National Scholar Updates

The camera pans across golden fields of plump wheat stalks so abundant they dwarf Michael Landon, in the guise of Charles Ingalls, American farmer extraordinaire. As Mr. Ingalls surveys the abundance before him, he reaches out to pluck a single robust stalk, spilling the wheat grains onto his open palm. Closing his fist over the treasure, he turns his eyes heavenward. "Thank you, Lord," he says plainly.

Those familiar with Little House on the Prairie, the television drama based on the historical account of a pioneer family's life in the late 1800s American West, know how rare it is for Mr. Ingalls to experience such a moment of hodu l'Hashem ki tov, thanks to God for the goodness in front of him. The life of the Ingalls family as pioneers on the American prairie was not filled with many moments of bountiful good. The television Ingalls notoriously faced hardship of every natural, financial, and social dimension in their small town of Walnut Grove, and although they gave thanks each morning and evening before meals, bounty such as this rarely came their way for long. In fact, in just a matter of moments would follow a hail storm that would wipe out this glorious crop, on the verge of its cash-out.

But let us linger for a moment with Charles in the midst of his golden plenty. Take in the way in which he so prosaically lifts his eyes to the heavens as though addressing a familiar friend, offering his thanks in a manner that is so rare and so moving in its simplicity. What we know from this scene is that Charles Ingalls walks with God. That is, he carries an awareness of his creator with him so closely, at all times, so that when events transpire in his life he is quickly able to put them in perspective vis-a-vis God, the source of all.

This is true for Mr. Ingalls, whether come good or bad. Some episodes after this harvest comes the most joyful birth of Charles' son, the first after three daughters, followed by the child's desperate failure to thrive and imminent demise, as his parents and doctors stand by helpless. When the child does slip away, Charles' immediate response is to embrace his wife and begin to recite: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," while blinking back tears. Instinctively, he extols God or leans on Him in times of duress, talks with him as though he were by his side at any moment.

I feel grateful to have grown up with Little House running in prime time. By the grace of cable television, I also have the satisfaction of introducing my own children to it and thus offering them a visual of what walking with God might look like. Family and friends who know of my intimate knowledge of this series joke that I hold as guides Torat Moshe, Moshe's teaching, the Torah, and Torat Little House, the teaching of Little House. As a mother and school counselor, I believe the show to be of outstanding quality in the sensitive and accurate treatment of social ills and the child's worldview, but also because at the base of it all lies Charles and Caroline's clearly held values of trust in and awareness of God, honest work, and standing for what is right. Perhaps to me, these values are the commonalities between my two "teachings."

***

The Torah tells of righteous figures, such as Noah and Abraham, who "walked with God." What could that look or feel like? Would it mean to have Him near at all times, whether good or bad, prosaic or exquisite?

We call the traditional precepts of Torah lived in practical life, halakha, the path. Do we think about walking with God as we follow traditional Jewish mores?

In order to walk—or live—with awareness of God, one first must be able to cultivate what is trendily called mindfulness, or awareness of one's self and surroundings. Such mindfulness requires sensitivity, honesty, and calm of spirit that may not come naturally, particularly in our frenzied first-world lives, but can be cultivated. In counseling terms, mindfulness is often proffered as a counterbalance to stress, whose byproducts can be chaos, anxiety, or neurosis. By calming the mind and cultivating an awareness of what is happening in one's body and mind, one will be able to slow and bring some order to the chaos or neurosis, as well as promote an outlook that emphasizes "glass half-full" rather than half-empty.

Reverence assumes the ability to be still—for without calm and a measure of emptiness one cannot be filled with awe—and must incorporate a measure of gratitude, for one cannot give honor while in the same moment complaining about one's condition. Our sages considered the state of gratitude to lead to reverence; for this reason, we are called Yehudim, named for Jacob's son Yehuda, the root of whose name means "to give thanks." As the Psalmist wrote, and many Jews recite daily, Tov l'hodot l'Hashem, it is good to give thanks to Hashem. A Jew's state in the world is to represent the energy of giving thanks, hoda'a, for when one appreciates what one has, one grows in reverence to the source of the gifts.

Over 25 years ago, it was a guide on a teen tour to Israel who first left me questioning whether Jews might be uniquely challenged by reverence. Our sabra guide led us on a hike through a pristine nature preserve, and then had us take a seat by the side of a stream. He asked us to listen silently to the water, the sounds of the birds, the air whistling in the rushes. To be mindful, in other words. Inevitably, one teenager fell prey to the temptation to fill the momentary quiet by cracking a joke and someone else had a rebound. The tour guide threw up his hands and said, "You see? You can't get a Jew to shut up for more than ten seconds!"

It may be the case that many teenagers would be challenged by sitting silently at the edge of a stream. But as I grew older and more aware of cultural differences (and the Jewish predilection for self-expression in particular), I better understood what the guide may have been getting at. I paid closer attention to the very detailed biblical descriptions of our people wandering in the wilderness of Sinai. "Stiff-necked," obstinate, complaining about the lack of cucumbers and leeks after being redeemed from bondage by the very hand of God: the visceral recounting in Exodus is stark. Sadly, this very pointed national characterization of our people closes thousands of years in a heartbeat to a quotation from a Nazi general I once read: "You Jews, you complain about the shoe that has gone missing...what you don't recognize is that you are about to lose both your legs."

To our credit, it may be that our many injunctions to stand up for the oppressed and pursue justice have cultivated a national character that favors action and expression. We are even commanded to speak out if we see our peer involved in a wrong—something I took for granted, until I began working and living more closely with other cultural groups, some of whom may tend toward the reticent, frown upon opinions, or see minding someone else's business as meddling. Traditional Jewish ways of being may naturally lend themselves better to righteous chutzpah than to meditative calm.

***

As a school counselor for more than 15 years, I have mainly worked in the most challenging of public schools (by this I mean the schools where resources and family agency are scarce, poverty is commonplace, and high school graduation is pay dirt). When I came to work at one particular elementary school in Harlem, I was in my early 30s and a typical New York Jew: somewhat skeptical, prizing intellect, and Jewishly observant, apart from this. I began to notice that many of my colleagues drew upon their faith to retain a hopeful outlook in the dire circumstances in which we toiled—and sometimes, to get through the day. They began each morning by holding hands in a circle and having one of them lead them in a prayer for strength and guidance.

At first, I was taken aback. I questioned the appropriateness of bringing religion into a public institution. Soon I reasoned that no students were present, so perhaps it was fine. I found, upon reflection, that it was the ease with which these women incorporated God into their daily life that was disconcerting. Gradually, I came to realize that my colleagues were authentic people who were drawing on their trust in divine providence to get them through the trials of each challenging day of our work. They were walking with God. What's more, they were not some stereotype of a church lady, spouting platitudes about grace or laying judgment, but women who chose to labor authentically in one of the most challenging environments. When faced with grave adversity, the most base conditions and crudest of human behavior, they chose not to isolate, or sink and respond at that level, but to lean on God in order to rise above.

This recognition opened the door for me to see the utility of that morning prayer in bringing God, in a practical and real way, into daily life. The earnest prayer of my colleagues had led me to question what purpose my cynicism served and whether it was compatible with a religio-spiritual way of life.

It was similar with my reaction to "I'm blessed" as a common response to "How are you?" Initially, I thought this quaint, or at times, irrelevant. But slowly, I began to recognize this evidence of the power of language to create reality, much like an affirmation works on one's subconscious. Too, I saw the verbalization as a reminder, amid the temptation to complain, that actually, we are, here in the first world, all blessed. Where I had dismissed the similar tendency of some Jews to answer similarly with a barukh HaShem, bless God, I saw the power of such an utterance to affect one's spiritual standing in that moment.

I am in touch with these colleagues from time to time and one of them in particular has become a close friend. She and I have had many a heart-to-heart about God and the purpose of religion. Once, I shared with her my struggle to find a synagogue in which a palpable sense of reverence was the norm. I asked her if there was any issue surrounding congregants talking during the service at her church. She had to clarify the question, before she could even begin to answer it.

L: You mean talking when they come in to the service?

R: Possibly. Or during. Just sitting there in the pews having a good chat during the service.

L: (Long pause.) Well, if you come in and did the hug and greeting thing before taking your seat I guess that could be considered fellowship, so it might be okay...

R: But what if you sat and kept on talking?

L: (clearly having trouble envisioning what is sadly commonplace on the Modern Orthodox front) Like, when the congregation is praying?

R: (nod)

L: I mean, I might think that person was new to the path and didn't yet know better. Otherwise, I'd have to wonder...why'd they come?

This little exchange left me with a twinge in my chest, as the implicit sense that one would comport oneself reverently in the house of God made me nothing less than jealous. I will spare the reader a litany of synagogues in which talking is the status quo; suffice it to say that I have yet to discover a sanctuary in which there seems to be awareness of the root of that word: sanctus, holy. Let me share only that on one occasion, a Friday night about a decade ago, I was verbally accosted after services on Manhattan's Upper West Side, after I had gently shushed a middle-aged man through the mehitza when his personal conversation turned into a coffee klatch without the hot drinks. Wearing my then-infant son in a snuggly, I was waiting for my husband in the foyer when this man approached me and berated me for quieting him. "Don't you ever tell me to be quiet in shul again!" he said in threatening tone. I haven't been back to that particular shul, but, threats apart, I haven't found it much different wherever I go. The sense of entitlement to do as one pleases in a holy place, in the midst of addressing one's maker, bears out the sense in which reverence holds no quarter in the typical Modern Orthodox sphere.

I believe the absence of reverence in observant Jewish life to be nothing less than a tragedy that is costing the Jewish people in more ways than may be recognized. Without reverence, our customs and mores lose their spiritual core and we revert to a tribe. This leaves us, as a community, with little of substance to offer our young people—to say nothing of our mature members. There is no argument to stay in the tribe for the sake of the tribe alone. In the open marketplace of ideas and spiritual pathways, Judaism without reverence is junk food and we cannot blame our numbers for recognizing this or turning to more sustaining spiritual fare. For, as the sardonic wit of one synagogue posting goes, "If you come here to talk, where do you go to daven?"

I would challenge us to ask ourselves: Is a synagogue a social club or a spiritual home? Is Jewish education for teaching content and behavior—now bend here, now say this—or for imbuing children with the sense that we go in the presence of the Almighty, that He has gifted us the rule book to best play this game of life and tasked us with a life's mission? Are we walking a path through life, like our forefathers, like Charles and Caroline Ingalls, with God at our sides, or are we showing up at shul out of a sense of duty to parents or community? And if the latter, is that enough to sustain us?

No man is an island, entire of itself;

every man is a piece of the continent,

a part of the main;

…any man’s death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind;

and therefore never send to know

for whom the bell tolls;

it tolls for thee.

John Donne (1572-1631)

Judaism and a Social Justice Ethic

Yamin Levy

Torah proclaims that every person is created in God’s image and therefore human life is not only of supreme value but human existence in endowed with divine responsibility. As partners with God and stewards of the world’s resources it is mankind’s duty to see that God’s bounty and God’s compassion is enjoyed by all who walk the face of the earth. The Midrash[1] understands Imatio Dei  as a call for justice, mercy and compassion. Maimonides[2] reiterates this mandate as the ultimate goal in human perfection per the prophets Yirmiyau’s words:

Thus says the Lord: Let not the wise person take pride in his wisdom; neither let the mighty person take pride in his might; let not the rich person take pride in his riches; but let him that takes pride, take pride in this: That he understands and knows Me, that I am the Lord who exercises mercy, justice, and righteousness on the earth; for in these things I delight, says the Lord; (Jeremiah 9:22-23)

I present these values in universal terms because that is the way Hazal understood our responsibility in relationship to the world.

The Midrash Yalkut Shimoni 1:13 states:

 “God formed Adam out of dust from all over the world – yellow clay, white sand, black loam, and red soil. Therefore no one can declare to any people that they do not belong since this soil is not their home”.

It is our obligation as citizens of the world and as Jews to eradicate hunger, pursue peace, and seek out justice. Everything about Judaism screams out involvement, non-conformity and resistance against oppression and injustice.

So when I was recently accosted by a well meaning member, of a community I was invited to, who waving a newspaper clipping about some young men at YCT who went to Ghana to build water and sewage systems for impoverished communities I was quite surprised. “Don’t we have enough of our own problems that we need to worry about their problems?” he barked. “Let them (the non-Jewish world) deal with their own problems our boys should worry about Torah, anti-Semitism and Israel”. “Everything else belongs to the world of the non-Jew”! I responded impatiently with: “Zeh Toldot HaAdam”, the Biblical clause ‘this is the generations of humanity’, which was referred to By Ben Azzai (a student of Rabbi Akiva) as a fundamental principle of Judaism. According to Be Azzai all of humanity must be considered as brothers and sisters. “It seems like my world” I responded “and the world of these young men is much larger than your world”.

I often marvel at how little religion and Judaism in particular asks of us living in the modern world. Judaism offers consolation, guidance, community but where is the courage to challenge and break the idols of today’s culture and shatter the callousness of our daily comforts. Living a religious existence has achieved a degree of social respectability that involves neither risk nor strain. 

When Emunah is replaced by creed, Avodah by discipline, Ahavah by habit, when the collective memory of our people’s glorious past trumps today’s crisis, when Judaism becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain or when we permit the only Jewish voice heard is the one of authority rather than the voice of compassion, its message, God forbid, becomes meaningless.

Judaism is much more than a mood or a feeling. The Torah answers the timeless question: What does God ask of me? Unfortunately the question that is more often heard goes as follows: what can I expect from God? What will I get out of a religious life? As opposed to what will life get out of me?

Hazal consistently emphasize human obligations over human rights. The purpose of our religious tradition is to keep alive the voice that calls out and says: “I understand the demand and here I am”.

The Judaism our prophets expected of us was not a religion that sought the satisfaction of personal needs. To define religious life in such terms is to make of it a refined sort of magic. The thunderous theophany at Sinai did not proclaim the Ten Commandments in order to satisfy ones personal needs!

The task is to convert the divine commandment into human concern. The prophets of Israel, the great teachers of old, the individuals who have achieved the highest levels of spiritual consciousness devoted their orations and writing to the plight of the widow, orphan and stranger. Instead of affording us treaties on metaphysics or discourses on the sublime they dealt with the corruption of judges and affairs of the market place employing the most excessive language to make their point. For the prophet of Israel what appears to be a minor, commonplace sort of injustice assumes cosmic proportions:

Be appalled, O heavens, at this,

Be shocked, be utterly desolate, says the Lord.

For My people have committed two evils:

They have forsaken Me,

The fountain of living waters

And hewed out cisterns for themselves,

Broken cisterns

That can hold no water.

                        Jeremiah 2:12-13

Prophecy is the voice of God when the silent agony of the plundered poor cannot be heard. God rages through the prophet’s words.

The prophet had little tolerance for those to whom God was simply spiritual bliss, comfort or a security blanket. The God of the prophets was the voice of incessant demand for compassion and justice. Tranquility was unknown to the soul of the prophet. The pain of the weak was his /her own – the suffering of the world gave him/ her no rest. In the Maimonidean economy of ideas the ladder in Jacob’s dream was a metaphor for the Prophet’s life work. In his dream, Jacob noted that angels ascended and then descended the ladder that reached the heavens. The Prophet of Israel firsts ascends the ladder of intellectual and character achievements for the sole purpose of descending the ladder in order to use his / her teachings to create a just and peaceful society.

Today complacency and conformity have replaced the passionate protest for justice, peace and righteousness that was the seal of the prophet.

Hazal internalized the message of the prophets and mandated active involvement in all  matters facing the community.

Whoever is able to protest against the transgressions of his own family and does not do so is held responsible for the transgressions of his family. Whoever is able to protest against the transgressions of his community and does not do so is held responsible for the transgressions of his community. Whoever is able to protest the transgressions of the entire world and does not do so is held responsible for the transgressions of the entire world ( BT Shabbath 54b)

This is quite an indictment against conformity and parochial concerns. For Hazal Torah is about the struggle to create a better society. Injustice cannot be passively accepted. In fact the Torah in at least four places admonishes “And you shall eradicate the evil from your midst” (Devarim 13:6, 17:7, 21:21, 24:7).Even God is challenged to apply the above standard when judging the pious:

“R. Acha ben Chanina said: Never did a favorable decree go forth from the mouth of the Lord which He withdrew and changed into an unfavorable judgment, except the following:

‘And the Lord said to His angel: Go through the city of Jerusalem and put a mark upon the foreheads of the men who sigh and groan over all the abominations that are committed’ (Ezekiel 9:4)

At that moment, the prosecutor came forward in the heavenly court and said to the Lord: How are these (marked men) different from the others? Whereas God responded: these are wholly righteous men, while those are wholly wicked men. But Lord, argued the prosecutor they had the power to protest and did not? God responded and said: Had they protested they would not have succeeded. The Prosecutor countered: but Lord, if it was revealed to You, was it revealed to them? Accordingly they should have protested and incurred scorn for the holy Name, and have been ready to suffer blows … as the prophets of Israel suffered. God revoked his original order, and the righteous were found guilty because of the failure to protest” ( BT Shabbath 55a)

Righteousness is defined by non-conformity. Torah mandates we protest against injustice and effect change even when successful implementation appears very difficult[3].

From its inception Judaism has been a voice of protest against the evils of greed, injustice and the misuse of power. The Midrash described Avraham as a child challenging the belief system of his times by smashing the idols of his father and thus establishing the precedent that a Jew should not conform to a societies values when they are evil. Later in his life he challenged non-other than God by exclaiming: “Shall not the judge of all the earth do justly? (Genesis 18:25) Noach in contrast was later rebuked by Hazal for failing to criticize the immorality of the society around him.

The book of Exodus begins with three stories of protest against injustice. Shifra and Puah take on the Egyptian empire by refusing to kill innocent babies, Moshe Rabbeinu while living in Pharaoh’s court goes out to his people and rushes to defend a slave against an Egyptian aggressor. The third story also takes place before Moshe is chosen by God to the lead the people. Being forced to flee from Egypt Moshe comes to the aid of a shepherd’s daughters who were being harassed.  All the books of Tanakh are filled with stories, metaphors and injunctions against passivity in the face of injustice.

Hermann Cohen the 20^th century German Jewish philosopher found significant meaning in the fact that the Torah states no less than 36 times not to mistreat the stranger:

The alien was protected, although he was not a member of one’s family, clan, religious community or perhaps people; simply because he was a human being. In the alien, therefore, man discovered the idea of humanity.[4]

Our world today faces countless critical issues such as vast poverty, the threat to our eco-system, widespread hunger, dwindling resources, war, violence, human slave trafficking, and rapid population growth. There has not been enough of an effort in the modern orthodox community to apply the Jewish values of compassion and justice to the many critical problems that threaten the world today. It is our community that is positioned to be the champions of social justice, the eternal voice of protest against corruption. 

 In his magnum opus, Ha’amek Davar, Rabbi
Naftali Tzvi Berlin, (also called 
Netziv, 1817-93), the last leader of the illustrious  yeshiva of Volozhin, Russia, asks why the
first book of the Torah, Bereshith  is
also called: Sefer Hayashar, “the book of those who are upright”. In his own
unusual way, Netziv responds that this is due to the fact that the three
patriarchs, Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaacov, the main figures in this book, were
men of uncompromising straightforwardness, justice and mercy.

 While there are many people who are
perhaps righteous and even pious, the “Avoth” were even greater: Their concern
for their fellow men, even those who were immoral idolaters, was almost
unlimited. Avraham challenged and even bargained with God not to destroy the
people of Sodom who had fallen to
the lowest possible level of moral behavior. Although by the law of God they
were liable to lose their lives, still Avraham did not let up and kept pleading
with God to save them. (Bereshith, chapters 18-19). Yitzhak showed tremendous
patience with his depraved opponents who did everything to make his life
miserable but in the end he did even more to appease them than what they had
even asked for (Ibid. chapter 26). Yaacov went out of his way not to hurt and
even to please his father in law Laban, who had broken all the rules of decent
behavior toward his son in law and had exploited him in ways which not even the
pious would be able to bear (Ibid. chapters 29-31).

This, says the Netziv, is the great
trademark of the patriarchs, and as a result the book of Bereshith is also
called Sefer Hayashar. True Judaism is not the kind of tradition which asks its
followers to turn the other cheek, but it does demand concern for even the most
foul among men as long as this does not lead to disastrous consequences. This,
says Netziv, is because we have to realize that without such compassion mankind
will not survive.

When contemplating the terrible disaster
which struck China,
and some years ago South East Asia, and the number of
people killed and wounded as well as the millions of people left homeless, one
is reminded of the words of Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Berlin:
The obligation of Jews to shower infinite mercy on the world. This is also
borne out by the fact that God  commands
Avraham  to be “a father to all the
nations” (Ibid. 17:4) which means nothing less than being a man who shows great
compassion for God’s creations and to be the one to whom the nations can always
turn for spiritual if not for physical help. And just like Avraham is asked to
be a “father to the nations” so are all Jews.  

 The State of Israel has gone out of its
way to help victims of the tsumani and earthquake catastrophes. Besides sending
rescue workers, doctors and nurses, money and food, it has asked its citizens
to help financially and to do anything in their power to help out. Israelis have
responded in unprecedented ways. In fact Israel’s
aid to tsunami victims is the highest per capita donation of any country in the
world. This is even more remarkable taking into account what Israeli Jews have
been through in the last years. Whatever our own tragedies, we will not forget
the world at large, although a good part of the world seems to forget us--
including those who now are in need of our help.

What is missing, however, is a massive and
nationwide religious response. 
As a nation which is committed to the commandment to sanctify God’s
name, the religious establishment, including the Chief Rabbinate, heads of
Yeshivoth and other religious Institutions are obligated to call on their
people to pray for  all those who are
still missing, who have lost  their homes
and material possessions  as well as for
the sick and the poor.

Synagogues should add special prayers to
the daily service. Yeshivoth should organize special study sessions dedicated
to all those who are suffering, and their leaders should invoke feelings of
deep compassion through their sermons and mussar (ethics) sessions. A public
fast day should be seriously considered, and calls for an increase in our moral
and religious obligations should be heard around the country and in Jewish
communities around the world.   When Rabbi
Israel Meir Hacohen learned of the devastating earthquake that rocked Japan
in September 1923, killing many thousands of people, he took upon himself a
private fast day and called on others likewise to engage in prayer and
repentance.

Statements of sympathy should be published,
and above all large prayer gatherings should be organized throughout the land
and in communities worldwide.  This is
the minimum obligation of the religious community.

After all, what happened was not just a
local event but a global disaster which will live on for many more years. In
many ways it has already transformed our basic notions concerning our lives.
For one, our conviction that we are secure in our homes and that nature is a
reliable companion has been utterly shattered. There is no way we can be
assured that we will still be alive in the next five minutes. A veil has been
ripped away and we stand bare in front of ourselves. Ultimately our emunah,
faith, has been challenged but also enhanced. From now on, we are aware that we
live by Divine mercy only. As such, we are able to re-discover why many of us
have decided to opt for a religious life. Religion, after all, is the art of
living in wonder. It is a call to protest against taking things for granted.

The fact that parts of  the world community have shown unprecedented
concern for the well being of the victims is even more reason that world Jewry
and even more so religious Jewry, should stand up. That this has not yet
(fully) happened is disappointing and we call on all those in power to turn the
tide.

Religious Jewry cannot permit itself to
make the slightest impression of indifference even when it concerns those who
have little in common with us and are no lovers of Israel.
Religious Jews should be at the forefront of humanitarian concern  notwithstanding the attitudes of the people
who are in need of our help.  Just as Avraham
could have turned his back on the upcoming disaster in Sodom
but did not do so, so religious Jewry should demonstrate its religious duty to
help and show compassion in every way possible. To do anything else is contrary
to Jewish authentic teachings.

Jewish religious leaders should send a message
to all of the people of Israel
and not less to all of mankind, that the time has come to realize that the
world is a different place than we imagine it to be. While there are moral and
religious values which are worth fighting for, we often focus on our physical
pleasures, our need for honor and often extreme comfort, our hates and loves,
that are not worth the time and energy that we spend on them. In our
vulnerability, we mature and become aware of what is important and what is not.
To make ourselves and others aware of this is also our task as “a father to the
nations”.

Instead of trying to discover textual
hints for these disasters in biblical or kabbalistic texts, (which mostly is
fanciful speculation and wishful thinking), religious Jewry should act with
great responsibility and show that we have not forgotten their duty toward all
of mankind. This would increase respect for the Jewish Tradition throughout the
world, and no greater sanctification of God’s name could be achieved.

We have not yet fully understood our
responsibility in this matter. We are still too much stuck in the sandbank in
which we have maneuvered ourselves. This is not only true about hareidi
Orthodoxy but also about modern Orthodoxy. It is time that in an unprecedented
move, our religious leadership should lead the ship of the Torah and its moral
teachings into the center of the world community. What is needed is a moral
religious uproar which will shake mankind’s and our own indifference. It is the
task of the Jewish people and its religious leadership together to join with
others to make this  happen. Only then
can we properly call ourselves the children of Avraham Avinu.  May the Holy One blessed be He have mercy
on all victims and may He bring healing to all human suffering.

The Chief Rabbinate has had a monopoly on many aspects of the religious life of the State of Israel. It controls marriages, divorces and conversions to Judaism; it regulates public kashrut as well as offering kosher supervision to private establishments. It operates a network of rabbinic courts. It has a visible, public platform for teaching the ideas and ideals of Judaism to Israeli society, and for serving as a religious beacon of inspiration to world Jewry.

One would think that after these many years, then, the Chief Rabbinate would be one of the most beloved and revered institutions in Israeli society. The rabbis have had daily opportunity to interact with all Israelis - religious and otherwise - and to show them the beauty of Judaism, the kindness of Torah, the pleasantness of the Orthodox message.

Yet, amazingly and tragically, the Chief Rabbinate seems to be one of the least beloved and revered institutions in Israeli society. It has little or no authority in the haredi community; it generates little or no enthusiasm among religious Zionists; it is of little positive significance to the remainder of Israelis. Although the Chief Rabbinate and its many functionaries include some fine, sincere and wonderful people, the overall image - and reality - of the rabbinate appears to be negative.

IN THE field of kashrut, the supervision of the Chief Rabbinate is disdained by the haredi community, which has set up its own kosher supervision system (the Badatz). Apparently, the Badatz has achieved - in many circles - a higher level of trust for its supervision than has the Chief Rabbinate. Indeed, in all areas of Jewish law the haredi community turns to its own authorities, and not to the Chief Rabbinate.

In the area of marriages, stories are legion of couples, especially non-Orthodox ones, who have had unpleasant experiences with rabbinic functionaries. The growing demand for civil marriage in Israel is an indication of dissatisfaction with the rabbinic marriage bureaucracy.

In the area of divorce, the Chief Rabbinate has been notoriously unsuccessful in addressing the aguna problem, allowing a situation to fester where husbands refuse to grant a divorce unless they are paid off. I myself have been involved in several cases where Israeli rabbis have actually encouraged the husband to demand payment and various other rights before granting a divorce. The Chief Rabbinate finally felt compelled to convene a conference to deal with the issue, but then cancelled it at the last moment - apparently under pressure from haredi elements. It seems increasingly clear that a solution to the aguna problem will not emerge from the Chief Rabbinate, but will have to be found in the civil courts.

IN THE area of conversion, the Chief Rabbinate raises obstacles to prevent non-Jews from entering the Jewish fold. It has adopted a haredi position that conversion is available only to those agreeing to observe Torah and mitzvot in full. This position is a radical break from the Talmud, Rambam (Maimonides) and the Shulhan Aruch; it is capitulating to an extreme haredi position that took root only in the 19th century.

The Chief Rabbinate not only enforces this position for the State of Israel, but has now disqualified the conversions of Orthodox rabbis in the Diaspora unless those rabbis are clearly under the rabbinate's thumb. The Rabbinical Council of America has essentially bowed to the authority of the Chief Rabbinate, since the latter has the power to decide who is Jewish and who is not Jewish in the State of Israel. If the Chief Rabbinate rejects the validity of a conversion - even if performed entirely according to Halacha - the convert and his/her children will face problems if they decide to move to Israel. The Chief Rabbinate seems intent on demonstrating its "power," and on showing that it can be as extreme as the haredim.

How far has this institution moved from the wise, compassionate and loving attitude of the late Sephardi chief rabbi Benzion Uziel (who died in 1953)! Rabbi Uziel well understood that the role of the rabbinate was not to drive people away from Judaism, but to find every possible way of bringing them into the fold for the sake of Jewish families and the Jewish nation.

When Israel was founded, Orthodox Jews placed much hope in the Chief Rabbinate. They truly hoped that it would enhance the Jewish nature of the state and win the hearts of Israel's citizens to a deeper appreciation of the Torah traditions. Regrettably, these hopes have not been fulfilled.

THE CHIEF Rabbinate functions as though it were leading a cult rather than a world religion with a grand, universal message. It adopts extreme haredi positions and attitudes because it seems to view the haredi community as the only constituency that matters. Should the State and people of Israel continue to grant power to this sort of chief rabbinate? Shouldn't there, rather, be a complete review of the rabbinate's role and functions, a top-level government commission to evaluate its successes and failures, to recommend changes in policies and procedures, to overhaul the rabbinic bureaucracy, to clarify the rabbinate's mission - its responsibilities as well as its limitations?

Establishing such a commission will surely engender fierce opposition and political infighting. Yet unless an impartial panel carries out a serious evaluation of the Chief Rabbinate and makes necessary recommendations, the damage to the State of Israel, to Judaism and to the Jewish people will be immense.

All Israelis and all Jews have a stake in an honest, compassionate, competent and courageous Chief Rabbinate, one that serves as a unifying force. The sooner the rabbinate is reconstituted, the sooner will we be able to say with a full heart: "For out of Zion comes forth the Torah, and the word of God from Jerusalem."

My passion for interreligious engagement1 is due in no
small measure to my family’s journeys. I am the grandson
of immigrants who fled persecution in Eastern Europe
and settled in Chicago. Their contacts with Christian neighbors were limited
and not especially positive. As youngsters growing up in Chicago, my
parents learned firsthand about anti-Semitism and the dangers of taking
shortcuts through unfriendly neighborhoods.
I grew up in a middle-class Chicago suburb with both Christian and
Jewish friends. I was thrilled when my high school Spanish teacher invited
me to join 15 students and teachers on a trip to Mexico over the winter
vacation. My elation turned to shock and indignation when my
Zeida—a proud shohet and fervently observant Jew—warned my parents
not to let me go, lest I enter a church and betray my faith and my people.
“They will make him a goy,” Zeida admonished my mother.
I was a rebellious teenager aided and abetted by loving parents, who
embodied the religious and cultural melting pot that was America’s holy
grail in the 1960s. I ignored my grandfather’s solemn warning and made
1
three trips to Mexico during my high school years, touring numerous
churches and cathedrals on each visit. Ironically, those trips helped renew
my own Jewish faith, informed my subsequent decision to enter the rabbinate,
and kindled a lifelong interest in interreligious endeavors.
As a teenager, I thought my grandfather’s views were silly and naïve.
Years later, I came to understand that my Zeida embodied his milieu, with
formative years in a Kiev rife with anti-Semitic persecution and adult years
in a racially, ethnically, and religiously divided Chicago. Zeida could not
conceive of a world where Jews and members of other faith communities
join together for interreligious dialogue and engagement. His grandson
lives nearly five decades after the seminal Vatican proclamation Nostra
Aetate opened the doors of interreligious cooperation and commitment.
I am often asked why Jews should expend limited resources in the
quest to forge bonds with other religious communities. We participate in
this work because it is an intrinsic component of our Jewish DNA. In the
celebrated rabbinic debate about what constitutes the greatest Torah
teaching,2 Ben Azzai trumps Rabbi Akiba’s choice of “Love your neighbor
as yourself” (Lev. 19:18) with his own citation, “This is the book of the
generations of Adam; when God created man, He made him in the likeness
of God” (Gen. 5:1). We may find it challenging to love our neighbors,
but we bear a common lineage and a shared mandate to see the divine
image in them. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes:
Every great faith has within it harsh texts which, read literally, can be taken
to endorse narrow particularism, suspicion of strangers and intolerance
toward those who believe differently than we do. Every great faith also has
within it sources that emphasize kinship with the stranger, empathy with
the outsider, and courage that leads people to extend a hand across boundaries
of estrangement and hostility. The choice is ours. Will the generous
texts of our tradition serve as interpretative keys to the rest, or will the
abrasive passages determine our ideas of what we are called to do? . . . I
believe we are being called by God to see in the human other a trace of the
divine Other.3
Interreligious outreach is consistent with our core Jewish values and
ideals. It is not only the righteous course of action; it is the intelligent
course of action. Worldwide, the Jewish population is estimated to be 0.22
percent of the global population.4 Utilizing the core definition of Jewish
identity in the Pew Research Center’s 2013 Survey of U.S. Jews, Jews con-
2
Conversations
stitute 2.2 percent of the adult U.S. population.5 In my own city, the large
and vibrant Jewish community represents 4 percent of the population of
metropolitan Los Angeles.
One need only do the math of the demographic equations to recognize
the import of interfaith engagement. Since its founding in 1906, the
American Jewish Committee (AJC) has placed special emphasis on
advancing interreligious and intergroup relations in America and across
the globe. AJC leaders understand that the well-being of the Jewish community
is tied to that of other faith groups. Whether our interfaith outreach
is prompted by enlightened self-interest, altruism, or both factors,
we serve the Jewish people well when we engage our neighbors in discourse,
education, and advocacy.
Today we find a seemingly endless array of programs and projects in
the interreligious arena. Prof. Sheryl Kujawa-Holbrook of Claremont
School of Theology identifies four models of interreligious encounter,
which she calls dialogues of life, action, spiritual experience, and understanding.
6 Interfaith programs include bilateral (e.g., Catholic-Jewish) and
multilateral (e.g., Christian-Jewish-Muslim) conversations, joint religious
celebrations and worship services, text study, social action projects, pulpit
exchanges, seminars and conferences for clergy and academics, interfaith
study tours, and many others. These experiences share one or both of two
goals—to build bridges of respect and understanding of the religious
beliefs and practices of others, and to forge coalitions based on shared values
of democracy, pluralism, and human rights. To that end, I offer three
guidelines to foster meaningful interreligious engagement.
1. We are all children of God, but we do not all share the same
narratives, beliefs, and practices.
We need to dig deeper in interfaith projects and programs. A friendship
circle of well-intentioned people holding hands and singing Kumbaya
does not qualify as a productive interreligious encounter. Planners of
interfaith worship services tend to aim for the lowest common denominator
of each participating faith community, and become boring, pareve
exercises in the process. I much prefer to be an observer at worship services
and rituals of other religious faiths, even as I invite their adherents to
do likewise in the Jewish community. Thoughtful interreligious engage-
3
Mark S. Diamond
ment highlights not only commonalities, but historical, theological, and
textual differences as well.
The year 2015 marks a half-century of sustained and dramatic interfaith
progress in the afterglow of Nostra Aetate and the faithful leadership
of bold pioneers and their heirs in the interreligious arena. When we
engage religious interlocutors, we must never forget the sordid history of
interfaith relations in the first two millennia. In the Christian world, anti-
Semitism, persecution, death, and destruction—often carried out in Jesus’
name—largely marked relations with Jews. Blood libels, accusations of
well poisoning, devil worship, host desecration, and other alleged crimes
inspired pogroms, murder, rape, and the forced conversion of Jews and
Jewish communities. This was the tragic prelude to the systematic murder
of 6 million Jewish men, women, and children at the hands of the Nazis
and their henchmen. Even as we lift up narratives of righteous Gentiles
who demonstrated kindness and compassion in the face of evil, we cannot
allow others to erase or minimize the prevailing interfaith legacy of hatred
and intolerance in word and deed.
2. Interreligious dialogue is enhanced by the participation of individuals
who understand, respect, and love their own faith traditions and
communal institutions.
It is easy to find a sympathetic cleric or adherent who purports to represent
a given faith community and agrees with the public or private agenda
of an interfaith program’s sponsors. Self-proclaimed religious leaders or
those who have left their own faith are ready and willing to fill the bill.
This interfaith “cherry-picking” is at best naïve, and at worse misguided
and dangerous. We recoil when a messianic Jewish “rabbi” is invited to
preach and teach Torah at an ecumenical or interfaith event, or Jews who
call for Israel’s dismantling are invited to speak on behalf of the Jewish
community at church assemblies and interfaith gatherings.
We err when we relegate the interreligious arena to fringe groups and
marginal individuals. We err when we avoid difficult issues, such as proselytization
and the centrality of Israel in Jewish life and thought, in our
interfaith dialogues. Serious interreligious conversation is predicated upon
the active participation of leaders who are faithful to their own norms and
ways. In the Jewish world, this translates into the active participation of a
4
Conversations
broad swath of rabbinic and communal leaders—conservative and progressive;
clergy and laity; Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, and
Reform. While I respect and appreciate the special halakhic and institutional
challenges faced by Orthodox colleagues in this regard, Jewish
interreligious engagement is diminished when they are not at the table.
The path of interreligious engagement will be strewn with bumps and
barriers.
The historic rapprochement in Catholic-Jewish relations since Nostra
Aetate has seen major obstacles along the way—the establishment of a
Carmelite convent on the grounds of Auschwitz, the beatification of Edith
Stein, the expected sainthood of Pope Pius XII despite his controversial
role in the Holocaust, and Pope Benedict XVI’s reinstatement of Bishop
Richard Williamson, among others. Sustained progress in interfaith relations
will also be marked by setbacks and controversies, as befits all complex,
evolving relationships. The challenge is how to build interreligious
relationships and partnerships that enable participants to overcome
bumps and barriers with wisdom and sekhel.
One valuable lesson for Jews engaged in interreligious work is the
realization that it is not always about us. Faith communities and their
leaders have multiple agendas and reasons for doing what they do. To cite
one example, Jewish relations and concerns are not always first and foremost
on the Vatican’s list of priorities. The Pope does not awaken each
morning wondering what “the Jews” will think of his edicts and actions.
Nor do cardinals, archbishops, bishops, judicatory officials, and clergy of
other religious denominations place our interests at the top of their respective
agendas. We should never refrain from speaking out when the doctrines
and practices of others harm our interests and impair our relations
with them. At the same time, we must do our homework to avoid sweeping
generalizations about their faiths and to gain a better understanding of
the diverse texts, theologies and polities of our interlocutors.
Narratives of communal and individual achievements in the interreligious
arena should motivate us to redouble efforts to build bridges with
other faith communities. In the spring of 2014, the Los Angeles region of
the American Jewish Committee partnered with the Archdiocese of Los
Angeles to sponsor a groundbreaking seminar on Latino-Jewish relations.
5
Mark S. Diamond
“Exploring Bonds, Celebrating Traditions: A Day of Learning and Dialogue
for Rabbis and Latino Priests” brought together 35 Jewish and Latino
Catholic clergy for study and reflection. The Jewish cohort included
Conservative, Orthodox, and Reform congregational rabbis, faculty members
of seminaries and universities, and leaders of communal organizations.
The Latino Catholic cohort included an auxiliary bishop of the
Archdiocese, parish priests, administrators and leaders of Catholic institutions
and social service organizations.
Keynote presenter Rabbi Marc D. Angel shared his experiences growing
up in a proud, vibrant Sephardic Jewish community in Seattle. Rabbi
Angel’s personal narrative and his insights into Sephardic life, Ladino language,
and minority acculturation led to robust roundtable conversations
during the seminar. Rabbis and priests discussed and debated issues of
faith, relations between diaspora communities and their homelands,
immigration reform, and myths and stereotypes about “the other” among
Latinos and Jews, especially anti-Semitic and anti-immigrant views. Rabbi
Angel urged participants to find the delicate balance that connects these
two minority groups and their respective concerns about maintaining traditions
while remaining open to change and progress.
The rabbi-Latino priest seminar elicited positive evaluations from
participants and a call for future collaborative programs. “Exploring
Bonds, Celebrating Traditions” is an example of “top-down” interfaith
engagement spearheaded by two communal partners with a long history
of collaboration. We conclude with an example of a personal relationship
that literally changed the course of history—Karol Wojtyla’s childhood
friendship with a Jewish boy named Jerzy Kluger.7 Their hometown of
Wadowice, Poland was 80 percent Catholic and 20 percent Jewish, and
the Wojtyla and Kluger families fostered and encouraged their sons’ close
friendship.
“Jurek” Kluger and “Lolek” Wotyla remained lifelong friends, and
their relationship strengthened when Kluger settled in Rome and Wojtyla
later became Pope John Paul II. The newly crowned pope granted his first
papal audience to “Jurek” and his family, to the astonishment of assembled
heads of state, cardinals and other dignitaries. Kluger became a confidant
of John Paul II and a trusted emissary in the pope’s efforts to heal Catholic-
Jewish relations, highlighted by the historic establishment of Vatican ties
to the state of Israel in 1994.
6
Conversations
This true story offers vivid testimony to the awesome and unpredictable
power of the relations we nurture with colleagues, friends, neighbors,
and others in our midst. It reminds us that we change hearts and
minds one relationship at a time. In so doing, we have the power to
change the world.
NOTES
1. The author uses the term “interreligious” interchangeably with the term
“interfaith” for the purposes of this article. The latter word is sometimes used
to denote dialogue, study, and engagement between adherents of the three
Abrahamic faiths, while “interreligious” refers to a broader array of faith traditions
and some groups that do not self identify as faith groups per se.
2. Sifra on Leviticus 19:18.
3. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference: How to Avoid the Clash of
Civilizations (2002: Continuum), pp. 207–208.
4. “Major Religions of the World Ranked by Number of Adherents,”
www.adherents.com.
5. This net figure includes those who say they are Jews by religion and others
who were raised Jewish or have a Jewish parent, and say they have no religion.
If we include those who were raised Jewish or had at least one Jewish
parent but now identity with another religion, and a “Jewish affinity” group
of others who consider themselves Jewish, the percentage rises to 3.8 percent
of the adult U.S. population.
6. Sheryl A. Kujawa-Holbrook, God Beyond Borders: Interreligious Learning
Among Faith Communities (2014: Pickwick Publications), pp. 37–40.
7. For a more comprehensive survey of Jerzy Kluger’s impact on Catholic-
Jewish relations, see his obituary in The New York Times, January 7, 2012.
7

April, 2018

To our members and friends,

We continue to reach thousands of people annually through our National Scholar program, combining classes, teacher trainings, conferences, and publications to promote the core values of our Institute.

            There are several upcoming classes and programs:

On Mondays, April 23, 30, and May 7, from 1:00-2:15 pm: I will give a three-part series at Lamdeinu Teaneck on the Book of Ruth: “Ruth: A Woman of Valor in a Sea of Ambiguity.” Classes are held at Congregation Beth Aaron, 950 Queen Anne Road, Teaneck New Jersey. To register, go to https://www.lamdeinu.org

On Shavuot (May 18-21), I will give six classes at Yeshiva University’s Shavuot program at the Hilton Westchester in Rye Brook, New York. For more information and registration, go to https://www.yu.edu/riets/shavuos.

On June 24-25 (Sunday-Monday), I will give five classes at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah’s annual study days on Bible and Jewish Thought. More information in my next report.

            University Network

We are winding down another very successful year with our University Network. I had the privilege of coordinating the University Network and the Campus Fellowship this year. You can read the latest about our campus fellows and their contributions on our website,

https://www.jewishideas.org/article/campus-fellows-report-april-2018

            Important Review of my work in Tanakh

Rabbi Yaakov Beasley, a prominent Bible Educator who coordinates Tanakh at Yeshivat Lev HaTorah, wrote a review of my work that explores the key values of the integration of tradition and contemporary academic Bible study; the literary-theological approach to Tanakh; and other critical issues at the heart of modern Tanakh education. See his review at https://www.thelehrhaus.com/culture/the-tension-that-is-tanakh/.

            Looking Ahead

We reach many thousands of people each year with our many classes and programs, teacher trainings, Conversations, our website, and our University Network. Looking forward, we will be expanding and streamlining our focus more into teacher trainings through our Sephardic Initiative—where we will work with Jewish Studies teachers to teach a more holistic picture of the Jewish People and their ideas.

We also are developing larger symposia and conferences where we can promote greater conversation and dialogue within our community as we build bridges between people who hold very different religious viewpoints.

Our view is that we always must keep conversations alive, rather than allowing those who dogmatically espouse one or the other side of a debate to shut down dissent or alternative viewpoints from within tradition.

I am personally very excited about these developments and believe we will greatly increase our impact in the Jewish community through these new focused efforts. Stay tuned for upcoming reports!

As always, I am grateful to all our members and supporters, who generously make our work possible and who give so much hope for a better Jewish community of tomorrow.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

To our members and friends

It has been a sensational year for our Campus Fellows, who have been leading and developing programming for our Institute at universities across the United States and Canada. We thank all of our fellows who have worked so hard to promote our vision on their campuses. Please see below for the latest reports on their programs.

Looking ahead to next year: We currently have Campus Fellows lined up at the following universities:

Columbia, Harvard, University of Maryland, McGill, University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, Queens College, Rutgers, University of Toronto, UCLA, Umass, Yale, and Yeshiva University (several others are still pending but are available at the moment).

If you are an involved Orthodox student on another campus, (or if you know of an Orthodox student on another campus), and might be able to serve as our ambassador, please apply as soon as possible. The opportunities to promote our religious vision on campus are truly meaningful to our fellows and to the students they reach. There is a stipend and small programming budget as well.

Please go to our website (jewishideas.org) and then go to the University Network tab. If they are not yet members of the University Network, they would need to join first, and then apply to be a campus fellow. 

If you have any questions about the fellowship, please feel free to contact me at [email protected].

Thank you,

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar, Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

Here are the most recent programs by our fellows:

Sarah Pincus, SUNY Binghamton

I had a program before Pesach that was about different forms of modern slavery. We focused on the poor treatment of domestic farmers. We also discussed practical things that we could do to support programs and products that treat their workers well. 

Yael Jaffe, Brandeis

I have continued running senior mishmars on a weekly basis. I am also working on an interfaith event between the Jewish feminist group I run and the Muslim Students' Association, focused on Jewish and Muslim women's experiences.

Albert Kohn, Columbia

I had a really nice Shabbat dinner with members of the Orthodox community and the Columbia Mormon community (entitled "Shabbat Sh'Mormon") at which we discussed our different religious values and how they fit into the modern world. It was really fantastic as it gave both the Jewish and Mormon attendees a rare chance to try to articulate their values to those with no understanding. 

Ezra Newman, Harvard Law School

This semester we are running a series of group study sessions over lunch which are led by students and professors on a variety of Torah topics. So far this semester we have had two such sessions with two more scheduled. The first one was titled “The Ten Commandments and the #MeToo movement”. The second was titled “Mordechai and Joseph: A Tale of Two Leaders”. The third one is titled “Responsa During the Holocaust”. The fourth topic is TBA.

Eitan Zecher and Tova Rosenthal, University of Maryland

We co-sponsored a chevruta learning event called "understanding righteousness" exploring the concepts of tzedek, tzedaka, and tzadik in Judaism. Participants from the Orthodox and Conservative communities at UMD enjoyed pizza while learning a prepared source sheet with discussion questions and sources, and then heard short thoughts bringing it all together from our JLIC rabbi and campus Rabbi. It was a big success!

Zachary Tankel, McGill University

This semester, we continued to run our TNT (Thursday Night Torah) program very successfully, and held some sessions at different synagogues in the local community, which attracted very good crowds. We also hosted a Shabbaton in downtown Montreal which brought together the downtown and local communities for a wonderful Shabbat.  

This semester, we continued to run our TNT (Thursday Night Torah) program very successfully, and held some sessions at different synagogues in the local community, which attracted very good crowds. Unfortunately, we didn't end up adding any new programs, but we did host a Shabbaton in downtown Montreal which brought together the downtown and local communities for a wonderful Shabbos.  

Bentzion Goldman, New School

This coming semester we have a panel planned in two weeks, featuring some external speakers as well as current Jewish Parsons speakers. We have a Pesach luncheon planned and we plan to hold one if not two New School Shabbat meals again.

Sigal Spitzer, University of Pennsylvania

Program 1: Pre-Pesach Lunch & Learn Series (3 Part) 

The series will consist of varies topics relating to Pesach preparation. One shiur will be given by Rabbi Itamar Rosensweig, who will be speaking about owning stocks or investments in chametz related companies. The other two will be given by our JLIC couple - One about halacha of Pesach preparation and the other about a Yetziat Mitzrayim idea for the seder. 

Program 2: Our community is interested in medical ethics and halachic ramifications of various medical practices. A student at Penn has been extensively studying the topic and will be giving a shiur to a group of 20 students next week. She is focusing on post birth medical conditions and breastfeeding issues. I am very excited for this opportunity to both empower a student from within the community and bring together other students to support.

Ricki Heicklen, Princeton

I have a few different events on the schedule. The first is a shiur on consent and female agency in the gemara and in a really cool midrash which will be on Fridaynight March 9th and the second is an LGBTQ themed Shabbat for which I am bringing in Abby Stein to speak and having a panel of queer Princeton students talk about their own experiences with Judaism and halacha, which is scheduled for Shabbat April 20-21. 

Devora Chait, Queens College

This year, we ran a regular Pop-Up Mishmar and Apartment Parsha. Pop-Up Mishmar is mishmar given and run completely by students for their peers. Two students give a ten-minute mini-shiur at each Pop-Up Mishmar, and we follow the shiurim with reading and discussing an article about a contemporary issue relevant to Judaism. We have run three Pop-up Mishmars this year, and we will be running a fourth at the close of the semester. Apartment Parsha is a text-based discussion event, held at a different student's apartment each week. One student selects a portion of the weekly Parsha or a Torah portion relevant to an upcoming holiday and leads his or her peers in exploring the text. We read through the text, ask questions, and break into groups to learn different interpretations and search for possible answers, at which point we regroup and discuss again.

Raffi Levi and Benjamin Nechmad, Rutgers

We are currently planning our second event which will be a dinner where some students will come together and we can speak about personal experiences with being a part of the Orthodox community in the modern age.

Ari Barbalat, University of Toronto

I did a program on the Book of Judith. It was grounded in the notes on the story found in Me'or Eynayim by R. Azariah de Rossi. We compared and contrasted implications of ideas found in Azariah de Rossi's text with the ideas of Emil Fackenheim on the philosophy of the Holocaust as they present very different understandings of ideal virtue ethics. It was well attended and the discussion was diverse and deep. It was really the best of all the programs I led as far as its reception by the audience, in my perspective. 

The subsequent planned programs are as follows:

A) "Exotic Interpretations of the Book of Habakkuk"

Zeev Schiff's journalistic masterpiece on the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, Israel’s Lebanon War uses as its epigraph the quotation from the Book of Habakkuk: "The violence done to Lebanon will overwhelm you" (Hab. 2:17). In his book, he presents a quotation from Yasser Arafat, leader of the PLO, using that very verse from the Book of Habakkuk as pro-PLO propaganda for the Palestinian cause during the Lebanon War. I intend to bring quotations and passages from various different interpreters and interpretations of the Book of Habakkuk to bring to mind the problem of theodicy raised in the Book of Habakkuk and apply the dilemma of theodicy to complicated and complex aspects of Israel's invasion of Lebanon. I would like to include quotes from Emil Fackenheim's To Mend a Broken World which was published in 1982, concurrent with the Lebanon War, and reflect on how the question of "where is God in mass atrocity" might apply to Israel's "forgotten war". 

B) Philo of Alexandria's Stories of the Pogroms Against the Jews of Egypt

I would like to share texts and passages from the narratives "Flaccus" and "On the Embassy to Gaius" by Philo of Alexandria, both of which deal with the response of Philo himself and the Jewish community of Egypt to massacres and pogroms against them. Intriguingly, like Ezra and Nehemiah, Philo conducts himself as a diplomat and helps bring about a diplomatic resolution of the crisis. In what ways do the virtue ethics of Philo's narratives complement and contradict Biblical virtue ethics? What can Philo's perspective contribute to understanding Jewish ethics of international relations?

C) "Exotic Interpretations of the Book of Job"

I would like to compare and contrast interpretations of the Book of Job as they are found in liberation theology with those found in Midrashic literature. How do classical Jewish commentaries on Job differ in ethical emphasis from those espoused by liberation theology? What similarities and differences are there as to how to understand and relate to other people's genocides?

Asher Naghi, UCLA

We're planning on running a mishmar program this coming Tuesday with Rabbi Yitzchak Etshalom or Rabbi Kaplan on Yom Ha'Atzmaut. 

Daniel Fridman, Yale

I am running a weekly learning program called “pizza and learning.” This takes place every Sunday in which students get together in chavruta pairs to discuss a diverse range of topics of their interest. I have coordinated with our OU-JLIC couple to attend these events and provide support for whoever has questions or comments regarding the text they are studying or to lead group discussions. There has been interest in learning Talmud and a group has developed which is learning Tractate Sanhedrin. We’ve expanded our outreach efforts to include a wide diversity of students with diverse thoughts and opinions and from broader religious backgrounds to get together to study these texts and share their unique views.

Stemming from pizza and learning, we have started a new club called the “Beit Midrash Group” in which students meet weekly to discuss the Parshah and any interesting commentaries related to it as well as to connect lessons from the Parshah to relevant issues (whether they be halakhic questions, or social, moral, or political questions) we face today or interesting philosophic questions.  

We have also organized several guest speakers. On April 15th we will be having Rabbi Yona Reiss from the Chicago Rabbinical Council coming to Yale to speak on the topic “The Role and Relevance of Rabbinical Courts Today.”

Last semester I organized the visit of Dean David Bernstein from the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem. He spoke on the topic “May You Live in Interesting Times: Living with Uncertainty From Abraham to Us.”

“Just as a bride is bedecked with twenty-four ornaments,

so too a scholar is bedecked with (knowledge of)

the twenty-four books of the Tanakh” – Rashi, Exodus 31:18.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrkanus warned his students, “hold back your children from ‘’higayon’” (Berakhot 28b). Rashi explains: “’higayon’ is ‘excessive Tanakh study that attracts one too much.’”

At first glance, it appears strange to discover that Rashi—the Bible commentator par excellence—entertained a sense of ambivalence, and possibly hesitancy, regarding Bible study. Yet, perhaps more than any other field in Jewish studies, Tanakh provides the greatest challenges to students and teachers alike.

For hundreds of years, despite being Judaism’s most fundamental text, study of Tanakh has been generally relegated to a secondary role in Jewish curricula. The varying rationales behind this have been explored elsewhere. Fortunately, today there is a renaissance in Tanakh learning in Israel and abroad. It is visible everywhere. New books flow out of the publishing houses, each brimming with original ideas and competing for space on booksellers’ shelves. The Israel Bible Quiz (Hidon ha-Tanakh) regularly draws high ratings on Israeli television. For many, the intellectual climax of their year is the opportunity to crowd Alon Shevut with thousands of other Tanakh lovers for a week every summer to learn from Yeshivat Har Etzion’s top lecturers and thinkers.

However, it is not just in quantity that Tanakh study has changed. With the renewed emphasis has come new methodologies. Some of these are new reiterations of ancient ideas, while others draw heavily on academia, using new analytic methods and applying terms from literary criticism. For this, the revolution has not come without challenges and challengers. As new methodologies developed and progressed, the same old questions that nagged the early commentators have re-arisen, and many have expressed caution (if not outright opposition) about the changes that have overtaken Tanakh study in the past decades.

One of the leading scholars in North America in the vanguard of these changes is Rabbi Hayyim Angel, the National Scholar of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. Angel has written or edited over 130 scholarly articles and books (mostly in Tanakh), of which Keys to the Palace is the latest publication.

His latest book collects twenty essays on issues regarding Tanakh study or interpretations of biblical passages, all revolving around the question alluded to in the book’s subtitle, “Exploring the Religious Value of Reading Tanakh.” A close reading of Angel’s bibliography reveals that of his books on Tanakh study, three have subtitles that contain the word “religious” in them (“Religious Value of reading Tanakh,” “Developing a Religious Methodology to Bible Study,” and “Finding the Religious Significance in Tanakh”). This reflects the central theme and focus of Angel’s thinking, and subtly acknowledges the fundamental challenge faced by religious Tanakh scholars today. Tanakh cannot be studied as one would any other discipline. Without an encounter with the Divine, or at least serving a religious purpose, Tanakh study, if not bereft of value, is at least notably incomplete.

The emphasis on the religious aspect of the text come out in both sections of the book—seven essays that analyze the latest trends and approaches that are prevalent in today’s Tanakh study, and then thirteen essays of Angel’s explanations of the Tanakh texts. In the first group, the reader is introduced to the major trends and issues in Tanakh study today. How does one maintain faith in the oral and rabbinic tradition, yet study Tanakh from a historical and literary approach, armed with all of the new discoveries that have been made in Israel in the past half-century?

The discussions regarding the contributions of Rabbis Yoel Bin-Nun and Amnon Bazak are particularly important in this regard. Of the second group of essays, one can divide them into two sub-categories. Some are thematic essays that wrestle with moral and ethical issues raised by the texts, and others are Angel’s original interpretative close readings. Though Angel is familiar and capable of engaging in the didactic and sophisticated modern literary techniques favored by those from the new school of interpretation (emanating from Yeshivat Har Etzion and the Herzog College from Israel), this is not his style. Instead, he is a patient compiler of all opinions and approaches, carefully pointing out the advantages and disadvantages of each, directing the conversation until his viewpoint is revealed.

As an example of this, let’s analyze Angel’s essay on Psalm 19. The Psalm begins by declaring “The heavens recite the glory of God, and the sky tells of the work of His hands” (Verse 2). Halfway through the poem, the Psalm switches subject, and the rest of the chapter proclaims that “The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul; the testimony of the Lord is faithful, making the simple one wise” (Verse 8). The two halves apparently do not belong together. Almost all the commentators, beginning with the medieval commentators and continuing to Angel, attempt to account for relationship between the two sections. Critical scholars almost instinctively argue that the psalm was originally two separate works, which were joined together by later editors. Rashi, for example, provides two answers, with the first suggesting that the goal is to compare nature to Torah (see also Ibn Ezra and the Radak), and a second answer that what the psalm is attempting is to contrast the two.

To appreciate Angel’s methodology, it is instructive to compare his essay with that of Rabbi Elchanan Samet, one of the leading practitioners of the modern approach of Tanakh study in Israel. Samet approaches this psalm scientifically, like a surgeon wielding a scalpel. With a fine ear for literary cues and clues, he meticulously divides the poem into its sections and subsections, noting each of the parallels and the form of parallel used, locating the texts structure—its central axis, around which the opening and conclusion revolve. After a thorough dissection of the Psalm, Samet arrives at his conclusion. This would apparently validate the words of Ibn Ezra that the Psalm’s message is that the “heavens and the Torah are two paths to the knowledge of God and His attributes.” However, comparing the second subsection of each half undoes this conclusion. Unlike the sun which fulfills its Divine purpose with happiness and strength, “like a bridegroom coming out his chamber,” man is fallible and imperfect, requiring him to cry out “Who understands errors? Cleanse me of hidden [sins].”

Angel’s approach to the text is strikingly different. If Samet is a stylistic surgeon, Angel is a musician, identifying larger themes that arise from the discussion. In his essay, after presenting a quick synopsis of Jewish commentary regarding the relationship between nature and Torah in the psalm, Angel draws upon his encyclopedic knowledge of rabbinic texts that address this issue.

He begins with the midrash at Sifrei (Deuteronomy 306), which explicates Samet’s conclusion: “The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moses: ‘Say to Israel: “Look into the heavens that I created to serve you. Have they perhaps changed their ways?”’ … [Rather, the sun] is happy to do My will, as it is stated: ‘And it is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber’ (Psalms 19:6).

Surely, there is an a fortiori argument: “If they who do not act for reward nor for loss … then you, who if you merit you receive reward, and if you sin you receive punishment … all the more so you must not change your ways.” After mentioning other approaches in how to divide the Psalm without critique, Angel then deals with the larger philosophic question of the relationship between the study of Torah and appreciating God’s handiwork through nature, quoting Maimonides, Rabbi Norman Lamm, Pirkei Avot, and his father, Rabbi Marc Angel.

Where Angel’s modern sensibilities come to the fore are not in his interpretations of text. There his strength is in his careful gathering and analysis of previous commentators, providing a living example of how to approach a text. His strongest essays, in this reviewer’s opinions, are those that directly deal with the more difficult questions that arise from plain readings of the biblical text. The challenges can be those dealing with the age of the universe and texts which prima facie are difficult for a modern person to accept, at least on a literal level.

Even more revealing are Angel’s treatment of moral questions, whether Jacob’s deception of his blind father Isaac in Genesis 27, misleading him so that he would receive the blessing Isaac wanted to give to Esau, or the theological questions posed by the “Akeidah,” when Abraham bound Isaac as a sacrifice in Genesis 22. For many, the questions cannot even be asked. If our righteous forefathers performed it, they must not be asked. How much more so if God commands something, that it must be moral. Angel notes these views, but then demonstrates the multi-faceted nature of Jewish thought and commentary, providing opposing viewpoints and fulfilling the popular dictum that “where there are two Jews, there are three opinions.” Each of the opinions is evaluated, based on its plausibility from both the theological and literary aspects. But Angel does not limit himself to “kosher” thinkers either. Every voice that has something to add to the discussion is invited to participate. The discussion of the Akeidah includes the views of Immanuel Kant, Maimonides, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Moshe Halbertal, Soren Kierkegaard, David Shatz, and Shalom Carmy, for starters.

It is this willingness to learn from everyone that makes Angel one of the great Tanakh teachers of our time, and this accessible volume a necessary resource for anyone wishing to understand the Tanakh on a sophisticated level, yet as a book that ultimately strengthen one beliefs.

Sephardic Haskalah

(This is a slightly edited version of Chapter Ten in Rabbi Marc D. Angel’s book, Voices in Exile: A Study in Sephardic Intellectual History, Ktav Publishing House, Hoboken, 1991.)
 

  One manifestation of the confrontation with modernity among the Jews of Europe was known as the Haskalah, or Enlightenment. Proponents of the Haskalah held that Jews should study Judaism and its classic texts in a modern, scientific fashion. They argued for a modernization of education for Jews to include secular subjects. The Haskalah witnessed a rebirth of literary creativity among Jews. Generally, Haskalah figures were critical of the traditional, talmudic/rabbinic structure of Jewish life.

Moses Mendelssohn (1729–1786) was the guiding light of early Haskalah thought. He attempted to harmonize Jewish teachings with modern philosophy. He felt that if Jews presented their religious ideas to the non-Jewish world in a sophisticated manner, the non-Jews would come to respect Judaism and appreciate the Jews. Realizing that increasing numbers of young Jews were seeking and receiving a secular education, Mendelssohn wanted to demonstrate that Judaism could be respectable even to those who studied philosophy and other academic subjects.

            Within the Ashkenazic world, there was considerable controversy between the proponents of Haskalah and the traditionalists who opposed it. The Jews in Europe were facing a serious dilemma: How could they adapt and survive in a Christian society that was giving them more freedom than they had ever had before? When they had been restricted to ghettos and had few civil rights, they had lived according to their traditions and found satisfaction in them. But now that they had been given the possibility of participating in the larger society around them, they had to make critical decisions. Jews who entered the non-Jewish world very often came to abandon their religious heritage. They adopted the customs and ideas of the non-Jews. After all, they wanted to be like the dominant majority, not old-fashioned or identifiably different.

            Traditionalists, seeing how quickly Jews assimilated into the non-Jewish culture, were alarmed that the Jews were so willing to abandon their distinct religious identity. They therefore strenuously resisted any tendency that they felt would weaken the hold of biblical and rabbinic tradition. They saw the Haskalah as a negative force, a direct threat to traditional authority.

            Although the Haskalah movement itself called for modernization rather than assimilation, it did shake the foundations of traditional religious authority. In this sense, it contributed to the tendency of Jews to give up Orthodox beliefs and practices.

            The Haskalah was a phenomenon primarily among Ashkenazic Jews. Nevertheless, it did have an impact on the Sephardic communities of Western Europe. As European cultural influence in Muslim lands increased, Sephardim in Turkey, Egypt, Morocco, and other countries also came into contact with the teachings of the Haskalah.

            The ideology and impact of the Haskalah, however, were generally not the same among Sephardim as among Ashkenazim. For the Ashkenazim, Enlightenment represented a way to enter mainstream European culture in a respectable fashion. In a sense, Haskalah thought was an apologetic for Judaism, an attempt to present it scientifically, universally. It wanted to shake off the non-modern aspects of traditional Judaism. An underlying hope was that enlightened Jews would be able to function successfully in non-Jewish society, accepted as equals.

            The Sephardim of Western Europe, though, already felt relatively comfortable in their non-Jewish milieu. They had a tradition of adaptability. They spoke the languages of the lands in which they lived; some had risen to prominence in various professional fields. Their synagogues were prestigious; their services were elegant and dignified. Western Sephardim maintained their institutions according to their ancient traditions and were not inclined to “modernize.” Haskalah issues were not central to their concerns.

            This was even truer for the vast majority of Sephardim who lived in Muslim lands. They did not feel that the Jewish culture was in any way inferior to the culture of the Muslims among whom they lived. They had no compelling reason to abandon traditional religious patterns as a means of adapting to the non-Jewish society around them. Indeed, they functioned as autonomous communities within the broader Muslim world, and were not motivated to strive for emancipation and legal equality.1

            At the same time, the ideas and tendencies of the Haskalah movement did manifest themselves among Sephardim. From the second half of the nineteenth century, Haskalah ideas filtered into the Sephardic communities in Muslim lands, especially through the efforts of the schools of the Alliance Israelite Universelle—bastions of French culture. The influence of European colonial powers in North Africa and the Middle East was also an important factor in Sephardic intellectual life. The impact of the Haskalah could not be altogether ignored.

Grace Aguilar: Jewish Spirituality

            Grace Aguilar (1816–1847) belonged to the Sephardic community of London. Although her life was cut short by an untimely death, she left a remarkable literary legacy. Aside from a number of novels, she also wrote several works relating to Jewish religious teachings.

            She was concerned that the wave of modernism was undermining the foundations of traditional religious life. Jews were seeking success in the secular world; the bond of religion was weakening. She was particularly aware of the spiritual turmoil among Jewish youth, and she sought to address their religious questions to thereby strengthen their faith.

            Grace Aguilar corresponded with Isaac Leeser, spiritual leader of the Spanish and Portuguese Congregation Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia, and he was of much help to her. Indeed, he edited several of her works for publication, including The Spirit of Judaism. This work reflected Aguilar’s deep concern that Jewish youth were not receiving a proper spiritual education in Judaism. She feared that they would be attracted to Christianity, which was popularly portrayed as a religion of the spirit. In contrast, Judaism was described as a religion of numerous detailed observances. Presented as an elaborate commentary on the first paragraph of the Shema (which she transliterated in the Spanish and Portuguese style as Shemang), the book dealt with a wide range of religious topics, emphasizing the profound spirituality inherent in Judaism.

            Grace Aguilar argued that if Jews understood the true power and beauty of their religion, they would proudly assert their Jewishness instead of trying to conceal it. The repetition of the Shema itself is a source of holy comfort. If recited regularly “we shall go forth, no longer striving to conceal our religion through shame (for it can only be such a base emotion prompting us to conceal it in free and happy England); but strengthened, sanctified by its blessed spirit, we shall feel the soul elevated within us”2

            Aguilar stressed the need for Jews to devote themselves to the study of the Bible, the foundation of Judaism. In so doing, she made some pejorative remarks about “tradition,” apparently referring to the traditional stress on fulfilling the details of the law. (Isaac Leeser, in his notes to the book, took her to task on several occasions for her detraction of “tradition.”)3 However, Aguilar can hardly be accused of being unorthodox and opposed to the observance of mitzvoth. She consistently called for the faithful observance of the commandments in their details:

Instead then of seeking to find excuses for their non-performance, should we not rather glory in the minutest observance which would stamp us as so peculiarly the Lord’s own, and deem it a glorious privilege to be thus marked out not only in feature and in faith, but in our civil and religious code, as the chosen of God?4

            It may be argued that Grace Aguilar’s stress on the Bible and seeming deprecation of “tradition” was her way of trying to appeal to the religious needs of her audience. She perceived her readers as being under the influence of Christian notions of what a religion should be. By asking Jews to read the Bible, she was asking them to do something that was desirable even for Christians, who also venerated the Bible. By emphasizing the spirit of Judaism, she wished to convey to Jews seeking spirituality that they had no need whatsoever to turn to Christianity. But in the process of stressing the Jewish spirit, she found it necessary at times to downplay the details of the laws of Judaism as transmitted by tradition. These details themselves had to be framed within a context of spirituality and not be seen as ends in themselves.5

            In The Jewish Faith: Its Spiritual Consolation, Moral Guidance, and Immortal Hope, completed shortly before her death, Grace Aguilar presented her arguments in the form of a series of letters from a knowledgeable Jewish woman to her beloved young friend, an orphan with little Jewish education. Aguilar felt that this style of presentation would be more interesting for her readers, especially younger readers whom she hoped to influence.

            In the introduction to the book, she emphasized the need to present sophisticated religious educational materials to young people. Youth were easily influenced by outside sources; unless they had a proper understanding of Judaism, they would be tempted to abandon it. Indeed, the orphan to whom the letters in the book were addressed had been considering the possibility of converting to Christianity, believing that Christianity offered more spirituality than Judaism. The author, of course, forcefully refuted this claim; in the end, the orphan did not convert, but rather became a more devoted Jew.

            Grace Aguilar expressed the conviction that it was necessary to provide Jewish education for girls as well as boys. She lamented the fact that the education of Jewish girls had not been given adequate attention. She described her book as “an humble help in supplying the painful want of Anglo-Jewish literature, to elucidate for our female youth the tenets of their own, and so remove all danger from the perusal of abler and better works by spiritual Christians.”6

            Arguing that the new knowledge and ideas brought about by the advances in science did not contradict the truth of the divinely revealed Torah, Aguilar wrote: “So simple, so easy appears to me the union of Revelation and all science, that how any mind can reject the one as contradicting the other is as utterly incomprehensible as it is fearful.”7 Scoffers who scorned the truth of religion were guilty of arrogance; they did not have a proper understanding of religion. Aguilar was obviously troubled by the increase in skepticism among Jews and by their intellectual surrender to the antireligious proponents of modern science and philosophy. If Jews received an enlightened Jewish education, they would hold fast to their own religious traditions.

            Moreover, Jews were not learning the spiritual aspects of Judaism. They were taught laws and customs, but often had no insight into the deeper meanings and ideas of Jewish tradition. Aguilar noted that the Spanish and Portuguese Jews tended to stress the external forms of religious ceremony, giving the impression that these forms were the essence of Judaism. While she recognized the reasons for the emphasis on form, she argued for the necessity of emphasizing the spiritual aspects of Jewish teachings. She warned, however, that people should not abandon religious observance, thinking that spirituality was of higher value. On the contrary, the observances gave expression to the spiritual feelings of love of God. She wrote that

every spiritual Hebrew, instead of disregarding the outward ceremonies, will delight in obeying them for the love he bears his God, welcoming them as immediate instructions from Him, even as a child obeys with joy and gladness the slightest bidding of those he loves.8

            Grace Aguilar was troubled by the phenomenon of Jews who achieved success in general society but in the process moved away from Jewish commitment.

Many, indeed, have lately distinguished themselves in the law, and in the fine arts of the English world; but why will not these gifted spirits do something for Judaism as well as England? There is no need to neglect the interests of the latter, in attending to the need of the former. We want Jewish writers, Jewish books.9

Aguilar was convinced that if the best and most enlightened Jewish minds devoted themselves to presenting Judaism at its best, the non-Jewish world would be duly impressed. Hatred of Jews would diminish as non-Jews came to learn about and respect Judaism and Jews.

            Grace Aguilar’s writings reflected major issues of modernism: the education of women, the need for spirituality, the renewed interest in the Bible, the critique of blind obedience to details of the law without understanding its deeper meanings. They also shed light on the religiosity of her reading audience: relatively unversed in Jewish learning, skeptical about the mitzvoth, susceptible to the spiritual charm of Christianity. (Leeser challenged the latter point, believing that it was very rare for a Jew to convert to Christianity. As he saw the problem, Jews were simply becoming apathetic to their own spiritual heritage.)10 Grace Aguilar’s essential goal was to demonstrate that loyalty to traditional Judaism was not antipathetic to success in the modern world. By studying the classic sources of their religion and maintaining observance of the commandments, Jews would be secure in their own faith and could function more confidently in the general non-Jewish society.
 

Eliyahu Benamozegh: Jewish Ethics
 

            The impact of the Haskalah thought was also evidenced in the writings of Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh (1822–1900). Born in Livorno, Italy, to a family of Moroccan Sephardic background, Benamozegh was a major figure in Jewish intellectual life during the nineteenth century. He served as rabbi in Livorno and was a professor of theology in the rabbinical school there. He published works in Hebrew, French, and Italian.

            Rabbi Benamozegh was well steeped in rabbinic learning, including the kabbalah. He also was educated in general academic disciplines; his writings reflect his knowledge of archaeological research, philology, history, Christianity, and philosophy.

            Like Aguilar, R. Benamozegh was concerned with the relationship of the Jews to the larger Christian society in Europe. In his book, In Ethical Paths, he attempted to clarify Jewish teachings on ethics and demonstrate their superiority to the seemingly more spiritual ethics of Christianity. He, too, felt that Jews needed to have a better grounding in the moral teachings of their own religion in order to withstand the influence of Christian society. He argued that it was unfair of Christians to insist that their system of ethics was superior to Jewish ethics. After all, Christianity was based on Judaism, and many of its main teachings were of Jewish origin. Moreover, the Christian claim to have superseded Judaism was not sound. Why would God—who chose Israel and gave them the Torah—suddenly change His mind and establish a new religion to replace Judaism? Since God was omniscient, such a change in plans would seem absurd. But even using Christian logic, there was no reason to believe that Christianity had become the ultimate expression of God’s will. If, as Christians claimed, God had changed His mind once, then what would preclude Him from doing so again, choosing another religion to replace Christianity? In short, Christianity’s argument on this issue was untenable.[i]

            In describing Jewish ethics, R. Benamozegh noted that Judaism encompassed two factors: the national (mediniyut) and the ethical (mussar). Thus, Jewish ethics is grounded in practical reality. It is not ethereal or over-idealized but is based on the real considerations of a real nation. In contrast, Christian ethics is not applicable to national life in the same way. Christians speak of humility, suffering, compassion, and other such concepts in unrealistic ways. Which nation on earth would allow itself to be attacked and not defend itself or strike back? Which nation would forgive debts or ignore insults and cruelties committed against its people? Christianity cannot adequately satisfy the natural human need and attachment for a homeland. On the other hand, Judaism is realistic in linking ethical teachings to national and practical concerns. Religion and nationality cannot be separated.[ii]

            In his elaboration of the Jewish ethical tradition, Rabbi Benamozegh stressed the universalism of Judaism. The Torah described humanity as deriving from common ancestors, Adam and Eve. Humanity has a common destiny—the messianic time.[iii] Jewish ethics shows respect for non-Jews and does not preclude them from God’s love and salvation. Judaism’s goal is not to punish the wicked but to bring them back to righteousness. Since Jewish faith is necessarily contingent on the performance of practical works, it provides the most realistic framework for the creation of an ethical society.[iv]

            R. Benamozegh published this work in French, intending it for both Jewish and Christian readers. For the Jews, he hoped this work would strengthen their commitment to their own tradition. For the Christians, he hoped that they would gain a new understanding of Judaism and would come to appreciate it better. He recognized the growing influence of Christianity over the emancipated and enlightened Jews; he offered his book as an anodyne to that influence. As a man of broad Jewish and general culture, he was eminently qualified for the task he had set himself.
 

Rabbi Israel Moshe Hazan

            One of the most influential Sephardic thinkers of the nineteenth century was Rabbi Israel Moshe Hazan (1808–1863).[v] Born in Izmir, Turkey, his family moved to Jerusalem when he was still a small child. He studied there in the yeshiva of his grandfather, Rabbi Yosef Refael Hazan. In 1842 he was appointed to the rabbinical court in Jerusalem, a testimony to his scholarship and stature in the community. In 1844 he traveled as an emissary to London. He subsequently held rabbinic positions in Rome, Corfu, and Alexandria.

            Rabbi Hazan was deeply committed to maintaining Judaism in its traditional form. During his stay in London, he wrote a pamphlet attacking the recently established Reform movement in England. He also joined a group of traditionalists who were opposed to the teachings of Reform.

            Rabbi Hazan argued that the Jewish people should conduct themselves according to their own laws and traditions. They should not abandon their religious and national autonomy by succumbing to the temptations of emancipation and enlightenment. He complained that European Jews tended to polarize, either assimilating readily into non-Jewish culture or fiercely isolating themselves against its influence. He represented the classic Sephardic model—maintaining traditional religious autonomy while at the same time being open to the best teachings of the non-Jewish world.

            In his Nahalah leYisrael, Rabbi Hazan contended that Jews should adhere to their own laws, including the laws of inheritance. The non-Jewish governments did not require Jews to abandon their own legal system; why then should they do so voluntarily? Anyone who studied Jewish history would quickly realize that

from the time of the exile of Judah from his land, [the Jews] followed the laws of the Torah of Moses their teacher! Even when they lived in foreign lands, some here and some there, they sacrificed themselves in order to fulfill all that was written in the book of the Torah.[vi]

This was true when Jews lived among pagans; so much more should it be true when they lived among those who believed in God and in the divinity of the Torah. Indeed, Christianity and Islam had both acknowledged the basic principles of Judaism and the sacred nature of the Jewish Bible. Judaism had taught the world vital social values, love of fellow human beings. The non-Jewish world had not asked Jews to forfeit their autonomous religious life. Therefore, the Jews should certainly maintain their own laws and traditions in all areas, including inheritance, marriage, and divorce.

            Rabbi Hazan expressed rage at those who followed non-Jewish civil laws of inheritance instead of relying on the rules of Judaism. “Those Jews who seek inheritance contrary to the Torah of Moses are adjudged as heretics, Sadducees, uprooters of Torah, notorious thieves. If you investigate them, you will find that they violate other commandments arrogantly.”[vii]

            Calling on his fellow rabbis to fight against those who advocated following the civil law in matters of inheritance, Rabbi Hazan warned that if this section of Jewish law were forfeited, it would only lead to further undermining of the Torah and its legal authority.

Know truly that if at this time we are silent, the laws of inheritance will be completely uprooted, as though the Torah had never been written. Woe unto us! Woe unto us, what will be our end! It is as though we were almost dead, almost lost; it is as though a Torah scroll had been burnt. . . in which case all Jews in all places should rend their garments never to be resewn.[viii]

Considering the gravity of the threat to Jewish religious hegemony, Rabbi Hazan called on rabbis to struggle courageously against those who were willing to compromise Jewish law. He received approbation for his position from leading Sephardic rabbis in Izmir, Salonika, Istanbul, Vienna, and other communities.

Rabbi Yehudah Yaacov Nehama: Defending Tradition

            The tide of modernism and Europeanization made itself felt in the domains of the Ottoman Empire during the nineteenth century. The Turkish authorities instituted a number of reforms (tanzimat), indicating their desire to shake off past stagnation and become a modern society. European culture, especially in its French form, seemed particularly attractive to the Ottoman rulers.[ix]

            The wave of Europeanization also had an effect on the Jews of the Empire. Sephardic intellectuals were receptive to French influence. Schools operated by the Alliance Israelite Universelle sprang up throughout the Ottoman Empire, the Middle East, and North Africa. They eagerly promoted the glories of French language and culture. They also introduced modern educational techniques. In short, an intellectual transformation was occurring among the Sephardim, bringing them into contact with European modernism.

            Rabbi Yehudah Yaacov Nehama (1825–1899) was an influential figure in Salonika. His life and works are a reflection of the impact of Haskalah thought on Sephardic thinkers. He wrote three major works that were destroyed in a fire and thus never published. One of these was a history of the Jewish people, one was a volume of rabbinic Responsa, and one was a history of the Jews of Salonika. The scope of these works reflects Nehama’s wide-ranging interests and knowledge. He was not only deeply learned in classic rabbinic literature, but was also a historian of Jewry in general and of his own community in particular. Historical research was an important feature of the Jewish Haskalah.

            Two volumes of Rabbi Nehama’s letters were published. They reflect his knowledge in many fields. He corresponded with leading Jewish intellectuals of his time, Sephardic and Ashkenazic. His interest in books and bibliographic information was formidable.

            Like Aguilar, Benamozegh, and Hazan, Nehama was well versed in contemporary culture and was also committed to maintaining the traditional structure of religious observance. In a letter written in the year 5614 (1854), he responded to Rabbi Mordecai Halevi Mortara and Rabbi Shelomo Nissim of Mantua, who had written to inform him that some members of their community were agitating to abolish the observance of the second day of festivals. (According to rabbinic law, communities outside the land of Israel are obligated to observe two festival days, whereas the communities in Israel observe one day.) Rabbi Nehama was infuriated by this suggestion, since it undermined age-old Jewish practice. He condemned those who called for reforms in Judaism, referring to the spirit of reform as a leprous plague. Such recommendations were divisive and would lead to factionalism. “My brothers and my people, beware of heeding the words of those who love reform and heresy; take heed of the custom of your ancestors and do not turn from it.”[x]
 

Rabbi Henry Pereira Mendes

            A leading religious and communal figure in American Jewish life during the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries was Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes (1852–1937).[xi] Born in Birmingham, England, he was the son of Abraham Mendes, who was minister of the Sephardic congregation there. On both his father’s and his mother’s side, he was the product of a long line of religious leaders.

            Rabbi Mendes served as minister of the historic Congregation Shearith Israel, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue in New York City, the oldest Jewish congregation in North America (founded in 1654). His service began in 1877, and he was associated with the congregation until his death 60 years later. Aside from his training in Jewish studies, he received the degree of medical doctor from New York University in 1884.

            Dr. Mendes was tireless in his work on behalf of Jewish tradition. He was a founder of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America, believing it necessary for the Orthodox community to be united. He also was a co-founder, together with his colleague Rabbi Sabato Morais of Philadelphia, of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. He and Morais envisioned the institution as a training ground for American-bred traditional rabbis who could serve Jewish communities in the United States. When the Seminary later identified itself with the Conservative movement, Dr. Mendes dropped his association with it. His goal had been to strengthen Orthodoxy and to combat reform.

            An energetic communal leader and humanitarian, Dr. Mendes was also involved in the establishment of such institutions as the Young Women’s Hebrew Association in New York, Montefiore Hospital, and the Lexington School for the Deaf. He was a leader in such organizations as the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America, the New York Board of Jewish Ministers, the Federation of American Zionists, and the World Zionist Organization. He also was a prolific author of religious textbooks for children, dramatic works, poetry, books on Jewish history and ethics, and more.

            Dr. Bernard Drachman, a colleague of Dr. Mendes, described him as “an ideal representative of Orthodox Judaism.” He praised Dr. Mendes’ “absolute freedom. . . from anything approaching narrowness of sectarian bias within the Jewish community.”[xii]

            Indeed, Dr. Mendes was a universally respected figure, whether among the Sephardim of America, the Yiddish-speaking Ashkenazim, the non-Orthodox community, or the non-Jewish community. He was urbane, highly educated, principled, hard-working. His sermons and literary works demonstrate his devotion to the Bible. He did not consider himself a scholar of Talmud and halakha, although he certainly was comfortable studying the classic rabbinic texts.

            Dr. Mendes viewed himself as a spokesman for the Sephardic outlook on Judaism. In a guest sermon which he delivered in the Sephardic synagogue on Lauderdale Road in London (July 27, 1901), he was effusive in his praise of the Sephardic religious tradition, which was able to blend loyalty to the past with an openness to new thinking. He called for “a revival of Sephardic activity, a renewal of Sephardic energy, an earnest demonstration of fidelity to God and Torah, a continued proof by our own lives that culture and fidelity can go hand in hand.”[xiii]

            Stressing that faithfulness to tradition could go hand-in-hand with modern culture, Dr. Mendes strenuously opposed Reform Judaism, believing that it was an incorrect diagnosis for the spiritual malaise of the Jewish people. Instead of breaking with tradition, Jews actually needed to come closer to it, to find peace and contentment in the age-old laws and customs of the Jewish people. Reform led to a weakening of the hold of tradition. It engendered more apathy and irreligion among Jews. If each individual did as s/he chose without taking the claims of Jewish law and tradition into consideration, then the structure of Jewish life would be seriously weakened. Dr. Mendes criticized this “everyone-doing-as-he-pleases-religion” as the source of ignorance, apathy, and disregard of religious restrictions.[xiv]

            In 1891 some suggestions for ritual changes were made in his own Congregation Shearith Israel. Dr. Mendes reacted with characteristic eloquence.

I say it is a very solemn thing for this Congregation with its centuries of proud adherence to historic Judaism to approach the subject of change at all. . . . Are those who have enlisted under the banner of change distinguished for a better observance of the Sabbath? Are they in any way improved religiously? Are their homes more Jewish? Are their children more devoted to Judaism and better exponents of its teachings? .. . No new virtues have been created in the heart of the Reform Jew which are not found in the heart of the Orthodox Jew. Nor is the cultured Reformer more respected than is the cultured Orthodox brother.[xv]

Dr. Mendes prevailed and the changes were averted.

Traditional Communal Framework

            Religious leaders and intellectuals throughout the Sephardic Diaspora advocated loyalty to Jewish tradition. Although they were well aware of the spirit of modernism and of the challenges to religious patterns, they felt that the Jewish people could best be served by remaining faithful to its own distinctive way of life. Reform was not acceptable. It was a surrender to the whims of European modernity, and it could only lead to a breakdown in Jewish religious life, to assimilation.

            Whereas the issues of emancipation and enlightenment led to the formation of religious movements within Ashkenazic Jewry, Sephardic Jewry did not fragment itself into Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, or other movements. Ashkenazic Jewry was torn apart by feuding among the ideological movements. It established separate communities, institutions, even cemeteries. Sephardic Jewry was spared this internecine religious struggle.

            Certainly, not all Sephardic Jews adhered to all the details of traditional halakha. Laxity in observance was growing. A lessening of reverence for rabbinic authority was also apparent in many communities. Yet the general Sephardic attitude was respectful to tradition. The religious intellectuals, as well as the masses, were desirous of maintaining a traditional religious framework for their communities. The Sephardim found a modus vivendi characterized by respect for tradition and tolerance for those whose observance of halakha fell short. Whereas some individuals might not be personally observant, the synagogue and community structure were to operate according to halakha.

            The Haskalah movement, then, did have an impact on the Sephardic world. But the Sephardic communities generally remained loyal to the traditional halakhic communal framework. This was not a small accomplishment.

Notes

1. See David Benveniste, “Rabbi Yehudah Yaacov Nehama: Mevaser Tekufat haHaskalah beSaloniki,” in The Sephardic and Oriental Jewish Heritage, ed. Issachar Ben-Ami (Jerusalem, 1982), p. 30. See also Jose Faur, Harav Yisrael Moseh Hazan: haIsh uMishnato (Jerusalem, 5738), esp. pp. 3–17.
2. Grace Aguilar, The Spirit of Judaism (Philadelphia, 5602), p. 9.
3. See for example, Leeser’s comments on pp. vii, 21, 100, and 104.
4. Ibid., pp. 225-26.
5. See the discussion of Grace Aguilar’s thought in Philip M. Weinberger, The Social and Religious Thought of Grace Aguilar (New York, 1970); see also Beth-Zion Lask Abrahams, “Grace Aguilar: a Centenary Tribute,” Jewish Historical Society of England Transactions 16(1952): 137—48.
6. Grace Aguilar, The Jewish Faith: Its Spiritual Consolation, Moral Guidance and Immortal Hope (Philadelphia, 1864), p. 10.
7. Ibid., p. 124.
8. Ibid., p. 221.
9. Ibid., p. 264.
10. Spirit of Judaism, pp. viii, 165.
11. Eliyahu Benamozegh BiShvilei Musar (Jerusalem, 1966), pp. 21–27.

12. Ibid., pp. 28-30, 33.

13. Ibid., pp. 120–121.
14. Ibid., pp. 124–125, 132–133, 148, 166. See also R. Benamozegh’s book, Israel and Humanity, trans. and ed. Maxwell Luria. New York: Paulist Press, 1995.
15. See Faur, Harav Yisrael Moshe Hazan.
16. I. M. Hazan, Nahalah leYisrael (Alexandria, 1862), pp. 53–54.
17. Ibid., p. 55.
18. Ibid., p. 61.
19. The changes in the taxation system are reflected in Rabbi Michael Yaacov Israel, Yad Yemin (Izmir, 5619), Hoshen Mishpat, no. 25; and Hayyim Palache, Hikekei Lev (Izmir, 5609), Hoshen Mishpat, no. 6.
20. Yehudah Yaacov Nehama, Mikhtevei Dodim miYayin, vol. 1, (Salonika, 5653) pp. 48–49.
21. For information on Dr. Mendes, see David de Sola Pool, H. Pereira Mendes: A Biography (New York, 1938); and David and Tamar de Sola Pool, An Old Faith in the New World (New York, 1955), pp. 192–201. See also Eugene Markovits, Henry Pereira Mendes: Builder of Traditional Judaism in America, doctoral dissertation, Yeshiva University, 1961; and Eugene Markovits, “Henry Pereira Mendes: Architect of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America,” American Jewish Historical Quarterly 55, no. 3, pp. 364–84.
22. B. Drachman, “Forty Years of Loyal Service,” Orthodox Union 7, no. 6.
23. See Markovits, “Henry Pereira Mendes Builder of Traditional Judaism,” p. 250.
24. Ibid., p. 86.
25. Dr. Mendes’ remarks are found in the archives of Congregation Shearith Israel, and are quoted in M. D. Angel, “Thoughts about Early American Jewry,” Tradition, 16 (1976), p. 21.