National Scholar Updates

Judaism as we know it is a way of life punctuated with sacred obligations, what we commonly refer to as mitzvot, or commands.

There is lots of "do-ing" in Judaism. Do this, do that, do many things.

Most of the mitzvot are generally well known. They include the Kosher obligations - what one may eat and what one may not eat, the holy days, such as Shabbat, High Holy Days, Pesah, Shavuot, Sukkot, etc., the obligations surrounding prayer, including donning of tefilin, recitation of the faith affirmation known as Shema, and a full array of person-to-person obligations.

In some instances, the obligation is clear cut, and the requirements needed to accurately fulfill the obligation are well defined. This does not mean that fulfilling the mandate is easy, just that it clear what exactly the requirements are.

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Ironically, the most challenging obligations are the person-to-person obligations, because even though the obligation is one-sided, resting only on the do-er, the fulfilment is not; it goes beyond the do-er.

To be more precise, it incumbent upon us to give charity to the needy, but it is not necessarily true that merely by giving alms to the poor we have fulfilled the mitzvah.

Arguably, most of the charity that we dispense is to institutions - synagogues, schools, old age homes, hospitals, etc. The charity benefits people, but the charity is not given to a person. It is given to an institution.

Less frequent are the times when the charity is transmitted from hand to hand. The poor who knock on the door or who visit the synagogue are the exceptions. And it is this type of hand-to-hand charity that is more challenging.

We are told that "you must surely open your hand to that person" (the poor) (Deuteronomy, 15:8).

The wording of this directive seems odd. After all, it is hardly possible to handle anything with a closed hand. Sefer Haredim, the wonderful but not very well known compilation of the mitzvot authored by Rabbi Elazar Azikri, a contemporary of Rabbi Yosef Karo and Rabbi Yitzhak Luria, makes a fascinating observation regarding this wording. He states that the "open your hand" term is a metaphor for the obligation to give charity with "a good heart and with joy" (Sefer Haredim, Jerusalem:  5750, p. 87, no. 23).

Giving in a tight fisted manner conveys the attitude that one would preferably not give anything, but there is no choice because one is obligated.Giving with an open hand, with a hand that reflects the open heart, is given with joy, the joy of the opportunity to help.

The poor are already downtrodden. Helping them in a miserly fashion will give them the resources they need, but will make them feel miserable in the process. By conveying joy at being able to help, the poor are made to feel good even in a most unpleasant circumstance.

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So, the mitzvah of tsedaka, properly fulfilled addresses both the financial and emotional situations of the poor.  We are asked to uplift the poor in the very process of helping them. Tsedaka is far from a perfunctory mitzvah. It can hardly be actualized without heart and soul.  

And most important, it establishes a key component in person-to-person mitzvah fulfillment - the impact of one's actions on the other.

This is admittedly a bit tricky, since it is entirely possible that someone approaches the tsedaka opportunity in exactly the right way - with sensitivity to the poor person, and giving joyfully, with a full heart. Yet, try as the person may, the poor person reacts very negatively, with no gratitude, even with complaints.

The hope is that by being charitable with a full heart, the poor will feel that, and will be uplifted. But there are no guarantees this will actually transpire. The Torah does not ask the impossible of us. It just asks that we approach the tsedaka situation in a caring manner. The rest is not always in the hands of the tsedaka actualizer.

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The mitzva of tsedaka is one among many obligations of the person-to-person genre that are two way streets. The obligation to honor one's parents, to assure the happiness of one's spouse, to love one's fellow, are other classic examples of this mitzva category.

Proffering kindness, though not immediately recognized as a mitzva obligation, is actually a mitzva (Exodus, 18:20; Sefer Haredim, p. 88, #31).Thus, visiting the sick, burying the dead (Sefer Haredim, p. 88, #32), escorting a guest who is departing on a journey (Sefer Haredim, p. 96, #10), accompanying the deceased to burial (see Sefer Haredim, p. 97, #11), are all under the umbrella of extending kindness.

Interestingly, all the aspects of kindness that we are called upon to fulfill fall under the mitzva to emulate God (Deuteronomy 28:9; Talmud, Sotah 14a; Sefer Haredim, p. 88, #31).

Being nice and caring is more than a social nicety. It is the way that we reach the pinnacle of humaneness - emulating God, doing the Godly, raising ourselves into the sphere of holiness.

There are many ways that seekers of holiness go about realizing this lofty goal. The fact that one can realize this through how one treats other human beings in all sorts of human interactions, sometimes gets lost in the search.What exactly differentiates a person-to-person mitzva obligation done perfunctorily, from one that is done correctly, as a true emulation of God?

At the risk of over-generalizing, the difference may be in whether the mitzvah is expressed as self-actualization, or is expressed as an expression of self-transcendence.

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To more fully appreciate this, it helps to understand the parameters of two mitzvot that fall under the heading of loving your fellow as one would love one's self (Leviticus, 19:18).

These are 1. visiting the sick, and 2. comforting the bereaved.

Even though Maimonides considers these as Rabbinic obligations, he clearly states that fulfilling these obligations falls under the Biblical heading of "...love your fellow as you would love yourself." (Maimonides, Mishnah Torah, Laws of Mourning, 14:4).

Others, including Rabbenu Yonah, consider visiting the sick and comforting the bereaved to be biblically mandated directives. The bottom line common denominator is that though there are differences of opinion on the source for these obligations, the fulfillments are biblical in nature.

Further concerning visiting the sick, consider the profound statement by Rabbi Elazar Azikri, that the obligation to visit the sick has not been completely fulfilled if the visitor does not pray for the sick person (Sefer Haredim, pp. 64-65, #39).Undoubtedly, simply visiting the sick is a commendable act. But when one senses the pain of one's fellow, that pain should be felt in one's heart, to the point that one prays earnestly to God to have compassion on the person in pain.

In order to really feel the pain of the one who is not well, it is usually necessary to converse with the person who is in pain, to hear what the sick person is going through both physically and emotionally (Sefer Haredim, p. 76, #47).

There are many ways to manifest true caring, including spending appropriate time with the unwell person, addressing their needs when possible, as well as offering encouragement and hope. But the ultimate caring inheres in approaching the Ultimate, in entreating God. That prayer shows the true depths of genuine concern, and is the pivotal ingredient in the fulfillment of the mitzvah. 

All this is by way of stressing that merely visiting a person who is not well is not the complete mitzva.  Merely showing up and being there is laudable presuming it is not simply a thing "I have to do," and is rather something "I want to do."

For the mitzva to be complete, it must go beyond self expression, beyond crossing it off the bucket list, into the sphere of self-transcendence, going beyond one's self into the sphere of true caring for the other.

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Another mitzva that is not as simple as it seems is to comfort mourners.

Generally, we visit mourners almost reflexively, with little thought as to how exactly the mitzva is fulfilled. This is not done with bad intentions. Perhaps it is just assumed that the purpose is so obvious, that all one needs is to just do it.

It is a natural instinct of well-meaning people to feel bad for those who have suffered a loss, followed by a strong desire to help them. Help in this regard comes in many forms. It can take the form of being there to take care of needs that arise. It can take the form of sending food to the mourners. It can take the form of visitation, taking time to be with the mourners. All these are surely quite commendable.

But it would be helpful to ask ourselves the following deceptively simple question - what exactly should be the goal when comforting mourners? Toward what should we be aiming?

The simple answer is that we should be aiming to comfort the mourners. That is undoubtedly true. But the question that follows is - how exactly do we go about comforting mourners?

The answer here too seems simple - by saying the right things. But what are the right things? What are the right words? Are there formulaic words when visiting the bereaved?

Again, the simple answer is yes, there is a formula. Among Ashkenazim it is - HaMakom Yenahem Et'hem B'Tokh She'ar Avaylay Ziyyon v'Yerushalayim, meaning - May God comfort you among the other mourners for Zion & Jerusalem. Among Sephardim, it is—Min haShamayim Tenuhamu—may you be comforted from Heaven.

That fulfills the bottom line obligation. But there is more. There are things to avoid when comforting mourners, as there are when visiting the sick, including not overstaying the visit, and most critically, not resorting to cliches that are at best meaningless, and at worst, quite harmful.

For example, never say to someone who has lost a parent who lived into their 90's - well, he or she had a long life anyway. It is one thing for mourners to be grateful for having parents who lived a long and wonderful life. It is quite another for comforters to trivialize the impact of the passing with an "oh, well, it is really not that tragic." These are painful words for any mourner to hear.

Never say to an aspiring father and mother who have lost their child - well, you are young, and you will have so much more opportunity to have children.That may be true, but the parents are lamenting the immediate loss, and are feeling real anguish. Downplaying the severity of the loss is most unhelpful.

There are a host of too often employed thoughtless phrases that need to be removed from one's vocabulary when comforting the bereaved.

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But what should be the intent when visiting the bereaved? Just to be there? That is usually better than nothing.

But there is better, a somewhat surprising better. A few helpful suggestions in this regard are presented in Minhat Shmuel, by Rabbi Shmuel Khoshkrman (2016, Vol. 1, p. 390).

He cites the view of Hafetz Hayyim that the key is to help alleviate the pain of the mourner through heartfelt conversation. He then cites the view of SheLaH that one should relate good things to the mourner to the point of actually making the mourner happy, with a more pleasant face.  And then, he quotes from Shevet Levi, based on the Zohar, that one must prepare one's self, before the visit, with the right words to achieve that goal.

Visiting the bereaved just became much more complicated. Or, to put it more accurately, much more precise, much more focussed, much less self-centered and much more outer directed.

To think about what words will comfort the mourner, and then to share those words - this is the true actualization of the mitzva.

But what if one cannot come up with such words. Then, silence is better, coupled with the standard formula.

But putting one's self into the situation of others, and asking what would they like to hear that will be helpful - that is how we show our love for others as we would love ourselves.

A few helpful ideas include sharing stories about the deceased that bring a smile to the mourners, or words of praise to the mourner for the care they offered, assuming of course that this is truly the case.

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The examples of charity, visiting the sick, and comforting mourners, all point to a vital ingredient when approaching person-to-person responsibilities - the intended recipient of our kindness and concern.

It is not enough to exhibit concern. This must be coupled with going the extra mile to assure that the recipient of the concern is uplifted, encouraged, and made to feel better by our actions.

These mitzva fulfillments may have thus become a bit more challenging. But, at the same time, they have become much more rewarding. And ultimately, much more of what God wants from us - to establish a community that truly and meaningfully cares. That is the mitzva.

Judaism, as we began, is much about do-ing. But it is about much more than do-ing. It is do-ing plus. It is do-ing with care, it is do-ing with kindness, it is do-ing in a transcending manner; in a word - do-ing with heart and soul.

In his book, The Perspective of Civilization, Fernand Braudel utilizes a concept that he calls “world-time.” Braudel notes that at any given point in history, all societies are not at the same level of advancement. The leading countries exist in world-time; that is, their level of advancement is correlated to the actual date in history. However, there also are countries and civilizations which are far behind world-time, whose way of life may be centuries or even millennia behind the advanced societies. In this year of 5745, for example, the advanced technological countries exist in world-time while underdeveloped countries lag generations behind; some societies are still living as their ancestors did centuries ago. In short, everyone in the world may be living at the same chronological date, but different societies may be far from each other in terms of world-time.

Braudel's analysis also can be extended to the way people think. Even though people may be alive at the same time, their patterns of thinking may be separated by generations or even centuries.

The characteristic of Modern Orthodoxy is that it is modern, that it is correlated to the contemporary world-time. Being part of contemporary world-time, it draws on the teachings of modern scholarship, it is open to modern philosophy and literature, and it relates Jewish law to contemporary world realities. On the other hand, “non-modern” Orthodoxy does not operate in the present world-time. Its way of thinking and dealing with contemporary reality are pre-modern, generations behind contemporary world-time. Thus, there are deep mental gulfs of time between such Orthodox people as Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik and the Satmar Rebbe, or between many members of the Rabbinical Council of America and many members of the Agudath haRabbanim. It is not that one is more Orthodox than the other: their belief in God, Torah min haShamayim (divine revelation of the Torah) and the sanctity of the Written and Oral Law are shared commitments. The differences between so-called right-wing Orthodoxy and Modern Orthodoxy are not differences in sincerity or in authentic commitment. Rather, the differences stem from different world views, from living in different world-times.

A Modern Orthodox rabbi does not wish to think like a medieval rabbi, even though he wishes to fully understand what the medieval rabbi wrote and believed. The Modern Orthodox halakhist wishes to draw on the wisdom of the past, not to be part of the past.

The philosophy of Modern Orthodoxy is not at all new. Rather, it is a basic feature of Jewish thought throughout the centuries. In matters of halakha, for example, it is axiomatic that contemporary authorities are obligated to evaluate halakhic questions from their own immediate perspective, rather than to rely exclusively on the opinions of rabbis of previous generations. Rambam (Hilkhot Mamrim 2: 1) writes: “A great court—bet din gadol—when interpreting the Torah with one of the hermeneutic principles, found that the law on a certain matter was such-and-such, and then another court came afterward and found a reason to reject the ruling of the first court—the second bet din rejects the ruling of the first bet din and rules according to what it deems correct. As it is said (Devarim17:9) 'To the judge who will be in office at that time'—you are not obligated to go except to the bet din of your generation.” The well-known phrase that “Yiftah in his generation is like Shemuel in his generation” (Rosh haShanah 25b) expresses the need to rely on contemporary authorities, even if they are not of the stature of the authorities of previous generations. We are obligated to be “Modern Orthodox,” to recognize present reality and to participate in contemporary world-time.

Rabbi Haim David Halevy (Aseh Lekha Rav, 2:61) deals with the case of a judge who had reached a certain halakhic conclusion and gave a ruling on it. The judge then learned that another judge greater than he ruled on the same case but came to another conclusion. Should the first judge change his decision and rely on the authority of the greater one, or is he obligated to maintain his own position if he truly believes it to be correct? Rabbi Halevy quotes Rambam (Hilkhot Sanhedrin 23:9), who states the principle that En leDayan ella mah sheEnav ro’ot—a judge has only what his eyes see. Rabbi Halevy states that the decision of a judge must be based solely on his own understanding of the case he is considering. “And no legal precedent obligates him, even if it is a decision of courts greater than he, even of his own teachers.” Later in the same responsum, Rabbi Halevy writes: “Not only does a judge have the right to rule against his rabbis; he also has an obligation to do so (if he believes their decision to be incorrect, and he has strong proofs to support his own position). If the decision of those greater than he does not seem right to him, and he is not comfortable following it, and yet he follows that decision (in deference to their authority), then it is almost certain that he has rendered a false judgment (din sheker).”

The key principle here is that each judge must make a decision based on what his own eyes see. Obviously, a judge will want to understand the reasons why the greater rabbis and courts came to their conclusions. Perhaps by studying them, he will realize that he has erred and subsequently change his opinion. However, if after all his studying and analyzing the previous decisions he still maintains that his opinion is the correct one, he is then obligated to rule according to his own conclusion. He is not bound by precedent or by the weight of greater authorities.
One of the weaknesses of contemporary Orthodoxy is that it is not “modern” in the sense just discussed. There is a prevailing attitude that teaches us to revere the opinions of the sages of previous generations, and to defer to those contemporary sages who occupy a world-time contemporary with those sages. Who is addressing halakhic questions today on the basis of what his own eyes see? Who are the sages of the present world-time, who absorb the contemporary reality, the contemporary ways of thinking and analyzing?

It is a common lament among Modern Orthodox Jews that Modern Orthodoxy lacks courage. Modern Orthodoxy is intimidated by the so-called right-wing, by the group of Jews that is pre-modern. Modern Orthodox scholars are reluctant to express their opinions and rulings for fear of losing religious stature in the eyes of the more fundamentalistic Orthodox Jews. When a Modern Orthodox scholar does express his own opinion, he often is criticized sharply by the pre-Modern Orthodox, and he is not adequately supported by the Modern Orthodox. The spiritual climate of today makes it very easy to remain quiet rather than risk lonely spiritual battle against forces that are more militant and more vocal.

We need to understand that the difference between Modern Orthodoxy and pre-Modern Orthodoxy is not one of religious validity. And we also must understand that being Modern Orthodox or pre-Modern Orthodox does not make our decisions necessarily right or wrong. To be Modern Orthodox Jews means to accept our limitations, but it also means that we must accept our responsibility to judge according to what our own eyes see, according to our own understanding. It means to have the self-respect to accept that responsibility.
Modern Orthodoxy and pre-Modern Orthodoxy do not engage in intelligent dialogue because they operate on separate time waves. They follow different assumptions.

In a recent discussion concerning the adoption of a pre-nuptial agreement to avoid the agunah (abandoned wife) problem, a pre-modern opinion has been expressed that we should not initiate a new procedure, since this would seem to imply that we are more sensitive and creative than the sages of previous generations who did not initiate such a procedure. This kind of argument cannot be countered with a reasonable discussion. This is an argument from a different world-time. The argument, which is fairly widespread, is essentially ludicrous. Throughout the centuries, our sages have initiated takanot (corrective decrees) in their communities to meet the contemporary needs of their people. Did they think it was an insult to their predecessors to be responsive to contemporary needs? Did Rabbenu Gershom slander all previous generations of rabbis by instituting his takanot?

The fact is that rabbis in all generations have had to face the serious responsibility of leading their communities in the ways of Torah. They have drawn on the wisdom and holiness of our sages of previous generations, but they ultimately have had to rely on their own judgment and on what their own eyes saw. The sages of each generation are influenced by the social and political realities of their time. If many of our sages believed in demons and witches, if they thought that the sun revolved around the earth, or if they assigned inferior status to women and slaves—we can understand that they were part of a world that accepted these notions. We do not show disrespect for them by understanding the context in which they lived and thought. On the contrary, we are able to understand their words better, and thus we may determine how they may or may not be applied to our own contemporary situation It is not disrespectful to our sages if we disagree with their understanding of physics, psychology, sociology, or politics. On the contrary, it would be foolish not to draw on the advances in these fields that have been made throughout the generations, including those of our own time.

There is no sense in forcing ourselves into an earlier world-time in order to mold our ways of thinking into harmony with modes of thought of sages who lived several hundred or even several thousand years ago.

Modern Orthodoxy requires us to live in the present world-time, knowing full well that many of the notions which we consider true and basic may become discredited in future centuries. We do not want those future generations of rabbis to be limited in their thinking to what we are thinking and teaching today. We want them to be respectful of our teachings and to consider our words seriously; but it is they who must lead their generation. Our time is now, and only now. The Torah, which is eternal, requires Jews to go to the judge living and serving in their own time.

Specific Examples

If we take Modern Orthodoxy seriously, then we will study talmudic passages and halakhic sources with an eye to understanding their historical and intellectual context. Sometimes we will come across texts that have broad halakhic implications but whose application to the contemporary situation is problematic. The following are several specific examples of the conflict that arises.

Shabbat Desecrators

There is a well-known rabbinic dictum: “One who desecrates the Shabbat in public is as an idol worshipper” (Hullin 5a). This statement underscores the importance of Shabbat in Jewish thought and practice. To desecrate Shabbat publicly is an open statement that one denies that God created the world in six days and ceased working on the seventh. By extension, one who blasphemes God as Creator by desecrating Shabbat is indeed like an idol worshipper, i.e., he does not recognize the one true God, Creator of heaven and earth (see Rashi, ad loc.).

Flowing from this statement are a host of halakhot. A mehallel Shabbat (Shabbat desecrator) is disqualified from serving as a shohet (ritual slaughterer). Even if he slaughters an animal entirely in accordance with Jewish law, the meat may not be eaten by Jews (Rambam, Hilkhot Shehitah 4:14). A mehallel Shabbat may not serve as a witness, since he is in the category of rasha (evildoer). If he touches wine, we may not drink it, just as if the wine were touched by an idol worshipper. Rabbi Haim David Halevy (Aseh Lekha Rav, 5: 1) discusses whether a mehallel Shabbat may be counted as part of a minyan. He quotes the Peri Megadim, who stated that “a mumar (willful transgressor) to avodah zarah (idol worship), one who desecrates Shabbat, or one who violates any commandment lehakhis (willfully), behold he is as an idolater and is not included (in the minyan).” Moreover, following this principle to its conclusion, a mehallel Shahbat may not be given an aliya to the Torah, just as we may not call an idolater to the Torah.
There are several options available to us on how to deal with this set of halakhot and the principle on which they are based.

We may accept the statement at face value that in fact a mehallel Shabbat is like an idolater, and is subject to the aforementioned disqualifications. To hold this position, we must posit that the talmudic statement and the halakhic development of that statement transcend all generations, and are as applicable now as when first stated. Consequently, we should maintain the ancient standard without compromise, regardless of ramifications. If the talmudic characterization of a mehallel Shabhat is equally applicable to our time, then we should fight heroically to defend the principle and the laws based on it. This is essentially the opinion of the “pre-modern” Orthodox.

The Modern Orthodox position is that this statement simply cannot be taken at face value in our time. The number of Jews who violate Shabbat far exceeds the number of those who observe Shabbat.

One approach is to express loyalty to the original statement while finding extenuating circumstances so that the implications of the original statement need not be fully applied. For example, Rabbi Haim David Halevy was asked a question (Aseh Lekha Rav. 5:1) that posed the problem of a small synagogue that had a minyan only if Shabbat desecrators were included. Should the Shabbat desecrators be counted for minyan, even though this would be against the basic law? Or should the synagogue be closed due to a lack of a proper minyan? Rabbi Halevy writes. “It is incumbent upon us to find a way of being lenient.” It bothers him that a synagogue should have to close because of the technicality of the mehallel Shabbat. He offers several arguments to justify his position. As an extra point, he gives the following analysis:

A mehallel Shabbat in public who is disqualified from being counted into a minyan of ten—this refers only to those early days when they understood and valued the seriousness of the prohibition [of Shabbat] and also nearly everyone was scrupulous in observing Shabbat according to the law, so that one who ‘breaches the fence’ was disqualified. But this is not true in our time. Our eyes see a multitude of Shabbat desecrators, and the overwhelming majority do not understand and do not realize the seriousness of the prohibition. Behold: they come to the synagogue and pray and read in the Torah, and do not understand and do not realize—they walk in darkness—and afterwards they desecrate the Shabbat. And perhaps such as these are as a tinok sheNishbah (a child who was captured and then grew up among heathens, and is not held accountable for his transgressions, for he never knew any differently).

In another responsum (Aseh Lekha Rav, 3:16) Rabbi Halevy deals with the question whether a Bar Mitzvah and his family may be called to the Torah, if they come to the synagogue on Shabbat in a car. His answer is that we must try to bring the young boy and his family closer to the Torah, and not reject them. He quotes his own earlier work, Mekor Hayyim haShalem, (vol. 3, 122:20), where he wrote that according to the technicality of the law, those who desecrate Shabbat in public should not be called to the Torah; yet, if there is a fear that this will cause bad feelings, then such people should be called to the Torah as hosafot (those called to the Torah beyond the required seven). This is so “since in our generation, an orphan generation, it is proper to be lenient in such circumstances, and it is our obligation to bring them closer and not to push them further away, and God in His goodness will have mercy on us.”

Rabbi David Tzevi Hoffmann (Melammed Leho'il, no. 29) deals with the question of whether a mehallel Shabbat in public may be counted in a minyan. He first lists sources that forbid such a man from being counted. Then he goes on to say: “In our time it is customary to be lenient in this, even in Hungary, and certainly in Germany.” He mentions the case of a man who kept his business open on Shabbat who wanted to serve as the sheli'ah tsibbur (leader of public prayer services) during his period of mourning. He was allowed to do this in a synagogue even though the gabbai (one in charge of delegating responsibilities during services) who let him lead the service was a learned and God-fearing man. Rabbi Hoffmann asked the gabbai why he did not prevent the man from leading the service. The gabbai answered that it had long been the custom not to prevent such people from leading services. Since the rabbis of that synagogue were outstanding scholars and they allowed this practice, Rabbi Hoffmann concludes that they must have had a good reason. He suggests that perhaps they relied on a responsum of Binyan Tziyyon haHadashot, no. 23,which stated that “Mehallelei Shabbat in our time are considered somewhat like a tinok sheNishbah, since—due to our great iniquities—the majority of Jews in our country are mehallelei Shabbat, and it is not their intention to deny the basic tenets of our faith.”

Rabbi Hoffmann then writes that he was told by Rabbi Meshulam Zalman Hakohen in the name of the author of Sho'el uMeshiv, who wrote: “The people in America are not disqualified because of their hillul Shabbat, since they are as tinok sheNishbah.” Although it would be better to pray among Jews who were all Shabbat-observant, there is enough precedent to be lenient in this matter.

Rabbi Hoffmann concludes by offering the following analysis:

In our time, such people are not called mehallel Shabbat in public, because the majority of Jews violate the laws of Shabbat. If the majority of Jews were observant and a few of them were arrogant enough to violate Shabbat, then this minority would be guilty of denying the Torah and of committing a disgraceful act and of removing themselves from the community of Israel. [This is obviously the original context of the talmudic statement.] However, since the contemporary reality is that the majority of Jews violate Shabbat, the individual does not think that violating Shabbat is such a terrible crime. His public transgression today is equated to beTsinah (transgressions of the Shabbat done in private).

Rabbi Hoffmann concludes by lamenting that in our times, those who observe Shabbat are considered separatists, while the transgressors are considered to be following the normal pattern.

Rabbi Hoffmann's concluding discussion makes it clear that the original context of the talmudic statement equating a Shabbat violator with an idolater cannot be applied to the contemporary situation. We cannot judge someone to be a desecrator of Shabbat if he does not realize the true sanctity of the day. There are a great many Jews who transgress Shabbat laws, but who consider themselves to be perfectly upright Jews. They do not view themselves as denying God as Creator or as repudiating the basic principles of our faith.

The challenge of Modern Orthodoxy is to review the true status of Jews who violate Shabbat today. If someone had been religious and had studied the laws of Shabbat—and then consciously decided to violate Shabbat as a sign of rebellion against the Torah—then such a person may fit into the talmudic category and should be penalized accordingly. If, however, a person never understood the sanctity of Shabbat, his violation of the laws of Shabbat does not reflect heresy or hatred of Torah. On the contrary, it reflects his ignorance and his being part of a Jewish community that largely does not observe Shabbat properly. Such a person is like a tinok sheNishbah, and should not be subject to the penalties accorded to a true mehallel Shabbat in public. This position is stated not as a compromise with the authentic halakha; this is the actual halakha. The Talmud simply was not referring to the situation we have today. And we must judge according to the present world-time, according to what our own eyes see.

Another insight into this question may be drawn from the laws of shehitah. Rambam (Hilkhot Shehitah 4:14) rules that a mehallel Shabbat is disqualified from serving as a shohet. Even if he performs the shehitah perfectly in accordance with halakha, and even if there are reliable religious Jews overseeing his shehitah, the meat is still not considered to be kasher. In halakha 4:16, though, Rambam rules that a Sadducee or another person who denies the Oral Torah may not serve as a shohet; but if he does slaughter an animal in the presence of a trustworthy Jew, then the meat may be eaten. The Sadducee is not totally disqualified from performing shehitah. Yet, a problem arises. According to us, a Sadducee is definitely a mehallel Shabbat. Sadducees do not accept the Oral Torah; since many of the laws of Shabbat are known only from the Torah sheBe’al peh, it is inevitable that a Sadducee will not observe Shabbat as we do. He will be transgressing rules that we consider basic to Shabbat observance.

It seems, then, that a Sadducee—though he violates the laws of Shabbat in public—does not become disqualified as a desecrator of Shabbat. His lack of observance is based on a lack of knowledge, or on misguided teachings he has received. But he does not perceive himself at all as one who desecrates the Shabbat, even though from our point of view he is violating many laws. The rulings pertaining to a mehallel Shabbat are applied only to an individual who recognizes the severity of his actions and who desecrates Shabbat as a sign of his rejection of God and Torah.

The Status of Women

Let us move on to another area of discussion. In several places (Kiddushin 80b, Shabbat 33b) we find the statement that Nashim da 'atan kalah. Generally, this statement is translated to mean that women are temperamentally lightheaded or that women's understanding is light. We also have the remarkable statement of Rabbi Eliezer (Sotah 20a) that whoever teaches his daughter Torah teaches her tiflut (foolishness or obscenity). These statements reflect a cultural bias against women that was pervasive in ancient society, and which still can be found in less-advanced societies today. These statements reflect the world-time of their authors. From a literary or historical standpoint, it would be fairly easy to dismiss these and similar comments by arguing that they belong to a particular time and a certain way of thought.

The problem arises, though, in that these sentiments were not left merely as opinions of rabbis on the nature of women; they were incorporated into practical halakha. The following is a quotation from Rambam, Hilkhot Talmud Torah (I:13):

A woman who learns Torah receives a reward, but not the same reward as a man, since she was not commanded (to study Torah); and anyone who does something for which he [she] was not commanded does not receive reward on the same level as someone who was commanded and who performed it, but rather receives less. And although she does have a reward, our sages commanded that a man must not teach his daughter Torah since the intelligence of the majority of women is not geared to be instructed; rather, they reduce the words of Torah to matters of foolishness according to the poverty of their understanding. Our sages said: one who teaches his daughter Torah is as though he taught her foolishness. To what does this refer? To the Oral Torah; but as for the Written Torah, he should not teach her. If he did teach her it is not as though he taught her foolishness.

Once talmudic statements are incorporated into halakhic codes, they transcend their own original world-time and become a factor in the thinking of all later generations. The modern sensibility that accords women equal intellect with men comes into conflict not only with ancient talmudic statements, but also with practical halakha. How are we to deal with this dilemma?

We may submit ourselves to the talmudic world-time. We may argue that the statements of our sages are true and binding on all future generations. Since Rambam rules that women may not be taught Torah and that their ability to learn is poor, we should see to it that our daughters receive no formal Torah education, except in the mitzvoth that concern them directly. Moreover, when we teach girls, we should treat them as being intellectually inferior compared to boys, and therefore we should have different curricula for girls and for boys. This point of view is adopted by pre-modern Orthodox.

There are schools for girls where the girls do not learn Talmud and where their curriculum is different from that in boys' schools. There is no yeshiva for girls in the same sense as there are yeshivot for boys who wish to devote their days and nights to the study of Torah.

Among the Modern Orthodox, though, there is a general recognition that our social situation is radically different from that of previous generations. The need to educate our daughters in Torah has been widely recognized, even though there is still great difference of opinion as to how they should be educated. Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef wrote a responsum (Shanah beShanah, 5743, pp. 157–161) in which he permitted the celebration of Bat Mitzvah for girls who have reached the age of twelve. In the course of the responsum, he quotes Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg (Seridei Esh, 3:93), who wrote that it was perfectly proper to celebrate a Bat Mitzvah.

And concerning those who argue against this because this was not practiced in previous generations: this is no argument at all, since in the generations before us they did not have to engage in the education of their daughters because every Jew was filled with Torah and fear of God, and the entire environment was filled with a pure spirit and the holiness of Judaism….But now, due to our many sins, the generations have undergone a very great change. The influence of the street destroys and uproots all attachment to Judaism from the hearts of Jewish girls. It is incumbent upon us to rally all our strength for the education of girls; and to our joy, the sages of the previous generation already took a stand and established educational institutions of Torah and understanding for Jewish girls….And if the distinction that is made between boys and girls [in terms of Bar or Bat Mitzvah] severely damages the human sensibility of the girl, it is permissible to have a party and celebration at home for girls who celebrate their Bat Mitzvah.

Since times and conditions have changed, we must adapt to the new realities.

The Modern Orthodox approach calls on us to re-evaluate the original sources and the halakhot based on those sources. We need to determine whether those statements refer to us at all. If they do then we must follow them regardless of the social consequences and implications. If they do not, then we have the freedom to deal with the reality before us without having to apologize.

The idea that women's intelligence is inferior, that girls should not learn Torah because it is too complicated for them—this is a notion that generally is discredited among intelligent people in our world-time. What possible value can there be in arguing in defense of untenable attitudes?

General evidence in modern education shows that girls are perfectly able to learn and to make great intellectual achievements. If women can win Nobel Prizes, if they can become doctors and lawyers and judges and engineers—why should they be unable to tackle the complexities of Talmud and halakha? Our eyes see that the understanding of women is not any lighter than that of men. We can understand why ancient and medieval rabbis wrote the way they did, because they lived in an environment where women generally were relegated to inferior status. But we cannot apply those outgrown attitudes to our contemporary life. We need to say: We are not “compromising” on halakha by educating our daughters in Torah; rather, we are establishing the halakha that women and girls must learn Torah commensurate with their abilities, which are equal to those of men and boys. (See R. Haim David Halevy, Aseh Lekha Rav, 2:52.)

It is difficult for Modern Orthodoxy to muster the courage to deal with such cases in a straightforward way. It is easier to surrender to an earlier world-time; or even to work out gradual compromises, which take a long time and which create much dissatisfaction. It is easier not to assume the responsibility for our generation. Because of the extreme caution of Orthodoxy not to “insult” the rabbis of previous generations, there is a reluctance to make any changes or to move in new directions.

This paralysis may be exemplified by the well-known blessing in our Siddur “shelo assani isha.” Based on a Talmudic statement (Menahot 43b), a man is obligated to bless God each day “for not having made me a woman.” This statement has been subject to much commentary, apologetics, controversy. In trying to explicate the real meaning of the statement, we can state that the blessing is not supposed to be anti-woman; rather, it is a way of thanking God for having given men extra mitzvoth that are not incumbent upon women. Granted that this statement was made with this meaning and that it intended no harm, the reality is that the statement in its present form is offensive to modern sensibilities. Trying to explain this blessing to daughters, to girls in religious school and day school, is not the easiest of tasks. In spite of all our apologetics, girls and women—if they are encouraged to think independently—resent the formulation of the blessing. Moreover, boys and men who recite the text may absorb, consciously or unconsciously, anti-female attitudes.

But once the text is in the Siddur—and has been there for centuries—who is willing to take responsibility to change it or to eliminate it? The right-wing Orthodox may believe that the statement is perfectly innocuous and reflects a genuine truth. Others may offer interpretations of the blessing to try to make it more acceptable to the modern sensibility. But isn’t it ludicrous for intelligent people today to argue in defense of a statement that is quite problematic, to say the least? A true modern Orthodox position would be to change the blessing to a more suitable formula, one that does not cast negative aspersions on women. Making such a change does not imply that we are more sensitive or more intelligent than our predecessors; it only reflects the fact that we are living in a different world-time and tha we are responding to the needs of our generation. “Yiftah bedoro kiShmuel bedoro.” We should not be hampered by the fact that the Conservative movment has made a change in the blessing’s formulation. We should be concerned with the situation, not with labels.

The Nahem Prayer

Let us consider one further example of the dissonance between ancient texts and contemporary reality. Rabbi Haim David Halevy initiated a change in a text of a prayer for Tisha b'Av— a change that was eminently intelligent. Yet he was criticized sharply by many people. On Tisha b'Av, we have the prayer that begins Nahem, which describes Jerusalem as a destroyed, and desolate city without its children. Rabbi Halevy said that the statement is no longer true. Jerusalem is filled with Jews, and is definitely not destroyed, humiliated, and desolate. How, therefore, can someone recite the traditional prayer when in fact the prayer is false? To recite this text would make us guilty of reciting falsehoods before God. Therefore, Rabbi Halevy changed parts of the Nahem text to the past tense, asking God to console the city that was destroyed, humiliated, and desolate (Aseh Lehha Rav, 1: 14). Rabbi Halevy defends his position eloquently (Aseh Lekha Rav,2:36-39). It is indeed amazing that his position should have been criticized at all, since it is so perfectly sensible and understandable. Yet, such is the fear of change, that many were ready to criticize this ruling.

The same critics have no problem reciting a prayer to God that in fact includes an obvious lie: Jerusalem is not destroyed, humiliated, nor desolate of its children.

For Modern Orthodoxy to succeed in meeting its responsibility, it will be necessary for us to recognize that we are part of the contemporary world-time. We should have a blue ribbon panel composed of Modern Orthodox rabbinic scholars who will be willing to evaluate the above examples as well as so many others, and to come up with specific halakhic rulings for our generation. If we have the confidence and good sense to lead, we may be surprised to find that many people are ready to follow. It is up to us to bring Orthodoxy into the modern generation and world-time.

A Balanced Approach: Thoughts on Parashat Va'et'hanan

by Jake Nussbam

(Jake Nussbaum, a student at Yeshiva University, is a summer intern of our Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.)   

  In Hilkhot De’ot, the Rambam differed from other standard books of Jewish law, spending the first three chapters dealing with the importance of having a balanced perspective when it comes to character traits and development. In chapter 1, he explains how each character trait exists on a scale, with an extreme on both sides. For example, the trait of giving has one extreme of someone who never gives a penny to charity. The other extreme is someone who gives so much charity that he has no money left for himself. Rambam stresses that either extreme is not correct. Generally, we should be strive for the “middle path.” In the case of charity, one should give sufficiently, while being sure to have enough for one’s own needs. 

     In chapter 3, Rambam addresses an issue that can be all too common. There are those who seek to avoid overindulgence and over-involvement in worldly pleasures by going to the opposite extreme, e.g. swearing off meat and wine, not wanting to get married, and wearing clothes of a mourner all the time. Rambam says that this individual is a sinner just as one would be for overindulging. He cites proof from a Nazir, who is someone who swears off wine, among other restrictions, for a designated amount of time. The Torah (Bemidbar 6:8) defines a Nazir as “holy to Hashem.” Rashi comments that this is because he abstains from wine and stays away from impurity, thereby “sanctifying” his body. However in verse 16, the Torah writes that after the designated period as a Nazir, he must bring a sin offering. Why would a sin offering follow a period of extra sanctity? The explanation seems to be that it is not necessary to fully swear off pleasurable activities such as drinking wine in order to be pious. On the contrary, over-ascetic behavior is sinful.

     In Hilkhot De’ot (chapter 5, halakha 3) Rambam describes a person who gets drunk as “a sinner,” “disgusting;” getting drunk in public is a desecration of the name of God.  Rambam criticizes both the Nazir and the drunkard, since both go to extremes

In Parashat Ve’et’hhanan, there are two consecutive verses which seem to have no relation to one another (Devarim chapter 4, verses 2-3) 

2. You shall not add anything to what I command you or take anything away from it, but keep the commandments of the Lord your God that I enjoin upon you. 

3. You saw with your own eyes what the Lord did in the matter of Baal-peor, that the Lord your God wiped out from among you every person who followed Baal-peor;

     Verse 2 is the prohibition of adding or subtracting to the commandments of God. The classic examples are that there are four sections of the Torah in the head tefillin, four corners to a tzitzit garment, and four species to be shaken on Succot. One may think that three would be sufficient, or that it would be extra pious to have five. This verse teaches us that is not the case. Verse 3 is referring to chapter 25 of Sefer Bemidbar, where Moabite women enticed Israelite men to have immoral relations with them, and convinced them to worship idols. This idol was known as Baal-peor. 

     Rabbi Moshe Alsheikh, a prominent 16th century Kabbalist from Tzefat, suggested a fascinating idea to connect the verses. He writes that there were actually two groups of Israelites who sinned at Baal-peor. The first was the aforementioned group who were enticed into idolatry by way of sexual immorality. However, there were others who wanted to be zealous and defame the idol worship by casting excrement on the idols. But the actual mitzvah calls for the destruction of idols. The zealots wanted to sanctify the name of God by disgracing the idols and their worshippers; but they sinned through their extremism in adding to the commandment to destroy idols.

     None of this is to say that there is no role for stringencies and fences to guide us to proper observance of the Torah. Rather, there is a place for strictness while not going into extremism. Rambam’s insistence on the “middle path” is to be sought.

     May we all achieve a balanced perspective in our character traits and in our lives. Shabbat Shalom.

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

Tanakh lies at the heart of Jewish faith, and comprises God’s revealed word. Tanakh represents the truth for believing Jews. However, must or should every word be understood literally?

            Do believing Jews need to insist that the world was created in seven 24-hour days? Is all humanity biologically descended from one couple that lived some 6,000 years ago?

God does not have hands or nostrils, despite many verses whose literal reading suggest otherwise. How are we to understand stories of angels who eat (Genesis 18) or wrestle (Genesis 32)?

            Some also ask whether it is possible that King David really committed adultery and orchestrated murder as suggested by the literal biblical text (II Samuel 11), or whether King Solomon really worshipped idols (I Kings 11).

            Rabbi Saadiah Gaon (882–942) maintained that biblical texts should be taken literally, unless one of four criteria is met:

And I so declare, first of all, that it is a well-known fact that every statement in the Bible is to be understood in its literal sense except for those that cannot be so construed for one of the following four reasons: It may, for example, either be rejected by the observation of the senses…Or else the literal sense may be negated by reason…. Again [the literal meaning of a biblical statement may be rendered impossible] by an explicit text of a contradictory nature, in which case it would become necessary to interpret the first statement in a non-literal nature…. Finally, any biblical statement to the meaning of which rabbinical tradition has attached a certain reservation is to be interpreted by us in keeping with this authentic tradition. (Emunot VeDe’ot Book VII)[1]

If the literal reading of a biblical text contradicts empirical observation, logic, another biblical text, or rabbinic tradition, then it must be reinterpreted.

Following in Rabbi Saadiah’s footsteps, Rambam agreed that if logic or scientific knowledge contradicts the literal sense of a biblical text, that text must not be taken literally[2]:

I believe every possible happening that is supported by a prophetic statement and do not strip it of its plain meaning. I fall back on interpreting a statement only when its literal sense is impossible, like the corporeality of God: The possible however remains as stated. (Treatise on Resurrection)[3]

Rambam included considerably more than God’s corporeality among the impossible, and therefore allegorized many biblical passages. Other rabbinic thinkers adamantly opposed this method of interpretation, protesting that it imposed foreign ideas onto the biblical text. Additionally, it created a dangerous slippery slope for interpreters to allegorize far too many passages.[4]

In this essay, I will consider several debates as they pertain to the interface between Torah and science, Torah and logic, and Torah and other religious concerns such the sins of biblical heroes. Although the two sides of the debate often vigorously disagree, it is possible to chart a path that hears the voices of both sides.

Torah and Science

            Some believe that there are conflicts between Torah and science. Science states that the world is billions of years old; there was a process of evolution; and it is unlikely in the extreme that all humans biologically descend from the same couple that lived only 6,000 years ago. The literal reading of the early chapters in Genesis does not seem to match the scientific account.

            However, there need not be any conflict between Torah and science. As noted above, Rabbi Saadiah Gaon and Rambam maintain that whenever the literal reading of the Torah contradicts empirical evidence, the Torah should not be taken literally. In his discussion of Aristotle’s theory of the eternality of the world, Rambam rejects it because Aristotle was unable to prove his theory. However, were Aristotle able to prove it, Rambam would reinterpret Genesis chapter 1 (Guide of the Perplexed II:25). Rambam did not believe that the entire creation account was intended as literal, either (Guide of the Perplexed II:29).

More recently, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote that as long as one believes that God created the world, the length or process of the creation is not a binding article of faith:

Judaism is not frightened even by the hundreds of thousands and millions of years which the geological theory of the earth’s development bandies about so freely…. The Rabbis have never made the acceptance or rejection of this and similar possibilities an article of faith binding on all Jews. They were willing to live with any theory that did not reject the basic truth that “every beginning is from God.” (The Educational Value of Judaism, in Collected Writings, vol. VII, p. 265)[5]

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook made a similar point regarding the Theory of Evolution:

Even if it were to become clear to us that the world came into being by way of the evolution of the species, still there would be no contradiction, for our count follows the plain sense of the biblical verses, which is far more relevant to us than knowledge about the past, which carries little value for us. Without question, the Torah concealed much about creation, speaking in allusions and parables. For everyone knows that the creation story is included among the secrets of the Torah, and if everything followed the plain sense [of the verses], what secret would there be here?...The main thing is what arises from the entire story—knowing God and [living] a truly moral life. (Iggerot Ra’ayah I, letters 91, p. 105)[6]

Instead of reinterpreting the Torah to match science, one could argue that the Torah does not teach scientific truth, but rather religious truth. From this perspective, a believing Jew accepts the religious messages of the Torah, while accepting science from scientists. In his introduction to the Torah, Rabbi Samuel David Luzzatto espoused this position:

Intelligent people understand that the goal of the Torah is not to inform us about natural sciences; rather it was given in order to create a straight path for people in the way of righteousness and law, to sustain in their minds the belief in the Unity of God and His Providence.

            Commenting on Psalm 19:6–7, which describes the sun moving across the sky, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch similarly remarks:

David, as do all the Holy Scriptures, talks in the language of men. His language is the same as that of Copernicus, Kepler and Newton, and as that which we use today…. This language will remain the same even when the assumption that the sun is static and that the earth revolves around it—and not the sun around the earth—will have been proven to be irrefutable certainty. For it is not the aim of the Holy Scriptures to teach us astronomy, cosmogony or physics, but only to guide man to the fulfillment of his life’s task within the framework of the constellation of his existence. For this purpose it is quite irrelevant whether the course of days and years is determined by the earth’s revolution around the sun, or by the latter’s orbit around the former.[7]

            In his inaugural address as the second president of Yeshiva College and the Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary delivered on May 23, 1944, Rabbi Dr. Samuel Belkin expressed similar sentiments:

It is not our intention to make science the handmaiden of religion nor religion the handmaiden of science. We do not believe in a scientific religion nor in a pseudo-science. We prefer to look upon science and religion as separate domains which need not be in serious conflict and therefore need no reconciliation.[8]

In a more pointed manner, Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz dismissed the possibility of reading the Torah as a history or science textbook:

If the Holy Scriptures were sources of information, it would be difficult to see where their sacredness resided…. The idea that the Shekhinah (God’s Presence) descended on Mount Sinai in order to compete with the professor who teaches history or physics is ludicrous, if not blasphemous.[9]

            To summarize, there is ample room within tradition to avoid faith-science conflicts. One may reinterpret passages in the Torah, or one may study the Torah for its religious messages while accepting science as science. In an age where science is vastly more empirical than it was in the times of Rabbi Saadiah Gaon and Rambam, it is particularly valuable that these rabbinic thinkers paved a path for belief in the Torah without any conflict with scientific knowledge.[10] Their guidance helps us focus on what truly matters—the religious messages that the Torah wishes to teach.

Torah and Logic[11]

1. Angelic encounters

Rambam maintained that all angelic encounters were experienced in prophetic visions, not in actual reality (Guide of the Perplexed II:41–42). There are occasions where this principle helps explain difficult texts. For example, when Joshua encountered an angel “in Jericho” (Joshua 5:13–15), that city had yet to be captured. Rambam’s assumption, that Joshua was experiencing a prophetic vision, eliminates this difficulty. In a prophetic vision, Joshua could have been standing inside of Jericho.[12]

            On other occasions, however, Rambam’s assumption appears to contradict or stretch the literal reading of the biblical text. For example, Rambam maintained that Abraham’s encounter with the three angels in Genesis 18 must have occurred in a prophetic vision (Guide of the Perplexed II:32). Ramban (on Genesis 18:1) censured this position. If this were only a vision, why does the Torah provide so many details with regard to Sarah’s preparation of food? Did Lot and the wicked people of Sodom experience prophetic revelation when they encountered the angels in Genesis 19? If they were experiencing prophecy, then Lot would still have remained in Sodom, since the entire destruction was experienced only in prophecy! Ramban believed that Rambam’s position is incompatible with the Torah.[13]

Rambam’s premise about angels also became a potentially dangerous precedent. Abarbanel (on Genesis 22:13) expressed chagrin that some writers applied Rambam’s principle to argue that the Binding of Isaac occurred only in Abraham’s prophetic vision, since an angel stopped Abraham from sacrificing Isaac.[14] Abarbanel considered this view a terrible misapplication of Rambam’s teachings, and stated that it was wrong to deny the historicity of the Binding of Isaac.

2. God’s unusual instructions to prophets

Throughout Tanakh, God ordered prophets to perform symbolic actions, including several that appear shocking. For example, God instructed Hosea to marry an eshet zenunim (commonly translated as “prostitute”[15]) to illustrate Israel’s infidelity to God. The ensuing narrative reports that Hosea did so, and fathered three children with her (Hosea 1:2–9). Similarly, God commanded Isaiah to “untie the sackcloth from his loins” to foretell that the Assyrians would lead the Egyptians and Ethiopians away as naked captives. Isaiah faithfully obeyed, and walked around arom (literally, “naked”) and barefoot (Isaiah 20:2–6).

Rambam insisted that God never would order a prophet to do anything foolish or irrational. Therefore, Hosea and Isaiah performed these actions only in prophetic visions:

God is too exalted than that He should turn His prophets into a laughingstock and a mockery for fools by ordering them to commit acts of disobedience. In the same way when He says, Like as My servant Isaiah hath walked naked and barefoot, this only happened in the visions of God. The position is similar with regard to the words addressed to Hosea: Take unto thee a wife of harlotry and children of harlotry. All this story concerning the birth of the children and their having been named so and so happened in its entirety in a vision of prophecy. This is a thing that can only be doubted or not known by him who confuses the possible things with the impossible ones. (Guide of the Perplexed II:46)[16]

According to Rambam, Hosea did not actually marry a prostitute,[17] nor did Isaiah walk around naked in public.[18] When a conflict arises between the personal perfection of a prophet and his mission to the people, Rambam favored the element of personal perfection.

Abarbanel criticized Rambam (and Ibn Ezra) for contradicting biblical texts, which state explicitly that Hosea and Isaiah performed these actions:

One must be extremely astonished at these learned authors (i.e., Ibn Ezra and Rambam)—how could they advance this kind of sweeping principle in prophetic narrative? If the text testifies that the action occurred, we have no right to depart from its plain sense, lest we interpret the verses incorrectly. Indeed, it is infidelity and a grave sin (zimmah va-avon pelili) to contradict the plain sense of the verses; if this is what we do to them, this disease (tzara’at) will spread over all verses and reveal interpretations that contradict their veracity. (commentary on Hosea 1)

Abarbanel insisted that a prophet’s mission to the people is more important than the prophet’s personal perfection and dignity. Therefore, according to Abarbanel, if God decides that these shocking symbolic actions could have a positive religious effect on the people, God will order prophets to perform them.

3. Messianic visions

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard lie down with the kid. In all of My sacred mount nothing evil or vile shall be done; for the land shall be filled with devotion to the Lord as water covers the sea. (Isaiah 11:6, 9)

Believing that the natural order will not be altered in the messianic era, Rambam adopted Ibn Ezra’s reading of this prophecy and interpreted it as a poetic way to express that all nations will live together in peace (Laws of Kings 12:1; Guide of the Perplexed II:29).

            Unlike the previous examples, however, Rambam entertained the literal reading of Isaiah 11:6–9 as a possible meaning:

You must realize that I am not at all positive that all the promises and the like of them are metaphorical. No revelation from God has come to teach me they are parables. I will only explain to you what impels me to speak this way. I try to reconcile the Law and reason, and wherever possible consider all things as of the natural order. Only when something is explicitly identified as a miracle, and reinterpretation of it cannot be accommodated, only then I feel forced to grant that this is a miracle. (Treatise on Resurrection)[19]

Although there were issues that Rambam considered irrational and impossible, there were others where he allegorized because he thought this to be the most plausible way of explaining a text. In those latter instances, he was willing to entertain the more literal reading.

Torah and Talmudic Values[20]

In the above cases, literalism is associated with piety and non-literalism with rationalism. But sometimes it goes the other way. Some, following one strand of talmudic thinking, hold that King David didn’t really commit adultery and orchestrate murder in spite of the literal biblical text (II Samuel 11), or that King Solomon didn’t really worship idols (I Kings 11).

            In II Samuel chapter 11, David commits adultery with Bathsheba, and then has her husband Uriah killed off so that David can marry Bathsheba. The prophet Nathan excoriates him in chapter 12, and David expresses profound remorse for his sins before embarking on a remarkable process of repentance.[21]

Adopting the literal reading of the text, Abarbanel enumerates five sins committed by David: (1) adultery; (2) being prepared to abandon his biological child by asking Uriah to return to Bathsheba; (3) having Uriah—a loyal subject—killed; (4) having Uriah killed specifically by enemies; (5) insensitively marrying Bathsheba soon after Uriah’s demise.

Abarbanel then cites the Gemara: “whoever says that David sinned is merely erring” (Shabbat 56a). That talmudic passage suggests that Uriah had given a bill of divorce to Bathsheba prior to going to battle, and therefore David did not commit technical adultery. Uriah should be deemed a rebel against David for slighting the king, and therefore David was halakhically justified in having him killed (commentators debate what the precise problem was, within this talmudic reading). Although David’s actions were unbecoming, he is not guilty of the most egregious sins according to this passage.

However, retorts Abarbanel, the textual proofs adduced in David’s defense are uncompelling, whereas the prophet Nathan explicitly accuses David of sinning—and David confesses and repents. Moreover, Rav, the leading disciple of Rabbi Judah ha-Nasi (known simply as “Rabbi”), dismisses his teacher’s defense of David on the spot: “Rabbi, who is descended from David, seeks to defend him and expounds [the verse] in David’s favor.” Therefore, concludes Abarbanel, “these words of our Sages are the ways of derash, and I have no need to respond to them.… I prefer to say that [David] sinned greatly and confessed greatly and repented fully and accepted his punishment, and in this manner he attained atonement for his sins.”[22]

Although Abarbanel presents himself as an independent pashtan in this instance, he has not broken with rabbinic tradition. A number of rabbinic sources do not exonerate David. For example, there are opinions that Bathsheba was possibly a married woman or certainly a married woman;[23] that Bathsheba’s consent still might be viewed halakhically as a form of rape of a married woman since she was not in a position to decline;[24] that David was culpable for the death of Uriah;[25] that Joab bears guilt for failing to defy David’s immoral orders regarding Uriah.[26] The unambiguous textual evidence against David, including his own admission of guilt and wholehearted repentance, seems to have convinced Abarbanel that it was unnecessary to cite additional sources beyond Rav’s dismissal of his teacher’s defense of David.[27]

Despite these protests, many other commentators, including Rashi, Radak, Ralbag, and Malbim, accept the talmudic defense of David in Shabbat 56a. There is a religious balance between viewing biblical heroes with proper reverence and simultaneously listening to the the biblical text.[28]

Navigating a Path that Hears Both Sides of the Debate

            Once we recognize that the most critical component of learning Tanakh is to hear God’s revealed word and learn the prophetic messages of the text, we can address the issue of taking each text literally.

            If we take the texts literally but not as dogmatically literal when there are conflicts, we can make much headway in navigating the debates. For example, the Sages debate whether the story in the Book of Job occurred. Rambam believed that the story did not occur, but stressed that we must focus on the religious messages of the narrative:

To sum up: whether he has existed or not, with regard to cases like his, which always exist, all reflecting people become perplexed; and in consequence such things as I have already mentioned to you are said about God’s knowledge and His providence. (Guide of the Perplexed III:22)[29]

            Similarly, the Torah states that God created the world in seven days, thereby teaching that God created the world, and that Shabbat is of vital importance in the God-Israel relationship. If the world is billions of years old, this scientific reality in no way detracts from the religious values of God as Creator above nature or in the importance of Shabbat.

            The Torah teaches that all of humanity is descended from one couple, and therefore there is no room for racism (Sanhedrin 37a). If geneticists demonstrate the extreme unlikelihood of all people descending from one couple that lived 6,000 years ago,  this scientific reality in no way diminishes God’s message in the Torah against racism.

            The sins of King David teach the dangers of lust (Rabbi Judah HeHasid), the power of repentance (Abarbanel), and the incredible integrity of prophecy in its willingness to condemn Israel’s most beloved leader when he violates the Torah. If Uriah gave Bathsheba abill of divorce, that would in no way compromise the prophetic messages of the text.

            Tanakh is not a systematic theology, science, or history. We treat nearly all of Tanakh as historical, but God did not reveal prophecies to the prophets in order to teach science or history. God is speaking to us, and it is our religious obligation to hear, understand, and listen to that voice. We take all of the texts seriously, even if some of them may be understood as non-literal. Where there are debates among our commentators, we may navigate the path of taking the texts literally to learn their prophetic messages, while remaining open to science, reason, and other religious values from within tradition.[30]

Bringing the Sephardi into a Reset Shoah Narrative

By Arthur Shostak

Holocaust scholarship is finally making up for nearly eight decades of inadequate attention to the impact of the Shoah (1933 - ’45) on approximately 430,000 Sephardi Jews from Europe, Morocco, Algiers, Tunisia, and Libya, etc., over 160,000 of whom perished in the catastrophe.

While a few path-setting academic histories came out since 1945 the publication in 2020 of a heartfelt analysis, The Sephardim in the Holocaust: A Forgotten People, by Isaac and Rosemary Levy, raises the bar. It will for decades be regarded as seminal.

The 262-page book draws on more than 170 interviews conducted with Auschwitz survivors in Belgium, Canada, France, Greece, Israel, Mexico, the Netherlands, the former Yugoslavia, and the United States. We hear from Sephardim in Athens, Corfu, Cos, Macedonia, Rhodes, Salonika, and the former Yugoslavia.

Especially valuable are three features: First, clarification of unique challenges Sephardim faced when in the grips of the Third Reich, as differences in language (24 occupied countries), physical appearance, and Hebrew pronunciation set them apart from the Ashkenazim (the dominant bloc). Second, documentation of brave high-risk secret efforts at revolt in the camps, complicated by the need for Sephardi cooperation with Ashkenazi fellow prisoners. Third, attention to survivors who owe their lives to altruistic sanctuary provided in Albania by Christian and Muslim Upstanders.

Hopefully, the Levy book will soon be followed by new Sephardic-focused scholarship that recognizes  there are two stories, not one, that learners ought to take from study of the Shoah: The Horror Story, or what perpetrators did To their victims, AND the Help Story, or  what victims did FOR one another.

The well-known first story is unforgivable, while the neglected second story is inspiring, It  tells of high-risk secret non-militant efforts made by victims to relieve suffering and increase the survival chances of less fortunate others … even at risk of life. The first story has gotten far more museum wall space than the second, far more library shelf space than the second, far more movie screen coverage than the second, and far more classroom podium and blackboard attention, along with Covid-19 based zoom attention, than the second. This makes the least of memorialization possibilities.

It is past time to think critically about this costly imbalance, and act to remedy it, as it is historically incorrect, grievously misleads, negatively stigmatizes the subject, and explains much of so-called Holocaust Fatigue. The mainstream Narrative needs a constructive reset that would arrest Horror Centrism and advance a new ratio, say, 55/45, Horror/Help, and thereby improve the Legacy and better honor the Six Million (over 160,000 of whom are Sephardic).

To this end I offer the example of my 2017 book, Stealth Altruism: Forbidden Care as Jewish Resistance in the Holocaust, my website of related short published articles (www.stealthaltruism.com), and my podcast ( https://www.practicalreasonpodcast.com/help-story). As well, I offer to assist any reader willing to take this perspective and apply it to the Sephardic Shoah experience.

What was the Sephardic counterpart of the Ashkenazi forest partisan units that in addition to harassing German troops also sheltered young and old Jewish refugees? Who was  a Sephardic counterpart for Dr. Janusz Korczak, a world-renowned Polish Jew possibly the greatest child specialist and educational reformer in all of Europe. How did Sephardic communities treat alleged Nazi collaborationists after 1945? How have Sephardic survivors sought to improve Shoah memorialization efforts and the educational transfer of the Legacy, much as do scores of Ashkenazi organizations?

With the rapid coming of an advent in which there are no direct survivors to tell youngsters (and scholars) their story, all of Shoah memorialization is at risk. The sooner Ashkenazi and Sephardic join hands, hearts, and minds in a creative effort to reset and thereby rehabilitate  the Narrative, the better off will be Jewry, Judaism, and thereby, humanity. The stakes are high,

Thoughts on Parashat Ki Tetsei

by Max Nussbaum

(Max Nussbaum is beginning Shana Bet studies at Yeshivat Reishit in Beit Shemesh. He plans to attend Baruch College upon his return to New York.)

Throughout the Torah, there are numerous mitzvot that don’t appear to have a clear reason. The commandment of Shatnez (not mixing wool and linen), for example, seems very random. However, there are also many mitzvot that make perfect sense such as the commandment to respect our parents. To an ethical person, respecting our parents is the least we can do for them because they bring us into the world and give us everything we need. 

In this week's Parasha, Ki Teitzei, there are 74 mitzvot listed. I’d like to focus on the commandment that one may not plow with an ox and a donkey together (Deuteronomy 22:10). At first glance, this looks puzzling. What’s the reason one can’t use these two particular animals while plowing a field?

The Sefer HaChinuch points out that the reason for this commandment is to prevent these two animals from mating. There is a concept of forbidden mixtures (Kilayim) and cross-breeding falls under that category. Nonetheless, we still have the same problem as before. Forbidden mixtures, such as Shatnez, are still unclear to us as to why they were forbidden.

Earlier this week, I was listening to a shiur by R’ Aryeh Leibowitz in which he quoted an article about sensitivity written by R’ Benjamin Yudin. R’ Leibowitz pointed out in the shiur that a person's view on Torah is often correlated with his or her personality. R’ Yudin, being a sensitive person, has an incredible insight to further understand the mitzvah that one may not plow with an ox and a donkey together. 

The owner of these animals would make sure that these animals are well fed before doing this work. Oxen chew their cud, which would indicate to the donkey that the ox has more food than it has, which would make the donkey upset. Another reason is that an ox is a much stronger animal than a donkey, therefore a donkey wouldn’t be able to keep up with the workload of an ox, which would make the donkey tired and weak. 

From both of these reasons, we now have a distinguishable way of looking at this commandment. What presents itself to be an easy mitzvah from Hashem, is really teaching us about sensitivity. Not only to people, but to animals as well. 

Some years ago, I read about a German Jew who established a "Jewish Nazi Society" during the 1930s. While Jews throughout Germany (and Europe in general) were facing horrible anti-Jewish persecutions, this Jewish man internalized the vicious anti-Semitic propaganda to such an extent that he also became a Jew-hater. Perhaps he thought that by identifying as a Nazi, he would be spared personally from the anti-Jewish persecutions. He wanted to be considered as "a good Jew" in the eyes of the Nazis, rather than be accounted among the "bad" Jews whom the Nazis were tormenting.

 I don't know what ultimately happened to the members of the "Jewish Nazi Society", but I doubt that they were spared by the Nazi hate machine. The Nazis hated Jews for having Jewish blood, regardless of their beliefs or political leanings. Jewish Nazis were just as despicable to Nazis as any other Jews. The Jewish Nazis were despised by Jews for their treachery; and despised by Nazis for their Jewishness.

These thoughts came to mind as I contemplated the phenomenon of Jews in our time who struggle to undermine Israel, and who identify themselves with those who strive to destroy the Jewish State. These individuals seem to suffer from the same psychological problems as members of the "Jewish Nazi Society" in Germany. Israel is constantly barraged by its enemies--through terrorism, economic boycotts, political isolation, anti-Israel propaganda, threats of war and nuclear destruction. To the enemies of Israel, the Jewish State is the object of blind, unmitigated hatred. The enemies use every possible forum to malign Israel and deny its legitimacy. This unceasing war against Israel is resisted courageously by the Jewish State, by Jewish supporters of Israel, by millions of non-Jewish supporters of Israel.

It is bizarre and morally repugnant that the one tiny Jewish country in the world has to suffer so much abuse. It is a matter of honor to stand up for Israel and to remind the world of the right of the Jews to their own homeland. We need to counter the attacks against Israel in every forum. We need to speak truth to combat the unceasing stream of lies heaped up against Israel.

Does this mean that we must agree with and condone everything that Israel does? Of course not. Israelis themselves are vocal in their criticisms of aspects of Israeli life and government policies. As long as criticisms are voiced with love, they should be welcome. They help shake the status quo and move things in a better direction. But criticism must be balanced with an appreciation of the amazingly impressive positive aspects of the Jewish State.

While fair and loving critics are vital to Israel's welfare, haters are destructive. Haters do not seek to improve Israel--they seek to destroy it. Their goal is not to encourage a vibrant, flourishing Jewish State--their goal is to eliminate the Jewish State. The hatred is so blind and so intense, that it is oblivious to facts and figures. For haters, Israel is guilty just by existing. It is particularly regrettable when people of Jewish ancestry align themselves with the haters. In some perverse way, they may think this separates them from the fate of Israel and the Jewish people--they think they will be viewed as "the good Jews" in contrast with the Zionists who are viewed as "the bad Jews". But such Jews are despised by Jews as traitors, and are despised (or mocked) by the haters of Israel--because after all, these hating Jews are still Jews! The enemies are happy to use such people for propaganda purposes; but if they were ever to succeed in their wicked designs, these hating Jews would not fare well. Their treachery to Israel and their fellow Jews would not make them beloved by the enemies of Jews and Israel.

We have read recently of Jewish haters/self-haters who have participated in-- and even spearheaded-- anti-Israel boycotts. We have read of Israeli professors/left wing intellectuals who have participated in anti-Israel programs on college campuses throughout the world. We have read columns by Jewish journalists that are so blatantly unfair to Israel that it makes us shudder. We have learned of Jewish groups and individuals who blame Israel for every ill suffered by Palestinians, even when most of the blame rests with the Palestinian leadership. We have heard Jewish voices decrying Israel's defense of its border with Gaza, even though the stated intent of Hamas is to murder and kidnap as many Israelis as possible...and ultimately to wipe Israel off the map.

For some critics, everyone in the world seems to have rights...except Jews. Every nation in the world has the right to defend its citizens...except Israel.  These are positions which must be repudiated by all fair-minded people. These are positions which most surely should be repudiated by the victims of such views...the Jews themselves.

Should a person who desperately wants to make aliyah do so even if his or her parents object?

The basic halakha is that a grown child may decide for him/herself about Aliyah and that parents do not have the right to impose their will in this matter. This is especially true if the grown child feels that he/she can learn and observe Torah better in Israel and if he/she wants to raise children there.

It is best, of course, if parents and children reach an amicable understanding. In our days, it is easier to maintain contact with family, even if they live far from each other. We have whatsapp and facetime and zoom etc.  We also can travel to and from Israel much more quickly and easily than was possible for our ancestors even a few generations ago.

Making Aliyah is a big decision. If a grown child has decided on Aliyah after carefully considering the pluses and minuses, then the parents should accept this decision gracefully…and proudly.

If a Jew who knows better intermarries, how should one treat his or her spouse?  Coldly?  Warmly?  Somewhere in between?

One “who knows better” also must realize that religiously observant Jews strongly disapprove of interfaith marriage. It would not normally be expected to have a non-Jewish spouse treated warmly and naturally, as if nothing were wrong.

On the other hand, we are taught not to judge others unless we imagine ourselves to be in a similar situation.  If someone disapproves of your spouse, for whatever reason, how would you want that person to behave toward your spouse? Would you be pleased if he/she acted coldly, rudely? Would you want to maintain a positive relationship with someone who disdained your spouse? 

If you alienate the non-Jewish partner of a Jewish relative or friend, wouldn’t that almost certainly damage or end your relationship?

One approach is: that person sinned, I want nothing to do with him/her or spouse. Another approach is to try to maintain a good relationship with the Jewish person while having as little to do as possible with the non-Jewish spouse.

Another approach is to deal with intermarried couples as fellow human beings. Although we don’t approve of interfaith marriage, neither do we approve of rudeness. We don’t know the inner life of that couple. Could the non-Jewish spouse be considering conversion to Judaism? If so, our coldness could turn the person away from Judaism.

I think it’s best to be as inclusive as possible. As Bruria taught, one should disdain the sin, not the sinners.

Is it proper to publicly announce donors' names and contribution amounts in shul?

Many synagogues find it essential to conduct public appeals in order to raise funds. Calling names of donors is a way of increasing contributions. It encourages people to participate as generously as possible, and discourages people from avoiding to make their donations. Their reputations are at stake!

Is this ideal? Absolutely not. Wouldn’t it be so much better if everyone contributed generously and promptly, so as to preclude the necessity of public appeals for funds? These appeals degrade the sanctity of the synagogue, often causing frustration and embarrassment.

While halakhic justification for this practice can be found, it is still unseemly and unpleasant.

But the problem isn’t primarily with the fundraisers: the problem is with the community at large.

If everyone met their financial responsibilities generously, there would be no need for public appeals. But—unfortunately—it is the rare synagogue that can maintain itself without public appeals that name the donors and the amount of donations.

Some synagogues have sought other ways of raising funds e.g. scrolls of honor, online campaigns, appeals without actually mentioning donors’ names etc.

Let each of us contribute as generously as we can. If we all do our share financially, we will be contributing to the holiness of our sanctuaries. And if we don’t meet our financial obligations on our own, get ready for the next appeal in shul!

Is it proper to pressure family members of a get refuser?

“Get” refusal is reprehensible. It is never justified, regardless of any personal grievances that may be at stake. If a marriage has effectively ended, a “get” must be given and received promptly. The “get” is not a bargaining tool. The divorcing couple should settle its disputes directly, in a beth din or civil court. Holding back on a “get” is unethical, sinful, and a hillul Hashem.

“Get” refusers apparently persist in their wickedness in spite of external pressures. Either they are spiteful, greedy or malicious. Whatever can be done to prod them to give/receive the “get” should be done. This includes treating the refuser as one in “herem.” Isolating the person socially and in business can be helpful.

Is it proper to put pressure on family members of the refuser? The answer depends on whether or not such pressure can be effective. In some cases, family members may strongly support the refuser. In other cases, family members may have no influence on the refuser.

But if there is a chance that family members can play a constructive role, and you can speak with them calmly and reasonably, then by all means speak with them. If the refuser realizes that the family is being disgraced and pressured, perhaps a “get” will be forthcoming.

“Get” refusal reflects badly on the refuser, on the family and community. It reflects badly on Torah and halakha. We must do our best to eliminate this shameful behavior from our midst.

Pinchas's Peace Prize

Devar Torah by Max Nussbaum

In the 3rd verse of this week's Parasha, Parashat Pinchas, Hashem grants Pinchas with the peace prize. We know from the end of Parashat Balak that Pinchas killed Zimri and Kozbi thus ending the plague on the Israelite People. The result of Pinchas’s action is great; but why should he deserve a peace prize for killing two people? Furthermore, why did this end the plague?

Throughout Tanakh we see a few more interesting rewards and punishments that may lead us to question some foundational ideas. Moshe hit the rock and was unable to enter Israel. Avraham almost sacrificed his son Yitzhak and received a promise that his offspring would be the chosen nation. Yaakov tricked Yitzhak and received many blessings. The spies spoke badly about Israel and they were all sentenced to death in the desert. There’s seems to be no set standard for results of our actions; but in Parashat Ha’azinu we learn: “His (Hashem’s) deeds are perfect”. It appears as if we’re missing something.

There’s one common denominator among all of these things; the proper standard is fulfillment of Hashem's will. Following Hashem's will leads to blessing; violating His will leads to punishment. Moshe was supposed to talk to the rock and was punished because he didn’t. Avraham was ready to sacrifice his son as Hashem had commanded and he was rewarded. The same for Yaakov and the spies. Pinchas acted in a way that maintained Hashem's standard of morality for the People of Israel...and was therefore rewarded.

Pinchas deserved the peace prize because he had faith and was loyal to Hashem’s will. Due to the fact that this incident with Zimri and Kozbi happened in front of the nation, Pinchas inspired the people to do the will of Hashem. This is why Pinchas was granted the peace prize, and this is was why the plague was stopped. The main message to take away from this week's Parasha is that no matter what, we should always do the right thing and strive to live up to the standards that Hashem has set for us.

An excellent new commentary of the biblical book Samuel

Review by Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin

“The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel – Samuel,” published by Koren Publishers Jerusalem in 2021, is one of the best Bible commentaries in English. I say this because of its massive easy to read scholarly material on many far-reaching subjects, contributions by twenty renowned scholars, and because I see the value of this book after I used over a hundred such books while writing my own books on the Bible, such as my many volumes on the differences between the Hebrew Bible and its Aramaic translation called Onkelos, and after I have reviewed over 8,100 books, many dealing with the Bible.

This is the second volume in the Land of Israel series. The first focused on the second book of the Five Books of Moses, Exodus, which is equally praiseworthy. This one is on the book of Samuel, which like the first book of the Bible, Genesis, is interesting because it is filled with adventurous stories. In fact, the book of Samuel is for this reason taught in the elementary level in many Hebrew schools. This translation and commentary multiplies the enjoyment. The translation follows the suggestion of Maimonides to his own translator who translated his Arabic “Guide of the Perplexed” to Hebrew: Do not translate literally, word for word, because what is idiomatic and makes sense in one language often does not make sense and sounds stilted when copied literally in another language. So, find the intent in the original and make the translation clear by inserting the intent, such as rendering vayehi vayamim harabim, which literally means “And it was many days,” should be rendered in Modern English as “Years passed.”

The extensive commentary with a seven page introduction to the book of Samuel is filled with enlightening and fascinating information on every page. It is by highly respected Modern Orthodox rabbis and scholars of many fields, and is very rational. Among much else, the volume explains the ancient practice of polygamy, The Lord of Hosts, why Israelites had Egyptian names, vows, bareness in the ancient Near East, wine with sacrifices, cultic objects, names having significance, symbolism of a raised horn, rock, fate, amulets, Sheol, a heavy hand, cherubim, and other terms, why leaders were anointed, priestly corruption, the three-pronged fork used with sacrifices, priestly garments, women in the priesthood in the ancient Near East, nighttime revelations, madness and superstition, prophets as royal advisers, the belief that God was present in the Ark, did God become emotionally angry, the Philistines’ golden mice, carts used in rituals,  and much more.

A history of surrounding nation and their customs is included, including geography, archaeology, with information about the Philistines, Egyptology, and other nations. There are many maps, charts, timelines, dates, pictures of paintings by famed artists portraying events in this biblical book, and much more. There are articles on language, on what is Tanakh, the Tabernacle, ancient Hebrew, flora and fauna, Halakha, on the beginning of the monarchy in Israel, the reign of King David, did David learn from the Philistines, David’s campaigns, the authorship of the book of Samuel, why is necromancy forbidden, political marriages, and the variant versions from the Masoretic Text in the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls.    

Everyone reading the 505 pages of this excellent book or even browsing through it, whether Jew or non-Jew, even if the reader has a university education on the Bible or attended Orthodox yeshivot for many years, will benefit from this book a thousand-fold by learning more about the Bible, biblical history, its comparison with the teachings of other ancient cultures, the history of the Jewish people, the making of the monarchy in Israel, and much more.