National Scholar Updates

The Grasshopper Effect and Other Defects in Modern Orthodox Leadership

 

 

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 Battle for the Jewish Mind: Book Review by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

The Battle for the Jewish Mind

Book Review by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

Sina Kahen, the Founder of Da’at Press, has recently published a very important volume: “The Battle for the Jewish Mind: The Maimonidean Controversies and Why They Matter Today.” Sina works in the Medical Tech and AI industries, and has been publishing a series of books that foster a grand religious vision. Born in Iran, Sina lives in London with his wife and two children. He is one of the leaders in Habura, a group that promotes a Judaism based on the “Geonic-Sepharadi tradition,” and even more specifically the “Geonic-Andalusian tradition.”

Maimonides (1138-1204) is the great exemplar of this tradition. He was a brilliant Talmudist and halakhist, and his Mishneh Torah continues to be a foundational work in Jewish law.  Aside from his mastery of rabbinic sources, he was highly regarded for his medical and scientific works. Like others in the Geonic-Andalusian tradition, he valued philosophy and general knowledge. His classic Guide for the Perplexed offered an intellectually rigorous approach to Judaism: how to read the Bible,  how to reconcile biblical texts with philosophic and scientific truths, how to seek reasons for the commandments, how to understand revelation, prophecy, messianism etc.  In short, Maimonides was a proponent of a thinking Judaism that drew on the best teachings of our rabbis and the best wisdom available from beyond Jewish sources.

Maimonides’ commitment to philosophy was so great, he included basic philosophic principles about God in the opening chapters of his code of Jewish law. He stressed that a knowledge of physics and metaphysics was essential to a proper religious life. 

While his approach was well within the Geonic-Andalusian tradition, many religious traditionalists advocated a very different view of things. They sought all truth in the Torah and rabbinic texts; they thought that philosophical inquiry could lead the masses away from religious observance. They taught a kabbalistic/midrashic Judaism that demanded emunat hakhamim, reliance on the opinions of sages who were not tainted by wisdom from the general world. They not only denigrated the philosophical approach of Maimonides, they strove to ban his books. What emerged was a century and more of “the Maimonidean controversies.” The anti-Maimonides group went so far as to denounce Maimonides heresies to Dominican monks who set fire to Maimonides’ books in a public demonstration in Paris in 1233.  The horror of this event caused some anti-Maimonists to repent their ways.

But the basic controversies did not disappear…and are still raging in religious Jewish life today. The Maimonidean approach to philosophical quest is highly discouraged among much of Orthodoxy today. Sina Kahen asks: “Why is the worldly tradition—the one that treated the sciences as servants of Torah, that saw rigorous and rational inquiry as a form of worship—not the mainstream?” (p. 75).  Why is so much of Orthodoxy today steeped in kabbalistic/midrashic Judaism, rather than the intellectually sophisticated Judaism espoused by Rambam and the Geonic/Andalusian tradition?

Sina Kahen pointedly notes: “The question is not whether Jews “should” engage with the sciences—as though one were choosing between a safe path and a risky one. The question is whether a Jew who refuses to look at the world God made can be said to know the God who made it. The tradition we have followed through these pages answered: he cannot. Not fully. Not with the depth that Torah demands” (p. 80).

Sina Kahen has written a remarkable volume that not only provides the historical context of “the Maimonidean controversies,” but demonstrates how those controversies persist today. While, happily, there are those within modern Jewry espousing an intellectually vibrant Judaism open to the sciences, humanities and arts—there are others who strive to narrow intellectual pursuits to the four cubits of Torah as they understand it.

Sina Kahen’s book is available through Da’at Press: https://www.daat.press/product-page/the-battle-for-the-jewish-mind-the-maimonidean-controversies-sina-kahen

I recommend it very highly. 

 

 

 

The Grand Religious Worldview of Rabbi Benzion Uziel

     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.

 

 

Kohelet on Wealth and Wisdom

KOHELET ON WEALTH AND WISDOM:

BETWEEN THE PROMISE OF PROVERBS AND THE REALITY OF LIFE

 

Introduction

 

Kohelet is a philosophical and introspective work that confronts the tension between inherited ideals—wisdom, righteousness, reward—and the painful unpredictability of real life. Among its central themes is the question of whether wealth and wisdom—so extolled by traditional texts like Proverbs—can truly offer a good life. Kohelet affirms their value, yet constantly challenges expectations about their efficacy, reliability, and permanence.

 

Traditional Assumptions about Wisdom and Wealth

 

While Proverbs teaches that wisdom and righteousness generally lead to blessing, Kohelet challenges this assumption more radically: not just that reward is delayed, but that it may never come at all. According to received wisdom, the wise understand the world, choose rightly, and flourish accordingly. The righteous, diligent person should be rewarded—through material success, moral clarity, and social stability. The wicked, by contrast, should suffer consequences. Wisdom, in this model, is not only morally elevating but pragmatically effective.

Kohelet affirms the tradition, yet challenges its promises in light of human experience.[i] Real life, Kohelet insists, often fails to conform to the neat structures of traditional moral logic. The race is not always to the swift, nor bread to the wise (9:11). The wicked are buried with honor while the righteous are forgotten (8:10). In Kohelet’s view, these apparent injustices do not disrupt the system—they are part of the system.

 

The Futility and Fragility of Wealth

 

Kohelet probes the instability of material success. The lover of money never finds satisfaction (5:9); the rich man cannot sleep (5:11). Wealth can be lost in an instant (5:13), or inherited by one unworthy (2:21). Even if a man possesses great riches and lives many years, if he cannot enjoy them, he is worse off than a stillborn child, who at least is spared the pain of longing unfulfilled (6:1–6). Death renders all accumulation meaningless—“as he came, so shall he go” (5:14). The world itself seems to sever the link between effort and outcome. This is not a condemnation of wealth per se, but a critique of the illusion that it can deliver security or permanence.

And yet, Kohelet does not advocate laziness. “The fool folds his hands and consumes his own flesh” (4:5). Nor does he argue for despair. Rather, he calls for modest, balanced effort: “Better a handful of rest than two fists of toil and pursuit of wind” (4:6). Practical wisdom teaches: diversify your investments (11:2), sow your seed even when conditions are uncertain (11:6). Work hard, but do not become obsessed.

 

Wisdom’s Enduring but Imperfect Value

 

More painful to Kohelet than the flaws of wealth are the limitations of wisdom. For Kohelet, wisdom is not only practical—it is personal. That even this cannot secure justice or meaning is the book’s deepest sorrow, because wisdom, unlike wealth, is supposed to be an anchor of religious meaning. Wisdom, we are taught, should guide us toward meaning and righteousness. Yet even here, Kohelet finds disappointment. “I saw that wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness” (2:13)—yet “the same fate befalls them both” (2:14). The wise are forgotten, their achievements impermanent (9:15). Even a poor wise man who saves a city is ultimately ignored (9:16).

Still, Kohelet insists: wisdom is better than power (9:16), and “wisdom preserves the life of its possessor” (7:12). It is not worthless—it is just not a guarantee. Its value lies not in control, but in the capacity to respond meaningfully to the world’s uncertainties.

 

Living with Complexity: Humility and Joy

 

Kohelet holds two truths at once: that wisdom and righteousness matter—and that they do not guarantee success. This refusal to resolve contradiction finds resonance in Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s theological method. Jewish thought often accepts contradiction—not as a failure of logic, but as a reflection of reality:

 

Judaism has never accepted the two-value Aristotelian logic which, in its principle of contradiction and the excluded middle, states that, if A contradicts B, then only one of them is right and the other is wrong; the thing is either B or A, to the exclusion of either being both together or being neither A nor B. Judaism has ignored this principle and has quite often acted as if both A and B are right, in spite of their mutual exclusiveness. Even in the halakhic realm, Judaism believes that there is a possibility for a contradiction in the objects without negating either of them. Jewish philosophy and the metaphysic of man can only be understood if the dialectical principle is adopted as the point of departure.[ii]

 

Kohelet affirms both the value of wisdom and its limits; both the possibility of joy and the inevitability of death.

Instead of entitlement or nihilism, Kohelet offers humility. We do not earn our portion by merit alone. Our helek (portion) is a gift, and we are meant to enjoy it—with awe before God and within bounds of morality (9:7–10; 11:9). “Rejoice, young man, in your youth... but know that for all these, God will bring you into judgment” (11:9). Joy is not a distraction from righteousness, but a fulfillment of it.

Kohelet concludes: “The end of the matter, when all is heard: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man” (12:13). Not because doing so guarantees success, but because it is what we were created for.

In a world where justice is deferred, where wisdom is fallible, and where wealth is fleeting, Kohelet offers a theology of realism: work honestly, pursue wisdom, enjoy life as a divine gift—and trust that God’s judgment encompasses more than we can see. This is not cynicism, but sanctified clarity. Wisdom and wealth may not ensure success—but Kohelet teaches us to live wisely and gratefully anyway.

Kohelet does not promise certainty. He offers instead a life of disciplined joy, grounded effort, and humble fear of God.

 


 

 


 


[i] In addition to the extensive commentaries on Kohelet by Michael V. Fox (Ecclesiastes [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2004], A Time to Tear Down & A Time to Build Up: A Rereading of Ecclesiastes, [Grand Rapids, MI: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999]), see especially his article, “The Epistemology of the Book of Proverbs,” Journal of Biblical Literature 126 (2007), 669–684.

[ii] Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Days of Deliverance: Essays on Purim and Hanukkah, ed. Eli D. Clark et al. [Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2007], 29.

Reviews of Rabbi M. Angel's Recent Books

Optimism, Pessimism and the Third Way

Reviews by Irene Lancaster

 

Rabbi Marc Angel of New York has recently brought out a book on Rabbi Uziel (1880-1953), Sephardi Chief Rabbi of Israel under the British Mandate and then under the new-born State. Rabbi Uziel worked with the great Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi Kook and then with Chief Rabbi Herzog, formerly of Ireland! The book is called ‘Loving Truth and Peace.’

I’ve always been interested in Chief Rabbi Uziel, having lived on Uziel St in Jerusalem during 1983-4, when studying at religious seminary in that very street. And fellow students were also Sephardi, just like Rabbi Uziel.

Rabbi Uziel was an encourager. He encouraged everyone: the observant and the non-observant; completely lapsed Jews, as well as prospective converts.

In his legal rulings on how a Jewish state should be run while incorporating religious norms, Rabbi Uziel tended to follow ‘paths of peace.’ His vision for the Jewish State included minority groups as full citizens with ample room to observe their own holy days, festivals, and customs. This was at a time when many Jews feared Islam and Christianity, and with good reason. But Rabbi Uziel saw the bigger picture. He was unique. In other words, he didn’t wish to impose: his was a ‘live and let live’ religion which wholeheartedly embraced others.

At the same time, Rabbi Angel has also published a series of essays on readings for Shabbat. This book is aptly named ‘Angel for Shabbat’.

In what other book can you read about my former colleague, Professor Norman Geras, of Manchester University, a politics expert and prize-winning blogger, in the context of Moses having to stand up to Pharaoh (Exodus 9:13)? 

As Rabbi Angel states (p 132), Professor Geras wrote about "'the contract of mutual indifference'. His basic thesis was that when people become indifferent to the injustices perpetrated against others, the general morality of society declines ... Mutual indifference is the sign of a morally defective society/world. It is not only degrading to the victims of injustice, it is degrading to the perpetrators themselves.”

That is why G-d told Moses to "stand [tall] before Pharaoh."

Or another gem on page 214, which is entitled ‘Sacred Space’ and deals with reasons for synagogue attendance. Why do people go to Shul? This is asked in the context of the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), precursor of the Temple (Exodus 39). 

For some people the Shul acts as a ‘hospital’. They come at times of crisis, illness and death. They attend only at time of need. Otherwise they avoid Shul.

Then we have the Shul as ‘museum’. These people visit for Shul’s ‘nostalgic qualities’. They enjoy the ‘old relics’ and attend on high holy days ‘as a social/cultural obligation’. It is ‘a building that houses old things and old memories.’

Next is the ‘entertainment hall’ Shul. People "have a good time there. They meet friends; they hear nice music; they listen to a sermon; they enjoy the refreshments ... They want the synagogue to entertain them, to come up with new melodies and new programmes."

Last but not least we have the Shul as ‘Sacred Space’.

"This refers to those who are seeking communion with the eternal, ineffable G-d. They come to synagogue often and in a spirit of yearning. When they enter the sanctuary, they feel the power of the sacred space. They sit humbly, quietly, thoughtfully. They absorb the atmosphere; they savor their words of prayer; they lose themselves in meditation. They have not come to synagogue because of a crisis; nor to experience the museum-like qualities; nor to be entertained. They have come for something far different: they have come to commune with G-d, to understand themselves, and transcend themselves."

This is the meaning of the building of the Mishkan - the space which G-d indwells. What a marvellous description of the meaning of Shul for so many people.

I must confess however that I find that the presence of like-minded people, together with the wonderful singing and kiddush refreshments, not to mention the rabbi’s sermon - always short and to-the-point - all help contribute to the meaning of the Shul I attend, so that the Sacred Space grows as we sit there allowing a special quality to enter in.

And finally, on June 13 diaspora communities read the story of the ‘spies’ in ‘Shelach Lecha’ (Numbers 13-15). Rabbi Angel discusses this story from every angle on pages 307-16. This reading is especially dear to me because I was asked to speak on this very subject at a Jerusalem synagogue some years ago.

Rabbi Angel contrasts the optimism of Caleb and Joshua with the pessimism of the 10 other leaders chosen by Moses to spy out the Promised Land. 

On their return from spying out the Land the spies made the mistake of speaking publicly about their misgivings without first consulting in private with Moses. Moses would have provided a realistic plan of action which would included both points of view, the pessimistic and the optimistic. Not entering the Land was, after all, not an option for the children of Israel.

Rabbi Angel comments: ‘This is true for government officials, for journalists, for opinion makers - for everyone. Responsible leadership entails careful analysis, concern for how one’s words and deeds will affect the public, an honest and realistic plan of action that can gain public support and confidence.’

And then the piece de resistance:

"In Israel’s War of Independence in 1948, David Ben Gurion called a meeting of his military experts to address a serious crisis. Reinforcements were desperately needed in the north but there seemed to be no way to get the troops there. The experts told Ben Gurion that it was impossible to move troops to the north since the enemies’ positions were too strong. Ben Gurion replied: 'We do not need experts to tell us that something is impossible. Anyone can say this. We need experts who can tell us how to accomplish the impossible!' Upon further deliberation, the experts came up with a plan - and they succeeded in doing the 'impossible.' They found a way of getting the needed troops to the north and ensuring a victory for Israel in the battles there.

"In the many crises which face us - individually as well as communally - it is tempting to give in to pessimism and judge things to be hopeless or impossible. It is also tempting to ignore the real dangers before us and to be unrealistically optimistic about chances of success. It is vital, though, that we maintain clearheaded realism - facing problems honestly, being neither fearful nor foolhardy.

"It is the realists who are best suited to achieve the 'impossible.'"

The book is full of such gems, in which Rabbi Angel brings the Shabbat readings to life and renders them relevant for today. 

‘Angel for Shabbat’ and ‘Loving Truth and Peace’ are published by Da’at Press (based in London) in conjunction with the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. Both books are highly recommended.

Loving Truth and Peace:  https://www.daat.press/product-page/loving-truth-and-peace-rabbi-benzion-uziel

Angel for Shabbat: https://www.daat.press/product-page/angel-for-shabbat-rabbi-marc-angel

Trapped? Yes/No: Thoughts for Parashat Devarim

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Devarim

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

As Moses approached his death, he offered his guidance to the people of Israel and “took upon himself to expound the Torah” (Devarim 1:5). Rashi, drawing on ancient Midrash, indicates that Moses taught the Torah in seventy languages. Since the Israelites could not possibly have known seventy languages, what is the Midrash teaching?

Some explain: The Jews will find themselves scattered throughout the world—among the seventy nations—and the Torah will be relevant to them wherever they live.

Others explain: The Torah is relevant not only to the people of Israel but to all the people of the world. Indeed, the Torah has been translated into many languages and has impacted on much of humanity.

Yet others explain: The Torah text is multi-faceted and can be interpreted in many ways. “The Torah has seventy faces,” as the Talmud puts it.

There is wisdom in all these interpretations. But perhaps there is yet another way to understand the Midrash. Let us consider a phrase relating to the game of chess: zugzwang (pronounced tsoog-tsvahng).

Zugzwang refers to a situation where a player is obligated to make a move, but every available legal move will worsen the situation causing loss of pieces or the game itself.  The player is trapped and has no good option.  Ideally, a person should think ahead and avoid getting into a zugzwang trap. But once it’s too late, one must try to make the least damaging move possible.

Perhaps the Midrash is teaching us that life is not a game of chess! When we come to a seemingly impossible situation where all options seem bad, we have the ability to “think out of the box.” The Torah has seventy entryways; we are not restricted to only one or two choices. When we step back from a difficult challenge, we can try to evaluate options from different angles. If the obvious choices are bad, perhaps we can overcome the situation by considering unconventional ideas. In life, we are not bound by the rules of chess. The Torah is available in seventy languages, seventy faces, seventy options of understanding.

Rabbi Israel Salanter, one of the great sages of the 19th century, used to say: when people come to a wall they can’t go through, they stop. When Jews come to a wall they can’t go through…they go through!

We often face dilemmas that seem to have no good way out. We feel trapped and endangered. The Midrash teaches us to think again, to think beyond, to imagine what now seems impossible.

 

Maimonides: Pioneer of Positive Psychology

 

 

For more than 800 years, Moses Maimonides has been a towering figure in Judaism. Not only did he become the leader of world Jewry in a tumultuous era, but his religious works, including the monumental Mishneh Torah and the Introduction to the Mishnah, remain avidly studied today. His Guide of the Perplexed, seeking to integrate classic Greek thought with Hebraic monotheism, has exerted an enduring influence on Western philosophy. And yet, Maimonides’ extensive writings are both important and relevant for another, rapidly growing field of knowledge: namely, positive psychology. Why? Many people are seeking to gain a greater sense of spirituality in their lives by applying its seemingly contemporary insights. In this article, I’d like to highlight Maimonides’ teachings related to this important new specialty, what its originators have called “the study of character strengths and virtues.”

 

The Science of Positive Psychology

 

The mental health field today is rightfully accepting “character strengths and virtues” as vital to understanding human nature. This development is long overdue; more than a century ago, the founding American psychologist William James urged that the new science of psychology explore the heights of human attainment, including altruism and transcendental experience, rather than focus on laboratory studies involving the sensory sensations of average people. Unfortunately, James’ declaration was largely ignored for nearly a half-century, until Abraham Maslow in the 1950s and 1960s co-founded the field of humanistic psychology. Maslow’s 25-year emphasis on studying emotionally healthy and high-achieving persons—those whom he termed self-actualizing—had great impact on academia and popular culture, but lessened significantly after his death in 1970.

 About a decade ago, Martin Seligman and his American colleagues launched the field of positive psychology, drawing partly upon growth-oriented conceptions of personality—but stressing empirical research to validate their viewpoint. Since then, positive psychology has grown tremendously around the world, with courses offered at more than 200 American universities, several new academic journals established, including The Journal of Happiness Studies and The Journal of Positive Psychology, and popular books such as Seligman’s Authentic Happiness and Happier by Israeli psychologist Tal Ben-Shahar gaining wide media attention.

 Central to such works has been a focus on such topics as hope and optimism, flourishing, gratitude and wisdom, love of learning, friendship and harmonious marriage, the mind-body relationship, courage, resilience, and happiness. Though the leaders of positive psychology are generally secularists from both Jewish and non-Jewish backgrounds, they have recently—and astutely—turned their attention to the writings of history’s great religious thinkers for insights into character-building and the attainment of life-meaning and direction.

In this regard, a major figure in Judaism is highly relevant: Moses Maimonides. Though he lived long ago, Maimonides can be viewed as a pioneer in this domain—as both a brilliant rabbinic thinker and esteemed physician. Throughout his voluminous writings, Maimonides highlighted the importance of emotional and physical wellness for leading an upright, spiritual life. Let me highlight five aspects of Maimonides’ teachings that are especially relevant to positive psychology today.

 

  1. Human beings are creatures of habit.

 

The notion that habit plays a key role in molding personality was first advanced by William James in the 1890s. He famously described habit as “the enormous fly-wheel of society”—propelling our lives in ways that lie outside our conscious awareness. Consistent with this longstanding view, positive psychology today has affirmed the utility of making habitual various forms of character-building activity, such as daily writing in a gratitude journal to “count one’s blessings” or maintaining a diary to strengthen “learned optimism.”   

Maimonides repeatedly stressed the importance of habit in fostering ethical and altruistic behavior. It’s fascinating to note that he specifically highlighted the importance of repetition in building positive habits. For example, in his influential formulation on charity, he observed that performing many small acts over time is more conductive to building character than if we perform one tremendous act with the same philanthropic value. Why? Because we are inwardly changed by our own behavior and thereby become more compassionate.

Maimonides’ emphasis on the psychological significance of “small-act repetition” is precisely consistent with recent research in marriage and couples counseling—revealing that marriages collapse mainly due to many small acts of hurtfulness or neglect between spouses, not one huge calamitous event.        

 

  1.  We are powerfully affected by our social milieu.

 

Since Alfred Bandura advanced social learning theory in the 1970s, developmental psychologists have known that in childhood our attitudes and behaviors are shaped by our social milieu: specifically, by those with power to dispense rewards and punishments, namely our parents. We imitate what they do, not what they say, in order to gain their approval and affection.

     Based on this viewpoint, positive psychology has begun to unravel how desirable behaviors of kindness, altruism, and empathy arise in certain social settings but rarely so in others.

Consistent with talmudic thought, Maimonides stressed the role of social surroundings in affecting individual behavior. Though readily acknowledging the influence of heredity, he contended that its impact on human conduct was much less than our daily social milieu. Maimonides recommended that we seek teachers, mentors, and friends in order to uplift our daily conduct—even paying for the opportunity, if necessary, to be positively influenced by moral exemplars.

Conversely, he repeatedly warned against associating with unethical companions due to their harmful impact on our character. If there are no ethical people with whom to

associate, Maimonides advised, then dwell alone in a cave rather than succumb to bad social influence.         

 

  1. Develop good social skills.

 

Among the main interests of positive psychology today is the development of what are known as social competencies, or collectively, as social intelligence. Recent research in organizational psychology has shown that socially oriented traits such as conscientiousness and extroversion are predictive of workplace achievement as well as job satisfaction. Clinical studies, too, have revealed a strong relationship between mental health and the presence of friends and confidants in one’s life. Conversely, social isolation is an important indicator of depression at virtually all ages. In Maimonides’ relevant view, the cultivation of such social attributes as cheerfulness, friendliness, helpfulness, generosity, and kindness is not only ethically important, but also represents a true path for success in life. Thus, Maimonides endorsed the teachings of Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) that positive social relations are the hallmark of the sage.

        

  1.  Avoid negative emotions, especially anger.

 

To maximize mental health, positive psychology is concerned with strengthening such life-enhancing emotions as optimism, gratitude, and admiration—and lessening the force of our negative emotions. This view is consistent with increasing evidence from behavioral medicine that chronic anger exerts severe strain on the body and causes premature aging and reduced longevity. Here, too, Maimonides was a pioneering thinker, for throughout his Judaic and medical writings, he repeated warned against negative emotions for their destructive effects.

For example, in the Mishneh Torah (Book II, chapter 3), Maimonides asserted that “Anger is a most evil quality. One should keep aloof from it to the opposite extreme, and train oneself not to be upset even by a thing over which it would be legitimate to be annoyed.” In the same volume, he stated that “The life of an angry person is not truly life. The sages have therefore advised that one keep far from anger until being accustomed not to take notice even of things that provoke annoyance. This is a good way.”

 

  1.  Cultivate mindfulness.

 

The fields of positive psychology and behavioral medicine today are increasingly recommending mindfulness training (that is, learning to stay focused in the present moment) for its therapeutic value. The scientific evidence is clear that such training is effective not only in reducing harmful emotions like anger and fear, but also in strengthening the body—by lowering blood pressure and heart-rate, for example. In this regard, it’s fascinating to learn that Maimonides addressed this topic in his influential Guide of the Perplexed (volume 1, chapter 60): “If we pray with the motion of our lips and our face toward the wall, but simultaneously think of business; if we read the Torah with our tongue while our heart is occupied with the building of our house, and we do not think of what we are reading; if we perform the commandments only with our limbs; then we are like those who are engaged in digging the ground or hewing wood in the forest without reflecting on the nature of those acts, or by whom they are commanded, or what is their purpose.”

Indeed, Maimonides attributed so much importance to mindfulness for establishing a healthful lifestyle that he even provided specific advice on how his fellow Jews could cultivate this trait: “The first thing you must do is turn your thoughts away from everything while you say the Shema or other daily prayers. Do not content yourself with being pious when you read merely the first verse of Shema or the first paragraph of the Amidah prayer. When you have successfully practiced this for many years, try when reading or listening to the Torah to have all your heart and thoughts occupied with understanding what you read or hear… After some time, when you have mastered this, accustom yourself to have your mind free from all other thoughts when you read any portion of the other books of the prophets, or when you say any blessing…direct your mind exclusively to what you are doing.” 

Maimonides’ career as a rabbinic scholar, communal leader, and physician spanned decades. His legacy has been profound and enduring. His psychological insights can enrich the new scientific specialty known as positive psychology with its important emphasis on fostering individual character strengths and virtues. In this regard, Maimonides’ teachings also provide specific ways to advance Jewish spirituality in everyday life.

 

More on Kohelet

KOHELET’S FINAL WORD:

MORTALITY, WISDOM, AND REVERENCE

 

Kohelet Chapter 12

 

Kohelet’s final chapter brings the book to a powerful and poetic close. It is not a reversal of the skeptical tones that preceded it, but their culmination—a sober and poetic reckoning with finitude, faith, and the fragility of wisdom. Through evocative metaphor and theological reflection, chapter 12 distills the book’s major themes and delivers its final charge.

 

Remember Your Creator: The Poetry of Mortality (12:1–7)

 

The chapter opens with a directive: “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth” (12:1). The verses that follow offer one of Tanakh’s most elaborate allegories—a haunting depiction of aging and dying. According to the Gemara (Shabbat 151b–152a), the breakdown of the body is illustrated through metaphor: the keepers of the house (hands) tremble, strong men (legs) bow, grinders (teeth) cease, and those who look through windows (eyes) darken.

While commentators differ on some of the specific imagery, the general message is clear: life is fleeting, and physical strength will inevitably decline. Having appeared 35 times throughout the book, the sun now darkens—its setting signals the end.[i]

The sequence ends: “The dust returns to the earth… and the spirit returns to God who gave it” (12:7). This may hint at divine accountability beyond death—but not necessarily in the form of a developed afterlife doctrine. As Psalm 104:29–30 describes, the spirit returns to its source, emphasizing the divine origin and destination of life. Kohelet’s goal is not metaphysical speculation, but existential awakening: mortality humbles and clarifies.[ii] As in 3:21—‘Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward?’—Kohelet gestures at the divine origin of the soul without resolving metaphysical questions.

 

Kohelet the Teacher: Wisdom as Spur and Anchor (12:8–12)

 

In verses 9–12, we learn of Kohelet not only as a seeker but also a teacher. He listened attentively (izzen), evaluated deeply (hikker), and weighed carefully. Rashbam and Ibn Ezra highlight that Kohelet neither blindly inherited nor hastily discarded tradition, but engaged it with discernment and depth. This dialectical approach is the hallmark of Kohelet’s entire discourse.

Wisdom, we are told, is like a goad—prodding the animal forward—and like well-driven nails, planted by the masters of assemblies (12:11). It guides and steadies, but can also wound. The lifestyle of Torah is not about emotional ease, but about walking in truth.

All wisdom, says Kohelet, comes from one Shepherd. This image, developed in Kohelet Rabbah and Hagigah 3b, calls for humility in the face of legitimate debate. The Arukh HaShulhan (introduction to Hoshen Mishpat) likens Torah to a symphony: the more varied the voices, the richer the music.

 

The End of the Matter (12:13–14)

 

The last verses bring the book to its conclusion: “The end of the matter, when all has been heard: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man” (12:13).

Some view this as a corrective to the book’s searching and challenging tone. However, it appears to express the message that has been unfolding all along. As Zer-Kavod observes, this is not a new idea but a summary: Kohelet has taught reverence, realism, and responsibility throughout. The same fear of God appeared in 3:14, 5:6, 7:18, 8:5, and 8:12–13. Kohelet’s conclusion doesn’t override his doubts; it distills them into a deeper commitment.

Kohelet does not promise justice on demand or clarity without struggle. But he insists that the fear of God remains both the starting point and the final aim. As Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik teaches, the consciousness of mortality is not an obstacle to faith but its foundation. The fleetingness of life should not drive despair, but devotion:

 

The finite experience of being arouses man’s conscience, challenges him to accomplish as much as possible during his short life span. In a word, finiteness is the source of morality…For orgiastic man, time is reduced to one dimension; only the present moment counts. There is no future to be anticipated, no past to be remembered.[iii]

 

Faith After the Verdict

 

If Rabbi Soloveitchik frames finitude as the source of moral urgency, Kohelet’s moral seriousness also resonates in more modern trials of faith—none more haunting than the one remembered by Elie Wiesel from Auschwitz: a group of Jews, in a symbolic courtroom, put God on trial—and found Him guilty. But then they turned and prayed to that very God. [iv]

To remember our Creator in our youth, to reflect on death without fear, to seek wisdom even when certainty eludes us—this is the life Kohelet commends. In that spirit, his final words echo not only the end of the book, but its entire sacred path: “God will bring every deed into judgment... whether good or evil” (12:14). That promise is not always visible to people—but it is the thread that holds all things together.

 

Epilogue to Kohelet

 

Kohelet’s voice remains singular in Tanakh—at once disillusioned and devout, weary and wise. Across twelve chapters, he dismantles easy theologies and inherited assumptions, only to rebuild something more honest and enduring in their place.

He begins with havel havalim—“utter futility”—not as a declaration of nihilism, but as a summons to humility. Life, he insists, is fleeting and difficult to grasp, like vapor. We seek yitron, lasting gain, but the world offers only helek—a portion, a gift. This shift—from control to gratitude—redefines what it means to live wisely.

Wealth and wisdom, Kohelet affirms, have value. But they offer no guarantees. The righteous may suffer. The wicked may prosper. Death comes to all. Rather than despair, Kohelet calls for clear-eyed, ethically grounded joy. “Eat your bread with joy,” he says, “for God has already approved your deeds” (9:7).

His realism is not resignation. It is discipline. Kohelet urges us to act, to love, to seek justice—without illusions. To fear God. To revere wisdom even when it wounds, and to live responsibly even when the world feels chaotic. In the end, his message is quiet but uncompromising: we are not asked to explain the world, only to walk wisely and righteously within it.

 


 

 

REVIEW ESSAY

 

KOHELET IN OUR TIME: 

A REVIEW OF FOUR NEW COMMENTARIES[v]

 

Erica Brown, Ecclesiastes and the Search for Meaning (Maggid Books, 2023).

 

David Curwin, Kohelet: A Map to Eden (Aleph-Beta & Maggid Books, 2023).

 

Menachem Fisch, Qohelet: Searching for a Life Worth Living, illuminations by Debra Band (Baylor University Press, 2023).

 

Yonatan Grossman and Asael Abelman, Kohelet: Sedek shel Or [Hebrew] (Maggid Books, 2023).

 

 

Introduction

 

            Kohelet stands apart in Tanakh—a book of searching rather than proclaiming, of questioning rather than resolving. In 2023, four new commentaries offered fresh lenses on its enigmatic voice. In an age often marked by either disconnection from religion or superficial forms of spirituality, it is imperative to pursue an authentic religious quest based on Godliness, wisdom, and intelligence. Kohelet is among the richest biblical sources for insights into this summum bonum (the highest good). As no two people are alike, readers may find the diverse approaches of these authors particularly stimulating and meaningful. 

            In approaching this review, I had initially planned on letting the four works stand in dialogue and debate over the major issues in Kohelet. Having read the books, however, I found their perspectives and methodologies so entirely different that it became more reasonable to focus on each approach separately and invite readers to dive into this illuminating world. In these volumes, we find four distinct means of exploring God’s word and the meaning of life. Each of these authors, from distinct disciplines—textual scholarship, pastoral theology, analytic philosophy, and literary midrash—contributes to the growing contemporary conversation about how Kohelet may speak religiously in a disoriented age.

 

Grossman and Abelman: A Model Peshat Commentary

 

In the spirit of his other excellent commentaries, Yonatan Grossman offers a comprehensive peshat-based approach to Kohelet, here co-authored with Asael Abelman. Their introduction covers the major critical issues, and then moves into a verse-by-verse commentary. Demonstrating command of the range of scholarship on Kohelet, they evaluate opinions carefully and judiciously.

            Although Kohelet draws from King Solomon’s life experiences, the book addresses every person’s religious experience (63). Kohelet focuses on the human condition more broadly, rather than on Israel’s unique covenantal mission. Kohelet is an inspired human voice standing before God, rather than God’s voice revealed through prophecy (21-23). 

            The expression tahat ha-shemesh (beneath the sun) appears twenty-nine times in Kohelet, and nowhere else in the rest of Tanakh. Tahat ha-shamayim (under heaven) appears three additional times. This emphasis demonstrates an entirely this-worldly perspective.

            Given this starkly anthropocentric focus, Kohelet should reflect different viewpoints than that of revealed prophecy. All people perceive the same reality that Kohelet does. On the basis of this observation, Rabbi Shimon ben Manasia maintained that Kohelet was not inspired altogether: “The Song of Songs defiles the hands because it was composed with divine inspiration. Kohelet does not defile the hands because it is only Solomon’s wisdom” (Tosefta Yadayim 2:14).[vi]

            Though our tradition generally insists that Kohelet is divinely inspired, it is indeed written from the perspective of human wisdom.

            One of the most critical terms to define in Kohelet is hevel. It appears 38 times in the book, out of 73 occurrences in all the Tanakh. In Kohelet, hevel has a negative connotation, and is linked with ra’ah rabbah, a grave evil (2:21); inyan ra, an unhappy business (4:8); and holi ra, a grievous ill (6:2). Elsewhere it refers to vaporous ephemerality (Job 7:1–16). Hevel is linked to shav and sheker (e.g., Isaiah 30:7; 49:4; Job 9:29; 27:12; 35:16), suggesting worthlessness or senselessness. Many interpreters therefore translate hevel as “ephemeral” or “vanity.”

            However, Kohelet also describes certain permanent features of the human condition as hevel:

 

For sometimes a person whose fortune was made with wisdom, knowledge, and skill must hand it on to be the portion of somebody who did not toil for it. That too is futile, and a grave evil. For what does a man get for all the toiling and worrying he does under the sun? All his days his thoughts are grief and heartache, and even at night his mind has no respite. That too is futile! (2:21–23).

 

There is an evil I have observed under the sun, and a grave one it is for man: that God sometimes grants a man riches, property, and wealth, so that he does not want for anything his appetite may crave, but God does not permit him to enjoy it; instead, a stranger will enjoy it. That is futility and a grievous ill (6:1–2).

 

Therefore, the common translations are inadequate. Grossman and Abelman interpret hevel to mean that the world often seems illogical and chaotic. Knowledge of the purpose of life, or having a sense of order, is vaporous because the world lacks that order in      human perception (31–32). In this regard, their interpretation approaches that of Michael V. Fox, who translates hevel as absurd.[vii]

Although Kohelet is steeped in biblical wisdom tradition, he also challenges many of its presumptions, including the necessary connection between a righteous life and worldly success (e.g., 7:15; 8:9–17). Similarly, Kohelet preaches diligence and condemns sloth, but concurrently is disillusioned that hard work does not always yield the expected results (e.g., 4:4–6; 9:11–12) (28, 83).

Kohelet is not a systematic work of philosophy, and therefore may have contradictions as it explores different aspects of the human condition.[viii] Perhaps the book’s greatest contribution is its closing chapter (333–345). One of the most elusive aspects of Kohelet interpretation has been seeking an overall structure. Grossman and Abelman maintain that the repeated references to eating and drinking and enjoying life as gifts from God (2:24–25, 3:12–13; 3:22; 5:17–18; 6:12; 8:15; 9:7–10; chapters 11–12) are intended as refrains to conclude each section.

            The authors conclude by summarizing their understanding of Kohelet’s overall philosophy: 

 

Meaning for humankind is not rooted in the great and broad worlds of religious longing, which prods people to gather vast wisdom to become a prophet or to bring the Messiah. It occurs with the religious experience of observing the commandments, and sipping a cup of tea with mint or herbs. That is a gift from God (346).

 

This vision captures Kohelet’s grounded theology: joy not as distraction, but as sacred attention to the small, good things in life.

One should add that other principal lessons include fearing God, pursuing wisdom, working diligently, having religious humility, and not being obsessive over the attainment of either wisdom or wealth.[ix] Overall, Grossman and Abelman’s commentary is an exceptional resource for learning peshat in Kohelet.

 

Erica Brown: Meaningful Inspiration Based upon a Peshat Foundation

 

Erica Brown builds her commentary on a solid peshat foundation. She relies primarily on the works of the classical midrashim and commentators for her text analysis, and also engages with contemporary scholars when they meaningfully contribute.

Brown focuses primarily on how the ideas of Kohelet are deepened through engagement with the wisdom of the world. Citing a dazzling array of quotations from works of Jewish tradition, philosophy, psychology, literature, poetry, art, contemporary sociological studies, and much more, she brings these ideas to bear on the meaning of life as reflected through Kohelet. Those inspirational ideas are the major contribution of this volume. 

            For example, Kohelet expresses chagrin over the person who has many children but is unable to enjoy his wealth: 

 

Even if a man should beget a hundred children and live many years—no matter how many the days of his years may come to, if his gullet is not sated through his wealth, I say: The stillbirth, though it was not even accorded a burial, is more fortunate than he (6:3). 

 

Kohelet declares that it is better to have been a stillborn than to experience this particular misery. Brown goes on an extended discussion of the profound sense of loss a stillborn brings its family (239–242).

            In chapter 5, Brown presents an essay filled with insights pertaining to greed, including an illuminating study profiled in The Atlantic in 2011 regarding the widespread wealth dissatisfaction of the super-rich—defined in that study by people with fortunes upward of 25 million dollars. These discussions provide a poignant illustration of Kohelet’s saying, “A lover of money never has his fill of money, nor a lover of wealth his fill of income. That too is futile” (5:9). 

            Brown’s citations from the panoply of human wisdom bring the eternal messages of Kohelet to life.

 

Menachem Fisch: A Philosopher’s Personal Worldview 

 

Menachem Fisch, emeritus professor at Tel Aviv University, writes not as a Bible commentator, but as an engaged philosopher who admires Kohelet. Fisch adopts the position of Karl Popper, who maintains that science and rationality at their best disprove ideas and propositions, and can never prove anything. Therefore, one should relentlessly pursue truth by constantly subjecting arguments to criticism (3). Kohelet’s unremitting challenges to the human condition and its wisdom assumptions promote religious and intellectual humility. Fisch thereby creates a thought-provoking lens through which to learn Kohelet.

            Fisch writes brief essays to introduce each chapter, but does not present a systematic commentary in verse-by-verse sequence. This feature makes his self-styled “philosophical commentary” readable, but also leaves a critical void in several of his central interpretations.

            For example, Fisch defines hevel as ephemeral like vapor, rather than vanity (7–8). Kohelet thus teaches how to pursue and live a meaningful life in our temporary existence. This message certainly is central to Kohelet; however, as discussed above in this chapter, hevel sometimes laments enduring situations, rather than fleeting existence. Fisch does not address the challenge to his definition that arises from these and other examples in Kohelet.

            Fisch opposes passive piety, and promotes social activism to improve the world. He deems social action a cornerstone of Kohelet’s message:

 

We should act to better the world to our satisfaction as best we can, while humbly acknowledging our shortsightedness as far as God’s response to our efforts is concerned (125).

 

To act is to introduce change into our world…. To act wisely therefore consists first of taking keen critical stock of our domains of responsibility, on the lookout for possible problems or potential trouble spots and to determine how best to confront them (132).

 

To support his worldview, Fisch cites a passage toward the end of chapter 3:

 

So I decided, as regards men, to dissociate them [from] the divine beings and to face the fact that they are beasts. For in respect of the fate of man and the fate of beast, they have one and the same fate: as the one dies so dies the other, and both have the same lifebreath; man has no superiority over beast, since both amount to nothing (3:18–19).

 

He interprets these verses to mean that people who are passively pious are no better than beasts. However, Kohelet describes all human beings, who will die just like animals. Kohelet does not limit himself to passively pious people here, nor does he elevate those who take an active role in their society. 

More fundamentally, although the prophets endorse a life of God-fearing social action, this worldview is not expressed anywhere in Kohelet. When Kohelet sees oppression, he simply complains that it is appalling:

 

I further observed all the oppression that goes on under the sun: the tears of the oppressed, with none to comfort them; and the power of their oppressors—with none to comfort them. Then I accounted those who died long since more fortunate than those who are still living; and happier than either are those who have not yet come into being and have never witnessed the miseries that go on under the sun (4:1–3).

 

While Fisch’s reading reflects deep moral seriousness, the emphasis on social action may draw more from the prophetic corpus than from Kohelet itself.

            It is worth noting an added feature of this book. Fisch’s cousin, Debra Band, contributed original Kohelet-inspired artwork and extensive commentary on her pieces. Much of her oeuvre in one way or another reflects ephemerality, adding misty elements to a variety of scenes depicting the physical world. Several of her illustrations give expression to other specific ideas in Kohelet. For example, regarding her piece on the Song of the Seasons in chapter 3, she offers the following interpretation:

 

Qohelet meditates further on how every aspect and moment of life has its converse moment; the destined time for each is unknowable to any but God, the master of all existence. Gazing at his garden, he perceives life as a river, its origin unknowable, its endpoint obscure, each mirage-like moment subject to fluctuations and eddies that he cannot anticipate. The wall through which the stream emerges is capped by a mosaic bearing a fragment of the musical notation of Pete Seeger’s famous 1965 setting of the poem “Turn, Turn, Turn” (113).

 

David Curwin: A Modern Intertextual Midrash

 

David Curwin presents a creative network of intertextual associations. He reads Kohelet as a personal confession of King Solomon, and finds allusions to Solomon’s feelings of guilt over the mistakes he made throughout his reign. Curwin argues that Kohelet gives a voice to Solomon to repent for his sins. Curwin argues that the primary message of Kohelet is that one should not rationalize one’s sins, one should repent, and God will forgive (17). Through this process of repentance, we may return to the Garden of Eden. 

To develop his thesis, Curwin relies on an array of intertextual connections he has identified. Readers will have significantly different thresholds of what they consider convincing. When one breaks the book down into its various component sections, several arguments become more compelling than others. We will focus on two examples, one where the parallels appear to be unpersuasive (to this writer), and another which appears to be a model of how Curwin’s inventive technique can open new vistas in learning. 

Curwin connects Kohelet to the Solomon narratives in the Book of Kings. He summarizes his central thesis at the end of his volume:

 

However, even though we said earlier that unlike his father David, “there is no sign of Shlomo repenting,” Kohelet is evidence to the contrary…. [Shlomo] uses one long speech—the book of Kohelet—to address the mistakes of his past. He ceases rationalizing his sins and accepts God as Judge. Kohelet became his vidui (confession), which…is necessary for any authentic repentance (196–197).

 

To evaluate this claim, let us consider several representative examples: 

 

“A good name is better than fragrant oil, and the day of death than the day of birth” (Kohelet 7:1). The “fragrant oil” alludes to Solomon’s anointment as king. Kohelet wishes he never had been anointed king, but instead should have lived up to his divinely-given name of Jedidiah, God’s beloved (see II Samuel 12:24) (19–20). 

 

“O youth, enjoy yourself while you are young! Let your heart lead you to enjoyment in the days of your youth. Follow the desires of your heart and the glances of your eyes—but know well that God will call you to account for all such things” (Ecclesiastes 11:9). Solomon regrets the sinful indulgences of his youth, and warns readers not to emulate his behavior (20).

 

“Be not overeager to go to the House of God: more acceptable is obedience than the offering of fools, for they know nothing [but] to do wrong” (Ecclesiastes 4:17). Solomon bemoans the oppressive measures he imposed on his nation in order to build the Temple (23).[x]

 

            There are several flaws with this line of interpretation. Solomon’s experience lies in the background of Kohelet, but Kohelet contains guidance to teach all people for all time, and not a personal confession: “A further word: Because Kohelet was a sage, he continued to instruct the people. He listened to and tested the soundness of many maxims” (12:9). Kohelet takes a painfully hard look at human experience and helps readers navigate life’s difficulties (cf. Grossman and Abelman, 63; Brown, 447). 

There also is no mention of repentance in Kohelet. Kohelet calls for a God-fearing, wise, righteous life. Although the prophets routinely promoted repentance, it is difficult to consider repentance to be the primary message of Kohelet when the concept never appears in the book. Curwin’s personal repentance model is imaginative and spiritually resonant, but ultimately ungrounded in the text’s explicit themes or language.

            It also is noteworthy that Curwin paints Solomon as regretting the sinful behavior of his youth. The Book of Kings dates Solomon’s religious decline to his old age: “In his old age, his wives turned away Solomon’s heart after other gods, and he was not as wholeheartedly devoted to the Lord his God as his father David had been” (I Kings 11:4). It is likewise dubious to ascribe to Solomon feelings of guilt over building the Temple, his crowning achievement. 

Even if one finds some of the literary parallels intriguing, the overall analysis belongs to the realm of Curwin’s derash. If readers are inspired by the religious message that the doors of repentance are never closed, that is all for the good.

There are more convincing analyses in the book, particularly his explorations of texts pertaining to priestly clothing, the Temple, the Garden of Eden, and Yom Kippur (137–165). Curwin begins this leg of his journey with a survey of some well-known parallels between the Garden of Eden and the Tabernacle. Given that Adam was expelled from Eden, what would it take to return to paradise? Adam and Eve began their lives free of shame and naked, and felt shame only after they sinned. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (on Genesis 3:7) suggests that shame is a God-given instinct to remind us that we are not animals. When our bodies completely fulfill God’s commands, there is no shame. Here, Curwin draws attention to a puzzling detail of the Yom Kippur ritual: 

 

And Aaron shall go into the Tent of Meeting, take off the linen vestments that he put on when he entered the Shrine, and leave them there. He shall bathe his body in water in the holy precinct and put on his vestments; then he shall come out and offer his burnt offering and the burnt offering of the people, making expiation for himself and for the people. The fat of the sin offering he shall turn into smoke on the altar (Leviticus 16:23–25).

 

According to the plain sense of the text, the High Priest disrobes, leaves his garments in the Holy of Holies, and then emerges for the final time on Yom Kippur. Ramban is astonished: “It is completely impossible that [the Torah] would command Aaron to go to the Tent of Meeting for no reason, only to remove his clothing, be naked in God’s Sanctuary, and leave [the garments] there to rot!” (on Leviticus 16:23).  The Torah expressly outlaws such conduct, and threatens death for violating the requirement of being properly covered:

 

You shall also make for them linen breeches to cover their nakedness; they shall extend from the hips to the thighs. They shall be worn by Aaron and his sons when they enter the Tent of Meeting or when they approach the altar to officiate in the sanctuary, so that they do not incur punishment and die. It shall be a law for all time for him and for his offspring to come (Exodus 28:42–43; cf. Exodus 20:23).

 

Halakhah resolves this difficulty by reading the actions of Leviticus 16:23 as occurring after 16:25. The High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies after bathing. He therefore was dressed while in the Holy of Holies. He removed his garments prior to bathing, and left nothing behind in the Holy of Holies (Yoma 32a, Rashi).

            Nevertheless, the plain sense of the text suggests that the High Priest actually disrobed in the Holy of Holies. Is there a religious message underlying the peshat, even though this was not the applied law? Curwin maintains that the peshat suggests a return to the Eden-like state of pre-sin unashamed, naked existence.

            Unlike Adam and Eve, who failed to take responsibility for their sins and were expelled from Eden, Yom Kippur is characterized by confession of sin and atonement. Whereas the Cherubs in Eden prevented Adam and Eve from re-entering, the Temple’s Cherubs welcome the High Priest to the restored state of Eden. Curwin’s creative analysis thereby provides a stimulating interpretation to an age-old crux.

 

Conclusion

 

It is edifying to consider four diverse approaches to Kohelet at once. Grossman and Abelman are exemplars of the pursuit of peshat: painstaking analysis of the text, thorough surveying and analyzing ancient and contemporary commentaries, and a comprehensive methodology to navigate the debates and text. Brown engages readers with a plethora of insights into the human condition. Fisch’s philosophy of uncertainty and humility dovetails meaningfully with Kohelet. His emphasis on social action, while an important biblical value, is not manifest in Kohelet. Curwin offers an array of potential intertextual links between Kohelet and other biblical books, and readers are invited to determine what they find compelling within his nexus of connections.

             Kohelet challenges us to locate the sacred not only in divine revelation, but in the raw fabric of human life—marked by mortality, contradiction, and limited understanding. Each of the works reviewed here offers a distinct path toward making sense of this sacred dissonance, whether through close textual analysis, philosophical engagement, or existential reflection. Their diversity mirrors Kohelet’s own multivocal complexity and invites the reader into a dialogue rather than a conclusion. 

As the essays in this volume have sought to show, Kohelet does not resolve theological tension—it dignifies it. His voice asks not for certainty, but for reverence; not for mastery, but for humility. He sanctifies the human perspective not by answering every question, but by refusing to look away from life’s hardest truths. In reading him alongside these modern interpreters, we continue the sacred task of seeking wisdom under the sun.

 

 

 


 

 

APPENDIX


 


[i] Choon-Leong Seow, Anchor Bible: Ecclesiastes (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 376.

[ii] Michael V. Fox, Ecclesiastes (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2004), 355.

[iii] Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Days of Deliverance: Essays on Purim and Hanukkah, ed. Eli D. Clark et al. (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2007), 33.

[iv] In Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Deuteronomy (Washington, D.C.: Regnery Press, 2018), 37.

[v] An earlier version of this essay appeared in Tradition 55:4 (Fall 2023), 147–157.

[vi] See discussion of sacred scriptures ritually defiling the hands in Sid Z. Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture: The Talmudic and Midrashic Evidence (Archon Books, 1991), 104–120.

[vii] Michael V. Fox, A Time to Tear Down and a Time to Build Up: A Rereading of Ecclesiastes (Eerdmans, 1999), 41. Mark Sneed challenges Fox’s translation, as there are no other biblical examples of hevel referring to such an abstract concept as “absurdity.” Rather, he suggests, hevel means breath, vapor. See Sneed, “Hevel as Worthless in Qoheleth: A Critique of Michael V. Fox’s ‘Absurd’ Thesis,” Journal of Biblical Literature 136 (2017), 890-894. For the record, Fox admits that the term does not mean “absurdity” anywhere else. Coming to Fox’s defense, Samuel T. S. Goh observes that vapor is vague and ambiguous. In Kohelet, wisdom, enjoyment, and divine justice cannot have absolute defining of terms, like hevel. Life defies either/or definitions, and has contradictions. The idea comes closer to Fox but retains the standard understanding of word hevel. See his “The Hebel World, Its Ambiguities and Contradictions,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 45:2 (2020), 198-216.

[viii] Shalom Carmy and David Shatz remark: “The Bible obviously deviates, in many features, from what philosophers (especially those trained in the analytic tradition) have come to regard as philosophy… Philosophers try to avoid contradicting themselves. When contradictions appear, they are either a source of embarrassment or a spur to developing a higher order dialectic to accommodate the tension between the theses. The Bible, by contrast, often juxtaposes contradictory ideas, without explanation or apology: Ecclesiastes is entirely constructed on this principle. The philosophically more sophisticated work of harmonizing the contradictions in the biblical text is left to the exegetical literature”; see their “The Bible as a Source for Philosophical Reflection,” in History of Jewish Philosophy, vol. 2, ed. Daniel H. Frank and Oliver Leaman (Routledge, 1997), 13–14). Cf. Michael V. Fox: “Even without systematically harmonizing the text, the reader tends to push Qohelet to one side or another, because the Western model of rational assent regards consistency as a primary test of truth. But Qohelet continues to straddle the two views of reality, wavering uncomfortably but honestly between them”; A Time to Tear Down and a Time to Build Up, 134.

[ix] For further discussion of Kohelet’s unique perspective within Tanakh, see “Kohelet: Sanctifying the Human Perspective,” in this volume.

[x] Curwin finds Solomon’s forced labor, called mas (I Kings 5:27), and his building of store cities, arei miskenot (I Kings 9:15–19) parallel to Pharaoh’s forcing his Israelite slaves to do the same (Exodus 1:11). Although Solomon’s extensive labor projects did cause northern resentment (I Kings, chapter 12), the direct analogy to the wicked Pharaoh appears strained.

Toward an Orthodox Community that is More Responsive to People with Special Needs

 

 

Ilana is a good natured, caring, religiously observant high-school student who enjoys reading, baking hallah with her mother, and spending time with her peers at school and in her synagogue. When it became clear in pre-kindergarten that Ilana had a learning disability, her parents made the difficult decision to transfer her from the local Jewish Day School to a private school that specializes in teaching children with learning issues. Although this was a difficult decision, they knew it was necessary for Ilana’s academic growth and development. They reasoned that Ilana would have plenty of time to socialize with her Jewish friends on Shabbat and on playdates. They knew they could count on her continued involvement in their large Modern Orthodox synagogue.

 

Ilana’s mother was shocked and disappointed when one mother at their synagogue stopped inviting Ilana to participate in weekly playdates with her child. Invitations to birthday parties and other social activities began to stop as well. Even a B’nei Akiva dinner, designed for children to socialize with other synagogue members, felt “closed” to children who did not attend Day School. Ilana’s mother feels that no attempt was made to facilitate interactions between the Day School students and those from other schools. She finds it ironic that the same synagogue that graciously and compassionately hosts adults with moderate to severe disabilities at its yearly Yachad Shabbaton is unable to successfully include children, such as her daughter, with milder disabilities. She wants genuine acceptance and inclusion—and not compassion or pity. She wonders why some people act as though Ilana is “contagious” and that others can “catch” a learning disability or other impairment by socializing with children with special needs. She laments, “The social isolation is worse than the academic isolation.”

 

The Jewish tradition has always been aware of differences among God’s creatures, who are all considered to be created in the “image of God.” The Bible and rabbinic texts detail laws about treating people with special needs. We are taught, “Do not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind,” (Vayikra 19:14), and there is much discussion in various codes regarding the status of the heresh (deaf person), and the shoteh (possibly a developmentally delayed person). Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Berakhot, 10:12, based on Berakhot 58b) has a detailed discussion on which berakha to recite upon seeing people who are “different.”And the Mishna in Sanhedrin 4:5 teaches, “Although a person stamps many coins from a single die, and they are all alike—the King of Kings has stamped every person with the die of Adam, yet not one of them is like his fellow man.” These sensitively crafted sources suggest that each person is unique and worthy of respect and inclusion in the community—regardless of appearance or level of ability to walk, speak, hear, or learn. Additionally, these sources suggest that the Jewish community has a moral and even halakhic obligation to create programs to meet the needs of all people within our communities—regardless of special need or circumstance. How accepting and accommodating are our synagogues, schools, and community institutions? What can we do to better include and support those with special needs?

 

[H1] Synagogues

The synagogue is central to the daily life of most observant Jews—as a Bet Tefilla (a house of prayer), a Bet Midrash (a house of study), and perhaps most importantly, as a Bet Kenesset (a place of gathering). The synagogue is potentially the most important religious institution in the lives of families of children with special needs. Sadly, many families like Ilana’s feel that their synagogues lack a genuinely accepting attitude toward their children. Shabbat morning children’s services and afternoon Shabbat groups are often unable to meet the needs of children with special needs. Many parents feel that their children would benefit greatly from weekly Shabbat services and social activities, even if they sometimes need redirection and gentle reminders from patient, experienced group leaders. Children and their parents often receive uncomfortable looks, “shushing,” and requests to leave the sanctuary when a child is “making noise.” While parents recognize that fellow congregants have a right to pray and listen to the rabbi’s sermon in peace, they are often struck by the lack of understanding in their synagogue. This reception in their own synagogue stands in sharp contrast to the genuine acceptance they receive outside of their own synagogues.

 

There are Modern Orthodox synagogues and rabbis who have taken the lead in meeting the needs of congregants with special needs. In my work teaching children with special needs for bar and bat mitzvah, several rabbis have suggested sensitive, creative options for members with special needs. For example, families may choose to have a non-Shabbat bar mitzvah, where fewer members would be in attendance, the length of service is shorter, there is no haftarah, and there are no Shabbat-related issues when it comes to microphones, adaptive technology, or computers.

 

In one Boston area synagogue, a bat-mitzvah girl gave a devar Torah and “announced pages” using Power Point slides during a Sunday morning service. One Modern Orthodox rabbi suggested that a particular child with learning disabilities celebrate his bar mitzvah on the Sunday of Hanukkah because the Torah reading, from Parshat Naso, is repetitive and predictable and therefore less difficult for this child to learn. Another rabbi found a halakhically acceptable way for a non-verbal boy to celebrate his bar mitzvah on Shabbat morning. The boy had a very large brain tumor removed when he was two years old, and has unfortunately never been able to speak. He uses a Dynavox Dynamo augmented communication device seven days a week. He pulls down screens by topic and depresses buttons to communicate his needs. His very dedicated parents worked with the rabbi, so that their son could be called to the Torah on Shabbat morning. He essentially activated his father’s voice to recite the Torah blessing, lead Adon Olam, and deliver a devar Torah.

 

Despite these success stories, there remain unmet needs for people with disabilities in Modern Orthodox synagogues. Parents express frustration that they do not feel comfortable taking their children with special needs to Shabbat groups or children’s services. Orthodox parents who have made the painful decision to educate their children outside of the Jewish Day School system feel that such groups and prayer experiences are precisely what their children need to fully experience synagogue and Jewish communal life.

 

One Modern Orthodox rabbi, a parent of children with special needs, feels uncomfortable bringing his children to his own synagogue; yet, he and his children have been warmly welcomed and embraced “outside” of his community. He feels the neighborhood Hassidishe shtiebel understands and accepts his son—even if he is disruptive during the sermon or the repetition of the amidah. The Conservative Movement’s Ramah camping movement, through its CampYofi Program at Ramah Darom, has been similarly accepting and inclusive. Yofi offers a week-long camp for children with autism and their families. Similarly, Ilana and her family have been warmly embraced by a smaller, more traditional Orthodox synagogue in their neighborhood; each Shabbat afternoon the rabbi and his wife invite Ilana to their home, where she socializes with and even babysits for their children. Modern Orthodox synagogues should similarly embrace differences and work toward accommodating children with special needs.

 

[H1] Al Pi Darko—According to His or Her Way: Jewish Education for Children with Special Needs

 

Most parents in the Orthodox community accept as a given that their children will receive a Jewish Day School education. When it comes to providing an appropriate Jewish education for children with special needs, families often find that choices are limited. There are many reasons for this. First, the term “special needs” encompasses diverse impairments, including learning issues, physical disabilities, mental retardation, autism, psychiatric disorders, and other genetic and acquired conditions. Approaches and philosophies toward education, even within the special needs communities, can vary widely—from those advocating full inclusion to those promoting separate classrooms.

A second reason that choices are limited is that schools lack the staffing and expertise to consider implementing special-needs programs. Teachers and therapists with training in special education, speech and language therapy, psychology, physical therapy, and occupational therapy are required to support students with special needs.

 

Third, schools typically lack the financial resources for starting and running such specialized programs. The costs of providing a Day School education—even for “typical learners”—are never covered by tuition costs alone and can be prohibitive. Dr. Jed Luchow, Director of Special Education/Project SIR for the Board of Jewish Education of Greater New York, notes how complex and expensive providing such services can be. “When public schools need more money for services, they can raise taxes,” remarks Luchow. Yeshivot and Day Schools cannot.

 

Families specifically seeking a Modern Orthodox approach to educating a child with special needs find that few programs exist. Some turn to Hareidi schools, where there is more general acceptance of all learners who are viewed as created in God’s image. The recent movie, Praying With Lior, portrays the warm acceptance experienced by Lior Liebling, a young man with Down syndrome (and the son of two Reconstructionist rabbis) in a Philadelphia-area Hareidi yeshiva. Modern Orthodox parents of children with special needs have reported similar acceptance by the Hareidi world.

 

Some families feel that private special-needs schools (and in some cases, even Catholic schools) are better equipped to provide services to children with special needs. In the Northeast, for example, observant families sometimes opt for well-regarded schools such as Churchill and Gateway in Manhattan, Mary McDowell in Brooklyn, Windward in White Plains, New York, Eagle Hill in Greenwich, Connecticut, and the Cardinal Cushing School in Hanover, Massachussetts. This “trade off” means that families need to seek other avenues for providing Jewish education and Jewish socialization environments.

 

Fortunately, some Jewish community Day School programs do exist for educating children with special needs, and there are some successful initiatives supporting Jewish special education throughout the United States. Although specifically Orthodox-affiliated programs exist, families of children with special needs are more likely to cross denominational lines than they might for their other typically developing children.

 

Although it is impossible to highlight all such programs, I will mention some programs, mainly in the Northeast, in order to illustrate the various models and approaches currently offered. Many of the descriptions below are provided by the program; ability to live up to their claims are difficult to assess and are beyond the scope of this article.

 

In 1985, Rabbi Dr. Martin Schloss, currently the director of the Division of Day School Education for the Board of Jewish Education, and Dr. Sara Rubinow Simon founded the Consortium of Special Educators in Central Agencies for Jewish Education. The purpose of this group is to support special education programs in North American Jewish communities as well as to provide resources to Jewish special educators through professional networks. Members meet once a year to share ideas and materials to enhance and expand special education in Jewish educational settings.

 

Parents for Torah for All Children (PTACH) has supported children with learning differences from elementary school through high school for more than thirty years. PTACH programs exist at such schools as the Yeshiva University School for Girls and Chaim Berlin High School. Strides have also been made to sensitize and train teachers. PTACH’s educational director, Dr. Judah Weller, has created the “Jewish Day Schools Attuned Program,” based on the Schools Attuned Program, a nationally recognized professional development and service program, created by Dr. Mel Levine, Director of the Clinical Center for the Study of Development and Learning at the University of North Carolina School of Medicine at Chapel Hill. The Schools Attuned program covers eight neurodevelopmental constructs that affect learning—including attention, memory, language, motor skills, and social cognition. Several years ago, The Nash Family Foundation of New York City funded a grant to train 125 Jewish Day School educators in New York, Los Angeles, and other cities in the Schools Attuned program.

 

Kulanu Torah Academy in Long Island, New York, is a program dedicated for Jewish students with special needs, including students with Asperger syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, dyslexia, and Tourette’s syndrome, as well as developmental disorders, attention disorders, learning disabilities, and physical challenges. Students receive educational services within the yeshiva environment from middle school through high school. In addition, Kulanu’s Gesher Program is a three-year program initiative for 18- to 21-year-old students with special needs, which serves as a “bridge” from school to the world of work.

 

The Sinai Program in New Jersey offers schools for children with developmental disabilities and learning disabilities. According to their website, Sinai is sometimes referred to as a “school within a school. Although Sinai is independently operated and funded and each school has its own administration and staff, all of Sinai’s schools are comprised of self-contained classes set within larger, typical community Jewish Day Schools, including the Joseph Kushner Hebrew Academy and Yavneh Academy. This structure increases opportunities for mainstreaming within the host schools.

 

Yeshiva Education for Special Students (YESS!) is the only full-service, professional, special-education yeshiva elementary school in Queens, New York, serving children in grades K through 8 with learning disabilities, attention deficit disorder, and language-processing disorders. According to their website, “It is the philosophy of YESS! that all Jewish children, regardless of their cognitive or physical challenges, have a place in the mainstream of the Jewish community." YESS! espouses individualized special education for general and Judaic studies. Mainstreaming and integration with the typically developing Yeshiva of Central Queens (YCQ) community are integral to the YESS! program.

 

Some Modern Orthodox schools have started programs to support students with a range of learning issues. Manhattan Day School in New York City has been offering support services for students in grades 1 through 8 with learning-based language disabilities since 1984. According to Sharon Miller, Director of Special Education, the program provides self-contained classes for between six and eleven students, who learn with one head teacher and one assistant teacher. Students learn basic skills in both secular and Jewish content areas, including reading, writing, mathematics, social studies, science, computers, organizational skills, Hebrew language, Bible, Talmud, and laws and customs. Students with Individual Education Programs (IEPs) often receive in-school services, such as speech and language therapy, occupational therapy, counseling, and physical therapy. The staff also includes special educators and school psychologists.

 

SAR Academy in Riverdale, New York, offers a program to support elementary and junior high school students with language-based learning disabilities. According to Rebecca Hirschfield, Director of Educational Support Services, the program was started, in part, to help keep students with learning issues in the Jewish Day School system. The SAR program is an inclusive educational initiative, designed to be able to meet the needs of children whose learning needs differ from their typically achieving peers. Children with special needs are placed in "inclusion" classrooms with typically developing children. The class is staffed by an additional teacher, who is a learning specialist. In the high school, students receive support through the Student Learning Center and may participate in a modified program, consisting of fewer periods per week of Talmud and Tanakh, and/or exemption from a foreign language requirement.

 

Ramaz School in Manhattan offers a Learning Center to support students. In the Lower School, students in need of remediation work individually or in small groups in the Learning Center. In the Middle School, students receive one-on-one remediation during the time they would otherwise be attending specialty classes such as music, art, or parashat haShavua. Students who have completed a formal external psychoeducational evaluation to document a learning disability are eligible for Learning Center services. Upper School students seeking the services of the Learning Center also must undergo psychoeducational evaluation; students may then be eligible for certain accommodations, including extended time for test-taking and laptops for use during exams. Based on the recommendations of the tester, students may also receive remediation from the Learning Center faculty.

 

A unique Boston-area program, Gateways: Access to Jewish Education, offers several programs for Jewish students with a wide range of special needs. Gateways provides a Jewish education to children with moderate to severe disabilities who are not able to receive one in a typical classroom setting (for example, children with autism spectrum disorder, hearing and visual impairment, developmental delay, cerebral palsy, and/or genetic disorders). Gateways also works with students in Jewish Day Schools across the denominational spectrum, including the Chabad Day School of Sharon, Maimonides School, JCDS, New England Hebrew Academy, Solomon Schechter Day School of Greater Boston, South Area Solomon Schechter Day School, Striar Hebrew Academy (SHAS), The Rashi School, and Torah Academy. Within each Day School, Gateways staff (comprised of speech-language pathologists, occupational therapists, and reading and learning specialists) provide extra support and assistance. Gateways works with students to help improve their academic and social skills and generalizing strategies in the classroom. In addition, the therapists assist teachers with curriculum modifications and provide teachers with professional development, including weekly coaching. For students who need more intensive instruction to develop reading and writing skills, Gateways provides an intensive alternative language arts curriculum to the classroom. This class focuses on explicit teaching of skills, including reading comprehension and decoding, written language, and word study (phonics, spelling, and vocabulary). Rabbi Mendel Lewitin is pleased with what Gateways has accomplished in his Striar Hebrew Academy. “Gateways has sensitized us to the fact that children have unique needs—from enrichment to remediation—and even helped remove the stigma associated with asking for special-educational services. Now, parents are comfortable seeking support, and all students are developing a deeper understanding of their peers.”

 

Sulam, established in 1998, is the only non-profit Jewish educational organization in the Greater Washington area for children who require specialized services for learning needs. By collaborating with Jewish Day Schools, Sulam educates children with diverse needs alongside their peers in a Jewish Day School setting. Sulam also provides adjunct educational services to high-school students at the Melvin J. Berman Hebrew Academy.

Another non-Day School alternative is MATAN: The Gift of Jewish Learning For Every Child, whose mission is “to give the gift of Jewish learning to every child, regardless of ability.” MATAN provides support to children, teachers, and families through teacher workshops, school consultation, program development, consultation with families, curriculum development and modification, behavior management, community presentations, and neuropsychological assessments. MATAN works with synagogues and provides after-school Talmud Torah-equivalent programs for children with special needs. MATAN also offers teacher training and provides consultation to families and synagogues.

[H1] Youth Groups and Summer Camps

Parents recognize that their child’s Jewish education is comprised of more than the school experience. Opportunities to participate in the richness of Jewish communal and synagogue life are extremely important to a child’s Jewish and social development.

Yachad/National Jewish Council for Disabilities (NJCD) includes individuals with disabilities (ages 8 through senior adult) in Jewish programming across the United States and Canada. Yachad members participate in Shabbatons at various Orthodox synagogues. Yachad Shabbatons are generally staffed by high-school and college-age Orthodox youth, allowing for socialization between typical and disabled peers.

 

The Jewish Community Center of Manhattan and other Jewish Community Centers across the country offer programs that focus on providing Jewish cultural programming for children and young adults with varying needs. Initiatives include programs for school-age children such as after-school or Sunday programs, summer camps, sibling workshops, assistive technology, lectures and support programs for caregivers, and a Special Needs school fair. The JCC in Manhattan also offers a program for young adults featuring Sunday outings, lounges, drama therapy, technology training, and career development.

 

The Friendship Circle, founded in 1994 by the Lubavitch Foundation of Michigan—and now existing in many communities nationwide—offers programs to provide assistance and support to the families of children with special needs as well as to individuals and families struggling with addiction, isolation, and other crises. Teen volunteers are an integral part of their program serving individuals with special needs.

 

According to The Foundation for Jewish Camp, “No experience is more powerful, thrilling, or transformative than Jewish overnight summer camp.” Various Orthodox summer camp programs offer socialization and Jewish immersion experiences for children with special needs. Camp HASC, a summer program of the Hebrew Academy for Special Children, provides a seven-week overnight camping experience to over 300 children with mental and physical handicaps. HASC is specifically dedicated to children with special needs.

 

Yachad b’Nesher is a Yachad/NJCD program within Camp Nesher, a camp for typically developing children. Yachad b'Nesher specializes in mainstreaming boys and girls who are developmentally disabled. There are accessible bunks on each campus set up for these campers, their special needs, and their specially trained staff. Yachad campers participate daily in all activities with different bunks.

Yachad also offers Yad B’Yad travel programs, where typically developing high school students and members of Yachad together tour the East Coast, the West Coast, or Israel.

 

The Tikvah Program was founded nearly forty years ago at Camp Ramah in New England and now runs programs at several Ramah camps throughout the United States and Canada. Although Camp Ramah is the camping arm of the Conservative Movement, the Tikvah Program has historically attracted a significant population of its campers from Orthodox homes. In the Tikvah Program, campers are included in all aspects of the rich Jewish summer camping experience and benefit from the richness of “immersion” in Jewish communal life. Prayers are modified for the needs of the campers and generally involve singing, dancing, and repetition. Following spirited weekday morning prayers, campers begin and end breakfast with the appropriate blessings, return to bunks for nikayon (clean up), and participate in daily activities such as Jewish learning, Hebrew instruction, swimming, sports, arts and crafts, and vocational training. Tikvah campers even take a turn leading the camp in Shabbat evening services, and they perform a Jewish-themed play, partially in Hebrew, for the entire camp.

 

[H1] A Modern Orthodox Action Plan

Clearly, the Modern Orthodox community can do more to help make people with special needs feel more fully included in synagogue and communal life. A move toward full inclusion will require working collaboratively with others in the Jewish community (often across the “denominational divide”), continued education of rabbis, leaders and community members, and ongoing congregation and communal self-assessment.

 

[H2] Working Collaboratively with Others in the Jewish Community

The Jewish disabilities world has been very successful in breaking down denominational barriers. I heard a story of two Philadelphia-area Jewish parents of children with autism speaking very comfortably and openly—one was a Lubavitch rabbi, and the other was a female Reconstructionist rabbi. The chances of these two interacting in another context are slim. This heartwarming anecdote illustrates the potential for Jews of various backgrounds to work together. Successful collaboration already takes place in many communities across the United States.

 

In Westchester, New York, Carol Corbin is the chairperson of the Westchester Special Needs Roundtable. She is also the coordinator of Synagogue Inclusion, which is part of the UJA of New York Caring Commission. In the first year of the Roundtable, nearly forty Westchester area rabbis and parents from across the denominations, as well as directors of special-needs programs, JCCs, and various agencies, came together. They determined that the focus of the initial phase of their work should be on teacher training and congregational sensitivity. As their work has continued, the Roundtable has addressed ways to make congregations sensitive to populations with special needs. They have addressed such topics as building access and the social, emotional, and educational needs of those with special needs.

 

Shelly Christensen, Program Manager for the Jewish Community Inclusion Program for People with Disabilities (a program of Jewish Family and Children’s Service of Minneapolis, Minnesota), is a frequent presenter across the country on the topic of inclusion. Christenson, author of “Jewish Community Guide to Inclusion of People with Disabilities,” has worked with synagogues and agencies to help create awareness and action. Synagogues across the denominations are collaborating in an effort to serve those with special needs, and are taking part in “February 2009 is Jewish Disability Awareness Month.”

 

Following her presentation several years ago, each synagogue appointed a lay leader to a community liaison committee. Each committee meeting takes place at a different synagogue, and committee members tour different synagogues and discuss issues of accessibility. Christensen reports that members of the Orthodox community have been very involved with the committee, and that synagogues and schools have embraced inclusion. Synagogues of all denominations may wish to consider starting inclusion committees, which function much as social action, Israel action, and ritual committees.

 

 The Modern Orthodox community also has numerous opportunities to join the larger Jewish community in workshops and conferences. For example, the Partnership for Jewish Life and Learning in the Washington, D.C., area has a Department of Special Needs and Disability committee, which organizes a yearly conference, “Opening the Gates of Torah: Including People with Disabilities in the Jewish Community.” Their most recent conference featured twelve sessions on inclusion and attracted more than 350 people. In addition, this organization provides information, resources, consultation, and professional development to parents, teachers, and administrators in preschools, congregational schools, and Day Schools in community. Their extensive range of services strives to “help ensure that every member of the Jewish community, children and adults alike, has access to the range of social, educational, and religious opportunities that the Washington area has to offer.”

 

Modern Orthodoxy, with its long, impressive history of collaborating with the larger Jewish community, has an unprecedented opportunity to take the lead in the area of inclusion and accommodation of special needs. This willingness to work collaboratively and diplomatically can be useful in helping the community address sensitive issues such as religious and dietary policy in Jewish group residences.

 

[H2] Education of Rabbis, Leaders, and Community Members

 

Pulpit rabbis are often sensitive to the diverse needs of their membership. Yet each rabbi can point to the moment he was “sensitized” to the needs of a congregant he hadn’t previously “noticed.” These needs frequently come up when a family is considering the bar or bat mitzvah of a child with learning disabilities or physical disabilities. One rabbi sheepishly recalls being asked if there were any people in his congregation with visual impairments. He reported that he didn’t think so. When asked if his synagogue offered Braille siddurim or special seating for members with visual impairments, he reported that it did not. He was then asked if he felt there was any connection between the lack of accommodations and the lack of attendance by those with visual impairments. And, as noted earlier, parents of children with autism are often uncomfortable bringing their children into the sanctuary for fear they will be disruptive.

 

While parents are instrumental in educating rabbis, rabbinical seminaries can offer “disability awareness” as part of the rabbinical school curriculum. Rabbi Dov Linzer, Rosh Yeshiva and Dean of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School in Manhattan, recently brought the entire rabbinical school graduating class to a community-wide inclusion conference, held at the JCC of the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Linzer reports that the education of rabbinical students was encouraged by Shelly and Reuven Cohen, Manhattan residents, who had spent years seeking and developing educational and camp programs for Nathaniel, their son with special needs. When Nathaniel died, the Cohens approached Rabbi Linzer about possibly funding a program in their son’s memory, with the goal of training rabbis about developmental and physical disabilities. This program is now part of every YCT student’s rabbinical education. These rabbis will surely go out to their respective communities more knowledgeable and more sensitive to people with a wide range of special needs.

 

[H2] Ongoing Congregational and Communal Self-Assessment

 

Each synagogue has an opportunity and a responsibility to determine whether it is doing enough to meet the needs of people with special needs. This may involve surveying members as to their unique needs and assessing accessibility in their synagogues—from entrances, to the women’s section, to the reader’s desk.

 

[H1] Conclusion

Meeting the needs of those in our community with special needs involves a sincere belief that all Jews are created beTselem Elokim, and that each person has a right to respect and full inclusion in our communities. The Modern Orthodox community is in a unique position to champion efforts, within our synagogues and within our communities, to expand educational and socialization efforts. It is not our job to complete the task—but neither are we free to desist from it!