National Scholar Updates

Bridging Tradition and the Academy:
The Literary-Theological School in Orthodox Bible Study 1

Introduction

Traditional Judaism includes core beliefs in prophecy, the divine revelation of the Torah
through Moses, and the existence of an Oral Law that accompanies the Written Torah. Although
the precise parameters of these beliefs have been debated over the millennia, these general
axioms form the heart and soul of Jewish religious encounter with the Torah. 2

Beginning in the seventeenth century with the philosophers Spinoza and Hobbes, and
moving through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries with Liberal Protestant critical Bible
scholarship, these and other basic religious foundations came under attack by a host of studies
and new assumptions. Simultaneously, critical Bible methodology brought with it fresh questions
and tools that could enhance traditional Bible study. 3

Over the past two centuries, analysis of literary tools, comparative linguistics, and the
discovery of a wealth of ancient texts and artifacts have contributed immensely to our
understanding the rich tapestry and complexity of biblical texts. Much also has improved since
the 1970s as a result of the literary revolution in biblical scholarship. After generations of
dissecting the Torah and the rest of Tanakh, many scholars have recognized that these books can
be analyzed effectively as unified texts. Every word is valuable. Passages have meaningful
structures and are multilayered. Understanding the interplay between texts is vital. These
assumptions were far more compatible with classical Orthodox Tanakh study.

Great Orthodox scholars of the previous generation such as the authors of the Da’at
Mikra commentary series, Professor Nehama Leibowitz, and Rabbi Mordechai Breuer
exemplified different aspects of how Orthodox scholarship could benefit from the information
and methodology of academic Bible scholarship through the prism of traditional faith. Similarly,
the prolific writings of leading contemporary rabbinic scholars such as Yoel BinNun, Elhanan
Samet, and Shalom Carmy are intellectually and spiritually stimulating, as they benefit from the
academy while working from the viewpoint of the yeshivah.

Shalom Carmy refers to this general methodology as the “literary-theological” approach
to Tanakh. This methodology demands a finely tuned text reading, along with a focus on the
religious significance of the passage. The premises of this approach include: (1) Oral Law and
classical rabbinic commentary are central to the way we understand the revealed word of God;
and (2) It is vital to study biblical passages in their literary and historical context. 4
Although each scholar has his or her own particular style, all advocates of this
methodology are driven by several underlying core assumptions. Ezra Bick (Yeshivat Har
Etzion) enumerates the most important distinguishing principles of this school. Peshat (the
primary intent of the biblical text) is discoverable from a rigorous study of the text, as the Torah
was not given as an esoteric document to confuse people. There is an Oral Law, but that does not
diminish the pursuit of peshat. We attempt to learn in the manner of our classical commentators,
with the goal of uncovering the intended meaning of the text. In addition to attempting to
understand each word and verse locally, it is critical to consider the bigger picture, whether of a
passage, an entire book, or parallels between different parts of Tanakh. God revealed the Torah
to people, and therefore the Torah speaks in the language of people. 5 Since the Torah is divinely

revealed, every word must be taken with utmost seriousness. Since it is written in human
language, we may use literary tools that can expose dimensions of meaning in the text. There
also is value to the study of the historical context of Tanakh, comparative linguistics, and
archaeology. Since the Torah is a divine covenant with Israel, there is a religious obligation to
understand its intended meaning and messages and to apply them to our lives. 6
While Orthodox Tanakh scholarship is wedded to the primacy of classical rabbinic
interpretation, scholars of each generation incorporate new trends into their thought. Since
Jewish tradition places a premium on scholarship, we should hear the truth from whoever says it.
Rambam stated this principle long ago, 7 and many of the greatest rabbinic figures before and
since have espoused this policy. 8 This article will consider some of the seminal developments
since the mid-twentieth century in Orthodox Tanakh study, with an emphasis on the literary-
theological school. 9

Leading Figures of the Past Generation
Da’at Mikra
Well aware of the impact that critical Bible scholarship had in academic circles and
beyond, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook inspired his student Moshe Seidel to embark on an
ambitious project. Under Seidel’s leadership, a group of scholars convened in 1956 and
formulated the principles for a new verse-by-verse traditional commentary on the entire Tanakh.
In 1963, the first assignments were given out for individual biblical books. The first two volumes
of the series were published in 1970, and its final volume was published in 2003. This
monumental project is entitled Da’at Mikra (literally, “Knowledge of Scripture”), and was
published by Mosad HaRav Kook in Jerusalem. The commentary incorporates the gamut of
traditional interpretation as well as contemporary research. 10

It also is worth noting that Professor Yehuda Elitzur (1911–1997), one of the original
editors of the Da’at Mikra series, was also the head of the Bible Department at Bar-Ilan
University. His prolific work highlights the inclusion of academic disciplines into Orthodox
Tanakh study. 11

Professor Nehama Leibowitz
One of the greatest Tanakh teachers of the twentieth century was Professor Nehama
Leibowitz (1905–1997). Through her Gilyonot (weekly parashah sheets) and Iyyunim
(published, in English, as Studies in the Weekly Parashah), as well as her legendary devotion to
teaching, she enlightened Jews from all backgrounds. Nehama (as she preferred to be called)
incorporated contemporary scholarly methods into her studies on the Torah and projected them
through the eyes of its classical rabbinic interpreters. Her close text analysis, coupled with a
systematic presentation of traditional commentaries to develop compelling religious themes, has
inspired generations of teachers and students. Nehama introduced the tools of academic
scholarship to many Orthodox Jews, and simultaneously opened a window into the thinking of
classical rabbinic commentary for many non-Orthodox Jews. 12

Rabbi Mordechai Breuer
One of the most creative and controversial figures in modern religious Tanakh study was
Mordechai Breuer (1921–2007). He posited that the proposed divisions of the Documentary
Hypothesis are essentially correct, and he agreed with the critics that no one person could have

composed the Torah. However, he disagreed with the critics most fundamentally by insisting that
no person wrote the Torah. God revealed it to Moses in its complex form so that the multiple
aspects of the infinite Torah could be presented in different sections. Since we are limited as
humans, we cannot simultaneously entertain these perspectives, so they appear to us as
contradictory. The complete truth emerges only when one takes all facets into account. He
named his approach the Theory of Aspects. In this manner, Breuer accepted the text analysis of
critical scholarship while rejecting its underlying beliefs and assumptions. 13
Although Breuer’s commitment to the readings of the Documentary Hypothesis as
“science” detracted from his work, his fundamental premise, that the Torah presents aspects of
truth in different places, has significantly influenced the next generation of scholars, 14 to whom
we now turn.

Leading Contemporary Figures
Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun
One of the most influential Tanakh teachers today, Yoel Bin-Nun of Herzog College
presents a more comprehensive approach to Tanakh than many of his colleagues, a result of his
unusual ability to address historical-archaeological scholarship on a serious level. He combines
expertise in Tanakh, rabbinics, parshanut, halakhah, history, archaeology, linguistics, and
theology. He actively confronts academic Bible study by using its own tools of scholarship to
respond to its challenges.

In his writings, Rabbi Breuer steered clear of historical criticism, concentrating
exclusively on literary issues. 15 Rabbi Bin-Nun, in contrast, believes that these disciplines, when
studied responsibly, combine harmoniously and deepen our understanding of Tanakh and other
areas of Jewish thought. 16

Rabbi Elhanan Samet
Another exemplar of the literary-theological approach is Rabbi Elhanan Samet, who also
teaches at Herzog College. Classical commentators and thinkers, ancient Near Eastern sources,
and literary tools contribute to his analyses, but Rabbi Samet is careful to evaluate all of these
elements against the biblical text itself. Rabbi Samet selectively uses both traditional and modern
sources, including those who are non-Orthodox as well as, on occasion, non-Jewish scholars. He
places great emphasis on the overall structure of the passage, often identifying chiasms as well as
imputing significance to the leitworten (lead words). One of Samet’s hallmark literary techniques
is to divide a passage—narrative, poetic, or legal—in half. He applies this principle to determine
the “central pivot” of a passage which he maintains helps the reader ascertain the inner meaning
of the text. 17

Rabbi Shalom Carmy
The leading exponent of the literary-theological approach in America is Shalom Carmy
of Yeshiva University. A student of Rabbis Joseph Soloveitchik and Aharon Lichtenstein, Carmy
has distinguished himself as a scholar of both Tanakh and Jewish thought. He has contributed
substantially to the exploration of the philosophical underpinnings of the use of academic
methodology within a religious framework. 18 The principles of his approach include the following:

1. We learn Tanakh as an intensely religious pursuit. Philology and history are important
disciplines, but not ends in themselves; they are the means to the greater end of connecting to
the living messages of the prophets and our tradition.
2. Our Sages and later rabbinic commentators guide our inquiry, both as great scholars and as our
religious polestars.
3. Great pashtanim like Ibn Ezra and Radak have more in common with Hasidic writers than with
non-Orthodox academic scholarship. Traditional commentators view Tanakh as the revealed
word of God, with enduring religious value and relevance. This central axiom defines our
outlook on every sacred word.
4. Rabbinic views have religious value even if they may not be the most likely peshat reading of a
biblical text.
5. We should draw on non-Orthodox academic scholarship when it contributes positively to the
discussion.
6. Biblical books offer multiple perspectives on complex issues. Taken together, we can appreciate
the depth of the issues they address and develop an increasingly refined religious worldview.

Other Figures
Rabbi Menachem Leibtag, a student of Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun, successfully pioneered the
dissemination of his teacher’s methodology over the Internet. 19 Another of Rabbi Bin-Nun’s
students, Rabbi Yaakov Medan, who currently is one of the Roshei Yeshivah at Yeshivat Har
Etzion, also has published widely on Tanakh. 20 Many others teach in Herzog College and other
schools, and publish in Megadim and other journals. Hundreds of articles are archived at the
Virtual Beit Midrash of Yeshivat Har Etzion (http://vbm.etzion.org.il/en). While most of the best
work emanates from Israel, the literary-theological approach has made significant strides in
America too. 21

Entering the twenty-first century, the next generation of Orthodox scholars have taken
their place as leading educators. The most significant project to date is the Maggid Tanakh
Commentary Series. A work in progress, Maggid Press (connected to Koren) has published
collections of studies on the weekly Torah portion, 22 and has embarked on an in-depth
commentary series on the entire Tanakh. The commentary series largely features the younger
generation of scholars, including Amnon Bazak (Samuel), Yitzchak Etshalom (Amos,
forthcoming), Tova Ganzel (Ezekiel), Jonathan Grossman (Genesis), and Yael Ziegler (Ruth,
Lamentations).

Jonathan Grossman stands out for his remarkably prolific output and his efforts to present
literary analysis as a comprehensive commentary on the books of Genesis, Ruth, Ecclesiastes,
and Esther. Grossman’s work bridges the best of traditional Tanakh learning with contemporary
literary methodology. A faculty member at both Herzog College of Yeshivat Har Etzion and Bar-
Ilan University, Grossman moves seamlessly between traditional and academic scholarship,
demonstrating how both modern literary analysis and our classical commentators contribute to
our understanding of the Torah. Most importantly, he remains focused on deriving the religious
messages from the text. 23

Moshe Shamah (Sephardic Synagogue, Brooklyn) composed a commentary on the Torah,
based on previously published online essays. Rabbi Shamah justifies the need for his
commentary by noting the lack of adequate material written on the Torah focusing on peshat that
accepts the axioms of tradition along with the compelling features of modern scholarship. He

addresses a wide range of issues, including linguistic elucidations of individual words; literary
structures of passages; parallels between sections of the Torah; religious-philosophical issues;
the relationship between the Written and Oral Law; surveys of parshanut; symbolic meanings of
laws, narratives, and Midrashim; a consideration of the Torah in light of its ancient Near Eastern
setting; and poetic techniques. It is particularly valuable to have a commentary of this high
caliber that can be read by scholars and laypeople alike. 24

Also noteworthy is the website, alhatorah.org, by Hillel Novetsky. The site contains
many essays that survey approaches to a plethora of issues in Tanakh, editions of classical
commentaries, and other learning tools that have brought online Tanakh education to a new
level.

Archaeology, Realia
Archaeology was popular among early Zionist scholars and was used extensively in the
Daat Mikra commentary series and by Professor Yehudah Elitzur (1911–1997). 25 Today, there is
a heightened interest within the Orthodox world in quality scholarship of geography,
archaeology, and realia. A growing body of literature addresses this gaping hole within the
standard yeshivah education. Two particularly valuable recent contributions are Professor Yoel
Elitzur’s Places in the Parasha: Biblical Geography and Its Meaning, and the new series, The
Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel.

When learning Tanakh with the literary-theological method, certain elements become
primary. Others lend themselves less to this type of analysis and religious exploration. To cite a
familiar example, one learning the Book of Joshua likely will focus on the gripping narratives of
chapters 1–12 and then skip to chapters 22–24. Joshua’s role as leader and his relationship to
Moses’ leadership, the balance between God’s intervention and human efforts, the reenactment
of the covenant, the thorny question of war against the Canaanites, and many other vital religious
and human issues dominate the discussion. The lengthy city lists in chapters 13–21 would
receive scant attention at best, perhaps a few scattered bullet points. Further, the classical
commentators do not offer extensive help expanding the middle chapters, since they generally
were unaware of the geography of the Land of Israel.

Now imagine an entire book about those city list chapters, written by an expert in both the text of
Tanakh and contemporary historical and archaeological scholarship. Imagine that book teaching
a rigorous methodology in a clear accessible way that enlightens our understanding of Tanakh
and strengthens our religious connection to the Land of Israel. Such a book would fill a
monumental void in our learning. Yoel Elitzur’s new book, Places in the Parasha, helps to fill
that void.

Elitzur is a researcher of the Hebrew language and biblical and historical geography, a
member of the Academy of the Hebrew Language, and heads the Land of Israel Studies
Department at Herzog College in Alon Shvut. He has made a remarkable contribution to
religious Tanakh study by focusing on the oft-neglected biblical places and names. Elitzur
combines pioneering academic research with careful text analysis, bringing both together with
rigor and religious passion.

Elitzur has given us the opportunity to greatly enhance our understanding of many
elements in Tanakh, rabbinic teachings, and even folk traditions. His volume enlightens our
learning, and will foster a more profound love of the Land of Israel through intimate knowledge
of the settings for the eternal prophetic narratives in Tanakh. 26

Koren Publishers also has embarked on an impressive new project, a popular companion
to the Torah presenting contemporary research on archaeology, flora and fauna, geology, the
languages and realia of the ancient Near East, and other areas that elucidate aspects of the
biblical text. It is presented in a similar engaging manner to the Hebrew series, Olam HaTanakh,
and like that Hebrew work was composed by a team of scholars who specialize in a variety of
fields of scholarship. There are brief articles and glossy photographs, maps, and illustrations that
bring these areas to light. Unlike Olam HaTanakh, which also offers a running commentary on
biblical books, The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel discusses specifically those background
areas that may enhance our understanding of the text within its real-world setting.
This series does not purport to offer original scholarship, but rather synthesizes
contemporary academic scholarship in an accessible and Orthodox-friendly manner. As of this
writing, they have published volumes on Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Samuel, and the
series ultimately is expected to cover the entire Tanakh. 27

Addressing the Religious Challenges of Critical Study of Tanakh
Orthodoxy has matured significantly in the past generation and has been increasingly
willing to confront and benefit from developments in academic Bible study. The two most
important books written recently are Amnon Bazak, Until This Very Day: Fundamental
Questions in Bible Study (Maggid, 2020), and Joshua Berman, Ani Maamin: Biblical Criticism,
Historical Truth, and the Thirteen Principles of Faith (Maggid, 2020). Both scholars are well-
versed in classical Jewish sources as well as the gamut of contemporary academic discourse.
As the revealed word of God, the study of Tanakh should lie at the heart of the learning
of religious Jews along with the Talmud and classical rabbinic thinkers. In Israel, particularly in
the Religious Zionist community, there has been a flourishing of serious Tanakh learning in
recent decades. Thankfully, some of this excitement has spilled over into America and beyond.
With every positive development, however, there are accompanying challenges.
Academic Bible study offers a wealth of valuable information and analytic tools. However, it
also poses severe challenges to the very heart of traditional faith. The academic consensus asserts
that the Torah was composed by different people and schools, all from periods after Moses.
Many scholars doubt or deny the historicity of our foundational narratives. The presence of
ancient textual witnesses such as the Dead Sea Scrolls and Septuagint lead many to claim that
these variant texts are sometimes more reliable than the Masoretic Text.

The ostensible conflicts between tradition and academic scholarship have led many
scholars, including several who identify with the Orthodox community, to conclude that
traditional faith is incompatible with good scholarship. This supposition has led some to reject
traditional belief outright, or to radically redefine faith to make it compatible with their scholarly
conclusions, or to reinterpret classical sources in an attempt to justify such radical paradigm
shifts as being within tradition. These positions have led to counter-reactions in some Orthodox
circles that adopt excessively dogmatic and restrictive positions to prohibit scholarly inquiry or
peshat learning altogether. Both sides may be motivated by a profound and authentic religious
desire to connect to God and the Torah, but they distort aspects of tradition and create dangerous
and unnecessary rifts between us.

In Until This Very Day, Rabbi Amnon Bazak—one of the bright stars at Yeshivat Har
Etzion and its affiliated Herzog College—surveys classical sources and offers a sophisticated
understanding of Tanakh and the axioms of our faith, while simultaneously being fully open to

contemporary scholarship. Addressing the fact that many in the Orthodox world disregard
contemporary scholarship, Bazak offers three reasons why such willful ignorance is inexcusable:
1. These issues are widely publicized and available, and therefore rabbis and
religious educators must be able to address them intelligently.
2. Many of the questions from the academy are genuine and must be taken seriously
on scholarly grounds.
3. We often stand to gain a better understanding of Tanakh with the aid of
contemporary scholarship.
Bazak’s book is indispensable for all who engage with the critical issues of learning
Tanakh, and particularly for rabbis and educators. 28
Bazak frames his book as focused on the challenges from the secular academy. He
explores the following topics: (1) the authorship of the Torah and other biblical books; (2) the
reliability of the Masoretic Text; (3) archaeology and the historicity of the narratives in Tanakh
and comparative studies between Tanakh and ancient Near Eastern texts; (4) the relationship
between peshat and derash; and (5) the sins of biblical heroes.

Bazak’s central premise is that we must distinguish between facts and compelling tools of
analysis, which must be considered in our learning; and the assumptions of scholars, which we
reject when they conflict with traditional beliefs. He argues that nothing based on facts forces
one to choose between traditional faith and good scholarship.

Joshua Berman (Bar-Ilan University) has written a much-needed book for those in the
Orthodox community who have read popular works on Bible criticism but who lack the tools to
evaluate the merits of various theories or the religious implications of these theories. Informed
by decades of research into both traditional and academic methods, Berman is uniquely qualified
to address the religious and academic issues in the first book-length study of its kind. 29
Berman’s primary argument is that most purported faith-science conflicts arise from
misunderstandings of the nature of academic truth. There are several influential academic Bible
theories, such as the documentary hypothesis that posits multiple human authors of the Torah to
account for the contradictions and redundancies in the Torah, or arguments that many narratives
lack archaeological corroboration and therefore are fictional and irrelevant. Berman posits that
these positions are based on anachronistic assumptions about literature, history, and law, rather
than on the world of ideas in ancient Near Eastern texts and contexts. It is therefore critical from
a purely scholarly perspective to abandon these assumptions, and to attempt to understand the
Torah as a literary creation of the ancient world. By doing so, we also may better appreciate the
revolutionary religious and moral developments the Hebrew Bible contributed to ancient Near
Eastern culture and literature. These values transformed many areas of world culture.
Berman’s book is vital for understanding the relationship between faith and academic
Bible study, where we can benefit from those texts as useful tools in learning and appreciate the
staggering revolution of the Torah within its ancient context. We should not impose our modern
Western notions of history or Aristotelian consistency onto the Torah, nor should we impose our
modern sentiments of statutory law onto the Torah. By focusing on the Torah’s eternal lessons,
by attuning ourselves to differences between narratives to refine our understanding of the
message of each passage, and by recognizing that the Written Law was never intended as a
comprehensive code of law but always required an Oral Law, we can maintain complete faith in
revelation without hiding from the many beneficial aspects of contemporary scholarship.

In this context, it is worth noting a growing number of efforts by committed and
observant Jews who attempt to bridge tradition and scholarship in different ways. Their
conclusions sometimes attempt to push the boundaries of traditional understandings of faith in
the revelation of the Torah and Tanakh, but these scholars clearly attempt to ascertain religious
meaning in Tanakh and live religiously committed lives. 30 A leading scholar of the previous
generation was Louis Jacobs, Principles of Jewish Faith (New York: Basic Books, 1964,
reprinted 1988). A few significant contemporary contributions in this genre are the essays edited
by Tovah Ganzel, Yehudah Brandes & Chayuta Deutsch, The Believer and the Modern Study of
the Bible (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2019); Norman Solomon, Torah from Heaven: The
Reconstruction of Faith (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2012); and Benjamin
D. Sommer, Revelation and Authority: Sinai in Jewish Scripture and Tradition (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2015). 31 The website, TheTorah.com, similarly contains many pertinent
essays.

Mikraot Gedolot HaKeter
One other project of note is the monumental Mikraot Gedolot HaKeter, edited by
Menahem Cohen (Bar-Ilan University). This series presents the biblical text based on the Aleppo
Codex, and carefully edited critical editions of the classical medieval commentators. 32

Conclusion
The ideal learning framework espouses traditional beliefs, regards study as a means to a
religious end, and defines issues carefully, while striving for intellectual openness and honesty.
Reaching this synthesis is difficult, since it requires passionate commitment alongside an effort
at detachment while learning, in order to refine knowledge and understanding.

The literary-theological approach in contemporary Orthodox Tanakh study is an
outstanding paradigm of this outlook and methodology. It combines a commitment to God and
Torah coupled with an unwavering sense of intellectual honesty and pursuit of scholarship to
further religious development and experience through learning.

Finally, and most importantly, as Shalom Carmy regularly emphasizes, our primary focus
must be the encounter of God’s word in Tanakh, rather than the study of ancillary subjects such
as history, linguistics, or literature for their own sake. Nor should we become overly distracted
by the challenges of Bible Criticism:

To the extent that we take seriously some of the things noticed by the critics that
were previously overlooked, or in the case of the great Jewish exegetes, were
noticed unsystematically, it is the task of contemporary Orthodox students to
show how the Torah coheres in the light of our belief in Torah mi-Sinai. The goal
of those engaged in this activity… is not primarily to refute the Documentary
Hypothesis but rather to do justice to worthwhile questions within the larger
framework of Torah study. 33

We are privileged to live in a generation where a growing number of scholars and
educators employ the highest caliber scholarship in the pursuit of religious truth in Tanakh.

Notes

1 I thank Rabbis Shalom Carmy, Yitzchak Etshalom, and Moshe Sokolow for reviewing earlier
drafts of this essay and making valuable comments and suggestions.
2 Yoshi Fargeon surveys rabbinic sources that maintain that there are minor instances of post-
Mosaic authorship in the Torah. See his “Wisdom and Knowledge Will be Given to You,” in The
Believer and the Modern Study of the Bible, ed. Tova Ganzel, Yehudah Brandes, and Chayuta
Deutsch (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2019), pp. 42–62. See also Marc B. Shapiro, The
Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles Reappraised (Oxford: Littman
Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004), pp. 91–121; Mordechai Breuer, “On Bible Criticism”
(Hebrew), Megadim 30 (1999), pp. 97–107.
3 See Yuval Cherlow, “Ask the Rabbi: ‘Biblical Criticism is Destroying My Faith!’,” in The
Believer and the Modern Study of the Bible, ed. Tova Ganzel et al., pp. 288–299.
4 Shalom Carmy, “A Room with a View, but a Room of Our Own,” in Modern Scholarship in the
Study of Torah: Contributions and Limitations, ed. Shalom Carmy (Northvale, NJ: Jason
Aronson Inc., 1996), pp. 1–38.
5 See, for example, Berakhot 31a, Yevamot 71a, and many others.
6 Torat Etzion: New Readings in Parashat HaShavua, Bereshit (Hebrew), ed. Ezra Bick and
Yonatan Feintuch (Jerusalem: Maggid Press, 2014), pp. 11–18. For a review of that book and its
methodology, see Hayyim Angel, “From Etzion Comes Torah: Yeshivat Har Etzion Faculty on
the Book of Genesis,” in Angel, The Keys to the Palace: Essays Exploring the Religious Value of
Reading the Bible (New York: Kodesh Press, 2017), pp. 18–35.
7 Introduction to his commentary on Pirkei Avot (Shemonah Perakim).
8 See, for example, Ephraim E. Urbach, “The Pursuit of Truth as a Religious Obligation”
(Hebrew), in ha-Mikra va-Anahnu, ed. Uriel Simon (Ramat-Gan: Institute for Judaism and
Thought in Our Time, 1979), pp. 13–27; Uriel Simon, “The Pursuit of Truth that Is Required for
Fear of God and Love of Torah” (Hebrew), ibid., pp. 28–41; Marvin Fox, “Judaism, Secularism,
and Textual Interpretation,” in Modern Jewish Ethics: Theory and Practice, ed. Marvin Fox
(Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1975), pp. 3–26.
9 Some of this section is adapted from Hayyim Angel, “The Literary-Theological Study of
Tanakh,” in Angel, Peshat Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to
Bible Study (New York: Kodesh Press, 2014), pp. 118–136.
10 After completing the series, two of its leading contributors and editors, Yehudah Kiel and
Amos Hakham, wrote a short book describing the history and goals of the series, Epilogue to the
Da’at Mikra Commentary (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Keter, 2003).
11 For a collection of Elitzur’s seminal essays, see Yehudah Elitzur, Yisrael ve-ha-Mikra:
Mehkarim Geografi’im Histori’im ve-Hagoti’im (Hebrew), ed. Yoel Elitzur and Amos Frisch
(Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 1999).
12 For more on her work, see especially Yael Unterman, Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible
Scholar (Jerusalem: Urim, 2009); Pirkei Nehama: Nehama Leibowitz Memorial Volume
(Hebrew), ed. Moshe Ahrend, Ruth Ben-Meir, and Gavriel H. Cohn (Jerusalem: Eliner Library,
The Joint Authority for Jewish Zionist Education, Department for Torah and Culture in the
Diaspora, 2001); Hayyim Angel, Review Essay: “Pirkei Nehama: Nehama Leibowitz Memorial
Volume: The Paradox of Parshanut: Are Our Eyes on the Text, or on the Commentators?” in
Angel, Peshat Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study,
pp. 36–57.

13 For analysis of Breuer’s method, see Amnon Bazak, Until This Very Day: Fundamental
Questions in Bible Study (Hebrew), ed. Yoshi Farajun (Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2013), pp.
109–139; Shalom Carmy, “Concepts of Scripture in Mordechai Breuer,” in Jewish Concepts of
Scripture: A Comparative Introduction, ed. Benjamin D. Sommer (New York: New York
University Press, 2012), pp. 267–279; Meir Ekstein, “Rabbi Mordechai Breuer and Modern
Orthodox Biblical Commentary,” Tradition 33:3 (Spring 1999), pp. 6–23. For a collection of
Breuer’s articles on his methodology, and important responses to his work, see The Theory of
Aspects of Rabbi Mordechai Breuer (Hebrew), ed. Yosef Ofer (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2005). For
case studies of Breuer’s methodology, see especially Breuer’s Pirkei Mo’adot (Jerusalem:
Horev, 1989), Pirkei Bereshit (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 1998), and Pirkei Mikra’ot (Alon Shevut:
Tevunot, 2009).
14 See especially Yoel Bin-Nun, “Teguvah le-Divrei Amos Hakham be-Inyan Torat ha-Te’udot
ve-Shittat haBehinot” (Hebrew), Megadim 4 (Tishri 1987), p. 91; Shalom Carmy, “Concepts of
Scripture in Mordechai Breuer,” op. cit.
15 See the criticisms of Breuer’s position by Shalom Carmy, “Introducing Rabbi Breuer,” in
Modern Scholarship in the Study of Torah: Contributions and Limitations, ed. Shalom Carmy, p.
157; and Shnayer Z. Leiman, “Response to Rabbi Breuer,” pp. 181-187.
16 For fuller analysis of Bin-Nun’s methodology, including citations to many of his published
articles through 2006, see Hayyim Angel, “Torat Hashem Temima: The Contributions of Rav
Yoel Bin-Nun to Religious Tanakh Study,” in Angel, Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings: Finding
the Religious Significance in Tanakh (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav-Sephardic Publication Foundation,
2009), pp. 30–47. Many of Bin-Nun’s articles are archived at https://www.yoel-binnun.com/.
17 Iyyunim be-Parashot ha-Shavua (series 1, 2, and 3), ed. Ayal Fishler (Ma’aleh Adumim:
Ma’aliyot, 2002, 2004, 2012). For an overview of Rabbi Samet’s methodology, see Hayyim
Angel, “Review of Rabbi Elhanan Samet, Iyyunim be-Parashot haShavua,” in Angel, Through
an Opaque Lens, revised second edition (New York: Kodesh Press, 2013), pp. 6–18. See also
Samet’s books, Pirkei Eliyahu (Ma’aleh Adumim: Ma’aliyot, 2003), Pirkei Elisha (Ma’aleh
Adumim: Ma’aliyot, 2007), Iyyunim be-Mizmorei Tehillim (Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2012).
Many of his articles are archived in English translation at the Virtual Beit Midrash of Yeshivat
Har Etzion, at http://www.vbm-torah.org.
18 Carmy gives an overview of his own methodology in “A Room with a View, but a Room of
Our Own,” in Modern Scholarship in the Study of Torah: Contributions and Limitations, ed.
Shalom Carmy, pp. 1–38. See also especially his “To Get the Better of Words: An Apology for
Yir’at Shamayim in Academic Jewish Studies,” Torah U-Madda Journal 2 (1990), pp. 7–24;
“Always Connect,” in Where the Yeshiva Meets the University: Traditional and Academic
Approaches to Tanakh Study, ed. Hayyim Angel, Conversations 15 (Winter 2013), pp. 1–12. For
a bibliography of his published writings through 2012, see Rav Shalom Banayikh: Essays
Presented to Rabbi Shalom Carmy by Friends and Students in Celebration of Forty Years of
Teaching, ed. Hayyim Angel and Yitzchak Blau (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2012), pp. 403–414.
19 See his articles archived at the Tanach Study Center, at http://www.tanach.org.
20 See his books: David u-Bat Sheva: ha-Het, ha-Onesh, ve-ha-Tikkun (Alon Shevut: Tevunot,
2002); Daniel: Galut ve-Hitgalut (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2006); Tikvah mi-Ma’amakim: Iyyun
be-Megillat Rut (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2007); Ki Karov Elekha: Leshon Mikra u-Leshon
Hakhamim (Tel-Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2014); Ha-Mikraot ha-Mithaddeshim: Iyyunim be-
Nevi’im u-Ketuvim (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2015); Ani Kohelet: Makhelat Kolot be-Demut Ahat

(with Yoel Bin-Nun) (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2017); Iyyov: Ben Hoshekh la-Or (Alon Shevut:
Tevunot, 2019). For a review of his work, see Yaakov Beasley, “The Methodology of Creativity:
A Review of Rav Yaakov Medan’s Contribution to the Modern Study of Tanakh,” Tradition
45:1 (Spring 2012), pp. 61–77.
21 In addition to the prolific writings of Shalom Carmy, see especially Yitzchak Etshalom,
Between the Lines of the Bible: Recapturing the Full Meaning of the Biblical Text (Brooklyn:
Yashar, 2006), two volumes; Nathaniel Helfgot, Mikra & Meaning: Studies in Bible and Its
Interpretation (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2012); Moshe Sokolow, Hatzi Nehamah: Studies in the
Weekly Parashah Based on the Lessons of Nehama Leibowitz (Jerusalem, New York: Urim,
Lambda, 2008); In The Company of Prophets: Reflections on Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings
(New York: Kodesh Press, 2021); Hayyim Angel, Through an Opaque Lens (New York:
Sephardic Publication Foundation, 2006); Revealed Texts, Hidden Meanings: Finding the
Religious Significance in Tanakh (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav-Sephardic Publication Foundation,
2009); Creating Space between Peshat and Derash: A Collection of Studies on Tanakh (Jersey
City, NJ: Ktav-Sephardic Publication Foundation, 2011); Vision from the Prophet and Counsel
from the Elders: A Survey of Nevi’im and Ketuvim (New York: Orthodox Union, 2013); Peshat
Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study (New York:
Kodesh Press, 2014); Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi: Prophecy in an Age of Uncertainty
(Jerusalem: Maggid, 2016); The Keys to the Palace: Essays Exploring the Religious Value of
Reading the Bible (New York: Kodesh Press, 2017); Cornerstones: The Bible and Jewish
Ideology (New York: Kodesh Press, 2020); Psalms: A Companion Volume (New York: Kodesh
Press, 2022).
22 Torah MiEtzion: New Readings in Tanakh, ed. Ezra Bick and Yaakov Beasley (Jerusalem:
Maggid, Yeshivat Har Etzion, 2011).
23 Bereshit: Sipuran shel Hathalot (Yediot Aharonot, 2017); Avraham: Sipuro shel Massa
(Yediot Aharonot, 2014); Yaakov: Sipuro shel Mishpahah (Yediot Aharonot, 2019); Yosef:
Sipuram shel Halomot (Yediot Aharonot, 2021; Megillat Ruth: Gesharim u-Gevulot (Alon
Shevut: Tevunot, 2016); with Asael Abelman, Kohelet: Sedek shel Or (Maggid Books, 2023);
Esther: Megillat Setarim (Jerusalem: Maggid, 2013); Galui u-Mutzpan: Al Kamah mi-Darkhei
ha-Itzuv shel ha-Sippur Mikrai (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2015). For analysis of Grossman’s first
volume on Genesis and his methodology, see Hayyim Angel, “Where Literary Analysis Leads to
the Fear of God,” Tradition 51:4 (Fall 2019), pp. 181–192.
24 Moshe Shamah, Recalling the Covenant: A Contemporary Commentary on the Five Books of
the Torah (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 2011). See also Hayyim Angel, Review Essay: “Seeking the
Keys to the Palace Gates: Rabbi Moshe Shamah’s Commentary on the Torah,” in Angel, Peshat
Isn’t So Simple: Essays on Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study, pp. 137–154.
25 A notable exception was Nehama Leibowitz. Moshe Ahrend observes that Nehama drew on a
wide variety of sources, but generally avoided ancient Near Eastern sources. Nehama appears to
have been concerned that whatever benefits might be derived from such inquiry could be
neutralized by the religious dangers inherent in considering a divine text in light of human-
authored parallels (“From My Work with Nehama, of Blessed Memory” [Hebrew], in Pirkei
Nehama: Nehama Leibowitz Memorial Volume, ed. Moshe Ahrend, Ruth Ben-Meir and Gavriel
H. Cohn [Jerusalem: Eliner Library, The Joint Authority for Jewish Zionist Education,
Department for Torah and Culture in the Diaspora, 2001], pp. 31–49). Moshe Sokolow relates
further that “when invited by Da’at Mikra to prepare their commentary on Bereishit, Nehama

declined. When I asked her why, she replied: Because I don’t know the ancient Near East! When
I pointed out that she always hastened to eschew ancient Near Eastern texts, she clarified: One
can understand Bereishit without the ancient Near East, but one cannot write a commentary on
Bereishit without it” (Studies in the Weekly Parashah Based on the Lessons of Nehama Leibowitz
[Jerusalem: Urim, 2008], pp. 274–275).
26 See further discussion and examples in Hayyim Angel, Foreword to Yoel Elitzur, Places in the
Parasha: Biblical Geography and Its Meaning (Jerusalem: Maggid Press, 2020), pp. xv–xxv.
Abridged in Tradition Online, at https://traditiononline.org/review-places-in-the-parasha/.
27 See my reviews at Tradition Online, at https://traditiononline.org/11255-2/;
https://traditiononline.org/review-tanakh-of-the-land-of-israel-samuel;
https://traditiononline.org/traditions-2023-book-endorsements/.
28 This section is adapted from Hayyim Angel, “Faith and Scholarship Can Walk Together: Rabbi
Amnon Bazak on the Challenges of Academic Bible Study in Traditional Learning,” in Angel,
The Keys to the Palace: Essays Exploring the Religious Value of Reading the Bible, pp. 58–75.
For further discussion and sources of several critical issues and their intersection with rabbinic
tradition, see Moshe Sokolow, Tanakh: An Owner’s Manual: Authorship, Canonization,
Masoretic Text, Exegesis, Modern Scholarship and Pedagogy (Brooklyn, NY: Ktav, 2015). See
also the collection of essays in Modern Scholarship in the Study of Torah: Contributions and
Limitations, ed. Shalom Carmy (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson Inc., 1996).
29 For further discussion, see Hayyim Angel, Review of Ani Maamin, Tradition 52:2 (Spring
2020), pp. 142–150. Many of Berman’s arguments in the first half of his book are summaries of
his two earlier academic books published by Oxford University Press: Inconsistency in the
Torah: Ancient Literary Convention and the Limits of Source Criticism (2017), and Created
Equal: How the Bible Broke from Ancient Political Thought (2008). Because Ani Maamin is
primarily addressed to the Orthodox community, Berman is careful to demonstrate the continuity
of his ideas and methodology with classical rabbinic sources.
30 See the important discussion of Mordechai Breuer, “The Study of Bible and the Primacy of the
Fear of Heaven: Compatibility or Contradiction,” in Modern Scholarship in the Study of Torah:
Contributions and Limitations, ed. Shalom Carmy, pp. 159–180.
31 For further discussion, see Hayyim Angel, Review Essay: “When Blurring Peshat and Derash
Creates a New Theology: A Critique of ‘Participatory Revelation,’” Tradition 54:4 (Fall 2022),
pp. 134–145. Review of Benjamin D. Sommer, Revelation & Authority (2015), and The
Revelation at Sinai: What Does ‘Torah from Heaven’ Mean? (2021). Edited by Yoram Hazony,
Gil Student, and Alex Sztuden.
32 For further discussion, see Nathaniel Helfgot, “ ‘Mikra’ot Gedolot ha-Keter’ (Bar-Ilan
University), ed. Menahem Cohen,” Ten Da’at 14 (2001), pp. 29–38.
33 Shalom Carmy, “A Peshat in the Dark: Reflections on the Age of Cary Grant,” Tradition 43:1
(Spring 2010), pp. 4–5. For further discussions of the religious implications of this learning
methodology, see, for example, the essays collected in Hi Sihati, My Constant Delight:
Contemporary Religious Zionist Perspectives on Tanakh Study, ed. Yehoshua Reiss (Hebrew)
(Jerusalem: Maggid-Yeshivat Har Etzion, 2013); Nathaniel Helfgot, “Between Heaven and
Earth: Curricula, Pedagogical Choices, Methodologies, and Values in the Study and Teaching of
Tanakh,” in Helfgot, Mikra & Meaning: Studies in Bible and Its Interpretation (Jerusalem:
Maggid, 2012), pp. 1–53.

Angel for Shabbat—Parashat Vayeshev

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

 

“And the chief butler did not remember Joseph, and he forgot him” (Bereshith 40:23)

Joseph successfully interpreted the butler’s dream, assuring him that he would soon be released from prison and regain his former position in Pharaoh’s court. Joseph then asked the butler to intercede on his behalf so that Joseph too could be freed from prison where he had been unjustly held.

But when the butler regained his freedom, the Torah informs us that he 1) did not remember Joseph and 2) he forgot Joseph. While these phrases seem redundant, they point to two different things.

The butler did not remember Joseph. He was busy with his responsibilities. He had a lot on his mind. It is natural enough for people not to remember to say thank you, or to ignore responsibilities that are not pressing. If they are reminded, they might then take the proper action.

But willfully forgetting is another matter. It is not only a matter of being too busy or too careless to remember. It is about pushing the obligation far into the back of one’s mind so that it is almost totally inaccessible. The butler not only didn’t remember Joseph; he forgot Joseph. Joseph wasn’t even a faint memory tugging at his consciousness. Only after two years was the butler’s memory jarred when Pharaoh needed his dreams to be interpreted. Only then, when the butler thought he could be useful to Pharaoh, did he remember Joseph.

Like the butler, we sometimes don’t remember things because we are preoccupied with other seemingly more pressing matters. We don’t remember to call a friend; or to make that contribution; or to express appreciation to those who have helped us. A gentle reminder might get us back on track.

But sometimes, we deeply forget.  We don’t feel tugs of guilt or remorse; we proceed with life as though the memories simply don’t exist. It takes a jolt to make us retrieve the past. Maybe it’s a life crisis. Maybe it’s the passing of a loved one. Maybe it’s an urgent cry from someone in need. 

All people sometimes don’t remember something or someone important. This is unfortunate but understandable. But it is more problematic when one insensitively and actively forgets something or someone important. 

Are there people and things we should be remembering…but we’re not remembering? A little mindfulness can help us. But are there people and things we have forgotten about…and most definitely should not have forgotten about? We need to think carefully and not wait for a crisis to awaken our memory.

The butler didn’t remember Joseph; that was bad. The butler forgot Joseph; that was very bad.

Now, let’s apply the lesson to ourselves!

Please Stand With Us: End of Year Campaign

Dear Members and Friends, Thank you for your support of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. Your partnership has enabled the Institute to reach thousands of people worldwide through our website, publications, youtube channel, classes, Sephardic Initiative, University Network...and more. The Institute fosters an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism. Founded in 2007, the Institute continues to be a voice of reason, idealism and commitment to Jewish tradition. The Institute depends on your support. Please stand with us at this critical time. You may contribute by clicking on this link: https://www.jewishideas.org/donate-now. Or you may send your check to Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, 2 West 70th Street, New York, NY  10023. If you wish to contribute securities, please contact us at [email protected] for details. Thanks very much for your prompt and generous support.                     Rabbi Marc D. Angel, Director                     Rabbi Hayyim Angel, National Scholar

On Wednesday, December 10, Rabbi Hayyim Angel did a podcast with Halacha Headlines. He discusses three instances of King David pardoning close relatives who had committed terrible sins.

Listen to the podcast here

https://halachaheadlines.com/episodes/what-it-takes-to-release-an-agunah-presidential-pardon-pardons-in-halacha-the-torah-approach-to-pardons/

Angel for Shabbat, Parashat Vayetsei

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

“And Jacob went from Beersheva and went toward Haran” (Bereishith28:10).

After Jacob received Isaac’s blessing, he had to flee from his brother Esau who had wanted the blessing himself. The Torah reports that Jacob went from Beersheva. But we had thought that Isaac and Rebecca were living in Hebron and that would have been the point of departure for Jacob. Yet, the Torah specifies that Jacob left from Beersheva.

One explanation may be that Isaac and Rebecca also had residence in Beersheva, and that is where Jacob was located when he had to leave for Haran.

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz suggests that the family had been living in Hebron but that Jacob first went to Beersheva before heading for Haran. He wanted to go to Beersheva because that was where both Abraham and Isaac had significant experiences. After making a treaty with Abimelech, “Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheva and there he called on the name of the Lord, the Eternal God” (Bereishith 21: 33). And Isaac was in Beersheva when the Lord appeared to him and renewed the promises He had made to Abraham; Isaac built an altar and called upon the name of the Lord (Bereishith 26:23-24). Before setting out on his own journey, Jacob wanted to gain spiritual strength by visiting a place sacred to his father and grandfather.

As Jacob began his journey, he was facing a massive life crisis. He was leaving his parents’ home. He was heading for a new place where he would be dealing with people he did not know. He would need to earn a livelihood, marry and start a family, face unknown difficulties. At this turning point, he wanted to be connected spiritually to his parents and grandparents. He needed to visit Beersheva before setting out for the next chapter of his life.

When we face our own crises in life, we are fortunate if we can return to a powerful starting point that can strengthen us. We can recall the challenges faced by parents and grandparents and contemplate how they were able to draw on their faith, courage and determination. We sometimes can physically go back to our childhood home; or to our grandparents’ home; or we can stand at their graves and meditate about their lives. If we don’t go back to a physical “Beersheva” we can still draw on memories, episodes in their lives that demonstrated qualities that we ourselves need as we face our own challenges.

Going back to a significant starting point helps us put life into context. It reminds us of origins. It allows us to think things through quietly. As we visit—and depart from—our personal “Beersheva” we set off on the journey ahead with greater confidence, faith and wisdom.

 

 

 

 

 

Book Review

By Rabbi Hayyim Angel

 

Dennis Prager, The Rational Bible: Numbers (Regnery Faith, 2024)

 

          Dennis Prager is far better known as a political commentator than a Bible Scholar. Nonetheless, he is animated by his belief in the Torah and its enduring moral messages for humanity. His commentary, as the book’s title suggests, is rooted in a rationalist approach to the Bible. 

          Whether or not one agrees with all of his politics or individual interpretations of the verses, Prager’s commentary is strikingly relevant when he emphasizes the moral and theological revolution of the Torah and the vitality of its teachings to today’s overly secularized Western world. Rather than serving as bastions of moral teachings and American values, universities are increasingly at the vanguard of attacks against God, the Bible, family values, Israel, and the very notion of an objective morality. Prager pinpoints several of the major differences between the Torah’s morality and the dangerous shortcomings of today’s secular West.

          Throughout his commentary, Prager makes his case for belief in God, providence, the divine origins of the Torah, and the eternal power of the Torah’s morality. He also offers a running commentary on the Torah, bringing insights from a variety of scholars and thinkers, as well as from his personal experiences. As in my previous reviews of his volumes on Genesis, Exodus, and Deuteronomy, I will focus exclusively on the former, as it is here that Prager’s commentary makes its greatest contributions.

 

https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-genesis.

https://www.jewishideas.org/article/review-dennis-prager-exodus.

https://www.jewishideas.org/article/book-review-dennis-prager-deuteronomy.

 

          In Numbers chapter 9, several Israelites who are ritually impure approach Moses, wondering how they can bring the Passover sacrifice if they are impure, but feeling excluded if they may not participate in this nationally vital offering. God responds that they may not offer the sacrifice on the usual date since they are impure, but God creates a makeup date one month later so they may participate. 

          Prager uses this passage as a springboard to discuss the balance between having standards and being compassionate. God upholds the law that ritually impure people must not bring offerings, while compassionately creating a makeup date to include these individuals. Prager laments that “we live during a time when compassion is frequently regarded as more important than standards. For example, at this time, compassion has led some people to advocate that no students be given a failing grade. But if widely adopted, this would inevitably destroy academic standards.” If we abandoned the highest physical standards and training for firefighters, more people would die in fires. It is compassionate to have moral standards for society, as everyone benefits.

          Western society also must continue to uphold its family standard—promoting the ideal of a nuclear family consisting of a married man and woman and their children. Numerous studies have demonstrated the palpable benefit to the children and society when this standard is met on a widespread level. In the name of compassion toward singles, single-parent homes, and same-sex relationships, many today attempt to eradicate the family standard as the ideal. However, we should instead insist on this standard in the macro, while showing compassion in the micro for the many people who for different reasons do not have a nuclear family (95-97).

          Prager explores the central significance of rituals in a different essay. He addresses the frequent but undefined threat of karet, excision, in the Torah for various severe sins. Regardless of God’s method for meting out punishment, Prager focuses on a tangible, human interpretation of karet: One who abandons central rituals cannot transmit our values or identity to the following generations. This is true for Jews and Judaism, and also for American identity. Large sectors of American society are poorly educated in American history and values. For many, Memorial Day is little more than a day off, instead of a day to honor the memories of the members of our armed focuses who gave their lives for our country. Columbus Day has all but disappeared. Many schools no longer have their students recite the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of the school day. This widespread abandonment of these and other central American rituals leads many American children to be “cut off” from their American identity (98-101).

          A seemingly bizarre feature of the Numbers narrative is when the Israelites long for a return to Egypt (e.g., in chapter 11). Although they were indeed fed “for free” while in Egypt (11:5), that came at the expense of back-breaking slavery, oppression, and the murder of their infant sons. Prager explains that in fact, most people value free things more than freedom. The Torah teaches that God wants us to be free, but liberty is a value that needs to be taught, rather than a human instinct. Prager cites a study which concludes that more Russians look back upon the Soviet Union with nostalgia, not disdain. This despite the fact that the Soviet Union deprived its citizens of all freedoms, and murdered tens of millions of them. The Torah stresses liberty as a core value. It builds the greatest society, and enables people to grow up and take responsibility for their own lives (116-117).

          Miriam and Aaron envied Moses’ exalted level of prophecy (Numbers chapter 12). The rebel Korah insisted that all Israel was equally holy (Numbers chapter 16). Prager explains that healthy envy prods people to work harder to achieve higher levels. Unhealthy envy involves coveting what the other person has, or even harboring a desire to deprive the other of what you do not have yourself. 

          The Torah insists that all people are created equal, in God’s image. Such equality lies at the heart of the American Revolution. America’s three great values are “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” All people are created equal, but cannot be regarded as equal regardless of what they do. When we view all people or cultures as equal, we fail.

In contrast, the French Revolution was thoroughly secular, and placed at its highest values “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.” The demand for equality of result almost inevitably leads to confiscating money and the pursuit of power. America believed that human rights derive from God. France believed that human rights derive from the state. “One of the first things the French regime did after the French Revolution was massacre priests and destroy churches. One of the first things America’s first president did was send a note of appreciation to a synagogue.” Tellingly, the iconic symbol of the American Revolution is the Liberty Bell. The iconic symbol of the French Revolution is the guillotine. When France built the Statue of Liberty, they gave it to America.

          “In the twentieth century…more people were murdered, tortured, and deprived of human rights in the name of equality than in the name of anything else. Communism, whose greatest goal was equality, resulted in the murder of more than a hundred million human beings and the enslavement of over a billion.” 

          Prager concludes that “Human beings are not, as Korach and modern egalitarians would have it, ‘all equally holy.’ Some people do indeed achieve greater holiness than other people. Holiness is earned through holy, moral, and ethical behavior. Moses earned it. Korach did not” (130-133, 207-213).

 

          Through these and so many other religious-moral teachings, the Torah was a revolution in world history, and continues to bring relevant, and sorely needed, teaching to the modern world.

 

The Land of Israel in the Bible[1]

 

by Hayyim Angel

 

(Rabbi Hayyim Angel is the National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals, and teaches advanced undergraduate Bible courses at Yeshiva University.)

 

1. Israel in the Book of Genesis

 

 

The Land of Israel as Divine Gift, Heart of the Covenant, and Oath

 

The Torah does not begin with Abraham, nor does its story begin in the Land of Israel. Instead, the Torah opens by presenting a vision for all of humanity. In his introduction to the Book of Genesis, Rabbi Obadiah Sforno (1470–1550, Italy) observes that only after the three failures of Adam and Eve, the generation of the Flood, and the Tower of Babel, does God choose Abraham and his descendants to teach religious morality to the rest of the world. The Torah celebrates Abraham as the first person who was not only personally righteous, but who was also committed to teaching righteousness to his family and society:

 

For I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right, in order that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what He has promised him. (Genesis 18:19)

 

Abraham’s family is filtered through the rest of Genesis until it becomes clear that God selects the descendants of Jacob as the Chosen People.[2]

            After Abraham arrives in Israel. God promises the land to Abraham and his descendants: 

 

The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “I will assign this land to your heirs.” And he built an altar there to the Lord who had appeared to him. (Genesis 12:7)

 

God reiterates this promise after Abraham’s nephew Lot—his presumed heir until that point—moves to the wicked city of Sodom:

 

And the Lord said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west, for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth, so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted. Up, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I give it to you.” (Genesis 13:14–17).

 

God again solemnly promises the land to Abraham and his descendants in the “covenant between the halves”:

 

On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your offspring I assign this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates....” (Genesis 15:18)

 

In these three instances, God grants the Land of Israel to Abraham as a unilateral gift. In chapter 17, however, God introduces the idea of a mutual covenant, fulfilled through circumcision:

 

I will maintain My covenant between Me and you, and your offspring to come, as an everlasting covenant throughout the ages, to be God to you and to your offspring to come. I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:7–8)

 

            In addition to God’s promises to Abraham, God reaffirms the land covenant to Isaac and to Jacob. God’s gift of the Land of Israel to Abraham’s descendants specifically goes to Jacob’s line: 

 

[God said to Isaac:] I will assign all these lands to you and to your heirs, fulfilling the oath that I swore to your father Abraham. (Genesis 26:3)

 

And the Lord was standing beside [Jacob] and He said, “I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac: the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring. Your descendants shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants….” (Genesis 28:131–14)

 

And God said to [Jacob], “I am El Shaddai. Be fertile and increase; a nation, yea an assembly of nations, shall descend from you. Kings shall issue from your loins. The land that I assigned to Abraham and Isaac I assign to you; and to your offspring to come will I assign the land.” (Genesis 35:11–12)

 

Before Jacob leaves home to go to Laban, Isaac also gives Jacob the blessing of Abraham, which includes possession of the land:

 

May El Shaddai bless you, make you fertile and numerous, so that you become an assembly of peoples. May He grant the blessing of Abraham to you and your offspring, that you may possess the land where you are sojourning, which God assigned to Abraham. (Genesis 28:3–4)

 

            In addition to the divine gift of the land and the centrality of the land in the God-Israel covenant, God swears the land to Abraham following the Binding of Isaac:

 

The angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from heaven, and said, “By Myself I swear, the Lord declares: Because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your favored one, I will bestow My blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore; and your descendants shall seize the gates of their foes.” (Genesis 22:15–17)

 

After Abraham demonstrates his absolute commitment, God gives Abraham the greatest assurance. Professor Jon Levenson observes that there is no explanation in the Torah as to why God chose Abraham initially, but God’s oath ratifies the covenant when Abraham passes this ultimate test. Abraham has vindicated God’s choice.[3] 

            To summarize, God repeatedly promises the Land of Israel to the Patriarchs and their descendants through Jacob. In addition to the land serving as a divine gift, it also plays a central role in the mutual God-Israel covenant. God also makes an oath to give the land to Abraham and his descendants following the Binding of Isaac.

 

Purchasing Land in Israel

 

Although the Israelites conquer the land at the time of Joshua, several land purchases merit biblical attention. Abraham purchased the first family holding in Israel, the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron and its adjacent field in which he would bury Sarah: 

 

Then Abraham rose from beside his dead, and spoke to the Hittites, saying, “I am a resident alien among you; sell me a burial site among you, that I may remove my dead for burial…. Let [Ephron] sell me the cave of Machpelah that he owns, which is at the edge of his land. Let him sell it to me, at the full price, for a burial site in your midst.” (Genesis 23:3–4, 9)

 

The Torah repeatedly refers to the sale of Machpelah, highlighting its significance. Abraham is buried there:

 

His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, facing Mamre, the field that Abraham had bought from the Hittites; there Abraham was buried, and Sarah his wife. (Genesis 25:9–10)

 

Jacob’s dying words are about this transaction. When his sons bury him, the Torah again mentions the purchase:

 

Then he instructed them, saying to them, “I am about to be gathered to my kin. Bury me with my fathers in the cave which is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, the cave which is in the field of Machpelah, facing Mamre, in the land of Canaan, the field that Abraham bought from Ephron the Hittite for a burial site—there Abraham and his wife Sarah were buried; there Isaac and his wife Rebekah were buried; and there I buried Leah—the field and the cave in it, bought from the Hittites.” (Genesis 49:29–32)

 

Thus his sons did for him as he had instructed them. His sons carried him to the land of Canaan, and buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah, the field near Mamre, which Abraham had bought for a burial site from Ephron the Hittite. (Genesis 50:12–13)

            

Later in Israel’s history, David purchases the plot that will be used as the future Temple in Jerusalem. The acquisition was originally the threshing floor of Araunah (known as “Ornan” in the book of Chronicles). Like Abraham, David refuses to accept the area as a gift and insists on paying for it instead. He even uses the same term that Abraham did: be-kesef malei, “the full price”:

 

But King David replied to Ornan, “No, I will buy them at the full price [be-kesef malei]. I cannot make a present to the Lord of what belongs to you, or sacrifice a burnt offering that has cost me nothing.” So David paid Ornan for the site 600 shekels’ worth of gold. (I Chronicles 21:24–25)

 

The other Patriarchal land purchase occurs when Jacob purchases a plot of land near Shechem, establishing the first land holding for the living in the nation’s history:

 

The parcel of land where he pitched his tent he purchased from the children of Hamor, Shechem’s father, for a hundred kesitahs. (Genesis 33:19)

 

When the people bury Joseph’s bones in Shechem at the end of the Book of Joshua, the narrative mentions the original purchase:

 

The bones of Joseph, which the Israelites had brought up from Egypt, were buried at Shechem, in the piece of ground which Jacob had bought for a hundred kesitahs from the children of Hamor, Shechem’s father, and which had become a heritage of the Josephites. (Joshua 24:32)

 

The Bible’s ongoing interest in these purchases suggests a desire to guarantee Israel’s ownership of these three areas. One Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 79:7) similarly concludes that nobody can claim that Israel stole Machpelah, Shechem, or Temple Mount.

 

The Land of Israel as Central to the People’s Identity 

 

At the end of his life, Jacob asks Joseph not to bury him in Egypt but rather in Israel. Joseph agrees. Surprisingly, Jacob then makes him swear:

 

And when the time approached for Israel to die, he summoned his son Joseph and said to him, “Do me this favor, place your hand under my thigh as a pledge of your steadfast loyalty: please do not bury me in Egypt. When I lie down with my fathers, take me up from Egypt and bury me in their burial place.” He replied, “I will do as you have spoken.” And he said, “Swear to me.” And he swore to him. Then Israel bowed at the head of the bed. (Genesis 47:29–31)

 

Rashi and Ramban explain that although Jacob trusted Joseph, he believed that Pharaoh never would allow Joseph to go unless he was bound by an oath. Joseph in fact invoked the oath when requesting permission of Pharaoh:

 

And when the wailing period was over, Joseph spoke to Pharaoh’s court, saying, “Do me this favor, and lay this appeal before Pharaoh: ‘My father made me swear, saying, “I am about to die. Be sure to bury me in the grave which I made ready for myself in the land of Canaan.” Now, therefore, let me go up and bury my father; then I shall return.’” And Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury your father, as he made you promise on oath.” (Genesis 50:4–6)

 

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin,[4] however, observes that when Joseph appeals to Pharaoh, he speaks to Pharaoh’s court, that is, to Pharaoh’s underlings. Joseph was second in command in all of Egypt, so why did he not personally ask Pharaoh?

Rabbi Riskin explains that this was a moment of truth for Joseph. He had been struggling with his identity ever since he had become second in command some 25 years earlier. Pharaoh gave him the Egyptian name Zaphenath-Paneah and married him to a daughter of the priest of On (Genesis 41:45). Joseph was a success, and Pharaoh made it clear that Joseph was an Egyptian.

Rabbi Riskin explains the names of Manasseh and Ephraim in light of Joseph’s identity conflict. Manasseh represents Joseph’s new Egyptian identity: “God has made me forget completely [nashani] my hardship and my parental home.” Ephraim, on the other hand, reminds Joseph that Egypt never will become his true home: “God has made me fertile [hifrani] in the land of my affliction” (Genesis 41:51–52).

Jacob understood that Joseph’s identity would be tested severely by this request to be buried in Israel. Therefore, he made him swear. Joseph understood that by honoring his father’s will, he would be making a public declaration that his family identity belongs to Israel and not to Egypt. He therefore was afraid to confront Pharaoh directly. 

Joseph addresses his brothers on his deathbed: “Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, ‘When God has taken notice of you, you shall carry up my bones from here’” (Genesis 50:25). Joseph thereby confirms his Israelite identity by insisting that he will join his people in the future exodus. 

 

Summary

 

From the time Abraham arrived in Israel, God promises him and his descendants the land. This promise manifests as an outright unilateral gift, an essential part of a mutual covenant, and is ratified by divine oath after the Binding of Isaac. God repeats this promise to Isaac and Jacob, and the land goes to their line of descendants.

            Abraham’s purchase of Machpelah in Hebron and Jacob’s purchase of land in Shechem both receive significant attention, highlighting the permanence of these acquisitions prior to Joshua’s later conquest of the land.

            Jacob insisted on being buried in Israel, and Joseph needed to make a public statement that he too identified as an Israelite rather than as an Egyptian. On his deathbed, Joseph expressed his ultimate desire to be buried in Israel.

 

1. Israel in Exodus through Deuteronomy

 

In Genesis, God makes an absolute, unbreakable covenant with Abraham. God promises that He will give the Land of Israel to Abraham’s descendants (through Jacob’s line) as an everlasting holding. The land is a gift under divine oath, and also is a central aspect of the God-Israel covenant:

 

I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)

 

In the rest of the Torah, however, God introduces a conditional aspect of this mutual covenant of the land. The blessings and curses in Leviticus 26, and several other passages, threaten exile if Israel sins:

 

I will lay your cities in ruin and make your sanctuaries desolate, and I will not savor your pleasing odors. I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. (Leviticus 26:31–33)

 

Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow to them. For the Lord’s anger will flare up against you, and He will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain and the ground will not yield its produce; and you will soon perish from the good land that the Lord is assigning to you. (Deuteronomy 11:16–17)

 

One passage in Leviticus adds a poetic dimension. The Land of Israel is depicted as having a sensitive stomach, and it cannot tolerate grave sins. Sins cause the land to become ill and vomit out its inhabitants, whether Canaanite or Israelite:

 

Do not defile yourselves in any of those ways, for it is by such that the nations that I am casting out before you defiled themselves. Thus the land became defiled; and I called it to account for its iniquity, and the land spewed out its inhabitants. But you must keep My laws and My rules, and you must not do any of those abhorrent things, neither the citizen nor the stranger who resides among you; for all those abhorrent things were done by the people who were in the land before you, and the land became defiled. So let not the land spew you out for defiling it, as it spewed out the nation that came before you. All who do any of those abhorrent things—such persons shall be cut off from their people. You shall keep My charge not to engage in any of the abhorrent practices that were carried on before you, and you shall not defile yourselves through them: I the Lord am your God. (Leviticus 18:24–30; cf. Leviticus 19:29; 20:22–25)

 

In addition to sexual crimes, the Torah also includes Molech worship (Leviticus 20:3; Deuteronomy 18:9–12), murder (Numbers 35:33–34), leaving a corpse of an executed person unburied (Deuteronomy 21:23), and violating the sanctity of marriage (Deuteronomy 24:1–4) as sins that pollute the land. Later prophets present idol-worship as a sin that defiles the land.[5] Thus, sin causes the land to become defiled, leading to the exile of its inhabitants. 

            The Torah presents antecedents for the ideas of exile and land defilement from the outset of creation. After Adam and Eve sin in Eden, God curses the earth and banishes Adam and Eve from Eden:

 

To Adam He said, “Because you did as your wife said and ate of the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed be the ground because of you; by toil shall you eat of it all the days of your life: Thorns and thistles shall it sprout for you. But your food shall be the grasses of the field”…. So the Lord God banished him from the garden of Eden, to till the soil from which he was taken. (Genesis 3:17–18, 23)

 

The Torah also expresses the poetic notion that the land cannot tolerate sin after Cain murders Abel. Having swallowed Abel’s blood, the land no longer will produce for Cain, and Cain may not remain in his land:

 

Then [God] said, “What have you done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground! Therefore, you shall be more cursed than the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. If you till the soil, it shall no longer yield its strength to you. You shall become a ceaseless wanderer on earth.” (Genesis 4:10–12)

 

Throughout Tanakh, God reminds the Israelites that the land is not truly theirs, and they can be exiled if they fail to live up to the God-Israel covenant.

            Joshua reiterates this threat shortly before his death, after the people already have possessed their land:

 

If you break the covenant that the Lord your God enjoined upon you, and go and serve other gods and bow down to them, then the Lord’s anger will burn against you, and you shall quickly perish from the good land that He has given you. (Joshua 23:16)

 

God also reminds Israel of the threat of exile for infidelity to their covenant, precisely at the ideal moment when Solomon dedicates the Temple:

 

[But] if you and your descendants turn away from Me and do not keep the commandments [and] the laws which I have set before you, and go and serve other gods and worship them, then I will sweep Israel off the land which I gave them; I will reject the House which I have consecrated to My name; and Israel shall become a proverb and a byword among all peoples. (I Kings 9:6–7)

 

Sabbatical and Jubilee Years

 

When Abraham needed a burial plot for Sarah, he faced a paradox. On the one hand, God had promised the land to him and his descendants for the future. On the other hand, he did not own any of that land and therefore was a resident alien (ger ve-toshav) among the Canaanites: 

 

I am a resident alien [ger ve-toshav] among you; sell me a burial site among you, that I may remove my dead for burial. (Genesis 23:4)

 

Abraham wanted to gain a foothold in the land to bury Sarah as a landowner, rather than simply finding a spot on the roadside to bury her as a nomad.[6]

            Even as the people of Israel are crossing the desert to possess their land, God insists that the land does not truly belong to them. Rather, it belongs to God and therefore the people must observe the Sabbatical and Jubilee years. They are resident aliens, just like Abraham:

 

But the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident [gerim ve-toshavim] with Me. (Leviticus 25:23)

 

The Torah also links the threat of exile to the violation of the laws of the Sabbatical and Jubilee years:

 

I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. Then shall the land make up for its Sabbath years throughout the time that it is desolate and you are in the land of your enemies; then shall the land rest and make up for its Sabbath years. Throughout the time that it is desolate, it shall observe the rest that it did not observe in your Sabbath years while you were dwelling upon it…. For the land shall be forsaken of them, making up for its Sabbath years by being desolate of them, while they atone for their iniquity; for the abundant reason that they rejected My rules and spurned My laws. (Leviticus 26:32–25, 43)

 

Non-observance of these laws demonstrates that the Israelites do not recognize that the land is God’s, but instead consider the land to be their own. 

            At the very end of Tanakh, the Book of Chronicles reiterates this understanding when the people go into the Babylonian exile after the destruction of the Temple:

 

Those who survived the sword he exiled to Babylon, and they became his and his sons’ servants till the rise of the Persian kingdom, in fulfillment of the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah, until the land paid back its Sabbaths; as long as it lay desolate it kept Sabbath, till seventy years were completed. (II Chronicles 36:20–21)

 

Although Israel’s continued presence in their land depends on their faithfulness to the covenant and their recognition that the land belongs to God, the land remains a permanent inheritance of the people of Israel. If they go into exile, they will always return to their land and no other nation will possess the land:

 

I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)

 

The Book of Deuteronomy similarly reiterates the divine gift of the land to the people of Israel.[7] The Torah also restates God’s oath guaranteeing this gift.[8] Specifically at times of great sin and crisis, the prophets invoke God’s oath and eternal covenant with Israel. These include the Golden Calf (Exodus 32:13–14) and the destruction of the Temple (Jeremiah 7:3–7; 33:25–26).

 

The Threat of Prosperity and the Need to be Grateful to God

 

In addition to the Torah’s concern that the people of Israel never consider the land to be absolutely theirs, the Torah repeatedly praises the beauty and fertility of the land and warns against losing sight of the fact that all blessings come from God.

 

            During Moses’ initiation prophecy at the burning bush, God praises Israel:

“I am,” He said, “the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. And the Lord continued, “I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters; yes, I am mindful of their sufferings. I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians and to bring them out of that land to a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey, the region of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites….” (Exodus 3:6–8)

 

This is the first of some twenty biblical references to Israel as the land of milk and honey.

            In Deuteronomy, Moses repeatedly warns against the hazard of prosperity. If the people forget that all is from God and they become ungrateful, they will soon lapse into unfaithfulness:

 

For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; a land where you may eat food without limit, where you will lack nothing; a land whose rocks are iron and from whose hills you can mine copper. When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you. Take care lest you forget the Lord your God and fail to keep His commandments, His rules, and His laws, which I enjoin upon you today… and you say to yourselves, “My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.” Remember that it is the Lord your God who gives you the power to get wealth, in fulfillment of the covenant that He made on oath with your fathers, as is still the case. (Deuteronomy 8:7–18)

 

The Talmud derives the commandment for the Grace after Meals from 8:10, “when you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you.” The passage describes divine blessing, rather than using the typical language of commandment. However, Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik observed that this verse must be read as a commandment. The continuation of the passage warns against what occurs when people do not bless God for their produce—they will forget God. Therefore, 8:10 must be a commandment of what Israelites must do to avoid this hazard, rather than a prediction of what they will do.[9]

 

Israel’s Dependence on Rainfall as a Religious Value       

 

The beautiful land depends on rainfall, requiring constant providential attention:

 

For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt from which you have come. There the grain you sowed had to be watered by your own labors, like a vegetable garden; but the land you are about to cross into and possess, a land of hills and valleys, soaks up its water from the rains of heaven. It is a land which the Lord your God looks after, on which the Lord your God always keeps His eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end. (Deuteronomy 11:10–12)

 

Because of its consistent agricultural cycle, Egypt became a refuge during famines. The Torah likens Egypt to the Garden of Eden. Lot also moved to the wicked city of Sodom because it resembled Egypt and Eden in that the Jordan River watered the area and guaranteed fertility: 

 

Lot looked about him and saw how well watered was the whole plain of the Jordan, all of it—this was before the Lord had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah—all the way to Zoar, like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt. (Genesis 13:10)

 

God gave Israel a fertile land, but it is not consistently fertile as Egypt or Sodom. The latter are much easier places to obtain predictable prosperity. The consistent rising of the Nile and Jordan Rivers led to a state wherein people felt a sense of security and entitlement. There were no consequences to their sinful behavior, and both developed wicked cultures. Israel’s dependence on rainfall, in contrast, fostered a culture of constant attention to relationship-building with a personal God.

Ramban (on Deuteronomy 11:11–12) similarly explains that all people depend on God, but a sick person feels that sense of dependence much more than a healthy person. Egypt is like a healthy person, and Israel is like a sick person. Since Israel depends on rain, the people must constantly remain conscious of their dependence on God.

 

Professors Uriel Simon and Moshe Greenberg

 

Professors Uriel Simon and Moshe Greenberg contribute additional dimensions of understanding to the religious significance of the Land of Israel in the Torah. Professor Simon[10] observes that Abraham’s bond with the land is not natural, since he was not born there. Although God promises the land to Abraham and his descendants, Abraham must wait some 400 years for the fulfillment of this promise (Genesis 15:13–16). There is further uncertainty regarding the fulfillment of the divine promise because of the delay in Abraham’s fathering an heir who would perpetuate the covenant. 

Israel’s connection to the land is not a natural bond; it is a connection of covenantal destiny. When a nation has a natural bond to its land, there is no constant threat of exile looming over the people. In contrast, when a nation has a covenantal relationship of destiny, this means that their rights to their land are based on a divine promise and are conditional on faithfulness to God. 

A nation with a natural bond to its land loses that connection when it is exiled, and that nation ceases to exist. In contrast, a nation of destiny can temporarily lose its land, but retains an eternal bond to its land even when it goes into exile. Natural possession of one’s land feels safe, but it deadens the heart of the nation since the people take their land for granted. Possession of land through destiny forces a nation to have constant attentiveness to God. Thus, the people of Israel never could take their land for granted, but also could retain their identity through their exile and long for a return to their land.

Professor Moshe Greenberg[11] explains that the Torah was given in the desert and its narrative ends with the people still in the desert. While many of the Torah’s laws are applicable only in Israel, the basis for the God-Israel covenant is the exodus and revelation at Sinai. If Israel is faithful to the Torah covenant, they will live safely in their land forever. If Israel is unfaithful, they can be exiled from land. Since the Torah transcends the Land of Israel, it remains fully binding outside of the land.

 

Summary

 

The Torah makes the conditional aspect of the covenant explicit, threatening exile for certain grave sins. One passage in Leviticus adds the poetic dimension of the land becoming ill from sin, leading it to spew out its inhabitants. There are no purification rituals for the land, and only exile can allow the land to recover from its defilement.

            The Sabbatical and Jubilee years convey the message that the land belongs to God and not to Israel. Non-fulfillment of these laws leads to exile, since Israel makes the false assumption that the land belongs to them. Even with exile, the land remains an eternal possession of the people of Israel and they will return to their land.

            In addition to Israel’s need to recognize that God owns the land, they also must be eternally grateful to God for the bountiful land and its produce. Proper gratitude lies at the heart of faithfulness to God, whereas ingratitude leads to unfaithfulness.

            The Land of Israel’s dependence on rainfall similarly creates a state of constant God-consciousness. Unlike Egypt and Sodom, which had the consistent rising of the Nile and Jordan Rivers, Israel felt their dependence on God at every moment.

            Professor Uriel Simon develops the idea of the people of Israel’s connection of destiny to their land. God’s promises to Abraham are delayed—and are contingent on—Israel’s faithfulness to the covenant. On the other hand, Israel’s bond to its land cannot be severed by an exile, unlike nations that have a natural bond to their lands. The people of Israel always will return to their land.

            Professor Moshe Greenberg highlights the fact that the Torah begins and ends outside of the Land of Israel to stress that it is an eternal covenant that transcends all land borders and applies wherever the people of Israel live. Israel is the place of ultimate fulfillment of the God-Israel relationship, but Israel has a covenantal relationship with God through the Torah everywhere.

 

1. Israel in the Prophetic Books

 

The Book of Joshua

 

There is no biblical holiday to celebrate Israel’s entry to its land or Joshua’s conquest of the land. Joshua even uses the Torah’s language of a “proto-Seder” to commemorate the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River:

 

This shall serve as a symbol among you: in time to come, when your children ask, “What is the meaning of these stones for you?” you shall tell them, “The waters of the Jordan were cut off because of the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant; when it passed through the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.” And so these stones shall serve the people of Israel as a memorial for all time. (Joshua 4:6–7)

 

He charged the Israelites as follows: “In time to come, when your children ask their fathers, ‘What is the meaning of those stones?’ tell your children: ‘Here the Israelites crossed the Jordan on dry land.’ For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan before you until you crossed, just as the Lord your God did to the Sea of Reeds, which He dried up before us until we crossed. Thus all the peoples of the earth shall know how mighty is the hand of the Lord, and you shall fear the Lord your God always.” (Joshua 4:21–24)

 

Israel’s memory is codified through the Torah’s holidays to perpetuate the foundational experiences of the exodus, the revelation at Sinai, and the sojourn through the wilderness. Although the Land of Israel is a central aspect of the God-Israel relationship, the Torah applies everywhere, and not just in Israel. 

 

The Temple in Jerusalem

 

David establishes Jerusalem as the political capital of Israel by moving there and building his palace (II Samuel chapter 5). He then establishes Jerusalem as God’s capital by moving the Ark there (II Samuel chapter 6). God does not permit David to build the actual Temple, but assures him that his son will rule and build the Temple (II Samuel 7). Solomon goes on to build the Temple and a palace for himself near it (I Kings 6–7).

Ramban (on Exodus 25:2) explains that the Tabernacle (and the Temple) create a perpetual re-enactment of the Revelation at Sinai. Both Sinai and the Tabernacle had a tripartite division of holiness: (1) The mountain’s summit is analogous to the Temple’s Holy of Holies, accessible only to Moses or the High Priest. (2) The middle of the mountain is analogous to the Temple’s Holy section, accessible only to the elders or the priests. (3) The base of the mountain is analogous to the Temple courtyard, where all people could gather to experience God’s revelation.

In addition to Ramban’s association of the Tabernacle-Temple with the Revelation at Sinai, several Midrashim ascertain connections between the Temple and the Garden of Eden. Ideally, Adam and Eve were supposed to follow God’s commands and remain in the Garden. Instead, they sinned and were expelled, and God guarded the Tree of Life with Cherubim: 

 

[God] drove the man out, and stationed east of the garden of Eden the cherubim and the fiery ever-turning sword, to guard the way to the tree of life. (Genesis 3:24)

 

In the time of Moses, the Torah replaced the Tree of Life with the Ark of the Covenant. Cherubim were placed above it, to guard it. The Tabernacle is the only other reference to Cherubim in the Torah, and the Book of Proverbs refers to Torah and Wisdom as a Tree of Life: “She is a tree of life for those who grasp her” (Proverbs 3:18) (Midrash ha-Gadol, Genesis 3:24). Thus, the Tabernacle and Temple become a manifestation of the perfection in the Garden of Eden, where all humanity can live in harmony and serve God.

            In addition to the Temple serving as the heart of the God-Israel relationship, Solomon also recognized the universalistic dimension of the Temple. In his prayer at the dedication of the Temple, Solomon stressed that all God-fearing people always are welcome. He expresses a longing for all humanity to recognize God:

 

Or if a foreigner who is not of Your people Israel comes from a distant land for the sake of Your name—for they shall hear about Your great name and Your mighty hand and Your outstretched arm—when he comes to pray toward this House, oh, hear in Your heavenly abode and grant all that the foreigner asks You for. Thus all the peoples of the earth will know Your name and revere You, as does Your people Israel; and they will recognize that Your name is attached to this House that I have built…. And may these words of mine, which I have offered in supplication before the Lord, be close to the Lord our God day and night, that He may provide for His servant and for His people Israel, according to each day’s needs—to the end that all the peoples of the earth may know that the Lord alone is God, there is no other. (I Kings 8:41–43, 59–60)

 

The worldview underlying Solomon’s prayer becomes a central feature of later prophetic visions, where the Temple serves as the religious center for both Israel and a God-fearing humanity.

            The narratives in I Kings chapters 3–10 present Solomon’s reign as the ideal period in Israel’s history. Solomon is a wise king who judges the people fairly and is a prophet. The nation is religious and unified. There is peace and prosperity. God’s Presence is manifest in the Temple. The nations of the world flood to Jerusalem to see the Temple and to admire Solomon’s wisdom. 

Later prophets use this imagery to depict the ideal messianic age. The only element they must add to their visions is that Israel’s exiles will return to their land. During Solomon’s reign, the Israelites still lived in their land and were not yet in exile. 

 

The Destruction of the Temple and Exile

 

At the ideal moment in Israel’s history, when Solomon dedicated the Temple, God warns that Israel can remain in this pristine state eternally only if they remain faithful to the Torah. If they violate the God-Israel covenant, they will lose the Temple and forfeit their right to remain in the land:

 

[But] if you and your descendants turn away from Me and do not keep the commandments [and] the laws which I have set before you, and go and serve other gods and worship them, then I will sweep Israel off the land which I gave them; I will reject the House which I have consecrated to My name; and Israel shall become a proverb and a byword among all peoples. (I Kings 9:6–7)

 

Tragically, King Solomon opened the door to idolatry toward the end of his life (I Kings 11), leading to the division of the monarchy. Sustained idolatry through much of the remainder of the period led to the eventual exile of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians, and ultimately the destruction of the Temple and exile by the Babylonians.

            Living at the time of the destruction, the prophet Jeremiah understood that God’s very creation was coming undone and returning to its primeval chaotic state:

 

I look at the earth, it is unformed and void [tohu va-vohu]; at the skies, and their light is gone. (Jeremiah 4:23)

 

This reference harks back to the second verse of the Torah, before God created order:

 

The earth was unformed and void [tohu va-vohu], with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water. (Genesis 1:2)

 

The destruction of the Temple ends the vision of its serving as a new Garden of Eden. The people of Israel are exiled to Babylonia and to Egypt (see II Kings 25), reversing Abraham’s journey from the area of Babylonia as well as the exodus from Egypt in the time of Moses.

            The Temple and Solomon’s palace are destroyed together, as God’s kingdom and Israel’s kingdom fall to Babylonia:

 

He burned the House of the Lord, the king’s palace, and all the houses of Jerusalem; he burned down the house of every notable person. (II Kings 25:9)

 

The destruction of the Temple and the exile sound like they are absolute, and most surviving Jews believed that God had abandoned them. The end of the Book of Lamentations poignantly reflects this dark despair of the people:

 

Why have You forgotten us utterly, forsaken us for all time? Take us back, O Lord, to Yourself, and let us come back; renew our days as of old! For truly, You have rejected us, bitterly raged against us. (Lamentations 5:20–22)

 

Prophetic Visions of Hope

 

Confronting the people’s feelings of rejection, the prophets envisioned a time beyond the current reality and offered much-needed hope to the despairing people. In Isaiah 50, the prophet invokes the notion that the exile should be likened to a separation, but not a divorce:

 

Thus said the Lord: Where is the bill of divorce of your mother whom I dismissed? And which of My creditors was it to whom I sold you off? You were only sold off for your sins, and your mother dismissed for your crimes. (Isaiah 50:1)

 

Alternatively, Jeremiah posited an even more extreme position that the exile was a divorce, but God still was prepared to remarry Israel if the people were to abandon their idolatry:

 

[The word of the Lord came to me] as follows: If a man divorces his wife, and she leaves him and marries another man, can he ever go back to her? Would not such a land be defiled? Now you have whored with many lovers: can you return to Me?—says the Lord. (Jeremiah 3:1)

 

Regardless, the reality was the same: The God-Israel relationship is eternal. Either there never was a divorce, or there was a divorce with an ongoing invitation to return.

In his celebrated prophecy of the Dry Bones, Ezekiel depicts the people as feeling dead. God, however, will miraculously restore them to their vitality and to their land:

 

And He said to me, “O mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone [avedah tikvatenu]; we are doomed.’ Prophesy, therefore, and say to them: Thus said the Lord God: I am going to open your graves and lift you out of the graves, O My people, and bring you to the land of Israel….” (Ezekiel 37:11–12)

 

This vision was intended as a parable to Israel. Like dead bones, Israel felt hopeless. God promised that He would restore life to the nation and bring them back to their land.[12] 

            In Isaiah 51, the prophet invokes God’s eternal covenant with the Patriarchs, prophesying the nation’s return to Israel and the restoration of the state of being like the Garden of Eden:

 

Listen to Me, you who pursue justice, you who seek the Lord: Look to the rock you were hewn from, to the quarry you were dug from. Look back to Abraham your father and to Sarah who brought you forth. For he was only one when I called him, but I blessed him and made him many. Truly the Lord has comforted Zion, comforted all her ruins; He has made her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the Garden of the Lord. Gladness and joy shall abide there, thanksgiving and the sound of music. (Isaiah 51:1–3)

 

Israel’s mission is to serve as a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:6), the religious capital of the world that teaches humanity to return to the ideal state of the Garden of Eden:

 

In the days to come, the Mount of the Lord’s House shall stand firm above the mountains and tower above the hills; and all the nations shall gaze on it with joy. And the many peoples shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob; that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths.” For instruction shall come forth from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. Thus He will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples, and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war. (Isaiah 2:2–4)

 

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard lie down with the kid; the calf, the beast of prey, and the fatling together, with a little boy to herd them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion, like the ox, shall eat straw. A babe shall play over a viper’s hole, and an infant pass his hand over an adder’s den. 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)

 

Prior to the destruction of the Temple, Jeremiah corresponded with the community already exiled to Babylonia in 597 bce with King Jehoiachin, instructing them to build a Jewish life while they waited for the restoration to their land. That restoration would come some seventy years after the rise of the Babylonian Empire:

 

Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there, do not decrease. And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper…. For thus said the Lord: When Babylon’s seventy years are over, I will take note of you, and I will fulfill to you My promise of favor—to bring you back to this place. (Jeremiah 29:4–10)

 

The Jews were to retain their identity while living in the Diaspora, but they always knew that they would return home to Israel.

 

Summary

 

There are no biblical holidays to commemorate Israel’s entry into the land. The Torah thus creates a national covenantal identity that transcends the Land of Israel. Joshua’s ceremony of acceptance of the Torah after the people entered the land teaches that faithfulness to God lies at the heart of Israel’s remaining in its land. The Talmud adds that the Torah’s vision also looks outward to all humanity, as Israel has a role to play in building a model society and inspiring the nations of the world to the Torah’s level of religious morality.

            David and Solomon establish Jerusalem as God’s capital in ruling the world as well as the political capital of Israel. The Temple reenacts the Revelation at Sinai, and also functions as a taste of the Garden of Eden. Solomon expresses the vision of the Torah, that the Temple is open to all God-fearing people, and not only to Israel. Solomon’s reign reflects the messianic age.

            Tragically, the sin of idolatry contributed to the division of the monarchy, the exile of the ten Northern tribes, and ultimately the exile of Judah along with the destruction of the Temple. God’s very creation had come undone, and the Israelites returned to Babylonia and Egypt, reversing the journeys of Abraham and Moses. The people thought that the God-Israel covenant had come to an end.

            It required prophetic vision to look beyond the dark reality of the destruction and exile. Prophets proclaimed that the exile was a separation from God, not a permanent divorce. Israel might feel dead, but God will revive them. The Patriarchal covenant is in full, eternal force, and God will restore the Eden-like state of Israel. While in exile, the people must build institutions to retain their identity. But they always will return home to Israel.

 

1. Israel in the Second Temple Period and in the Contemporary Period

 

A Miracle of History

 

Despite the intense despair of the people in the wake of the destruction of the Temple and the exile, Jeremiah offered a prophetic vision beyond the misery. There would be a full restoration to the land, but in the interim the Jews would need to build a strong Diaspora life:

 

Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there, do not decrease. And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper…. For thus said the Lord: When Babylon’s seventy years are over, I will take note of you, and I will fulfill to you My promise of favor—to bring you back to this place. (Jeremiah 29:4–10)

 

After generations of exile, the nation experienced a shocking turn of events. Approximately seventy years after its inception, the seemingly invincible Babylonian Empire suddenly collapsed in the wake of the Persian onslaught under Cyrus. Even more remarkably, Cyrus permitted the Jews to return to Israel and rebuild the Temple. All of a sudden, the once seemingly impossible prophecies of Jeremiah were being realized before the people’s eyes. The Book of Ezra opens with a reference to Jeremiah’s prophecies, celebrating this miracle of history:

 

In the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, when the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah was fulfilled, the Lord roused the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia to issue a proclamation throughout his realm by word of mouth and in writing as follows: “Thus said King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord God of Heaven has given me all the kingdoms of the earth and has charged me with building Him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Anyone of you of all His people—may his God be with him, and let him go up to Jerusalem that is in Judah and build the House of the Lord God of Israel, the God that is in Jerusalem; and all who stay behind, wherever he may be living, let the people of his place assist him with silver, gold, goods, and livestock, besides the freewill offering to the House of God that is in Jerusalem.” (Ezra 1:1–4)

 

Ezra chapter 2 contains a lengthy list of the people who returned to Israel. The extensive coverage gives the initial impression that the Jewish response to Cyrus’ permission to return was overwhelmingly positive. This impression is diminished by the fact that only 42,360 people returned (Ezra 2:64). Evidently, most Jews chose to remain in exile. 

 

Zechariah’s Vision of a Wall of Fire Surrounding Jerusalem

 

The prophet Zechariah received a series of visions to encourage the Jews to complete the rebuilding of the Second Temple. One element he addressed was the shame people felt over the walls of Jerusalem, which continued to be breached after the Babylonian invasion:

 

I looked up, and I saw a man holding a measuring line. “Where are you going?” I asked. “To measure Jerusalem,” he replied, “to see how long and wide it is to be.” But the angel who talked with me came forward, and another angel came forward to meet him. The former said to him, “Run to that young man and tell him: ‘Jerusalem shall be peopled as a city without walls, so many shall be the men and cattle it contains. And I Myself—declares the Lord—will be a wall of fire all around it, and I will be a glory inside it.’” (Zechariah 2:5–9).

 

Zechariah challenged the public perception of the broken walls of Jerusalem as being shameful, as later reported in the Book of Nehemiah:

 

They replied, “The survivors who have survived the captivity there in the province are in dire trouble and disgrace; Jerusalem’s wall is full of breaches, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.” (Nehemiah 1:3)

 

Then I said to them, “You see the bad state we are in—Jerusalem lying in ruins and its gates destroyed by fire. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem and suffer no more disgrace.” (Nehemiah 2:17)

 

In Zechariah’s vision, the breached walls presented an opportunity to expand the borders of the city through a massive population increase. Instead of requiring physical walls for security, God would serve as a wall of fire to protect His people.

            Prophecies are not fulfilled automatically. People need to do their part to realize the potential of the moment.[13] In this spirit, Zechariah immediately follows his vision with a call to the Jews still living in Babylonia:

            

“Away, away! Flee from the land of the north—says the Lord—though I swept you [there] like the four winds of heaven—declares the Lord.” Away, escape, O Zion, you who dwell in Fair Babylon.... The Lord will take Judah to Himself as His portion in the Holy Land,[14] and He will choose Jerusalem once more. (Zechariah 2:10–16)

 

If the people want Jerusalem’s population to expand beyond the city walls, then the exiles need to leave Babylonia en masse and move to Israel! 

Zechariah also prophesies that God will personally purify the land from its stains of sin:

 

I will remove that country’s guilt in a single day. (Zechariah 3:9)

 

 

In Zechariah chapter 5, the prophet explains that God will eliminate sinners, and then sin itself from the land.[15] In our discussions of the Land of Israel in the Torah, we observed that there is no ritual to purify the land from severe sin. Only exile of the sinners and God’s intervention can allow the land proper opportunity to recover. God’s Presence and the people now can return to a restored land.

            Unfortunately, most Jews ignored Zechariah’s call to return and chose to remain in exile. The ideal vision never was fulfilled. In the final analysis, Jerusalem was better off with a wall. Approximately 75 years after Zechariah’s prophecy, Nehemiah rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem (445 bce). The city was so desolate that he decreed that one-tenth of the Jewish community must resettle in Jerusalem so that it would remain a viable city (Nehemiah 11:1–2).

Within two generations of exile, there was a severe change in the mentality of the Jews. Those who had been exiled feared that the God-Israel relationship was over, and they could not even envision praying to God while in exile: “How can we sing a song of the Lord on alien soil?” (Psalm 137:4). Two generations later, most Jews were comfortable remaining in exile. They lived a robust life in the Diaspora, and evidently no longer perceived the exile as the supreme punishment of the Torah. 

Putting the evidence together, several rabbinic sources consider the Second Temple period as a missed opportunity for the full messianic redemption:

 

If she be a wall, we will build upon her a turret of silver; if she be a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar. Had you made yourself like a wall and had all come up in the days of Ezra, you would have been compared to silver, which no rottenness can ever affect. Now that you have come up like doors, you are like cedarwood, which rottenness prevails over. (Yoma 9b; cf. Kuzari II:24)

 

            Simultaneously, the very existence of the Second Temple and a flourishing Jewish community in Israel convincingly demonstrated that the God-Israel relationship endures beyond the exile and is eternal. Malachi invokes the rebuilding of the land as a sign of God’s abiding love of Israel:

 

I have shown you love, said the Lord. But you ask, “How have You shown us love?” After all—declares the Lord—Esau is Jacob’s brother; yet I have accepted Jacob and have rejected Esau. I have made his hills a desolation, his territory a home for beasts of the desert. If Edom thinks, “Though crushed, we can build the ruins again,” thus said the Lord of Hosts: They may build, but I will tear down. And so they shall be known as the region of wickedness, the people damned forever of the Lord. Your eyes shall behold it, and you shall declare, “Great is the Lord beyond the borders of Israel!” (Malachi 1:2–5)

 

Similarly, the leaders during the religious revival under Ezra and Nehemiah highlight God’s eternal covenant with Abraham and his descendants:

 

You are the Lord God, who chose Abram, who brought him out of Ur of the Chaldeans and changed his name to Abraham. Finding his heart true to You, You made a covenant with him to give the land of the Canaanite, the Hittite, the Amorite, the Perizzite, the Jebusite, and the Girgashite—to give it to his descendants. And You kept Your word, for You are righteous. (Nehemiah 9:7–8)

 

Professor Yehudah Elitzur

 

Professor Yehudah Elitzur[16] wrote from the vantage point of Jews returning to Israel after nearly 2000 years of exile, rather than simply after seventy years of Babylonian exile. This afforded him a broader perspective of the biblical passages.

In an essay on the religious significance of the Land of Israel in the Bible, Professor Elitzur reiterates the eternality of the covenant of the land alongside the threat of exile for unfaithfulness. Even if there would be an exile, no other nation will settle permanently in Israel. The land eternally belongs to Abraham’s descendants:

 

I assign the land you sojourn in to you and your offspring to come, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting holding. I will be their God. (Genesis 17:8)

 

The ingathering of Jewish exiles to Israel in the contemporary period is a fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham that the land is an everlasting holding.

            Lands typically do not remain desolate when they are conquered. Normally, other people occupy them. However, God promises that the Land of Israel would remain desolate if the people go into exile:

 

I will make the land desolate, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled by it. And you I will scatter among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword against you. Your land shall become a desolation and your cities a ruin. (Leviticus 26:32–33)

 

In the ancient halakhic Midrash Sifra, the Sages remark that the uninhabited land is a positive dimension within this prophecy of doom. The land remains uninhabited so that Jews could return to an empty land.

In the thirteenth century, Ramban witnessed the desolation in Israel when he moved there toward the end of his life. He understood this desolation as proof of God’s promise that the land eternally belongs to the Jews, and that God would return them to Israel one day:

 

[The desolation] constitutes a good tiding, proclaiming that during all our exiles, our land will not accept our enemies.... Since the time that we left it, [the land] has not accepted any nation or people, and they all try to settle it... This is a great proof and assurance to us. (Ramban on Leviticus 26:16)

 

In the nineteenth century, Mark Twain was flabbergasted by the fact that Israel was almost completely desolate. In his Innocents Abroad, he remarked: 

 

Of all the lands there are for dismal scenery, I think Palestine must be the prince... Can the curse of the Deity beautify a land? Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes. Over it broods the spell of a curse that has withered its fields and fettered its energies.

 

Professor Elitzur observes further that the Canaanites who lived in the land prior to the Israelites succeeded in exploiting the natural resources of the land:

 

When the Lord your God brings you into the land that He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to assign to you—great and flourishing cities that you did not build, houses full of all good things that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant—and you eat your fill. (Deuteronomy 6:10–11)

 

However, the Canaanites never became a unified nation. Joshua defeated 31 kings, each a ruler of an independent city-state. In contrast, the people of Israel formed a united nation, the only people ever to do so in Israel. Moreover, no nation after Israel could exploit the natural resources of the land. Instead, the land remained a barren wasteland for nearly 2,000 years.

Professor Elitzur invokes another rule of history: All other exiled people either assimilate into the dominant culture of the host nation, or else they are dominant because they come in large groups and take over the culture of the new land (e.g., the British in America, the Spanish in Argentina). 

Despite being a minority, the Jews never totally assimilated into their host nations. They also remained a minority and never were able to set up a Jewish land outside of Israel. The Torah’s curse that the people of Israel would be scattered and downtrodden in exile contains a hidden blessing, since they would always remain outsiders and therefore return one day to Israel.

The Jewish people and the Land of Israel belong to one another, and need one another. When they are together, both land and people flourish. When they are separate, Jews suffer and the land lies desolate.

 

Summary

 

At the beginning of the Second Temple period, the Jews were miraculously allowed to return to their land and rebuild the Temple. While many Jews did return, the vast majority chose to remain in exile. Instead of the full redemption occurring then, the opportunity was squandered. It appears that the non-return of many Jews contributed meaningfully to the failure to realize the messianic era.

            Although the ideal age did not occur in the Second Temple period, the Jews realized that God’s covenantal promises were indeed eternal. Their return to their land demonstrated God’s abiding love and commitment to the people of Israel.

            In the Torah, God promises that the Land of Israel is an everlasting holding for the people of Israel. The ingathering of exiles in the modern era, the land blooming after remaining desolate for nearly 2,000 years, and the fact that the Jews never completely assimilated nor formed a dominant culture elsewhere all fulfill divine promises. These facts are unique in human history, all attesting to the eternality of God’s promises.

            We live in a miraculous age with the Jewish people returned to Israel after such a lengthy exile. We cannot know how everything will unfold without prophecy. However, we may derive several religious lessons from the biblical corpus: (1) The return of the Jewish people to Israel confirms the biblical covenantal promises dating back to Abraham. (2) It is a fulfillment of God’s promise that the land would remain a barren wasteland in the absence of the Jews, and that it would flourish once again when the Jews return. (3) The people of Israel must be grateful to God for this gift, and never take sole credit for this remarkable achievement or for the rehabilitation of the land. (4) The modern State of Israel poses a challenge to world Jewry to live up to God’s covenant through the Torah, and to participate in rebuilding the land.

 

Notes