar in the State of Israel is important, as it provides a temporal Jewish framework for everyday life in the State. The rhythm of the year is that of the Jewish Sabbaths, feasts, and fasts.

The general public day of rest in Israel is the Jewish Sabbath, not Sunday or Friday (although, according to the 1951 law, Muslims and Christians have the right to observe Friday or Sunday). Spring vacation is every year during the week of Passover. The celebration of the New Year occurs in Tishre, not January. Visitors to Israel on the Christian New Year are often surprised to discover it is a regular workday, and those looking for a gala New Year’s Eve ball must be content if they can find a little Sylvester party. Hardly anyone in Israel knows that the holiday of Sylvester is named for a fourth-century pope, and many mistakenly associate it with the more famous cartoon cat. In any case, according to the Jewish calendar, the New Year celebrates the Creation of the World, not the birth of Jesus or the hijra of Muhammad. In this sense, the Hebrew calendar is more secular than the Christian or Muslim calendars, since it does not commence with birth or deeds of the founder of a religion but with the beginning of the universe.

In Israel today, the Hebrew calendar is generally used alongside the Christian calendar, sometimes one is preferred and sometimes the other. The Muslim calendar is also used in many contexts. In business letters, it is customary to write both the Hebrew and Christian dates. Similarly, books often give both Hebrew and Christian years on the title page. Academic years at Israeli universities are commonly cited by the Hebrew date alone. This is probably for convenience sake, since the academic year begins right after the holidays of Tishri, and since it is elegantly designated by only one Hebrew year (e.g., 5773) but inelegantly designated by two hyphenated Christian years (e.g., 2012–2013).
The Hebrew calendar thus gives a Jewish rhythm to life in the State. However, some Israeli politicians would like to see the Israeli public calendar brought closer into line with the Christian calendar. For example, some politicians would like the State to adopt a Saturday-Sunday two-day weekend, as in many countries in the Christian West. Other politicians agree that a two-day week-end is desirable, but, sensitive to the interests of the Muslim minority, prefer that it be on Friday and Saturday—and this makes more sense since Friday is already effectively a half-holiday in Israel, with many people either not working or working only part-time.

However, a still better idea was proposed more than four decades ago by Rabbi Norman Lamm in his article, “The Rosh Hodesh Plan” (National Jewish Monthly 85, July–August, 1971, pp. 24–25). He suggested that the first day of each Hebrew month, that is, Rosh Hodesh, be observed in Israel as a legal day of rest. His plan was championed at the time by the then young National Religious MK Zevulun Hammer. According to the Lamm-Hammer initiative, only one day of Rosh Hodesh would be observed as a legal holiday each month, even when Rosh Hodesh is two days. Since Rosh Hodesh sometimes falls on Sabbaths and holidays, the plan would add about seven to nine days of rest each year. If it were decided to have two legal holidays in months when Rosh Hodesh is two days, then it would add 10 to 12 days. It is now time to reconsider the Lamm-Hammer initiative. It would answer the Israelis’ desire for more legal days of rest, give new relevance to the ancient Jewish celebration of the New Moon, and enhance the Jewish rhythm of life in the State.

Jewish Law

At the time of the creation of the State of Israel, those who proposed it be governed according to Jewish law offered a simple argument: If Britain is governed by British law and France by French law, then should not the Jewish State be governed by Jewish law? The proposal received some support, but was not adopted. Israeli law was instead concocted out of an ad hoc mixture of British law, Ottoman law, German law, and other diverse elements. Nonetheless, the importance of giving Jewish law—or as it is called in Israel “mishpat `ivri”—a place in the legal system of the Jewish state was recognized by early jurists and politicians, and they appointed leading experts in Jewish law to Israel’s Supreme Court: Rabbi Professor Simcha Assaf (appointed 1948), Professor Moshe Zilberg (appointed 1950), and Professor Menachem Elon (appointed 1977). In addition, Chief Justice Haim Cohn (served on the Court, 1960–1981), a skilled talmudist, often cited rabbinic sources in his decisions. In recent years, however, the importance of having major authorities of Jewish law on the Supreme Court has not been widely recognized. One exception to this tendency was Chief Justice Aharon Barak, who in 1994 sought unsuccessfully to appoint the distinguished dayyan Rabbi Shlomo Dichovsky to the Supreme Court as a replacement for the retired Justice Elon.

Today almost no one speaks of the necessity of having experts in Jewish law on the Supreme Court. Instead, it has become fashionable to speak of the “religious seat” or “religious seats” on the Supreme Court. In the elections to the Supreme Court in 2011, Religious Zionist politicians worked very hard to elect a “religious” judge to the court, but, as far as I could see, they made no attempt at all to get an expert in Jewish law elected. The subject apparently did not interest them. As a believer in the enduring value of Jewish law, I would like to see outstanding experts in Jewish law on Israel’s Supreme Court—whether or not they are “religious.” Truth to tell, I couldn’t care less how many “religious” justices are on the court. I have no desire to know which justices don’t eat pork, which shut off their computers on the Sabbath, or which fast on Yom Kippur. However, I think it is important that Jewish law have a firm place in Israeli law, and this is only possible if there are men and women in the legal system who are well versed in it—and, in particular, if there are experts in Jewish law on the Supreme Court.

The place of Jewish law in the Israeli legal system was given a formal definition in the 1980 Foundations of the Law Act. According to this document, whenever the courts are in doubt regarding a decision, they shall “decide it in the light of the principles of liberty, justice, equity, and peace of the Jewish heritage [moreshet Yisrael].” This flowery dictum has been interpreted in many ways, but some jurists have seen in it an invitation to make use of Jewish law. Now, whether or not it is an invitation to use Jewish law, it is surely a license to do so; for although it is true that “Jewish heritage” does not necessarily mean Jewish law, it is undeniable that Jewish law is part of the “Jewish heritage.”

Let me give one example that illustrates the place of Jewish law in Israel today and the attitudes Israelis have toward it. The example concerns a 1986 law forbidding the public display of hametz on Passover (except in non-Jewish neighborhoods). This law was for years not enforced. However, when in 2001 a religious Interior Minister threatened to enforce it, he stirred up angry opposition. Non-kosher restaurants and food-stores, which legally served non-kosher food all year round, were now suddenly required by law to obey certain particular dietary laws. The requirement seemed at times absurd. For example, Italian eateries that sold pizza pepperoni were told to make it from unleavened dough—the pork and cheese were fine, as long as served on matzah! Many rebelled against the law and ridiculed it. Journalists denounced it as one of the most obnoxious examples of religious coercion in Israel’s history, and argued that it discriminated against the non-religious and prevented them from making a fair living. Professors of law argued that it was unconstitutional. Knesset members organized to repeal it. It seemed quite clear that its days were numbered.

Then on Passover 2007, in Jerusalem, special officers raided a grocery store, two restaurants, and a pizzeria, and gave them summonses for selling hametz in public. The case attracted much media attention, and was tried in the Jerusalem court of Judge Tamar Bar-Asher Zaban, who had clerked for Justice Elon on the Supreme Court. Her astute ruling is exemplary for two reasons: first, she succeeded in giving the unreasonable law a new reasonable definition, and thus saved it from being repealed; and second, in redefining the law, she made use of the Talmud and Rashi’s Commentary.

The judge acquitted the four defendants. Her decision was based on a distinction between two senses of “public,” designated by two different Hebrew words: “pumbi” and “tzibburi.” The law, she explained, forbids display of hametz “in public” (pumbi), that is, in a place visible to passers-by. A restaurant or food store is “public” (tzibburi) in the sense that it is not private, but not “public” (pumbi) in the sense that passers-by can see what’s going on inside. The law, thus, does not forbid the sale of hametz inside a restaurant or store, but would forbid it on the street in a place visible to passers-by. Supporting her distinction between the two senses of “public,” she cited a 1998 Tel-Aviv case in which a man was acquitted of the charge of committing an indecent act “in public” (pumbi) in a stall of a public rest room, since the stall, although public (tzibburi), was not “public” (pumbi). In order to provide a theoretical basis for her decision, she referred to the talmudic definition of “reshut haRabbim” (“public domain”) in BT Shabbat 6a: “What is reshut haRabbim? A thoroughfare, a big plaza, and alleys open at both sides,” such as, according to Rashi, an intercity highway, an urban market, and streets at least seven meters wide. The judge reasoned: just as not all public roads or markets are considered “reshut haRabbim” by the Talmud, so not all public places are considered “pumbi” by Israeli law.
The hametz law, as now redefined by Judge Bar-Asher Zaban, seems acceptable to most Israelis, and talk of repealing it has ceased. One would think that religious Jews, concerned about preserving the spirit of Passover in the public domain, would have praised the judge’s decision that prevented the law from being repealed. However, the religious politicians and journalists vociferously attacked her for not convicting the four defendants.

The case illustrates how an Israeli judge knowledgeable in Jewish law found a helpful discussion in the Talmud that enabled her to turn an unreasonable law into a reasonable one. It also illustrates that non-religious Israelis, although adverse to religious coercion, are willing to accept laws concerning the public celebration of Jewish holidays, provided they do not impinge on their basic freedoms.
If we want mishpat `ivri to play a meaningful role in Israeli jurisprudence, it is necessary to strengthen its study in Israeli law schools. Judges who have been educated in Jewish law will be able to refer to it when appropriate.

Conclusion

What is the role of Judaism in the State of Israel? It provides the prophetic vision that is at the foundation of the State’s values of justice, liberty, and equality. The Hebrew language spoken by Israelis gives them a uniquely intimate access to the classical texts of Judaism. The Hebrew calendar used in Israel gives a Jewish rhythm to life in the State. Jewish law, when cited in Israeli courts, adds a Jewish dimension to Israeli law. The State must not teach Jewish religion but it must teach Hebrew language and literature—and I believe that if it does that effectively the many and various expressions of Judaism will flourish in it.

When addressing a halakhic question, each posek (halakhic decisor) attempts to arrive at a decision that is objectively true. The posek will study and analyze the available halakhic literature, with the goal of understanding the halakha as clearly and accurately as possible.

At the same time, halakhic literature is characterized by a variety of decisions regarding the same questions. Different posekim arrive at different conclusions—even though they generally rely on the same source literature. Sometimes these differences are based on alternate readings or interpretations of the source texts. Or, one posek may attribute greater authority to certain halakhists, while another may prefer to depend on others. Differences in local conditions, halakhic traditions, educational backgrounds, hashkafa (religious worldview)—these and many other factors may also result in different decisions from different posekim.

The interrelationship of hashkafa and halakha may be illustrated in how two recent posekim—Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook and Rabbi Bentzion Meir Hai Uziel—dealt with issues involving the understanding of the nature of Jewishness.

Rabbi Kook (1865–1935) was born in Latvia and studied at the yeshiva of Volozhin. In 1904, he emigrated to Israel, where he became the Chief Rabbi of Jaffa. In 1919 he was appointed as the Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, and in 1921 he became the first Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Erets Yisrael. Rabbi Uziel (1880–1953) was born in Jerusalem and studied under the Torah scholars of the city, including his own father, Rabbi Yosef Raphael Uziel, who was the Av Bet Din (chief justice) of the Sephardic community. In 1911, Rabbi Uziel became Chief Rabbi of Jaffa, where he worked closely with Rabbi Kook. In 1921 he became Chief Rabbi of Salonika; in 1923 he returned to Israel to serve as Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv; and in 1939 he became Rishon leTzion, the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Erets Yisrael.

Both Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel were strong advocates of religious Zionism. They were outstanding communal leaders, teachers, and scholars. Both were prolific writers who made major contributions in the fields of halakha and hashkafa.

But despite these external similarities, their attitudes toward several vital issues are radically different. Their disparate understandings of the nature of Jewish peoplehood are manifested in a number of their halakhic decisions.

Conversion

Let us begin with a discussion of how they dealt with the question of conversion to Judaism. How does a non-Jew enter the Jewish fold? What is the nature of the Jewishness which the convert accepts?

Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel studied the same talmudic and rabbinic sources. That their rulings were diametrically opposed to each other reflects their different hashkafot, their different understanding of the nature of Jewish peoplehood.

Both dealt with the serious problem of what to do with individuals who requested conversion to Judaism, even when it was believed that the converts were not likely to observe all of the mitzvoth. For the most part, such converts were interested in gerut (conversion) for the sake of marrying a Jewish person, and were not motivated by theological concerns. Obviously, neither Rabbi Kook nor Rabbi Uziel thought that such converts represented the ideal. On the contrary, everyone would agree that it was preferable for converts to choose to join the Jewish people from a belief in the truth of Judaism and a total commitment to observe the mitzvoth. However, a great many converts do not come with these ideal credentials.

Rabbi Kook was adamant in his opposition to accepting converts who did not accept to observe all the mitzvoth. Even if a convert followed the technical procedure for conversion, but lacked the absolute intention to observe the mitzvoth, his conversion is not valid. When the Talmud states (Yebamoth 24b) that kulam gerim hem (“they are all converts”; this passage refers to individuals who converted for the sake of marriage or because of other external factors), this refers only to those who did have the intention to accept the mitzvoth in full. Rabbis who accept for conversion those candidates who come for worldly reasons, but who will not fulfill the mitzvoth, are making an error. Much evil will befall such rabbis. They are guilty of bringing thorns into the house of Israel.

Rabbi Kook argues that rabbis who accept such converts are transgressing the prohibition of lifnei ivver (placing a stumbling block in the path of a blind person; by extension, this prohibition includes acts of misleading others). If the conversions are not halakhically valid, then the rabbis are misleading the Jewish public by calling such individuals Jews when in fact they are not Jewish. Such negligence will lead to many problems, including possible intermarriage. On the other hand, if these individuals are to be considered valid converts, then the rabbis are misleading them by not stressing how they will be subject to punishment for violating the mitzvoth.1

In another Responsum, Rabbi Kook again emphasizes that converts who do not commit themselves to keep the mitzvoth should not be accepted. If unqualified individuals (hedyotot) accepted them, no rabbi should perform weddings for them even after they have been converted in this way. “And happy is the one who stands in the breach to guard the purity of Israel, may a good blessing come to him.”2

For Rabbi Kook, then, the acceptance of mitzvoth is the essential ingredient in Jewishness. One who does not accept to observe the mitzvoth simply cannot become part of the Jewish people, even if he or she were to go through the technical rituals of conversion. And even if one were to find halakhic justification to validate these conversions, we still should not allow such converts to marry Jews.

Rabbi Uziel also wrote a number of Responsa dealing with would-be converts whose commitment to observance of mitzvoth was deficient. While acknowledging that it was most desirable that converts accept all the mitzvoth, Rabbi Uziel noted that in our times many individuals seek conversion for the sake of marriage. Instead of disqualifying such conversions, however, Rabbi Uziel actually encouraged them. He felt that it was necessary for us to be stringent in matters of intermarriage, i.e., we should do everything possible to prevent a situation where a marriage involves a Jew and a non-Jew. If we can convert the non-Jewish partner to Judaism, then we have preserved the wholeness of that family for the Jewish people, and we can hope that their children will be raised as Jews. Given the choice of having an intermarried couple or performing such a conversion, Rabbi Uziel ruled that it is better to perform the conversion. He, of course, believed that rabbis should do everything in their power to break off the projected intermarriage. They should resort to conversion only when it is clear that the couple would not be dissuaded from marriage to each other.3

In another Responsum, Rabbi Uziel explains that the obligation of rabbis is to inform candidates for conversion of some, not all, of the mitzvoth (Yoreh De’ah 268:2). It is impossible for a bet din to know with certainty that any convert will keep all the mitzvoth. Conversion, even initially, does not require that the convert accept to observe all the mitzvoth. Indeed, the procedure of informing a non-Jew about the basic beliefs and mitzvoth is required initially. But if this procedure were not followed, and the non-Jew was converted ritually (circumcision and ritual immersion) without such information, the conversion is valid notwithstanding (Yoreh De’ah 268:2, 12).

Rabbi Uziel concludes that it is permissible—and a mitzvah—to accept such converts, even when it is expected that they would not observe all the mitzvoth. Our hope is that they will come to observe the mitzvoth in the future. We are obligated to give them this opportunity. If they fail to observe the mitzvoth, the iniquity is on their own shoulders, not ours. Rabbi Uziel rejects the argument that since a vast majority of converts do not observe the mitzvoth, we should not accept converts at all. On the contrary, he argues that it is a mitzvah to accept these converts. We are obligated not only to do these conversions to prevent intermarriage, but we have a special responsibility to the children who will be born of these marriages. Since they are of Jewish stock, even if only one parent is Jewish, they should be reclaimed for our people. Rabbi Uziel writes:

"And I fear that if we push them [children] away completely by not accepting their parents for conversion, we shall be brought to judgment and they shall say to us: 'You did not bring back those who were driven away, and those who were lost you did not seek'" (Yehezkel 34:4).4

Whereas Rabbi Kook saw the acceptance of mitzvoth as the sine qua non of entering the Jewish fold, Rabbi Uziel thought it was not an absolute requirement at all. Whereas Rabbi Kook believed that the mitzvoth are the defining feature of the Jewish people, Rabbi Uziel stressed the importance of maintaining the wholeness of the Jewish people, even when the observance of mitzvoth was deficient. The halakhic difference between them can be apprehended on a deeper level if we consider their difference in hashkafa.

The act of conversion, according to Rabbi Kook, requires the convert to join the soul of Kenesset Yisrael (a metaphysical representation of the “congregation of Israel”). This can be accomplished only via total acceptance of the mitzvoth, which are the essence of the Jewish soul. Rabbi Kook sees Kenesset Yisrael as the highest spiritual manifestation of human existence. He propounds a notion found in kabbalah that there is an essential difference between Jews and non-Jews. Rabbi Kook writes:

"The difference between the Jewish soul, its self, its inner desires, aspirations, character and status, and that of all nations, at all their levels, is greater and deeper than the difference between the human soul and the animal soul; between the latter there is merely a quantitative distinction, but between the former an essential qualitative distinction pertains."5

Each Jew is connected spiritually to Kenesset Yisrael through the fulfillment of mitzvoth and the ethical demands of Torah. The nourishment of the Jewish soul “is the study of Torah in all its aspects, which also includes historical study in its fullness, and the observance of the commandments with deep faith illuminated by the light of knowledge and clear awareness.” 6

In stressing the distinctiveness of the Jewish people and its essential difference from all other nations, Rabbi Kook appears to downplay the ethical universalism implicit in the classic Jewish teaching that human beings were created in the image of God. Instead of focusing on the universal spiritual dignity of all people, Rabbi Kook asserts a radical distinction between Israel and the nations.

On the other hand, Rabbi Kook did recognize the existence of select individuals among the nations who can reach great spiritual heights. Whereas the supreme holiness specific to Israel is not shared by the nations, it is possible for individual non-Jews to imbue themselves with the holiness of Torah and to join the people of Israel.7

Rabbi Kook’s hashkafa, thus, plays itself out in the halakhic issue of conversion. For him, a non-Jew needs to undergo a transformation of his soul in order to become part of Kenesset Yisrael. Conversion is not just a matter of following a set of prescribed rules and guidelines; rather, it is an all-encompassing spiritual transformation, possible only for a select few spiritually gifted individuals.

Rabbi Kook’s hashkafa is imbued with mystical elements. Given his understanding of the nature of the Jewish soul, it follows that he takes an elitist position vis-à-vis accepting converts. Only those who are truly qualified spiritually may enter the fold of Israel. To accept converts who are not absolutely committed to mitzvah observance is, for Rabbi Kook, a travesty.

Rabbi Uziel, too, stressed the distinctiveness of the people of Israel. Indeed, his hashkafa is close to Rabbi Kook’s in that he also saw the people of Israel as the ideal model of humanity, embodying the highest form of harmony and spiritual unity.8

Although Rabbi Uziel recognized the distinctiveness of the people of Israel, he did not make the same sharp distinction between Jews and non-Jews as did Rabbi Kook. Rather, Rabbi Uziel stressed the connection between Jews and non-Jews, and the responsibility of Jews to set a good example from which the non-Jewish world can learn.

Rabbi Uziel was critical of those Jews who taught that one’s Jewishness should be a private matter observed in the home, and who said that one should be a “human being” when in public. He rejected such a notion as being absurd, “since Judaism and humanity are connected and attached to each other like a flame and its coal.” The goal of Judaism is to have Jews be the finest possible human beings so that they could influence humanity for the better. Judaism was not a private matter, but was for application in the world at large.9

Rabbi Uziel also rejects the position of those who claimed that Judaism was merely a faith. Clearly, the people of Israel constitute a nation with a distinctive national character. Neither the Torah nor our sages ever divorced Jewish faith from Jewish peoplehood.10

Rabbi Uziel rejects the notion that Judaism could survive only if Jews isolated themselves from the rest of society. Those who limited Jewish life to synagogues and study halls thereby were constricting the real message of Judaism. Rabbi Uziel argues that the Torah was quite capable of confronting all cultures and all peoples, without needing to surrender or hide. A living culture has no fear of borrowing and integrating concepts from other cultures, and it can do so without losing its own identity. Jews can learn from the non-Jewish world and still remain faithful to their own distinctive mission of holiness and righteousness. Moreover, as a living culture, Judaism has a message to teach others as well. To constrict Judaism into a spiritual and intellectual ghetto is not true to the mission of Israel. The Torah contains within it a full worldview on the individual and the nation; therefore it is our obligation to recognize and teach our spiritual ideal, and to try to increase our spiritual influence on humanity as a whole.11

For Rabbi Uziel, then, the distinctiveness of the Jewish people is not seen as a mystical concept which separates Jews ontologically from non-Jews. Rather, the Jewish people have a positive responsibility of reaching out to the non-Jewish world, to bring them closer to the religious ideals of Judaism.

This hashkafa manifests itself in a greater tolerance and openness when it comes to the halakhic question of conversion. Certainly, it would be best if all Jews and all converts to Judaism observed the mitzvoth in full. But since we do not live in an ideal world, we need to strive to attain the best results possible. Our first concern has to be to maintain the integrity of the Jewish people, Jewish families. Non-Jews who wish to become part of the Jewish people are thereby testifying that they wish to come closer to our teachings and traditions. Since Jews and non-Jews are all created in the image of God, the conversion process does not entail an absolute spiritual transformation of the convert’s soul, but rather a pragmatic decision to join the Jewish people and to come closer to the ideals and teachings of the Torah. This hashkafa gives greater leeway to the rabbis who must make specific decisions regarding conversion, based on the particular situation of each case. Universalism and pragmatism on behalf of the Jewish people, rather than mystical and metaphysical considerations, should guide the conversion process.

Autopsies

The hashkafic difference between Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel concerning the nature of Jewishness also may be demonstrated in another halakhic area: autopsies. In 1931, Rabbi Kook was asked whether it was permissible to perform autopsies as part of the training of doctors in medical schools. With the expanding Jewish settlement in the land of Israel, there certainly was a need to train Jewish doctors.
Medical training entailed autopsies.

Rabbi Kook ruled that disgracing a dead body (nivul haMet) is a prohibition unique to the Jewish people, since the Almighty commanded us to maintain the holiness of the body. He then went on to say that there is a sharp difference between Jews and non-Jews with regard to their bodies. Non-Jews consider their bodies only as biological structures. They eat whatever they wish, without restriction. They have no reason to be concerned with the issue of disgracing the dead body, so long as the autopsy was done for a reasonable purpose such as medical study. Rabbi Kook, therefore, recommended that the medical programs purchase non-Jewish bodies for the purpose of scientific research. He then stated that the whole category of disgrace of the dead body stems from the fact that humans were created in the image of God. But this image of God is manifested particularly in Jews due to the holiness of the Torah.12 The Jewish attachment to Torah and mitzvoth, thus, not only characterizes the Jewish soul, but also imparts holiness to the Jewish body.

Rabbi Uziel wrote a lengthy Responsum on the subject of autopsies, although he specified that his Responsum was theoretical rather than a formal legal ruling (leHalakha veLo leMa’aseh). In reviewing the halakhic literature on nivul haMet, Rabbi Uziel concluded that this category applies only when a dead body is treated disrespectfully. Autopsies performed in a respectful manner for the sake of medical knowledge do not constitute, according to Rabbi Uziel, nivul haMet. He points out that there have been many rabbinical sages throughout Jewish history who were also medical doctors. They could not have learned their profession without having performed autopsies. Rabbi Uziel states that “in a situation of great benefit to everyone, where there is an issue of saving lives, we have not found any reason to prohibit [and on the contrary, there are proofs to permit].

Rabbi Uziel considers the question of whether it would be preferable to obtain non-Jewish bodies for the purpose of autopsies. His response is sharp and unequivocal:

"Certainly this should not even be said and more certainly should not be written, since the prohibition of nivul stems from the humiliation caused to all humans. That is to say, it is a humiliation to cause the body of a human—created in the image of God and graced with knowledge and understanding to master and rule over all creation—to be left disgraced and rotting in public. There is no difference between Jews and non-Jews, in the sense that all are created in the image of God. The Jew has no claim to higher status in this regard. If one were to prohibit autopsies, then no autopsies could be performed on any body—Jewish or non-Jewish. The result would be that no doctors could be trained, with a consequent result of an increase in illness, suffering, and death."13

It is clear, then, that Rabbi Kook understood the nature of Jewishness in kabbalistic, metaphysical terms. For him, there is a definite and almost unbridgeable gap between the people of Israel and the non-Jewish nations. This hashkafa influenced his halakhic decisions in the areas of conversion and autopsy. On the other hand, Rabbi Uziel stressed the human quality of the Jewish people, the essential Godliness of all people. His generally universalistic outlook recognized the distinctiveness of the Jewish people. But the distinctiveness of Israel is manifested not by separating Jews absolutely from everyone else; rather, it is shown when Jews serve as models to draw others closer to the ideals of the Torah. This hashkafa pervades his discussions of conversion and autopsy.

Women in Civic Life

Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel also differed in matters pertaining to the role of women in civic life. Their halakhic decisions reflected their different attitudes toward the role of women in a traditional society.

Women’s rights to vote and to be elected to public office were the subject of heated controversy among the Jewish community in the land of Israel in the early part of the twentieth century. In the struggle over women’s suffrage (1918–1921), the rabbinical leadership of the old Yishuv generally opposed extending to women the right to vote and hold public office. In contrast, the Sephardic rabbinic leadership generally favored granting women those rights.

Rabbi Kook, the leading Ashkenazic rabbinic personality in this debate, argued that the Torah tradition relegated civic authority only to men, and that women were to remain in the private, domestic domain. He rejected the “modern innovation” calling for an expansion of women’s role, believing this was a threat to traditional morality and family life.14

Rabbi Uziel, the leading Sephardic voice in this debate, argued that innovation was not necessarily bad. On the contrary, it was fine to innovate where there was no clear Torah prohibition involved. On the question of whether women should be permitted to vote, Rabbi Uziel stated that

"We have not found any clear foundation to forbid. It is unreasonable to deprive women of this human right, since in these elections we choose our leaders and give our elected representatives the power to speak in our names, to arrange the affairs of our settlement and to tax our property. Women, directly or indirectly, accept the authority of those elected, and obey their rulings and communal and national laws.”15

Rabbi Uziel thought it was unjust to expect women to be bound to decisions over which they had no say.
Some opponents of women’s suffrage suggested that women’s understanding was limited, and they were not competent to vote. To this, Rabbi Uziel noted that many men had limited understanding: Should they, too, be deprived of the right to vote? Moreover, Rabbi Uziel wrote that women were endowed with intelligence and sound judgment, no less than men. Experience demonstrates this to be true.

Rabbi Uziel rejected the argument that letting women vote would be a threat to morality and family life. This is a baseless claim and should carry no weight in this debate. One opponent thought that women should be excluded from voting or holding office, based on women’s status in biblical times. Rabbi Uziel brushed this objection aside, noting that it had no bearing on the question at hand. Women, as well as men, were created in God’s image. They had a basic right to be able to vote for those who would have authority to pass laws which would affect them. Not only was there no prohibition to women’s suffrage, but depriving women of this right would be unjust and would cause them humiliation and pain.

Having concluded that women had the right to vote, Rabbi Uziel then turned to the question of whether women had the right to be elected to public office. Halakhic literature includes the notion that women should not hold positions of authority over men. After analyzing these sources carefully,
Rabbi Uziel found that there was no objection to women being in positions of authority—if the community willingly accepted them in these offices. Therefore, women who were elected to office exert authority on the basis of communal approval. Rabbi Uziel stated that although men and women would be sitting together during the public deliberations, this was no breach of modesty or morality. These were not social events, but serious discussions and debates in which participants would participate with all due propriety.

In another Responsum, Rabbi Uziel offered halakhic grounds to allow women to serve as civil judges, as long as the community accepted their authority to judge. He did not personally think it was a good idea for women to serve as judges because of their innately compassionate natures, but he presented the halakhic justification for them to be judges.16

In presenting the opinions and decisions of Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel, it has not been our purpose to determine who is right or who is wrong, or if both are right—ellu veEllu divrei Elokim hayyim (“both positions are acceptable in the eyes of God”). Rather, it has been our purpose to illustrate the interrelationship between hashkafa and halakha. The philosophy and worldview of a posek are not only reflected in halakhic decisions—they help shape those halakhic decisions.

Notes
1. Da’at Kohen, Jerusalem, 5745, no. 154. The discussion on conversion and autopsies is drawn from my article, “A Discussion of the Nature of Jewishness in the Teachings of Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel,” in Seeking Good, Speaking Peace: Collected Essays of Rabbi Marc D. Angel, edited by Rabbi Hayyim Angel, Ktav, Hoboken, 1994, pp. 112–123.
2. Ibid., no. 155.
3. Mishpetei Uziel, Jerusalem, 5724, no. 18.
4. Ibid., no. 20. For a discussion of Rabbi Uziel’s rulings on conversion, see my article, “Another Halakhic Approach to Conversions,” Tradition, 12 (Winter–Spring 1972), 107–113.
5. Orot, Jerusalem, 5745, p. 156. See the article by Rabbi Yoel Ben-Nun, “Nationalism, Humanity and Kenesset Yisrael,” in The World of Ray Kook’s Thought, published by the Avi Chai Foundation, New York, 1991, pp. 210 f.
6. Orot, p. 145; Rabbi Yoel Ben-Nun’s article, p. 224.
7. Rabbi Yoel Ben-Nun’s article, p. 227.
8. A series of articles by Nissim Yosha, under the title “Yahid ve Umah,” appeared in the journal ba-Ma ‘arakhah, nos. 300–306, dealing with Rabbi Uziel’s understanding of Jewish peoplehood. See also my book, Voices in Exile, Ktav, Hoboken, 1991, pp. 202 f.
9. Hegyonei Uziel, vol. 2, Jerusalem, 5714, p. 122.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid., p. 125
12. Da’at Kohen, no. 199.
13. Piskei Uziel, Jerusalem 5737, no. 32, especially pp. 178-179.
14. Ma’amarei ha-RaAy’aH, Jerusalem, 1984, pp. 189-194. See Zvi Zohar’s article, “Two Halakhic Positions on Women’s Suffrage,” pp. 119-133, in Sephardi and Middle Eastern Jewries, ed. Harvey E. Goldberg, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1996. See also the discussion in my book, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel, Jason Aronson, Northvale, 1999, pp. 204f.
15. Piskei Uziel, Mossad haRav Kook, Jerusalem, 5737, no. 44.
16. Ibid., no 43.

Book Review

Shabuot: Insights from the Past, Present, and Future (The Habura, 2023)

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

          The Habura (www.TheHabura.com) has become a veritable force for high-quality Torah learning since their inception in 2020. Rabbis, scholars, and students learn and teach, primarily over Zoom. The Habura now has published its third holiday companion, in time for Shavuot.

          The Habura promotes the inclusion of Sephardic voices and ideas in Jewish discourse, coupled with an openness to the broad wisdom of the Jewish people and the world. In this regard, their work and values strongly dovetail ours at the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.

          Their Shavuot volume contains an array of eighteen essays. The first two are by Sephardic visionaries of the 19^th and 20^th centuries, Rabbis Abraham Pereira Mendes (1825-1893, Jamaica, England, and the United States) and Ben Zion Uziel (1880-1953, first Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel). The rest of the book is divided between contemporary rabbis and scholars, and younger scholars who participate in the learning of The Habura.

          The essays span a variety of topics pertaining to Shavuot in the areas of Jewish thought, faith, halakha, and custom. As in my reviews of their companion volumes for Sukkot and Pesah (see https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-sukkot-companion-habura; https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-haburas-passover-volume), I will summarize a few of the essays I personally found most enlightening.

          Rabbanit Dr. Devorah Halevy explores the fundamental differences in curriculum between the classical Ashkenazic and Sephardic models. Although the true obligation for a religious education lies with a child’s parents, most contemporary parents outsource that religious education to institutions. These institutions must be . equipped with the wisdom from the Sephardic world to enhance their impact on students.

          Rabbanit Halevy characterizes the classical Ashkenazic curriculum as being fairly insular, focused primarily on Talmud and theoretical halakha, and far less on Tanakh, Jewish Thought, or general wisdom. In contrast, she characterizes the classical Sephardic curriculum as being broader, encompassing a fuller knowledge of all Jewish areas, and also general wisdom. There also is a greater emphasis on arriving at practical halakhic conclusions. Rabbanit Halevy therefore calls for the integration of the broader, Sephardic model into yeshiva education, insisting that contemporary Jewish students would find this mode of education far more compelling and inspiring.

          Although I fully agree with this vision of a broader curricular approach within Jewish education, it appears misleading to make a sweeping Sephardic vs. Ashkenazic generalization. Rabbi Benzion Uziel, who indeed championed a grand religious worldview, was alone within his own Sephardic Yeshivat Porat Yosef in Jerusalem. Most of his colleagues focused more narrowly on Talmud and halakha. When the Sephardic Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh (1823-1900, Leghorn) published his Bible commentary Em LaMikra, which incorporated archaeology and other contemporary disciplines into his analysis, other Sephardic rabbis in Jerusalem and Aleppo, Syria called for the commentary to be burned as heretical.

           Our conversation is more effective when we highlight those rabbis of all backgrounds who espoused grand religious worldviews, such as Rabbis Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, Avraham Yitzhak Kook, Joseph Soloveitchik, Benzion Uziel, and Haim David Halevi, to name a few. The Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals hails and promotes such figures as representing the very best of what Judaism offers.

          Freddie Grunsfeld returns to classical rabbinic sources to define the principle of following the majority rule in halakha. Basing himself on Rambam’s writings, it appears that the majority rule principle applies only when rabbis sit physically together and actually deliberate. Therefore, rulings of the Great Sanhedrin in Temple times, or local rabbinic courts, indeed follow the majority.

However, after the abolition of the Sanhedrin, there is no concept of majority rule for individual halakhic decisions. Each local rabbi or court must make decisions for local communities, rather than determining a greater consensus from various books of rabbis who lived centuries apart. If one is unsure, one should tilt more strictly for Torah law and more leniently for rabbinic law. The process has nothing to do with counting later published rulings and taking a virtual poll.

          In light of this analysis of the primary sources, it is surprising that Grunsfeld’s search of the halakhic literature on the Bar-Ilan Responsa Project turned up over 2000 references to rov posekim (the majority of decisors), demonstrating the ongoing popularity of the “majority” approach even after the Sanhedrin. Grunsfeld explains that this approach is inconsistent with the primary sources.

          Aside from the lack of basis for counting decisors in the classical sources, Grunsfeld observes the additional difficulties in such an approach: Who is to be included in this virtual poll? What about opinions of scholars whose rulings were never published? Without face-to-face interaction, one cannot apply the majority rule principle. Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef rules this way, as well (Yabia Omer 2:17). In short, local rabbis and courts must make decisions based on their halakhic understanding, and their decisions form the halakhic policy over their local communities.

          There are many other informative and thought-provoking essays in this volume. Rabbi Yoni Wieder explores the Second Temple controversy between the rabbis and sectarians on the proper date of Shavuot and the religious significance of the rabbinic position we adopt. Building off of the Hasidic master Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin, Rabbi Wieder highlights the central role of the Oral Law and the development of halakha on Shavuot. Rabbi Yitzhak Berdugo surveys rabbinic and Karaite responses to the biblical passages that suggest widespread ignorance of the Torah in the times of Josiah and Ezra and how that relates to our understanding of the continuity of our tradition. Sina Kahen focuses on the great revolution of the Torah against its ancient Near Eastern backdrop. These and so many other essays will give us food for thought for Shavuot, and for our ongoing religious growth and development beyond.

*****

          I have had the privilege to give five Zoom classes at The Habura, co-sponsored by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. You may see them on our YouTube channel:

Understanding the Akedah: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cxbQ9daWqY&t=11s

Understanding Biblical Miracles:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUKbGmKJsB0&t=2s

Torah and Archaeology:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dN1XAtia_x0&t=57s

Torah and Literalism:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K__jp8V9sXY&t=25s

Torah and Superstition:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PD68xZ4J4M8&t=17s

We look forward to many other opportunities to partner in promoting our shared ideas and ideals.

It has been two years since the groundbreaking Abraham Accords have been signed. The UAE, Kosovo, Bahrain, Morocco and Sudan now have full and open diplomatic and economic ties thanks to this achievement of international relations. As Israel celebrates her 75^th birthday, it is a great moment to reflect upon the diplomatic accomplishment for the Jewish State and wider region.

As time passes it is incumbent for educators to celebrate this watershed mark in Israel’s story as it turns the page in the 21^st century. Tangible, pragmatic lessons can be gleaned from the success of the accords and should be cited by educators, parents and the wider community. The Abraham Accords are named for our common forefather Abraham and captures the essence of Israel being a blessing to the world that should be discussed explicitly and openly.

The forefather Abraham is specifically invoked in the title of these agreements as the common ancestor of the parties involved. The text of the UAE- Israel Treaty states this point unambiguously:

Recognizing that the Arab and Jewish peoples are descendants of a common ancestor, Abraham, and inspired, in that spirit, to foster in the Middle East a reality in which Muslims, Jews, Christians and peoples of all faiths, denominations, beliefs and nationalities live in, and are committed to, a spirit of coexistence, mutual understanding and mutual respect;

This commonality for all people in the Middle East; Jewish, Christian and Muslem underscores the ideas of harmony and mutual purpose. Rather than focus on difference and points of contention, the framework of the Abraham Accords is a new chapter focused on shared values and united aspirations.

Israel’s detractors do not shy away from any chance to point to the State of Israel’s faults and make sweeping generalizations and mischaracterizations in the most vicious terms. As an educator on an American campus, I find it critical to encourage Jewish and non- Jewish students to celebrate and be proud of Israel and the Abraham Accords. As parents, educators and general supporters of Israel, we should take the opportunity to discuss Israel’s achievements as a blessing to the world.

Background

Many organizations and observers were skeptical at first, but the Accords have proven to be quite popular and resilient. Whereas some predicted imminent catastrophe and discontent among Palestinians, it would seem that the reality is the opposite and the only effects have been positive. Furthermore, the Accords have proved resilient in surviving both the American Administration of President Donald Trump and the Premiership of Bibi Netanyahu.

We often hear the story of Zionism described through a framework of armed conflict. The accords open possibility for a new narrative. For youths, especially those living in the West, security concerns and historical antecedents of 21^st century Israel are abstract. Indeed, the ancient Prophets of Israel imagined Israel as a “light onto nations” while modern visionaries of Zionism, such as Theodore Herzl imagined Israel as an idealistic country where armies would not be necessary.

While Herzl’s utopian vision of an ideal Israel bringing prosperity to the region has in the past been difficult to conceive, there is now hope that a better future is possible. It would seem, that the Abraham Accords represent a new development in diplomatic achievement for both Israel and her neighbors with each country advancing. Evidence of this success is expressed almost daily in news of economic cooperation, healthy political relations and overall prosperity to all parties involved. In other words, the narrative for Israel’s neighbors is less about security and conflict more about cooperation and stability.

It is to the credit of the trailblazing efforts of a small group of ambitious negotiators on all sides that this diplomatic turning point was accomplished. Led by former US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, Special Envoy Jason Greenblatt, senior advisor Jared Kushner, Ambassador David Friedman and a small cadre of others proved so many accepted dogmas to be false in the Middle East and created a new and objectively better reality for the region. Equally remarkable are the coalition of Arab and Israeli leaders who chose to engage and shatter decades long taboos, by realizing the potential of breaking away from outdated stigmas.

The full story of the Abraham Accords is available through the published memoirs of some of the aforementioned negotiators and strongly recommended for those looking to seek fuller appreciation of this story. Without delving into the elaborate and fascinating details of statesmanship that went into these Accords, below are four reflection points to consider upon Israel’s 75^th anniversary which are underscored by the Abraham Accords.

1. Israel’s next phase

The Abraham Accords represents the first treaty signed with Muslim countries that were unrelated to military engagements. In other words, Israel is now in a new phase of relations that is based on mutual values and aspirations.

Early diplomatic achievements and relationships with Israel’s neighbors were predicated on the use of force and ability to defend herself. For example the 9 month long Independence War of 1948 was concluded through a series of diplomatic agreements that brought the war to a close by forcing a realization that the Jewish People could not be eliminated. Similar patters emerge in subsequent wars and can be reviewed in the summary chart below.

Figure 1 below summarizes, that while Israel’s adversaries did not officially recognize the Jewish State, armed confrontation forced the Arab States into negotiated covenants. This older group of diplomatic agreements with Syria (1974), Egypt (1979), and Lebanon (1983) are important achievements from an earlier part of Israel’s history. This first phase of peace agreements were precarious at best and were mostly based upon security concerns for all parties. Following the assassination of Anwar Sadat in1981 and the ejection of Lebanon from the Arab League in 1983 for negotiating with Israel, it would seem that all progress with the wider Arab World would only occur through military resolution.

Figure1. Israel’s First Phase Treaties

This status quo changed in 1994 with the Israel- Jordan treaty. Unlike the former agreements, where diplomatic achievement only occurred in the wake of a confrontation, Jordan and Israel had not been in military conflict since the Six Day War. As it turned out, Israel and Jordan had a lot of common interests. Economic benefits, the sharing of resources and the prosperity of each country’s respective citizens were the primary objectives that led to a new type of agreement not predicated on armed conflict. 

The Abraham Accords is the next step in this new phase which has been dubbed the “new order” of the Middle East. As the Moroccan Foreign Minister observed:

There is a need for a new regional order where Israel is a stakeholder and no longer an outsider in its own region. This new regional order should not be perceived as against someone, but rather to benefit us all. Also, this new regional order should be based on an updated joint assessment of threats, but also on how to generate opportunities that favor stability and development forward.[1]

The Abraham Accords is the next chapter of Israel’s history in which the Jewish State plays a positive regional role in the Middle East with her neighbors. It is as the US state department succinctly puts it: “friendly relations based on shared interests and a shared commitment to a better future.”[2]

2. Pragmatic Diplomacy

Today’s college students in Israel, the Arab World and the United States were born after the 2000 Camp David summit. Yasser Arafat was dead before they were in Kindergarten. This new generation does not have the privilege to meet the pioneering generation that built Israel, but also is not burdened or shoehorned to diplomatic dogmas of the previous generation. The Abraham Accords is an opportunity to have an Israel conversation that breaks away from a generation of failed Oslo policy in favor of a more pragmatic approach.

The more than 25 year lapse between the Jordan Peace treaties in 1994 and the Abraham Accords is cause for reflection. The time gap represents a generation of stalemate and quagmire of little hope and resolution that has impacted Israel negatively.

The preoccupation and aspirational hopes of an elusive peace Initiated by the Oslo Accords (1993-1995) is a critical factor. The powerful idea of Oslo, while based in praiseworthy aspirations led diplomats to reflexively ignore the wider opportunities of engaging with willing counterparties. Like so many other idealistic goals, the means to an unrealistic end produced a worse off reality than the original status quo. 

While at an earlier time, an achievable peace through the Oslo accords may have been possible, the violent, selfish and illogical rejection by Palestinian leadership of all overtures should have made clear that goal would remain intangible and required a re-assessment of a difficult situation. The Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs counts the following major acts of terror that were committed in the short time between the initial Oslo signing and before the tragic Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination[3]:

1. Apr 6, 1994 - Eight people were killed in a car-bomb attack on a bus in the center of Afula. Hamas claimed responsibility for the attack.
2. Apr 13, 1994 - Five people were killed in a suicide bombing attack on a bus in the central bus station of Hadera. Hamas claimed responsibility for the attack.
3. Oct 19, 1994 - In a suicide bombing attack on the No. 5 bus on Dizengoff Street in Tel-Aviv, 21 Israelis and one Dutch national were killed.
4. Nov 11, 1994 - Three soldiers were killed at the Netzarim junction in the Gaza Strip when a Palestinian riding a bicycle detonated explosives strapped to his body. Islamic Jihad said it carried out the attack to avenge the car bomb killing of Islamic Jihad leader Hani Abed on Nov 2.
5. Jan 22, 1995 - Two consecutive bombs exploded at the Beit Lid junction near Netanya, killing 20 soldiers and one civilian. The Islamic Jihad claimed responsibility for the attack.
6. Apr 9, 1995 - Seven Israelis and one American were killed when a bus was hit by an explosives-laden van near Kfar Darom in the Gaza Strip. The Islamic Jihad claimed responsibility for the attack.
7. Jul 24, 1995 - Six civilians were killed in a suicide bomb attack on a bus in Ramat Gan.
8. Aug 21, 1995 - Three Israelis and one American were killed in a suicide bombing of a Jerusalem bus.

Six out of eight of these major attacks were perpetrated against civilians, not to mention countless other attacks in which civilians were only injured and not killed. Towards the end of his life, even Ytizhak Rabin acknowledged that his original grand vision for a Palestinian “State” should be downgraded to an “entity”.  The Palestinians, he believed, would have “less than a state,” and Israel would have to preserve security control over the Jordan Valley “in the broadest meaning of that term”[4].

The ongoing campaigns against Israeli civilians led many early supporters to be reluctant of initial support of the Oslo framework. Pedagogical hate spewed wholesale in Palestinian schools coupled with rejection of even the most generous overtures such as the Camp David Accords in 2000 and the unilateral 2005 Gaza pullout left little incentive for progress on either side.  The continued belief in the ideal at Oslo became increasingly abstract. This is what former Ambassador Ron Dermer called on multiple occasions the “two State illusion”.

The small group of negotiating parties on all sides of the Abraham Accords recognized the pragmatism of working together. The UAE ambassador for example goes on record saying “…understanding that countries can have very fruitful and forward-looking relations but can disagree on issues and need to work the disagreements together. It can’t be just zero-sum games but it has to be positive as we move forward.” Indeed each party had more to gain from cooperating and acting in their respective citizens own interests, rather than holding old grudges.

Small incremental victories are preferable to overarching and intangible goals. Surely there are average Palestinians that want a better life for their families through cooperation with Israel and her citizens before any “final status” is reached. Many sovereign Arab leaders recognize the common destiny of the region and choose to embark on a new chapter in which Israel is an active player.

3. Creative Thinking

Former US ambassador to Israel David Friedman’s memoir of the Abraham accords is titled “Sledgehammer: How Breaking with the Past Brought Peace to the Middle East”. The title recalls that the Accords only came to fruition from a decisive departure from the established narrative and status quo.

The Abraham accord was initiated by creative and daring establishment outsiders that had the audacity to challenge the dream of Oslo and come up with something better. The Status quo conventions and talking points were hardened into a political correctness at the expense of pragmatic possibility for over twenty five years. The “two state solution” of peace was repeated while seldom explaining how that step would achieve peace even in the face of decades of failure and bloodshed.

Breaking the inertia of the establishment created the Abraham Accords. It was only “outsiders” that could have created these important developments through fresh pragmatisms without the liability of previous statements, ideas and hypocrisies.

While the expert establishment insisted that all Palestinian issues must be solved before any progress is made, The Arab World actually believes the opposite. Upon the one year anniversary of the accords the UAE Foreign Minister Anwar Gargash stated officially in a  conference with Israel organized by the United States that:

Politically, also, we feel that the Abrahamic Accords will allow us to help and assist further in the peace process, leading to what we all see as the ultimate goal of a two-state solution. This, of course, will be up to the Palestinians and Israelis to agree. But I think we can all be more constructive as we build a network of trust, and that network of trust I think will allow us to put away a lot of the fears of the past and replace it by the hopes for the future.

In other words, the UAE believes – in stark contrast to many established organizations and policy experts, that the Accords accelerated the peace process. Dialogue, relationships and trust increase mutual understanding which only helps peace.

These accords prove that we can all make a difference. Informed, conscientious stakeholders have the ability and right to make a change. The expert class does have insight and experience, but also more inertia and less creativity and willingness to try new avenues of success. We would be doing ourselves a favor to engage with Israel and voice our concerns in a meaningful way.  No matter who you are, a good idea has currency and the ability to make a difference. Through hard work amazing result are possible and we can all contribute to that great success.

4. Regional Prosperity

Are The Accords the beginning of the end of the BDS movement? It is ironic that it was in Sudan, now a partner in the Abraham Accords, which the Arab League declared in the aftermath of the Six Day War: “No Peace with Israel, no recognition of Israel and no negations with Israel.” Lebanon was formally ejected from the Arab League in 1983 for negotiating with Israel.  For decades no progress was made. Jordan, Egypt, UAE, Bahrain, Kosovo, Morocco and Sudan have now all reversed course and made a decision to improve the lives of their respective citizens by allowing them to trade freely with a willing partner.

 Instead of boycotting and marginalizing the Jewish State, the accords explicitly pronounce the opposite as something to strive for. In the Declarations section of the official Accord documents the following is recounted regarding cooperation and Dialogue:

We believe that the best way to address challenges is through cooperation and dialogue and that developing friendly relations among States advances the interests of lasting peace in the Middle East and around the world.[5]

The Arab League’s long running embargo against the Jewish State predated the founding of the county. The old idea that parties could be coerced by unilateral hostile actors through boycotts and embargos, has been rejected by the Arab World. The Abraham Accords find Israel freely trading with her neighbors, where all involved prosper. The optimism can be encapsulated by UAE minister of Economy Abdulla bin Touq Al Marri who projects “$1 trillion dollars of economic activity over the next decade," between his country and Israel.[6]

 Many critics abounded at the outset of the Abraham Accords. Among experts it was considered ludicrous to focus on other Arabs States before “solving” the Palestinian problem. In fact the Arab and Palestinian conflicts were so closely associated that the two were often conflated into a single cause or used interchangeably.  Hardened ideology linking the Palestinian Peace Process to the rest of the Arab Nations and wider regional concerns proved false.

Secretary of State Anthony Blinken remarked the following in closing statements during a conference with Israel and her new allies:

“Abraham, in our Bible, had the temerity to engage God, to argue with God, to ask why, and maybe more important, to ask why not. And I think each of you and each of your countries asked, “Why not?” And the answer now we see before us with the accords, with normalization, and with the manifest benefits that it’s bringing to people not just in the countries concerned, but I think increasingly more broadly.[7]

The answer in the past to Mr. Blinken’s rhetorical question “why not” was the long standing policy by experts which interlinked the Arab and Palestinian problem as one issue. It proves that aside from uninformed college students and radical leftist peace groups, even the Arab World now embraces Israel.

The Abraham Accords remind us that the Middle East reality is complex. Solving conflicts requires nuance, and the ability to separate problems and deal with them individually. There is no magic solution to a myriad of difficult problems. Trying to find a singular solution or coercing one party and expecting positive outcomes is relegated to the imagination. The Abraham Accord separated two long standing problems and dealt with each individually: The Arab- Israel conflict and the separate Palestinian issue.

By separating the two issues and viewing each as independent, diplomats found room to negotiate. This development is an incremental yet crucial step towards achieving wider goals. Pragmatically dealing with problems as solutions and ideas present themselves is a recipe for success that has increased opportunity and prosperity for all parties.

Discussion

The Israelite Prophets Isaiah and Micah famous vision of “beating swords into ploughshares “is spread across the walls of the General Assembly hall in the United Nations Headquarters. The universal hope of a better tomorrow in which foe becomes friend finds no truer expression than the Abraham Accords. As Zionists and lovers of Israel, we should celebrate this monumental achievement.

In the Western World, we have been blessed with stability, peace and prosperity. Other developing nations such as Israel and her neighbors are building towards a better future. In light of the Russian war with Ukraine and Iranian aggression, we are reminded once more about the horrors of war and armed conflict. The Ukraine Jewish refugee crisis prompts us once again of Israel’s primary role as a haven and protector as the one and only Jewish state. We ought not to forget how fragile a peaceful future is.

While the peaceful vision of the Biblical Prophets are essential Jewish values, these peaceful visions should not be confused with the irrelevancy of security in a pre-messianic and imperfect world. In Israel’s chronology, maintaining security has proved essential in order to guarantee the safety of her citizens. Security allows countries and their leaders to perform their principal obligation to ethically protect the lives, rights and property of citizens and should not be confused with the utopian ideals of a world peace and universal fraternity among men.

The covenant of the citizens of Israel is first and foremost the security of her citizens and second of worldwide Jewry. Consideration of other sorts as noble as they might be are tertiary to the safety and survival of the Jewish People. Eloquently commenting on the balance between security and peace Martin Luther King declared at the Rabbinic Assembly on March 25^th 1968[8]:

Peace for Israel means security, and we must stand with all of our might to protect its right to exist, its territorial integrity. I see Israel, and never mind saying it, as one of the great outposts of democracy in the world, and a marvelous example of what can be done, how desert land almost can be transformed into an oasis of brotherhood and democracy. Peace for Israel means security and that security must be a reality.

Israel the country- a beacon of personal freedom, morality and biblical values can only exist if Israel’s people can survive. George Washington is credited as saying that “To be prepared for War is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.” That is, that power is a necessary tool in statecraft, and in our context one that Israel has had to maintain to promote peace.

The audacious players that pulled this agreement together should be celebrated for their courage and creativity. The results have been a new narrative and better reality in the Middle East where daily non- stop flights and constant announcements of economic agreements have created prosperity for each respective country’s citizens.  Where others would not dare venture, these individuals risked, persevered and succeeded.

The Abraham Accords therefore is another pragmatic step towards a long lasting peace that should be celebrated universally. Unlike earlier treaties that contained an element of military capability, these accords focus on the aligning incentives and purpose. A strong and prosperous Israel has much to offer counterparties willing to negotiate with her. It demonstrates a shift in the Arab World’s approach to Israel based on pragmatic considerations. This new phase in the Middle East examines what Israel and her neighbors have in common instead of how they are different.

This new narrative is now the counter-point to the college campus narrative of Israel. Where the latter finds anger, negativity and hate the Accords tell a story of progress, hope and prosperity. This new narrative of the Middle East embodies an Israel embraced by her Arab and Muslim neighbors working in partnership for a better future in the region and ultimately the world.

 There is a comedic paradox in all of this. Where Israel was the scorn of the vanguard intelligentsia of recent years, it is Israel who has proven most progressive. Where Israel is portrayed as a warmonger; Israel chose peace. Where political science experts and diplomatic professors thought impossible, Israel made possible for all. Where convention preached fatalism, Israel exemplified action and possibility.

The new Middle East narrative encapsulates a larger lesson of the Abrahamic values of self- determination and freedom. Delegitimizing Israel and by extension America and her Biblical values for the sins of an imperfect past is to throw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater. We can focus our attention on the shortcomings in our governments, communities, personal lives and turn to the darkness of nihilism and embrace a fate of failure with no escape. The Bible rejects fate, and believes in the ability to attain a better tomorrow. Celebrating success, breeds further optimism and confidence in creating that better future. 

Conclusion

Israel’s success has once again proven an inspiration to all who those who dare to dream. The Abraham Accords demonstrates the possibility of working together with our neighbors and achieving a once unthinkable mutual exchange of “peace for peace”. In so doing, the daring, pragmatic, creatives of the Accords have provided leadership and hope for humanity during troubled times. When darkness and despair cloud possibility, Israel and her neighbors have integrated in unexpected ways. The fact that these efforts were initiated by fresh and creative thinkers demonstrate the impact that we can all have to effect big changes on the eve of Israel’s 75^th Birthday. In signifying success amidst despair, Israel has provided hope by being “a light onto nations” and embodies the Prophecies of being a “blessing to the inhabitants of the world”.