Remembering Justice Benjamin Nathan Cardozo
 

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

Benjamin Nathan Cardozo (1870-1938) was one of the greatest American jurists. During his distinguished career, he served as Chief Judge of the New York State Court of Appeals from 1926 until his appointment to the United States Supreme Court in 1932. He was known for his calm wisdom, personal dignity, and his commitment to social justice. His speeches and writings were characterized by clear thinking and graceful style.

            Cardozo was born into a Sephardic Jewish family that had roots in America since Colonial days. Among his ancestors were those who fought in the American Revolution. His family was associated with Congregation Shearith Israel, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue of New York, founded in 1654; he retained his loyalty to Shearith Israel throughout his life, and was buried in the congregation’s cemetery upon his death.

            As a young attorney, recently graduated from the Law School of Columbia University, Cardozo had several interactions at Shearith Israel that reflected his generally traditional worldview. In 1895, as the congregation was planning to build a new synagogue building on Central Park West, a number of leading members were calling for reforms in the synagogue’s customs. For centuries, Shearith Israel had followed the ancient traditions of Western Sephardim, including the separation of men and women during prayer services. The reformers called for various changes, including a seating arrangement in the synagogue that allowed men and women to sit together. The congregation’s religious leader, Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes, strongly opposed the reforms. Tensions within the congregation came to a head at a meeting of congregants on June 5, 1895. A number of reformers put forth their motion to institute changes; Dr. Mendes and another synagogue leader spoke in opposition to their motion. Then the 25 year old Cardozo made “a long address, impressive in ability and eloquence,” in which he argued for the continuity of synagogue tradition. He pointed out that the congregation’s constitution provided for separate seating of men and women, following in the traditional patterns of Spanish and Portuguese congregations. It would be unlawful to violate the constitution. Aside from the legal point, Cardozo stressed the importance of maintaining synagogue traditions that had been established and maintained by generations of congregants. Regardless of one’s personal opinions or level of religious observance, the synagogue is a sacred space that should maintain its integrity.  Following Cardozo’s speech, a vote was taken: the motion to alter the synagogue customs was defeated by a vote of 73 to 7!
 

            In 1898, Cardozo gave a talk at Shearith Israel on Benjamin Disraeli, late Prime Minister of the British Commonwealth. Disraeli was born into the Spanish and Portuguese Jewish community of London, but his father had his children baptized before Benjamin’s Bar Mitzvah. So he was a Jew by birth and by public perception; but was a Christian by formal religious profession. In spite of facing ongoing anti-Semitism, Disraeli rose to the top of the British government, a highly regarded confidant of Queen Victoria.

            The young Cardozo drew a thoughtful portrait of Disraeli’s personal and political life. He could not help but recognize the phenomenal rise to power of a man who was constantly subjected to anti-Semitism in spite of his having been baptized. Although Disraeli presented himself as a Christian, he never flinched from pride in his Jewish background. He described Christianity as a fulfillment of Judaism. Cardozo noted that Disraeli’s position was problematic:  “So we find it to the last—the same union of loyalty to the race and disloyalty to the faith, the same impossible effort to reconcile the irreconcilable and to treat the religious tenets of his manhood as a development of the religion in whose shelter he had been born” (Disraeli, the Jew, Essays by Benjamin Cardozo and Emma Lazarus, ed. Michael Selzer, Selzer and Selzer, Great Barrington, Mass, 1993, p.49). Cardozo noted that Disraeli—in spite of his tremendous successes—was ultimately a conflicted and lonely soul:  “The nation marveled at his wit; it laughed at his sallies; it applauded his intrepid spirit; but all the time, it must have felt within its heart that he was a stranger within its gates.”

            To his credit, Disraeli never apologized for or denied his Jewishness. Quite the contrary. He flaunted his Jewishness and presented the Jews and Judaism in positive lights. Cardozo offered an appreciation of Disraeli’s role vis a vis the Jewish people: “As we look back upon him now, we see, I think, that he affected us for good. He taught us to think worthily of ourselves—that indispensable condition, as men have often said, which must be satisfied before it can be hoped that we shall be thought worthily of by others.  He was himself, before all the world, a living illustration of the powers that are in us, of our resources, of our intellect, of our vigor; of our enthusiasm, of our diplomacy; of our finesse. … He might have stood for many other and perhaps greater things; he might have aided us in many other ways; but these he did stand for an in these he did aid us; and if the aid might have been greater, it none the less was great. It is something to have contributed a little to rousing the self-consciousness of a race, in waking it to a sense of its own dignity, and in waking others to a sense of its latent powers. In these days of Zionism, in these days of Herzl and Nordau, let us remember that we are working upon soil which Disraeli and men like him have helped posterity to till. By his own personality, as well as by his words and deeds, he seemed to weave into the woof of English public life some portion of the Hebraic spirit; to Hebraize the mid of the Protestant and the Puritan; and even to revive in his own day some glimmer of those ancient glories which it was one of the functions of his life to illustrate to the world. For that service at least, let us honor him tonight” ((pp. 65-66).

            In a series of lectures at Yale University in 1921, Cardozo reflected on the nature of the judicial process. “There is in each of us a stream of tendency, whether you choose to call it philosophy or note, which gives coherence and direction to thought and action. Judges cannot escape that current any more than other mortals. All their lives, forces which they do not recognize and cannot name, have been tugging at them—inherited instincts, traditional beliefs, acquired convictions; and the resultant is an outlook on life, a conception of social needs….We may try to see things as objectively as we please. None the less, we can never see them with any eyes except our own” (The Nature of the Judicial Process, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1921, p. 12).

            Cardozo’s own “stream of tendency” included a deep respect for tradition…but a keen awareness of the forces for change. While he understood that judges must not set aside existing rules at pleasure, he also criticized “the demon of formalism.” Judges must balance their decisions, taking into consideration the welfare of society. Cardozo drew on a Talmudic teaching that describes God as offering Himself a prayer: “Be it my will that my justice be ruled by my mercy.” He suggested that judges keep this prayer in mind during their own deliberations (pp. 66-67).

            In a keenly self-revelatory comment, Cardozo reminisced on what he had learned from his experiences as a judge. “I was much troubled in spirit, in my first years upon the bench, to find how trackless was the ocean on which I had embarked. I sought for certainty. I was oppressed and disheartened when I found that the quest for it was futile….As the years have gone by, and as I have reflected more and more upon the nature of the judicial process, I have become reconciled to the uncertainty, because I have grown to see it as inevitable” (p. 166).

            In a subsequent series of lectures at Yale, Cardozo noted that “law must be stable, and yet it cannot stand still….The victory is not for the partisans of an inflexible logic nor yet for the levelers of all rule and all precedent, but the victory is for those who shall know how to fuse these two tendencies together in adaptation to an end as yet imperfectly discerned” (The Growth of the Law,Yale University Press, New Haven, 1924, p. 143).

            Cardozo appreciated the need for balancing various tendencies—the faithfulness to precedents and the drive for change. It is not a simple matter to judge fairly and correctly. “In our worship of certainty, we must distinguish between the sound certainty and the sham, between what is gold and what is tinsel; and then, when certainty is attained, we must remember that it is not the only good; that we can buy it at too high a price; that there is a danger in perpetual quiescence as well as in perpetual motion; and that a compromise must be found in a principle of growth” (pp. 16-17).

            Cardozo’s vast erudition was accompanied with a profound sense of social responsibility, his own personal dignity, and a calm wisdom. He was serenely confident and competent; and at the same time, he was genuinely humble and self-reflective.

            He was a proud Jew. He was moderately observant of religious rituals, although not strictly so. He expressed his views on religion on various occasions. In 1927, he spoke at a dinner in honor of the 75th birthday of his rabbi at Shearith Israel, Dr. H. P. Mendes. In praising Dr. Mendes, he underscored the values of doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with the Lord. That same year, Cardozo spoke at a dinner in honor of his friend, Rabbi Stephen Wise. He again stressed the role of religion as an agent of social justice. “Religion is worthless if it is not translated into conduct. Creeds are snares and hypocrisies if they are not adapted to the needs of life….Has there been some social wrong, some oppression of the people, some grinding of the poor? That is a matter for religion. Has there been cruelty to Jews abroad or to colored men at home?....That is a matter for religion. Has the sacred name of liberty, which should stand for equal opportunity for all, been made a pretext and a cover for special privileges for a few? That is a matter for religion. (quoted in Andrew L. Kaufman, Cardozo, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1998, p. 190).

            But religion was more than social justice. At its best, religion must be marked by a selfless idealism and commitment to transcendent ideas. In 1931, Cardozo gave the commencement address at the Jewish Institute of Religion, and referred to Tycho Brahe, the 16th century Danish astronomer, who devoted long years to mark and register the stars, when people mocked him for this seemingly useless endeavor.  “The submergence of self in the pursuit of an ideal, the readiness to spend oneself without measure, prodigally, almost ecstatically, for something intuitively apprehended as great and noble, spend oneself one knows not why—some of us like to believe that is what religion means” (Kaufman, p. 190).

                             *     *     *

 

            When I began serving Congregation Shearith Israel in 1969, and for many years thereafter, the rabbis’ gowning room was the old office of the late Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool. Several photographs hung on the walls, including one of Justice Benjamin Nathan Cardozo which he presented to the Congregation in 1932 upon being appointed to the United States Supreme Court. He inscribed it: “To the historic Congregation Shearith Israel in the City of New York, with the affectionate greetings of its member.”   

            Thus, every morning and evening before synagogue services, I was greeted by the handsome visage of Justice Cardozo. Although he died before I was even born, so that I did not know him personally, I somehow felt a friendship and kinship with him. He was, for me, an entry way into the past of my congregation and community. His photograph conveyed the confidence and the judgment, challenging us to be faithful to the past and yet open to the needs of the present…and future.      

References:

Cardozo, Benjamin N., The Growth of the Law, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1924.

__________________, The Nature of the Judicial Process, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1921.

Kaufman, Andrew L., Cardozo, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1998.

Selzer, Michael, Disraeli, the Jew, Selzer and Selzer, Great Barrington, 1993.

 

 

Since the days of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, the Orthodox world has been blessed with many great leaders and thinkers who have scrupulously observed halakha (Jewish law) but who have, at the same time, adjusted to the modern world, including its science and technology. In more recent times, we have been fortunate to have Yeshiva University as guided by Rabbi Norman Lamm and more recently by Richard Joel. We have had a series of outstanding chief rabbis of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, most recently, Jonathan Sacks. There was the incomparable Joseph B. Soloveitchik, of course, whose inspirational teachings have generated numerous leaders across the globe.

I continue to be impressed with Jewish thinkers such as Menachem Kellner, David Hartman, Adam Ferziger, Marc Shapiro, José Faur, Joseph Telushkin, and many others. At the same time, we have inspiring congregational leaders who have assumed wider roles, such as Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, Rabbi Benjamin Lau, Rabbi Marc Angel, and Rabbi Avi Weiss. In Israel we have the example of Yeshivat Har Etzion, so ably led by Rabbis Aharon Lichtenstein and Yehuda Amital. One cannot help but be impressed with the textual skill of Rabbi Menachem Leibtag.

Notwithstanding our recent history of esteemed leaders and thinkers, the weaknesses in our Orthodox world cannot be ignored if they are to be mended. A variety of factors have resulted in a collapse of any meaningful application of the word "leadership" to Modern Orthodoxy. This collapse is mostly self-induced.

A few years ago I was walking on Ben Yehuda Street in Jerusalem. In the Jewish world there are not six degrees of separation but rather, only one or two for the most part. I was searching the passing faces for people I knew. There was something oddly familiar about a gentleman approaching me, but I assumed it could not be anybody that I knew because the man was decked out in a long black coat and big-brimmed black hat of the type rarely seen in my hometown of Seattle except for on the occasional meshulah (charity collector). As my brain adjusted, though, I could see that it was a rabbi I had known for many years. I knew him as a moderate, educated, Modern Orthodox congregational leader. My confusion was multiplied when I remembered that this rabbi was Sephardic, yet he was dressed as if he were someone from Eastern Europe in the high fashion of Polish gentry 200 years ago. We greeted each other and I asked him why he was dressed in Hareidi garb. He straightforwardly answered that, in order to fit in and be taken seriously as a rabbi, he felt he had to dress in that manner and conform to "the look."

This encounter was symbolic as it relates to the topic at hand, which is the leadership crisis. This brings us to one of the most distinct factors in the decline of leadership: a massive inferiority complex. When the Jews left Egypt, they left with the direct intervention of God, with all God's visible power and with the promise of continuing intervention in the conquest of the Promised Land. Moses assembled the leadership of the time and sent them to reconnoiter the land. Despite having all of the power of God behind them, the majority had a crisis of confidence. Ten of the twelve spies projected their own insecurities onto the situation with the Canaanites, and in a famous bout of self-criticism said: "We were like grasshoppers in our eyes, and so were we in their eyes" (Numbers 13:31-33).

In the context of this discussion, many in our Modern Orthodox world, including congregational rabbis and organizations, seem to frequently operate with one eye on the Hareidi world as if it consisted of giants. As a consequence, they seem to view themselves as inferior. It is time to stop this grasshopper effect.

We must ask ourselves: Who are these "giants," and what do they stand for? The Hareidi world is characterized not only by observance of strictures (humrot), but also by the baggage that generally (although not always) comes with the long black coat and wide-rimmed black hat. More often than not, that baggage includes a rejection of reality. For example, most Hareidim insist that the universe is strictly 5,768 years old, despite overwhelming proof from geology, physics, astronomy, and biology that the universe is approximately 14 billion years old, the age of the earth is approximately 4.5 billion years, and life on this planet dates from about 3.5 billion years ago. They reject any notion of evolution, making themselves look foolish in the eyes not only of scientists but also in the eyes all people whose worldview is grounded in factual reality.

In addition, most Hareidim hold that a literal interpretation of Midrashim is often the most accurate. Here, I quote extensively from Maimonides' Commentary on the Mishna. Rambam's wisdom, written 825 years ago, still resonates. Since this passage inspires me, I quote it in full:

It is important for you to know that there are three classes [of thinkers] who differ in their interpretation of the words of the Sages, of blessed memory. The first class comprises the majority among those that I have come across and whose compositions I have read and of whom I have heard. They understand the words of the Sages literally and do not interpret them at all. To them all impossibilities are necessary occurrences. They only do this because of their ignorance of sciences and their being distant from [various] fields of knowledge. They do not possess any of the perfection that would stimulate them [to understanding] of their own accord, nor have they found someone else to arouse them. Therefore, they think that the intent of the Sages in all their precise and carefully stated remarks is only what they can comprehend and that these [remarks] are to be understood literally. This is despite the fact that in their literal sense some of the words of the Sages would seem to be so slanderous and absurd that if they were related to the uneducated masses in their literal sense, and all the more so to the wise, they would look upon them with amazement and exclaim: 'How is it possible that there exists in the world anyone who would think in this manner or believe that such statements are correct, much less approve of them!' This class is poor [in understanding] and one should pity their folly. In their own minds, they think they are honoring and exalting the Sages, but they are actually degrading them to the lowest depths. And they do not perceive that, as God lives, it is this class of thinkers that destroys the splendor of the Torah of God into saying the opposite of what it intends to convey. For God said in His perfect Torah: This is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the nations, which shall hear all these statutes and say: Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people. [Deuteronomy 4:6] But this category [of thinkers] expounds the words of the Sages in their literal sense so that when the nations hear them, they will say: "Surely this small nation is a foolish and degenerate people." (Introduction to his commentary on Perek Helek)

Throughout rabbinic literature, our Sages note that God's highest gift to humankind is our intelligence and our ability to think. But in the Hareidi world, people feel that their highest duty is to turn off that brain and allow their "Rav" or a "Gadol" to do their thinking for them about even the simplest and most personal things, including occupation, residence, spouses, and politics. Despite the acknowledged disappearance of prophecy within Judaism, at least until messianic times, Hareidim all but import it back into our faith through the concept of "Daas Torah." Loosely defined, "Daas Torah" is knowledge of all things because of immersion in Torah unadulterated by any other knowledge. (See Lawrence Kaplan, "Daas Torah: A Modern Conception of Rabbinic Authority," in the Orthodox Forum, Rabbinic Authority and Personal Authority.) We see the spectacle of well-known Hareidi rabbis speaking with self-confidence as to why God did specific things as if they have spoken to God directly. God's supposed reasons for the Holocaust proliferate, for example. In more recent times, God's so-called reasons for the devastation of New Orleans by Katrina, or reasons for the debacle of the last war in Lebanon against Hizbullah have been expounded by these "sages." The more isolated a Hareidi leader is from science, current events, indeed any secular knowledge, the more that world considers that leader as holy. These are the "giants" before whom many in the Modern Orthodox world feel small.

I have to question whether we really need to "look up" to the Hareidi world which overwhelmingly rejects the legitimacy of the State of Israel. Should we really be in awe of those in Israel who avoid national service-yet accept state welfare in huge numbers? For that matter, if we all took on their lifestyle, who would pay for it? In Israel we would all live in abject poverty. In the United States, we would take state welfare. In both countries we would live in ever-increasing ignorance. How is this a long-term solution to world change?

Jewish self-confidence eschews any need to seek validation in the views, real or imagined, of others. The Torah was given by God and, accordingly, we must view God's system as perfect. Jews have always been an infinitesimal percent of the world's population but this minority status has never been a concern of ours. Historically, Christianity and Islam have sought through force and active proselytizing to convert as many people as possible to their respective religions. Islam continues to support, for the most part, these goals through violence, while Christianity continues to pursue these goals by softer methods. Mormons have honed the proselytizing skills to such a degree that there are now almost as many Latter Day Saints in the world as there are Jews-even though Joseph Smith incorporated the religion only in 1830. Each of these religions partially justifies itself by pointing to what each of them perceives to be proof of the inherent validity of their religion. They argue that their religions are true because they have attracted so many millions of adherents, as if truth is a matter of popular vote, or is self-validated by large numbers of members. Many of our Modern Orthodox leaders turn, in similar fashion, to the Hareidi world for validation. The fact that so many Orthodox leaders act (or refuse to act) with one eye over their shoulder to how they think the so-called gedolim of B'nei Brak or Monsey will perceive them is an acute demonstration of an endemic shortage of self-confidence. People who are self-confident are not afraid of the marketplace of ideas, nor do they need to be ideologues believing in the most ridiculous of things despite evidence and proof to the contrary.

Another manifestation of the weakness of leadership is in the proliferation of outreach kollels of all stripes around the country, including Kollel MiZions. (See the article by Adam Ferziger of Bar Ilan University: "The Emergence of the Community Kollel.") There are a number of reasons why Modern Orthodox rabbis welcome these kollels into their midst and, so often, actively promote them. One of the reasons is that Orthodox leadership has become lazy and has outsourced to the kollels one of its primary functions. Leadership would imply feelings of responsibility for all Jews. Leadership would also require the desire to promote greater levels of observance in all congregants. Leadership would include outreach to nonmembers. Yet instead of taking on the responsibility, our Modern Orthodox leaders all too often simply abdicate. They sit back and watch the kollel families do their work for them, not realizing that their own authority and effectiveness are undermined.

The outreach function of the kollels has one other drastic effect on the quality of Modern Orthodox leadership. Except for the Kollel MiZion movement, the rabbis chosen for these kollels are, more often than not, trained in Hareidi yeshivas. Therefore, directly and indirectly, these kollels promote the views of the Hareidi yeshivas to the people with whom they interact, many of whom do not have backgrounds sufficiently solid to aid them in sorting out the wheat from the chaff.

Are these kollels encouraging their adherents to ask questions of and seek guidance from their local Orthodox rabbis? Occasionally this does happen, but more often they themselves give the answers, or they seek the answers from their own teachers and relay them to their adherents. The kollels are a Trojan horse to Modern Orthodox leadership but, by the time they realize it, it is often too late. (See my article on the Seattle experience at the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals website, www.jewishideas.org [3] [1] [1], entitled "The Seattle Kollel: A Study of Unintended Consequences.")

Often, when sufficient numbers of supporters are achieved, the kollels then promote their own schools (as was done in Seattle) and promote their own synagogues-and pressure the communities directly and indirectly to adopt Hareidi standards. An example of a Hareidi takeover is the transformation of the Breuer's Community in Washington Heights, New York City. That community supposedly followed in the footsteps of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. The legacy was "Torah im derekh erets," Torah with the ways of the world. Rabbi Hirsch promoted the idea that truth is unitary, and that Judaism should strictly adhere to halakha, while responsibly and selectively incorporating well-tested facts and truths that come to us by way of secular culture. That community's transformation into just another Hareidi community was documented by George D. Frankel in his five-part 2002 essay entitled "Dan Shall Judge His People."

Within the North American Modern Orthodox community, the very concept of what a congregational rabbi is supposed to be has changed, leaving many in the dust of practical irrelevance. It used to be sufficient for the rabbi to be a halakhic expert and a good Talmud teacher. Today he must be so much more. Many of our Modern Orthodox rabbis lack any training, or even much interest, in the kinds of skills necessary for successful congregational leadership. Earning semikha (ordination) from most yeshivas does not require (nor do they even offer) training in psychology, sociology, communications, educational theory, or many other prerequisites for effective leadership within the context of the modern world. Until the various yeshivot teach and promote real leadership skills there will continue to be a decline in the effectiveness and power of congregational rabbis.

Another factor that promotes a decline in leadership is the way we allow Modern Orthodox leaders to be maligned. Those vibrant rabbis within the Modern Orthodox world who do spend time and energy trying to find the tools to attract and mold greater levels of observance are often ostracized and heavily criticized for their efforts. This negativity is not only from the Hareidi world but also from the Modern Orthodox community, another sign of insecurity and the need to seek validation from the right wing. While the conga lines during Adon Olam in Riverdale might not be my cup of tea, one cannot argue that spirited services and displays of warmth and friendship have brought thousands of Jews closer to God and have inspired ever-increasing levels of personal and communal observance and involvement. The pillorying of those rabbis who are making valiant efforts to truly lead can only discourage others from even trying. Here the aforementioned generalized insecurity manifests itself. Why? Because even within the Modern Orthodox world many rabbis are quick to jump on the Hareidi bandwagon of criticism of their fellows. Each tries to outdo the next in tearing down a colleague to "prove" how much more "religious" he is.

Torah Judaism provides a structure for a moral life. We as a people have been inhibited from maximizing our specific function and job on earth by millennia of persecution. Nevertheless, without a mission, without a purpose, no organization can stay healthy. Jewish leadership entails responsibility to perfect our fellow Jews and to teach the world by word and by example the ways of God, in order to bring the world to ethical monotheism. However, there is a strange fact within observant Judaism, including Modern Orthodoxy. Generally speaking, the further to the right one goes, the less one is concerned about fellow Jews outside one's own particular group and, certainly, the less one is concerned about the non-Jewish world. It is interesting to note that the further left toward Reform Judaism one goes, the more of an emphasis can be found on tikkun olam (repairing the world)-but the less emphasis one can find on the rest of the phrase, b'malkhut Shaddai (under the kingship of God). For this reason the causes embraced by the left are sometimes contrary to Jewish law. The further to the right one goes, one finds that the emphasis is on the yoke of heaven, and recognition of a responsibility to fix the world fades to nothingness. True leadership would promote the sight of kippot in rallies against the genocide in Darfur and the other ongoing mass murders. We should see participation in the promotion of human rights across the globe, not only for refuseniks, but also for the downtrodden in Zimbabwe. Our synagogues should be visible pillars of support for local food banks and neighborhood watch committees.

"Leadership" makes itself irrelevant when it fails to vigorously and unequivocally condemn immoral or illegal behavior just because the perpetrator is part of the Orthodox community. We should not be silent about sexual predators within our midst and within some of our schools. We should not turn a blind eye to the abuse of children or the denigration of women. Leadership should insist that tax evasion is not just a game and that dishonesty in business is not to be tolerated. There should not be an automatic defense of a kosher meat processor who systematically violates the law and treats workers as disposable commodities. There seems to be a fear that the rabbi who speaks out on these issues will himself be criticized by those further to the right.

When is the last time that many of us asked a halakhic question of our local Orthodox rabbi? And when we do ask questions, do we get well thought-out, reasoned opinions? When our lay and local leadership attend yeshiva in the United States or in Israel and turn to their roshei yeshivot for halakhic guidance they thereby undermine Orthodox leadership by failing to take seriously the local community rabbis. This is especially true today because of the proliferation of cheap communications by telephone and email. Our roshei yeshivot should stop this practice and encourage decisions at the local level.

When we do ask questions, we see the grasshopper effect again, because often an opinion is given orally with the refusal to put it in writing. In Seattle there are, for example, extensive written guidelines by the local Va'ad for Passover procedures and products. Oral advice is sometimes at odds with the written advice because local Orthodox rabbis simply don't want to put in writing a view that they think is correct but that will draw criticism from those further to the right. We have become people of the look, rather than people of the book. (See the Jerusalem Post article by Michael Freund, 1/29/08, entitled "People of the Look.")

Another problem with maintaining moderation within the Orthodox world is structural. Often, as in Seattle, the local Orthodox rabbis organize, ostensibly for more strength. They join together in a Va'ad for the purposes of uniform community standards. Since these Va'ads operate by consensus, there is a shift in these community standards to the most extreme views of the furthest right member. The nature of consensus is often, in practice, that the most extreme views have to be honored or there will be no consensus.

The recent controversy over conversions is a good example of the partial abdication of Modern Orthodox leadership in the United States, and is a further example of the "grasshopper effect." Many Orthodox rabbis throughout the United States know how ineffective they are at inspiring observance. They therefore have gravitated toward political requirements for conversion, requirements that have only tangential relationship to talmudic requirements for conversion. Every generation adds strictures, partly to show how "serious" they are about their Judaism. They frontload the conversion process with demands and commitments far beyond any requirement for native-born Jews. (See the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA) geirus [sic] standards on their website.) One reason they do this is they hope it will mean they will not have to spend energy inspiring converts to greater observance after conversion. The RCA's effort to conform to the will of the now Hareidi-controlled Chief Rabbinate is another example of the grasshopper effect. The RCA's effort to appease the Chief Rabbinate was almost immediately mocked by the ruling in Israel invalidating (supposedly and only in their view) potentially thousands of conversions previously done under the Chief Rabbinate's own Conversion Authority.

I recommend the book The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements by Eric Hoffer (1902-1983). Hoffer was a longshoreman who wrote philosophy. In 1983 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for this book. In it, he analyzes the nature of ideology. One of the chief components of his argument is that beliefs are held onto so strongly by the ideologue that reality and any evidence appearing to contradict the belief system is simply ignored. Jewish leadership will fail to the extent that it holds onto beliefs such as the literal interpretation of Midrash, and a less than 6,000 year history to the universe.

In the short term, those true believers who find it necessary to not only be trembling (hareidim) before God but to also be trembling before science and the unfolding nature of reality, will continue to gain strength. There is a certain power that the true believer has, as witnessed by the political movements of the last century and continuing to the present time.

The world is moving too fast. Technology today is creating a new haskalah (enlightenment). Fundamentalism and rejection of reality are an understandable reaction found, not only within Judaism, but even more so within Islam, Christianity, and even within Hinduism. The Hareidim are in good company with Christian fundamentalists in the United States. For example, according to a Gallup Survey in 2004 almost half (45 percent) of Americans believe that the world is under 10,000 years old and that humans were created in our present form within that period. However, although understandable, the effort to shut off the stream of information is not a solid long-term approach to the challenge that faces us.

What Modern Orthodox leadership can offer in place of such a short-sighted approach is a path to the future that accepts reality, examines it through the lens of Jewish values, and helps us to strengthen our observance in the face of change. That is why we need to encourage an independent leadership at the international, national, and local levels. We need rabbis and lay leaders who are not so insecure in their Judaism that they must look to the Hareidi world for validation.

The Modern Orthodox have the numbers. According to a detailed study by Samuel C. Heilman, cited in his book Sliding to the Right, the Contest for the Future of American Jewish Orthodoxy, approximately 11 percent of identifiable North American Jews are Orthodox. Of them, only 27-32 percent could be classified as Hareidi, with half of that number being Hasidim. In other words, about 70 percent of observant Jews in North America fall into the category of Modern Orthodox.

In addition to the numbers, the Modern Orthodox also have the economic power, the educational and organizational background, and the knowledge to continue to lead the Jewish people throughout this century and into the future. We need leaders who can strengthen us for the future by understanding the present. We need leaders who recognize the potential of Modern Orthodoxy. We need leaders who embrace our strengths, and who reject the grasshopper mentality.

“The Chosen People”: An Ethical Challenge[1]

The concept of the Chosen People is fraught with difficulties. Historically, it has brought much grief upon the Jewish people. It also has led some Jews to develop chauvinistic attitudes toward non-Jews. Nonetheless, it is a central axiom in the Torah and rabbinic tradition, and we therefore have a responsibility to approach the subject forthrightly. This essay will briefly consider the biblical and rabbinic evidence.

 

The Book of Genesis

 

A major theme of the Book of Genesis is the refining process of the Chosen People. The Torah begins its narrative of humanity with Adam and Eve, created in the Image of God. The Torah’s conception of humanity includes the potential of every person to connect to God, and an expectation that living a moral life necessarily flows from that relationship with God.

Cain and Abel, the generation of Enosh, Noah, and the Patriarchs spontaneously brought offerings and prayed without any divine commandments to do so. God held people responsible for their immoral acts without having warned them against such behaviors. Cain and the generation of the Flood could not defend themselves by appealing to the fact that they never received explicit divine commandments.[2] They naturally should have known that their conduct was unacceptable and punishable.

At the time of Noah, God rejected most of humanity for their wickedness and restarted human history with Noah. After the Flood, God explicitly commanded certain moral laws (Genesis 9), which the Talmud understands as the “seven Noahide laws” (ethical monotheism). Noah should have taught these principles to his descendants, creating an ideal humanity. Instead, the only recorded story of Noah’s final 350 years relates that he got drunk and cursed his grandson Canaan. Although Noah was a righteous man, he did not transmit his values to succeeding generations.

Only one narrative spans the 10 generations between Noah and Abraham, namely, the Tower of Babel. This story represents a societal break from God, marking the beginnings of paganism and unbridled human arrogance.[3] At this point, God chose Abraham and his descendants to model ethical monotheism and teach it to humanity.

This synopsis of the first twelve chapters of Genesis is encapsulated by Rabbi Obadiah Sforno (sixteenth-century Italy) in his introduction to Genesis:

 

It then teaches that when hope for the return of all humanity was removed, as it had successfully destroyed God’s constructive intent three times already, God selected the most pious of the species and chose Abraham and his descendants to achieve His desired purpose for all humanity.[4]

 

There is no genetic superiority ascribed to Abraham and his descendants. To the contrary, the common descent of all humanity from Adam and Eve precludes any racial differentiation, as understood by the Mishnah:

Furthermore, [Adam was created alone] for the sake of peace among men, that one might not say to his fellow, my father was greater than yours. (Sanhedrin 37a)

 

Abraham and his descendants thus became the Chosen People—a nation expected to do and teach what all nations ideally should do. Abraham is singled out in the Torah as the first teacher of these values:

 

The Lord said, Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do, seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he has spoken of him. (Genesis 18:17–19)

 

The remainder of Genesis revolves around the selection process within Abraham’s family. Not all branches would become Abraham’s spiritual heirs. By the end of Genesis, it is evident that the Chosen People is comprised specifically of Jacob’s sons and their future generations.

            Although Genesis specifies the role and identity of the Chosen People, two difficult questions remain. (1) Once Israel was chosen, was this chosenness guaranteed forever, or was it contingent on the religious-ethical behavior of later generations? Could a sinful Israel be rejected as were the builders of the Tower of Babel? (2) Is chosenness exclusively limited to Israel (either biological descendants or converts), or can non-Jews become chosen by becoming ethical monotheists, observing the seven Noahide laws?

 

Israel’s Eternal Chosenness

 

God addressed the first question as He was giving the Torah to Israel:

 

Now therefore, if you will obey My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own treasure among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine; And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which you shall speak to the people of Israel. (Exodus 19:5–6)

 

God’s covenant with Israel is a reciprocal agreement. If Israel does not uphold its side of the covenant, it appears that Israel would cease to be God’s treasure. The very beginning of Israel’s national covenantal identity is defined as conditional rather than absolute.

Later prophets highlight this message as well. Amos states that Israel’s chosenness adds an element of responsibility and accountability. Infidelity to the covenant makes chosenness more dangerous than beneficial:

 

Hear this word that the Lord has spoken against you, O people of Israel, against the whole family which I brought up from the land of Egypt, saying: Only you have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities. (Amos 3:1–2)

 

Amos’s contemporary, Hosea, employed marriage imagery to demonstrate that Israel’s special relationship with God is contingent on its faithfulness to the covenant. As the Israelites were unfaithful in his time, God rejected them:

 

She conceived and bore a son. Then He said, “Name him “Lo‑ammi,” for you are not My people, and I will not be your God. (Hosea 1:8–9)

 

However, this was not a permanent rejection from the eternal covenant. Rather, alienation would approximate a separation for the sake of rehabilitating the marriage rather than being a permanent divorce. The ongoing prophecy in the Book of Hosea makes clear that God perpetually longs for Israel’s return to an ideal restored marriage:

 

And I will espouse you forever: I will espouse you with righteousness and justice, and with goodness and mercy, and I will espouse you with faithfulness; then you shall be devoted to the Lord. (Hosea 2:21–22)

 

The Book of Isaiah makes this point even more explicit as God insists that there was no bill of divorce:

 

Thus says the Lord, Where is the bill of your mother’s divorcement, with which I have put her away? Or which of My creditors is it to whom I have sold you? Behold, for your iniquities have you sold yourselves, and for your transgressions your mother was put away. (Isaiah 50:1)

 

At the time of the destruction of the Temple, Jeremiah took this imagery to a new level. There was a divorce, yet God will take Israel back:

 

It is said, If a man sends away his wife, and she goes from him, and becomes another man’s, shall he return to her again? Shall not that land be greatly polluted? You have played the harlot with many lovers; yet return to me! says the Lord. (Jeremiah 3:1)

 

Jeremiah elsewhere stressed the eternality of the God–Israel relationship:

 

Thus said the Lord, Who established the sun for light by day, the laws of moon and stars for light by night, Who stirs up the sea into roaring waves, Whose name is Lord of Hosts: If these laws should ever be annulled by Me—declares the Lord—only then would the offspring of Israel cease to be a nation before Me for all time. (Jeremiah 31:5–6)

 

To summarize, Israel’s chosenness is conditional on its faithfulness to the covenant. However, Israel’s failure to abide by God’s covenant leads to separation rather than divorce, and the door always remains open for Israel to return to God. The special covenantal relationship between God and Israel is eternal.

This conclusion harks back to God’s original choosing of Abraham. It is unclear in the Torah why God chose him to carry the religious torch for humanity. One could argue that Abraham’s religiosity evidenced after God singled him out can be projected back as the reason for God’s choosing him. From this perspective, God chose Abraham because of his righteousness.[5] Alternatively, Rabbi Judah Leib Lowe of Prague (Maharal) in his Netzah Yisrael maintains that God’s initial act of choosing Abraham was not explicitly based on his righteousness, making that choice unconditional.[6] Therefore, God never will cancel His covenant with Abraham’s descendants even when they sin.[7] As we have seen, there is truth in both positions. Israel’s chosenness is contingent on faithful behavior, but simultaneously it is eternal.

 

Righteous Gentiles Can Be Chosen

 

            Let us now turn to the second question, pertaining to God’s rejection of the other nations after the Tower of Babel. Can these nations be chosen again by reaccepting ethical monotheism? The answer is a resounding “yes.” Prophets look to an ideal future when all nations can again become chosen:

 

In that day five cities in the land of Egypt shall speak the language of Canaan, and swear by the Lord of hosts; one shall be called, The city of destruction. In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a pillar at its border to the Lord.... In that day shall Israel be the third with Egypt and with Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the land; Whom the Lord of hosts shall bless, saying, Blessed be Egypt My people, and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel My inheritance. (Isaiah 19:18–25)

 

Similarly, Zephaniah envisions a time when all nations will speak “a clear language,” thereby undoing the damage of the Tower of Babel:

 

For then I will convert the peoples to a clear language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve Him with one accord. (Zephaniah 3:9)

 

God’s rejection of the nations at the time of the Tower of Babel was a separation for rehabilitation, not a permanent divorce. Were the nations to reaccept ethical monotheism, they, too, would be chosen. In halakhic terminology, non-Jews who practice ethical monotheism are called “Righteous Gentiles” and have a share in the World to Come (see Hullin 92a).

To summarize, one is chosen if one chooses God. For a Jew, that means commitment to the Torah and its commandments. For a non-Jew, that means commitment to the seven Noahide laws. Righteous Gentiles are chosen without needing to convert to Judaism. God longs for the return of all humanity, and the messianic visions of the prophets constantly reiterate that aspiration.

 

Israel as a Kingdom of Priests

 

Although the door remains open for all descendants of Adam and Eve to choose God and therefore be chosen, Israel occupies a unique role. Israel was the first nation to recognize God in this way. Using the marriage imagery, Israel is God’s first wife (Isaiah 54:6), a status that carries with it a special relationship. God calls Israel His “firstborn” (Exodus 4:22). That said, all of the nations are God’s children. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik explains that the firstborn child must serve as a role model to the younger children.[8]

Perhaps the most fitting analogy that summarizes the evidence is Non-Jew : Jew :: Jew : Priest. God employs this terminology at the Revelation at Sinai:

 

Now therefore, if you will obey My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own treasure among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine; and you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which you shall speak to the people of Israel. (Exodus 19:5–6)

 

Commenting on these verses, Sforno remarks:

 

“And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests”: and in this manner you will be a treasure, for you will be a kingdom of priests to teach the entire human race to call in God’s Name and to serve Him alike. As it is written “you shall be called God’s priests” (Isaiah 61:6), and as it is written, “for Torah will come from Zion” (Isaiah 2:3).

 

Being Jewish and being a priest both are genetic. A priest is a bridge between the people and God and serves in the Temple on behalf of the people. Similarly, Israel is expected to guard the Temple and teach the word of God. Just as priests have more commandments than most Israelites, Israelites have more commandments than the nations of the world. The one critical distinction is that a non-Jew may convert to Judaism and is then viewed as though he or she were born into the nation. Nobody can convert to become a priest.

            When dedicating the first Temple, King Solomon understood that the Temple was intended for all who seek God, and not only Israelites:

 

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

 

            In their messianic visions, the prophets similarly emphasized that Israel would occupy a central role in worship and in teaching the nations. All are invited to serve God at the Temple:

 

In the days to come, the Mount of the Lord’s House shall stand firm above the mountains and tower above the hills; and all the nations shall gaze on it with joy. And the many peoples shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob; that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths.” For instruction shall come forth from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. (Isaiah 2:2–3)

 

            Rather than serving primarily as an ethnic description, the Chosen People concept is deeply rooted in religious ethics. It is a constant prod to faithfulness to God and the Torah, and it contains a universalistic message that Israel belongs to the community of nations. All are descendants of Adam and Eve, created in God’s Image. God waits with open arms to choose all those who choose to pursue that sacred relationship with Him.

Dr. Norman Lamm observes that “a truly religious Jew, devoted to his own people in keen attachment to both their physical and spiritual welfare, must at the same time be deeply concerned with all human beings. Paradoxically, the more particularistic a Jew is, the more universal must be his concerns.”[9]

 

Conclusion: Jews and Non-Jews

 

            The Torah embraces universalistic values that apply to humanity. All people are descended from one couple so there is no room for racism (Sanhedrin 37a). All people are created in God’s image (Genesis 1:26). There is a universal morality demanded by the Torah, codified in the Talmud as the Seven Noahide Laws. The messianic visions of the prophets foresee that all humanity will one day live in harmony by accepting God and the requisite moral life demanded by the Torah.

            Simultaneously, God made a singular covenant with the people of Israel through the Torah. Israel plays a unique role as a “kingdom of priests and holy nation” (Exodus 19:6), has a separate set of laws revealed by God, and occupies a central role in the covenantal history between God and humanity.

            Some within the Jewish community focus almost exclusively on the particularistic elements of tradition, and consequently think less of non-Jews and non-observant Jews. Other Jews focus almost exclusively on the universalistic vision of Judaism, ignoring Jewish belief, law, and values in favor of modern Western values. Needless to say, the respective espousing of half-truths distorts the Torah and leads to rifts within the community.

            Tradition teaches a sensitive balance of universalism and particularism. The Torah has a special vision for Jews and simultaneously embraces all of humanity in an effort to perfect society.

 

For further study:

• Rabbi Marc D. Angel, “The Universalistic Vision of Judaism,” Conversations 12 (Winter 2012), pp. 95–100.
• Rabbi Marc D. Angel, Voices in Exile: A Study in Sephardic Intellectual History (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1991), pp. 197–207.
• Rabbi Marc D. Angel with Hayyim Angel, Rabbi Haim David Halevi: Gentle Scholar, Courageous Thinker (Jerusalem: Urim, 2006), pp. 189–198.
• Rabbi Elijah Benamozegh, Israel and Humanity, trans. Maxwell Luria (New York: Paulist Press, 1995).
• Alan Brill, Judaism and Other Religions: Models of Understanding (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010).
• Alan Brill, Judaism and World Religions: Encountering Christianity, Islam, and Eastern Traditions (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2012).
• Alan Brill, “Many Nations Under God: Judaism and Other Religions,” Conversations 2 (Autumn 2008), pp. 39-49.
• Moshe Greenberg, “Mankind, Israel, and the Nations in the Hebraic Heritage,” in Studies in the Bible and Jewish Thought (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1995), pp. 369–393.
• Rabbi Haim David Halevi, Asei Lekha Rav 8:69.
• Menachem Kellner, “On Universalism and Particularism in Judaism,” Da’at 36 (1996), pp. v–xv.
• Menachem Kellner, “Rashi and Maimonides on the Relationship between Torah and the Cosmos,” in Between Rashi and Maimonides: Themes in Medieval Jewish Thought, Literature and Exegesis, ed. Ephraim Kanarfogel and Moshe Sokolow (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 2010), pp. 23-58.
• Jon D. Levenson, “The Universal Horizon of Biblical Particularism,” in Ethnicity and the Bible, ed. Mark G. Brett (Boston: Brill, 1996), pp. 143–169.
• Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference: How to Avoid the Clash of Civilizations (London: Continuum, 2002).
• Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, “Jewish Identity: The Concept of a Chosen People,” at www.chiefrabbi.org/ReadArtical.aspx?id=454.
• Symposium on “You Have Chosen Us from Amongst the Nations,” Jewish Action 65:1 (Fall 2004), especially the articles of Rabbis Chaim Eisen and Norman Lamm.
• Symposium on “The State of Jewish Belief,” Commentary 42:2 (August 1966), pp. 71–160, especially the articles of Rabbis Eliezer Berkovits, Marvin Fox, Immanuel Jacobovits, Norman Lamm, and Aharon Lichtenstein.

 

     Rabbi Benzion Uziel delivered the opening address at a gathering

in Jerusalem of the rabbis of the land of Israel (spring

1919). In describing the rebirth of the Jewish nation in Israel,

he pointed out the many challenges facing the emerging Jewish communities

and settlements. He urged the rabbis to be active participants

in this historic process. It would be unacceptable and dangerous if religious

Jews were to say: "Let us stand in a corner as though looking at

the events from a distance. Let us say to ourselves: we and our families

will serve the Lord." He felt that this isolationist attitude was contrary

to the vision upon which our religion is based. Rabbi Uziel exhorted

his colleagues to go among the people, to work with the people, to participate

in every aspect of the nation-building process. In this way, they

could bring the eternal teachings of Torah into the real world. [1]

 

     This theme was to dominate much of the thought and work of

Rabbi Uziel, who proclaimed that Judaism is not a narrow, confined

doctrine limited only to a select few individuals; rather, the Torah is the

guide for the ideal way of life for the entire Jewish people, and also carries

a message for humanity at large. Jewish religious expression must

not be confined to a parochial, sectarian mold. Rather, it must thrive

with a grand vision, always looking outward.

 

     Rabbi Uziel's philosophy of Judaism flowed from various sources.

Born in Jerusalem to an illustrious Sephardic rabbinical family, his father

was the Av Bet Din of the Sephardic community of Jerusalem and presi-

dent of the community council. His mother was part of the Hazan

rabbinical family, which had produced fist-rate rabbinic leaders for generations.

As a youth, Rabbi Uziel studied with the Sephardic sages of

Jerusalem, but also with Ashkenazic rabbis. He became one of those

unique individuals who was well steeped in the halakhic methods and literature

of both the Sephardim and Ashkenazim.

 

     In 1911, Rabbi Uziel was appointed Chief Rabbi of Yafo and its district, where he worked with Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the Ashkenazic spiritual leader of Yafo. Although

Rabbi Kook was older, Rabbi Uziel was appointed Chief Rabbi (Haham Bashi) by the authority

of the Turkish Government. Officially, the office of Chief Rabbi was

open only to individuals born in the Ottoman Empire, whose families

had been living there for several generations, and who knew the language

of the land, as well as French and Arabic. Rabbi Uziel had all

these qualifications, while Rabbi Kook did not. Rabbis Uziel and Kook

developed a good working relationship and held each other in high

esteem. In 1921, Rabbi Uziel became the Chief Rabbi of the famous

Sephardic community of Salonika, returning to be Chief Rabbi of Tel

Aviv in 1923. In 1939, he was elected Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rishon le-

Zion.

 

     Rabbi Uziel was a leading posek, thinker, teacher, communal leader

and political activist, one of the unique figures of 20th century Jewish

life. Rabbi Uziel saw God's hand in the development of Jewish life in

Erets Yisrael. He felt that he was participating in the early stages of the

final redemption of Israel. His writings are characterized by the calm

wisdom of a genuine scholar and at the same time by an overwhelming

sense of urgency. Depending on the quality of religious leadership, he

said, everything could be won or lost.[2]

 

     Rabbi Uziel believed that the Jewish people, especially those living

in a revitalized Erets Yisrael, could be living models of the excellence

inspired by the Torah. Through their moral and ethical accomplishments,

the Jews would succeed in making the rest of the world aware of

the great standards set by the Torah for all of humanity. [3]

 

     He felt strongly that Jews must be aware of their own national

charter. Through this self knowledge, they would be able to conduct

their lives according to the ideals set forth in the Torah tradition. This

would lead to their own happiness, as well as to a positive influence on

the world in general. Rabbi Uziel criticized those false ideologies which

distracted the Jewish people from their authentic national charter. He

rejected the assimilationists, since their strategy would ultimately undermine

the true message of Judaism. He also chastised those who would

restrict Judaism to the narrow confines of their homes, synagogues and

study halls. This strategy would bury Judaism in a small inner world,

cutting off its impact on society as a whole. It was necessary to steer a

middle course between assimilationist tendencies on the left and isolationist

tendencies on the right. Rabbi Uziel cited the verse in Mishlei

(4:25) as a guide: "Let your eyes look right on and let your eyelids look

straight before you. Make plain the path of your foot and let all your

ways be established. Turn not to the right nor to the left. Remove your

foot from evil."

 

     Only by focusing on the specific charter of the Jewish people--to

create a righteous nation based on the laws of Torah tradition--could

the Jewish people fulfill its mission. Through our creating a model

Torah society, we would be seen by the entire world to be the representatives

of God. Our Torah teaches us to live life in its fullness. It teaches

us how to apply the highest moral and ethical standards to all human

situations. Judaism is not a cult, but a world religion with a world message.

"Our holiness will not be complete if we separate ourselves from

human life, from human phenomena, pleasures and charms, but (only if

we are) nourished by all the new developments in the world, by all the

wondrous discoveries, by all the philosophical and scientific ideas which

flourish and multiply in our world. We are enriched and nourished by

sharing in the knowledge of the world; at the same time, though, this

knowledge does not change our essence, which is composed of holiness

and appreciation of God's exaltedness." The national charter of the

Jewish people is "to live, to work, to build and to be built, to improve

our world and our life, to raise ourselves and to raise others to the highest

summit of human perfection and accomplishment. (This is accom-

plished by following) the path of peace and love, and being sanctified

with the holiness of God in thought and deed."[4]

 

     In his address accepting the appointment as Chief Rabbi of Yafo

(6 Heshvan 5672), Rabbi Uziel stated that a leader must have two

seemingly opposite qualities: strength of character and humility (gevura

nafshit and anava). In truth, these two qualities are not in opposition

but must go together. True humility cannot be found except in one

who has spiritual strength. Indeed, humility without such strength is

not humility at all: it is weakness stemming from fear and doubt.[5]

 

     In his address to the rabbis of Erets Yisrael in 1919, he reminded

his colleagues that while humility in itself is praiseworthy, it becomes repulsive

if it leads to shying away from the needs of the hour. Rabbis

who hide in the mantle of humility abdicate their responsibility to the

community. Leadership requires strength of character. [6]

 

     Rabbi Uziel saw the rabbis' influence deriving from the force of

their own righteousness, devotion and erudition. Since the hallmark of

Torah is peace, coercion and threats are not the proper ways to gain

adherence to Torah. Rather, rabbis (and religious people in general)

must win the hearts of their fellow Jews through deeds of love and

kindness. [7] One cannot demand respect; one must earn it.

 

     Rabbi Uziel was among those who believed that the time had

arrived for the reestablishment of a Sanhedrin. Through such a structure,

rabbinic authority would once again be centralized. The public

would know where to turn for Torah guidance. A properly constituted

Sanhedrin would have profound influence on Jewish communities

throughout the world and would be a harbinger of the ultimate redemption. [8]

 

     Rabbi Uziel was troubled by a schism among the Jews in Israel.

One group stressed the study of Torah to the exclusion of building the

land and organizing the people, while the other group emphasized

action while negating the need to study Torah. Both groups were

wrong. "Action without study--even action is lacking, since it is a

branch without roots. And study without action is a root without a

branch." [9]

 

     According to the Torah, work is obligatory. It is forbidden for a

person to be supported by the labor of others without providing his

own productive labor. A parent is obligated to teach his child Torah and

an occupation. A child who does not learn how to support himself

through his own labor is compared to a thief who steals the labor of

others without exerting any effort of his own. Each individual must be

engaged in productive labor to support himself, to share in the building

of the world and the advancement of humanity. Labor is not only an

obligatory commandment, but also gives the individual a sense of

honor and dignity. The laws of the Torah go hand in hand with productive

forms of labor and business. By working, one learns not only the

knowledge of one's profession, but also compassion, love and responsibility

for others.[10]  These spiritual and moral qualities are learned by

engaging in productive labor, not merely by abstract study.

 

     During the War of Independence in 1948, a number of yeshiva

students came to Rabbi Uziel to obtain exemptions from military service.

He rejected their requests and said that if he were not already an

old man himself, he would be holding a gun and hand grenade, fighting

to defend the Old City of Jerusalem where he was born and raised.

This was a battle of life and death for the people of Israel. How could

anyone want to be exempted from fighting this great battle? On the

contrary, each person should rise to the occasion and give strength to

his fellow soldiers. He told the yeshiva students that it was a mitsvah for

them to join in the defense of their people, to risk their lives alongside

their brothers, to defend the Jewish people and the Jewish land. [11]

 

     In Rabbi Uziel's view, religious leadership entailed a total commitment

to participate in all aspects of the life of the nation. Religious people

were not to live on hand-outs or to seek exemptions. Only by a

thoroughgoing involvement in all aspects of national life could the religious

community bring its values and ideals to all the people of Israel.

To retreat into self-enclosed religious enclaves was to surrender Torah

leadership. It was to reduce Judaism to a small, self-contained cult. This

position was absolutely untenable to Rabbi Uziel, who viewed Judaism

as a grand way of life which must shape the entire society, serving as a

model for the world.

 

     Rabbi Uziel believed that Torah study and observance should

make the religious Jew into a model human being.[12] But exactly what

are we to study and do in order to attain the highest standards of Torah

ideals? Obviously, we must study and observe Torah in as thorough and

profound a way as possible. In Rabbi Uziel’s view, the Torah is not simply

a book of laws and commandments; it encompasses all knowledge.

"It is impossible to understand it--certainly to plumb its depths--without

a profound and broad knowledge of all worldly wisdoms and sciences"

which are hidden in the depths of creation. [13] The Torah itself is

interested in cosmology, philosophy, theology, human history. To be

well-versed in Torah involves knowledge of astronomy and mathematics

in order to set the calendar. Torah law includes comprehensive knowledge

of weights and measures. It entails agronomical and zoological

knowledge in order to observe properly the laws of mixed species

(kilayim). Likewise, the laws of terefòt demand a thorough knowledge

of animal anatomy. Jewish law requires a knowledge of human psychology,

so that the judge can determine whether or not a witness is

attempting to deceive him. Halakha includes political and economic

principles, as well as laws governing the relationships between different

peoples. In short, Torah--being a total way of life--necessitates understanding

life in its fullness.[14]

 

     The Torah tradition teaches Jews to be engaged in the development

of society (yishuvo shel olam) in the broadest sense of the term.

This entails not only populating and settling the world, but studying

the ways of nature (science) in order to advance human civilization.

Yishuvo shel olam involves knowledge of how to establish a system of

justice and how to develop a harmonious and ethical society. Involve-

ment in yishuvo shel olam is a necessary condition to fulfilling our specific

Jewish way of life. The settlement and building of society increases

knowledge, widens our intellectual and scientific horizons. This very

process awakens within us a more profound appreciation of the wonders

of God, His creative powers and His providence. [15]

 

     Rabbi Uziel did not see Torah and mada as conflicting. He believed,

rather, that in order to be a Torah personality with full Torah

knowledge, one must study worldly wisdom. But when one studies

such subjects as philosophy, science, psychology, history and literature,

one does not do so for the sake of academic knowledge, but rather as a

means through which one gains a deeper understanding of God's ways.

"Talmud Torah" is a general term referring to the attainment of wisdom;

it includes Torah study as well as all the studies and sciences

which deepen our understanding. [16] It is Talmud Torah in this broad

sense which raises a person from ignorance to wisdom. Secular knowledge

by itself provides knowledge, but only within the context of Talmud

Torah does secular knowledge have ultimate meaning, leading the

student closer to God.

 

     In his address upon assuming the position of Chief Rabbi of

Salonika (9 Adar, 5681), Rabbi Uziel stated: "It is true that scientific

knowledge (mada) raises a person, gives him wings to soar to great

heights, enlightens his eyes to discover the secrets of nature and to uti-

1ize its powers, to make life more pleasant and to increase longevity;

general knowledge also endows a person with spiritual powers. But all

the acquisitions of general knowledge are vessels which help one to

live--and are not life itself. . . . The goal (of life) is . . . to know the

God of the universe, to walk in His ways and to cling to Him. [I7]

 

     Rabbi Uziel saw Maimonides as the classic example of the Jewish

ideal. In the Mishne Torah, Maimonides presents the spiritual inheritance

of the people of Israel from Moses to his own time. In addition,

he draws on the best of worldly knowledge. Rabbi Uziel believed that

Jewish sages were well aware of the philosophical, scientific and theological

insights propounded by non-Jewish sages. Indeed, Jewish sages

had to have knowledge of the world in order to fully understand the

Torah itself. After all, the Torah, Talmud and rabbinic literature include

references to all branches of human knowledge. Maimonides advocated

the principle: receive the truth from whoever states it. Maimonides

studied philosophy and science, gathering the best of what he found; in

this way he enriched his own thoughts in depth and breadth. [18]

 

     In his book on the laws of guardianship (apotropos), Rabbi Uziel

noted that our sages were fully cognizant of the legal thought and prac-

tice of the non-Jewish nations with whom they had contact. Our rabbis

of all generations "did not limit themselves to their four cubits and to the

walls of the study hall. Rather, they learned and knew al which transpired

in the world of science and justice." They did not hesitate to admit the

truth of the words of non-Jewish sages when the truth was with them. [19]

 

     In a letter he wrote to the leadership of the Alliance Israelite Universelle,

Rabbi Uziel recognized the importance of Jewish students

learning both religious subjects and general studies. He stressed the

need to learn Hebrew and said that Jewish students in the diaspora

should learn the language of the land in which they lived as well as at

least one European language. But the goal of Jewish education should

be clear: to raise children faithful to their people and to their Torah,

people who would be useful to their families, their people, and society.

Rabbi Uziel insisted that general subjects be taught by religious teachers.

Otherwise, a spirit of secularism would enter the children's hearts,

leading them away from the very goals for which Jewish schools stood.

In every generation, he said, the Jewish people have produced learned

doctors, authors, and business people. We have not lacked giants in science

and worldly wisdom. And we have been able to attain this while

retaining total loyalty to the Torah tradition. If modern-day Jews think

that their children can achieve success only by receiving an exclusively

secular education, they are in fact sacrificing their children's spiritual

lives. There is no necessity to do so, since one can attain worldly success

while remaining deeply steeped in Torah tradition. The ideal can be

attained only when general studies are taught within the context of the

Jewish religious tradition. [20]

 

     Jews throughout history have not allowed themselves to be cut off

from the intellectual currents of the world. Rather, they have been at

the forefront in all areas of human knowledge and scientific advancement.

In spite of the attempts by anti-Semites to confine Jews to ghettos

and to limit their educational opportunities, Jews have made

remarkable contributions to human knowledge. As active and knowledgeable

participants in world civilization, our goal is to lead humanity

in the paths of proper ethics and social harmony.[21]

 

     Rabbi Uziel saw Abraham, our forefather, as his model for outreach

to general society. Abraham's teachings brought people closer to

a proper understanding of God; indeed, he was successful in converting

many to his beliefs. By lovingly guiding people in the ways of God, he

set a pattern for his descendants to emulate. A basic responsibility of the

Jewish people is to teach monotheism and ethical behavior to the peoples

of the world. [22]

 

Unlike some other religions, Judaism does not claim a monopoly

on the world to come. All people--Jewish or not--have access to God,

and will be rewarded for a life of righteousness. [23]

 

     Judaism teaches responsibility towards each human being and

every nation. The ultimate redemption of Israel is not the success of

one people, but rather the redemption of all humanity. The entire

world will become free of war, rid of false beliefs and ideologies; it will

be free of political, military and religious coercion.[24]  A cornerstone of

Jewish religiosity is the recognition of the "image of God" found in all

human beings. This insight leads to the love of individuals and to the

love of humanity. [25]

 

     Since all human beings are created in the "image of God," all are

entitled to loving concern and respect. Rabbi Uziel’s commitment to

this principle is evident in a halakhic controversy which erupted concerning

autopsies. Already in the early 1930's in Erets Yisrael, the issue of

autopsies arose in connection with training Jewish doctors in emerging

Jewish medical schools. Medical training necessitated performing autopsies,

but how could this take place under halakhically correct conditions?

Rabbi Kook ruled in 1931 that it was not permissible to perform autopsies

on Jewish bodies for the sake of medical education. He recommended

that non-Jewish bodies be purchased for the sake of scientific

research. In sharp contrast, Rabbi Uziel theorized (le-halakha ve-lo lema'ase)

that autopsies could be permitted according to Jewish law if

conducted with proper respect. "In a situation of great benefit to everyone,

where there is an issue of saving lives, we have not found any reason

to prohibit (autopsies), and on the contrary, there are proofs to permit

them." In considering whether it would be preferable to obtain non-

Jewish bodies for autopsies, Rabbi Uziel’s response was 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 being--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." According to Rabbi Uziel, if one were

to prohibit autopsies, then no autopsies could be performed on anyone,

Jewish or non-Jewish. The result of this policy would be that no doctors

could be trained. [26]

 

     Rabbi Uziel’s appreciation of the “image of God" in everyone was

manifested in his abhorrence of discrimination based on religion or race.

In the early days of British rule over Erets Yisrael, Rabbi Uziel was

already imagining how halakha would be implemented in a new Jewish

state. He posed the theoretical question: may the testimony of non-Jews

be accepted in Jewish courts according to the rules of the Torah? "It is

impossible to answer this question negatively, because it would not be

civil justice to disqualify as witnesses those who live among us and deal

with us honestly and fairly. Weren't we ourselves embittered when the

lands of our exile invalidated us as witnesses? If in the entire enlightened

world the law has been accepted to receive the testimony of every person

without consideration of religion or race, how then may we make such a

separation?" He then went on to write a comprehensive responsum in

which he demonstrated the propriety of establishing a regulation allowing

testimony from non-Jews. [27] This responsum demonstrates Rabbi Uziel's

concern for creating ajust Jewish society which respected the rights and needs

of the non-Jewish population.

 

     In his speech to the rabbis of Erets Yisrael (1919), he stated that

the Jewish nation was a people of peace, never wanting to advance itself

by causing destruction to others. Non-Jews should not feel threatened

by the emergence of a Jewish state, since a Jewish government would be

a source of peace and blessing.[28]  In his address at his installation as Chief

Rabbi of Israel (1939), Rabbi Uziel stressed the need to forge links of

peace and fellowship among all segments of society in Erets Yisrael. [29] In

his radio address in honor of his installation as Chief Rabbi, he made a

special appeal to the non-Jewish population in the land of Israel: "We

stretch out to you a hand of peace, true and trustworthy. We say to you:

The land is spread out before us and we will work it with joined hands.

We will uncover its treasures and will live in it as brothers together." [30]

 

Rabbi Uziel, who spoke Arabic fluently, felt it was vital for Jews to

establish good relations with their Arab neighbors. He strenuously criti-

cized those individuals who, in the name of Judaism, fomented anti-

Arab attitudes. This was a perversion of Judaism. "The Torah of Israel,

all of whose paths are ways of peace, calls for the peace and love of its

people and all who are created in the image ofGod."[31]  It was up to rabbis

to decry negative attitudes towards the Arabs. In 1927, Rabbi Uziel

visited Baghdad and spoke to the Jewish community there, inspiring

them with his message from Zion. In his speech, which he delivered

both in Hebrew and Arabic, he called on the Jews of Baghdad to share

in the religious Zionist ideals, to settle in Israel, to maintain their religious

traditions in the land of Israel. The Arabic newspapers of Baghdad

praised Rabbi Uziel’s speech, and lauded his call for peace and

friendship between the two great nations (Jews and Arabs), both peoples

being descendants of our forefather Abraham.[32]

 

     In 1921, a battle erupted between Jews and Arabs in the outskirts

of Tel Aviv. When Rabbi Uziel learned that both sides were shooting at

each other, he went out to the battleground in his rabbinical garb. Fearlessly,

he walked between the two camps. The gunfire stopped. Rabbi

Uziel spoke to the Arabs with emotion. He reminded them that Jews

and Arabs are cousins, descendants of Abraham. "We say to you that

the land can bear all of us, can sustain all of us. Let us stop the battles

among ourselves, for we are brothers."

 

     Rabbi Uziel fully believed that peace and harmony were achievable

if goodwill could prevail. He was faithful to this vision throughout his

life, even though it was rejected by political and religious leadership on

both sides.

 

     When Rabbi Uziel died in 1953, hundreds of thousands of people

mourned his passing. All the people of Israel, Sephardim and Ashkenazim,

Jews and non-Jews, had lost a religious leader of the highest

stature. The motto of his life had been the words of the prophet Zekharya:

"Love truth and peace." The grandeur of his life and his religious

vision were an inspiration to his generation, and will stand as a

lasting monument for generations to come.

 

NOTES

 

[1] R. Benzion Uziel, Mikhmanei Uziel, Tel Aviv, 5699, p.328.

[2] For more on the life and career and Rabbi Uziel, see Shabbetai Don Yahye,

HaRav Benzion Meir Hai Uziel: Hayav uMishnato, Jerusalem, 5715. See

also Yaacov Hadani, "HaRav Benzion Uziel keManhig Medini,” Hamidrashia,

Vol.. 20-21, 1987, pp. 239-266. [See also Marc D. Angel, Loving Truth and Peace: The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel, Jason Aronson, Northvale, 1999.]

[3] R. Benzion Uziel, Hegyonei Uziel, VoL. 1, Jerusalem, 5713, p. 99; and

Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 2, Jerusalem) 5714, p. 120.

[4] Hegyonei Uziel, VoL. 2, pp. 121-125. See also, Mikhmanei Uziel, p.460.

[5] Mikhmanei Uziel, p.324.

[6] Mikhmanei Uziel, p.331.

[7] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 364-365.

[8] Mikhmanei Uziel, p.391; Mishpetei Uziel, Yore De'a 3, Vol. 2 Addendum

No.3; Sha'arei Uziel, Jerusalem, 5751, p.l0. See also Marc D. Angel, Rhythms

of Jewish Living, New York, 1986, pp. 70-72; and Marc D. Angel,

Voices in Exile, Hoboken, 1991, pp. 194-196.

[9] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 557.

[10] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 456 and 458.

[11]  Quoted in Shabbetai Don Yahye, pp. 227-228.

[12] Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 2, pp. 96-97.

[13] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 405.

[14] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 406-407.

[15] Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 2, p. 98.

[16] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 552-553.

[17] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 345.

[18] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 382-383; 393.

[19] Sha'arei Uziel, introduction, pp. 35 and 37.

[20] Mikhmanei Uziel, pp. 516-517.

[21] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 120.

[22] Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 1, pp. 98-99.

[23] Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 1, p. 176.

[24] Hegyonei Uziel, Vol. 2, pp. 146-147.

[25] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 344.

[26] For Rabbi Kook's opinion, see Da’at Cohen, Jerusalem, 5745, No. 199.

Rabbi Uziel's opinion is found in Piskei Uziel, Jerusalem, 5737, No. 32, especially

pp. 178-179. See also my article, "A Discussion of the Nature of

Jewishness in the Teachings of Rabbi Kook and Rabbi Uziel," in Seeking Good, Speaking Peace,

edited by Hayyim J. Angel, Hoboken, 1994, pp.112-123.

[27] For a discussion of Rabbi Uziel’s position, see Rabbi Haim David Halevy,

"The Love of Israel as a Factor in Halakhic Decision Making in the Works

of Rabbi Benzion Uziel," Tradition, Vol. 24, Spring 1989, pp. 17-19.

[28] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 330.

[29] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 424.

[30] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 429.

[31] Mikhmanei Uziel, p. 523.

[32] Shabbetai Don Yahye, pp. 107-108.

[33] Shabbetai Don Yahye, p. 77.