Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים — In the beginning when God created — From a purely human perspective, the act of creation ought to be seen as an act of self-giving on the part of the Creator; Creation exists solely because of God’s unconditional love (ἀγάπη = agápē). This divine love makes a space (kένωσις = a kenosis or “self-emptying”[1]) so that there may be room for the Other—namely, Creation. At the deepest metaphysical level imaginable, we surprisingly discover that God is also a relational Being; by creating the universe, God reveals He has a personal stake in the existence of Creation.[2]

God merely contemplates Creation as a possibility, and effortlessly, it comes into being. Unlike the creator of Plato’s universe, who struggles mightily with the recalcitrant chaotic matter as he attempts to model it in the image of the ethereal Forms[3], the God of Israel creates chaotic matter with ease and grace. Unlike the pagan gods of antiquity—who themselves were the by-products of the primal chaos—God’s reality transcends the boundaries of the temporal and spatial universe. His ontology and existence are totally independent of Creation. God is, in the most literal sense, wholly Other than Creation.

Sometimes misunderstandings occur when foreign concepts and terminology are grafted onto the text from other ancient texts or mythologies that have no bearing whatsoever on a given verse (see notes on Gen. 1:2). For all of its elegant simplicity, the biblical writer does not appear to be concerned with such theological conjectures or speculations. Yet, in the opening verse the biblical narrator makes a straight-forward theological claim—God created everything[4] and this is why we find the use of a merism[5] appearing in the opening passage.[6]  Why begin the first book of the Torah with such a revolutionary introduction? Philosopher Susan Handelman explains:

With the deceptively simple words “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” the Hebrew Bible begins. In fact, however, this statement was (long before Derrida) a supreme challenge to the entire classical tradition of Western metaphysics: to assert that matter was not eternal, that the world had a temporal origin, that substance came into being through divine fiat, indeed through divine speech (“And God said: ‘Let there be . . . ‘”) threatened the foundations of Greek ontology.[7]

The Judaic creation story certainly has other broad implications that are no less challenging to classical Greek thought. If creation has an ultimate purpose and direction a τέλος (telos=“completion” or “consummation”), then we, as God’s creation, cannot self-consciously live our lives as if we lack ultimate meaning and spiritual direction. In a God-centered existence, there is responsibility and accountability that each of us—by virtue of being made in the likeness of our Creator—must give. Briefly stated, the entire cosmic order is (1) grounded in the will of the Divine, (2) established since the beginning of time, (3) founded in the ethical order that governs human existence. Continue Reading

For decades now, thanks to the legacy of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schnersohn, we have heard much about the issue of “Who is a Jew?” Chabad Hasidim along with their Haredi and Sephardic allies have stressed, “giyur k’halacha,” conversion must take place under “Orthodox” standards.

I have often had many debates with Modern Orthodox rabbis over this medieval halachic position, which suffers from a draconian imagination. I warned my colleagues that someday, the religious extremists would turn against the Modern Orthodox as well. Unfortunately, the Modern Orthodox suffered from myopia.

I hate to tell you, “I told you so . . .,” but I told you so.

The issue was never really about “Who is a Jew?” but the real issue was, “Who has the right to define, ‘Who is a Jew?’” However, the Haredi and their Hassidic allies have now refined the question: “Who is a REAL Orthodox rabbi, worthy to perform a Jewish marriage?”

In modern political terms, we may reframe or simplify the question as, “Who is entitled to the mantle of rabbinic power?” If you ask a Haredi rabbi, he’ll tell you,  “It’s not a ‘Modern Orthodox’ Rabbi!”

In Israel, the Haredim continue to sow discord and contempt for Halacha as a process and as a spiritual way of life.

The Haredi political party known as “Shas,” decreed that a group of religious Zionist rabbis and educators that performs no-charge Jewish weddings for an estimated 3,000 Israeli couples a will no longer be able to conduct the ceremonies.  These generous rabbis have been blocked by Haredi leaders who run the government ministry that controls weddings.

The considerations have nothing to do with Halacha, for the Modern Orthodox adhere to the Halacha much like the Haredi. However, it definitely has everything to do with money; follow the money trail.

Rabbi Moshe Be’eri, Tzohar’s executive director,  whose Modern Orthodox rabbis have been barred from performing these marriages observed, “For love of money and to attack Zionism, the Religious Services Ministry is willing to send Jews to get married in Cyprus instead of in accordance with halakha [Jewish law],” said Be’eri. “Every time I pleaded before the rabbinate or the Religious Services Ministry, I felt like someone going before the czar to protect his people, the people of Israel. But this time the czar is someone with a kippa.” Ditto, the Haredi feel the pinch–in their pocketbook.

It isn’t enough that the Haredi have power over the non-Orthodox in Israel, they want power over the Modern Orthodox as well.

People are tired of draconian religion; Israelis want freedom from religion—and it’s not just the non-Orthodox, even the Modern Orthodox want freedom of religion. The corruption seen in the Haredi and Hassidic (all Hassidic groups) in Israel (especially) is so appalling; lawsuits made against wealthy widows by leading Hassidic rabbis in Los Angeles, known for their telethons, casts a negative light on how the Ultra-Orthodox act in the name of religious expediency where the ends just the means—even if that means stealing an inheritance from widows and their families, or from their fellow Orthodox rabbis who just happen to be Modern Orthodox.

By joining with these religious scoundrels, the Modern Orthodox has effectively joined the ranks of their former non-Orthodox adversaries.

With this thought in mind, I will conclude this evening’s blog entry with one of my choice parables from Aesop—a personal favorite, “The Horse, Hunter and Stag.”

• A quarrel had arisen between the Horse and the Stag, so the Horse came to a Hunter to ask his help to take revenge on the Stag.  The Hunter agreed, but said: “If you desire to conquer the Stag, you must permit me to place this piece of iron between your jaws, so that I may guide you with these reins, and allow this saddle to be placed upon your back so that I may keep steady upon you as we follow after the enemy.”  The Horse agreed to the conditions, and the Hunter soon saddled and bridled him.  Then with the aid of the Hunter the Horse soon overcame the Stag, and said to the Hunter: “Now, get off, and remove those things from my mouth and back.”  “Not so fast, friend,” said the Hunter.  “I have now got you under bit and spur, and prefer to keep you as you are at present.” Continue Reading

When witnessing the re-fetishization of faith, one wonders: What we can we do to bring civility back to faith, and remove its thorn of toxicity? Decades ahead of his time, the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber argued that one of the great spiritual challenges of our time is the process of purging our faith of all imagery that portrays the Divine as either vindictive or abusive.

In his short but insightful autobiographical book, Meetings, Buber describes a meeting he had with a very pious and learned observant Jew. They had a conversation about the biblical story of King Saul and the war of genocide waged against Israel’s ancient enemy, Amalek. After Saul captures King Agag of Amalek, Saul does not kill him. The prophet Samuel becomes enraged at Saul, who places the onus of the blame on the people rather than himself. Perhaps he cannot kill his enemies with such reckless abandon, but Samuel will not hear of it; he personally hacks Agag to death. Afterward Samuel tells Saul to abdicate the throne, but Saul refuses. Buber tells the man sitting opposite him, that as a child, he always found this story horrifying. Buber recounts:

• I told him how already at that time it horrified me to read or to remember how the heathen king went to the prophet with the words on his lips, “Surely the bitterness of death is past,” and was hewn to pieces by him. I said to my partner: “I have never been able to believe that this is a message of God. I do not believe it.” With wrinkled forehead and contracted brows, the man sat opposite me and his glance flamed into my eyes. He remained silent, began to speak, and became silent again. “So?” he broke forth at last, “so? You do not believe it?” “No,” I answered, “I do not believe it.” “So? so?” he repeated almost threateningly. “You do not believe it?” And once again: “No.”
• “What. What”—he thrust the words before him one after the other—”What do you believe then?” “I believe,” without reflecting, “that Samuel has misunderstood God.” And he, again slowly, but more softly than before: “So? You believe that?” and I: “Yes.” Then we were both silent. But now something happened the like of which I have rarely seen before or since in this my long life. The angry countenance opposite me became transformed as if a hand had passed over it soothing it. It lightened, cleared, was now turned toward me bright and clear. “Well,” said the man with a positively gentle tender clarity, “I think so too.” And again we became silent, for a good while.[1]

Continue Reading

The recent arrest of Rabbi Moishe Turner has sent shock-waves across the insular world of Monsey, N.Y. This 58 year man has been arrested for sodomizing a number of underage boys. Surprisingly, the Haredi (Ultra Orthodox and Hassidic) rabbis of his synagogue were well aware of this man’s behavior and even banned him from attending their synagogue. However, they never called the police, nor did they allow the victims’ families to contact the police. Subsequently, Turner went on to allegedly rape more boys.

As you can see, the Catholic Church is not alone with its scandalous record concerning pedophilia.

While I was reading up on this story, I began to wonder: Why are the Ultra-Orthodox groups so reticent to contact the police when a crime has taken place—especially when it involves the welfare of minors?

The answer to this question has much to do with the cloistered world of the Haredi community; in many ways they share affinities with the Catholic Church. Both communities trivialize crimes against children; both communities prefer hiding behind a cloak of secrecy—lest the outside world find out and expose their complicity and cowardice. Both communities have no moral problem sacrificing an innocent child, if it ensures the general welfare of the collective they share.

Much like in the ancient Greco-Roman tradition, the innocent child has become the scapegoat for their religious communities. His/her sacrifice serves to protect the religious community from scandal and disgrace–but such a delusional attitude does not really work, for the truth will sooner or later come out. The rabbis/Church officials who have both aided and enabled pedophiles to function openly are responsible for this travesty; neither they or their institutions can hide.

There may be other considerations that have been based upon antiquated rabbinical policies that no longer pertain to the United States. In Europe, governments had no qualms about blaming the Jew for any sort of crime—both real and imagined. Given the constant threats these anti-Semitic governments posed, it is almost understandable why the rabbis would have forbidden any Jew to the authorities, for it was never clear whether the accused could reasonably expect a fair trial.

Alternatively, anti-Semites would relish the opportunity to make the entire Jewish community suffer for the crimes of the few. In other words, the Christian community held the Jewish community corporately responsible for the behavior of its citizens. Other arguments assert that the prisons today are so dangerous—even in the United States—that sending an offender there may be tantamount to giving him a death sentence.[1]

Fortunately, the United States personifies the ideal of the “just government.”[2] Corruption and collective guilt really does not exist in this country (except with regard to Affirmative Action). Many of the Haredi Jews living in this country really do not understand the ideals and laws that define the unique identity of the United States. Jews are no longer corporately responsible for the crimes of one of its members. Yet, in their minds, they still see themselves—even three generations later!—as if they are living in Europe during the early part of the 20^th century. Readers may be surprised to know that a large number of these folks can barely read or write English.

I have Haredi family members who still speak Hungarian, or with such a heavy Yiddish accent, one would think they had just arrived off the boat at Ellis Island. Someone should tell them, “You’re not in Russia anymore!” The Haredim need to start respecting the law of the land (dina d’malchut dina).

For both of these Ultra-Orthodox communities, they would be wise to be more concerned with the physical welfare of the victim than the punishment that the offender might receive in prison. By banning parents from reporting these crimes to the police, they are endangering the physical welfare of numerous other potential victims. Are the lives of children somehow halachically considered less important than the life of a predator?

Some rabbis, like R. Jack Simcha Cohen, argue the main reason for turning deviants like Turner in to the authorities is because of hillul Hashem—a desecration of God’s Name.[3] There is something positive to be said about Cohen’s view, even though the prime consideration ought to be the welfare of the child—which is far more compelling than just “looking bad to the gentiles.” By choosing to be silent in the face of this crime, the Orthodox world is broadcasting a message across the world: we are not concerned about Jewish criminals in our midst. Continue Reading

One of the strange customs observed by many Orthodox on Erev Yom Kippur, involves the ritual of taking a rooster on the Eve of Yom Kippur. Here are the instructions: Men must take a rooster, while women must take a hen. Take a rooster in the right hand and afterwards say:  “This is my exchange, this is my salvation, and this is my atonement. This rooster shall go to its death, while I will enter and proceed to a good long life, and to peace.”

Then revolve the chicken around your head swinging it over your head. Some authorities argue that this should be done three times others say once is sufficient. If you are an expecting mother, it is customary to use two chickens for atonement, one for the mother and one for the unborn child.

The custom of Kapparot has some peculiar similarities to the ancient pagan and black magic rituals. The 16^th century scholar R. Joseph Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch, condemned it as a pagan superstition. Today, several leading Haredi rabbis have complained for the first time about the problems with animal cruelty, and have now banned it. Some scholars thought it was better to give food gifts or money to the poorer.

Yet, despite rabbinic reservations, folk religion often follows customs because of tradition. I would imagine that being able to transfer our collective and individual sins unto the poor chicken, must be a real exhilarating experience.

I mention this odd piece of Jewish folk religion because in some ways it highlights man’s eternal desire to seek some symbolic way of banishing our sins. Despite the fact we no longer have a Temple to perform these ancient rites, we nevertheless yearn for rituals of personal purification.

The origin of the scapegoat derives from the Yom Kippur rituals where the sins of the community were transferred unto a goat which was sent to die in the wilderness. As primitive as this rite is, bear in mind that the Torah improved on the concept of the scapegoat. Note that it is only the goat that is singled out for destruction–and not human beings. (One possible exception: Job, but Job is truly the one person who refused to be his society’s scapegoat; however, this is discussion for another time . . . )

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

Sir James Frazer illustrates in his famous work, the Golden Bough, shows how the ancient Greeks and Romans utilized the scapegoat. On every March 14^th in the calendar year, the  ancient Romans used to send a man clad in skins through the streets of Rome, beating him with long white rods until they drove him out of the city.  The ancient Greek historian and philosopher Plutarch records how the ancient Greeks utilized the scapegoat in their society. Bear in mind Plutarch was considered pious and quite friendly—well, to most people!

Whenever the Greek colony of Marseilles, one was ravaged by a plague, a man of the poorer classes used to offer himself as a scapegoat. For a whole year he was maintained at the public expense, being fed on choice and pure food. At the end of the year he was dressed in sacred garments, decked with holy branches, and led through the whole city, while prayers were uttered that all the evils of the people might fall on his head. He was then cast out of the city or stoned to death by the people outside of the walls.  (I believe this type of story probably inspired several Stephen King horror novels.)

Frazer also describes how primitive societies throughout the world have relied on scapegoats and other ritual purification ceremonies, usually performed annually and seasonally, to purge their communities of evil and epidemics, demons and natural disasters. “To effect,” Frazer writes, “a total clearance of all the ills that have been infesting a people.”

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

Yes, our forbearers were not terribly sophisticated; their world was steeped in magic and superstition. The scapegoat reflected their need to purify themselves as a society—but often it came at the expense of an innocent victim—quite often the poorest and most vulnerable elements of society.

Modern society is much more subtle about its use of scapegoats. Psychologists Alice Miller and Robert Coles explain  that  scapegoats are targets that “absorb our pain, our feelings of hopelessness.” I would add: we crave scapegoats to absorb our hypocrisy and moral duplicity. The scapegoat is also often applied to individuals and groups who are accused of causing misfortune; they are identified with evil, blamed and then cast out of the family or community so that the remaining members are left with a feeling of guiltlessness.

The political arena tends to promote class warfare, pitting the rich vs. the poor, when the real problem is the lack of accountability when it comes to how government monies are being spent. Rather than exposing the crooked and dishonest politicians, we often see our political leaders create scapegoats, so that nobody will notice the real source of our problems—namely, our own leaders’ moral corruption.

People who see themselves as life’s victims tend to see somebody else to blame. The phenomena of frivolous lawsuits are empirical evidence of how ordinary people sue large companies no matter how silly the claim might be. Personal responsibility is seldom ever taught as a virtue worth cultivating in schools.

A thought from Ayn Rand really gets to the heart of our reticence to accept personal responsibility: “We can evade reality, but we cannot evade the consequences of evading reality . . .” If we act in ways that are so totally and obviously self-destructive, we have nobody else to blame but ourselves for failing to think and act responsibly–which I might add, is the hallmark of  spiritual adulthood. It is also the key to unlocking our human potential and actualizing our life purpose in this temporal world.

Freud understood this human problem and observed, “Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.” Is it any wonder why people seek to blame others for life’s injustices?

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

Since the days of Late Antiquity, the Jews have become the perennial scapegoat for Western Civilization (“What a concept!”—Gandhi)  we have long been the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. The resurgence of anti-Semitism is not just in Muslim countries, it has spiked up even in the Western countries. The world is always looking to blame Israel—her crime: she exists!

Yet despite all the tragedies that have befallen the Palestinians, their greatest blunder in a history was failing to realize the opportunities that came their way.  As Abba Eben once said, The Palestinians have never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

Paradoxically, Arab leaders needs Israel, for without Israel, who else would they blame for their societal problems. With the development of the “Arab Spring” this past year, for the first time Arab population centers are beginning to recognize that Israel is not to blame, but their own leaders are corrupt!

IN SUMMARY . . .

As primitive as the scapegoat ritual is, its inclusion in the Yom Kippur liturgy is a painful reminder of what is wrong in our lives and society.  Rather than looking for somebody else to bear the stigma of our pain, Yom Kippur teaches us that we need to take responsibility for our own behavior.

An interesting human behavior is pointing out everyone else’s faults and sins rather than looking at your own. It can be summed up in the following conversation between Linus and Lucy.

Linus asks Lucy, “Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?”

Lucy responds, “I just think I have a knack for seeing other people’s faults.”

“What about your own faults?”

“I have a knack for overlooking them.” Continue Reading

The Chinese say, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” Tonight we begin our spiritual journey with a celebration of Yom Kippur—a holiday that is wholly devoted to the cultivation of forgiveness and spiritual renewal—both as individuals and as a community.

“I have forgiven you as you have spoken” Fewer subjects personally challenge our moral sensibilities like forgiveness—both as individuals and as a society.

As we commemorate the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, it is important for us to revisit some of the important questions about the nature and dynamics of forgiveness.

But what are the limitations of forgiveness? What are its possibilities? Should a person forgive unconditionally? Should the terrorists be forgiven for their crime of murder? In Jewish tradition, it is often customary to broach an important topic with a story. Afterwards we shall examine the important implications of the story to our original questions.

You are a Jewish prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. You are sent to work in a hospital. A nurse brings you to a German soldier named Karl, who is mortally wounded. The dying soldier confesses that he has committed terrible atrocities against your people and asks you to forgive him. What would you do?

Actually, this was the question faced by renowned Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal and is the focus of his autobiographical novel, The Sunflower. Wiesenthal took the soldier’s hand listened to his story.

The patient recounted a horrible act in which he had participated. All of the Jews, mothers with infants and children, young and old, were rounded up and crowded into a large yellow house. The commanding officer ordered the house to be set afire.

When the Jews started running from the burning building and jumping out windows, the commander ordered the troops to fire. After telling the story, the patient asked Wiesenthal if he would forgive him for his role in the massacre.

Ultimately, young Wiesenthal walks away in silence. He can’t forgive the man. But his own soul is scorched with the agony of his decision to walk away.  Liberated from the camps, Wiesenthal seeks out the dead soldier’s mother to ease his mind. He finds a broken woman, left with nothing but the good memory of her son.

Wiesenthal decided not to tell her of her son’s confessed atrocities, his silence brings him peace of mind. He couldn’t forgive the soldier for the murder of others; he can spare an old woman suffering.

WHO HAS THE RIGHT TO FORGIVE?

Wiesenthal later wrote, “Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is a choice, and only the person who suffers is qualified to forgive”  As the years went by, his conscience still haunted him: Did I do the right thing in refusing to forgive the SS soldier? What do you think? Are there some crimes that simply cannot be forgiven?

When Wiesenthal first printed his book, there was a remarkable range of responses. Most Jewish respondents felt that Wiesenthal was right in not forgiving the dying Nazi. How could a mass-murderer be forgiven?

DID KARL FINALLY REPENT?

Did Karl truly repent? Possibly. However, in Karl’s case, we cannot confuse the beginning of a journey with its ending. Only God knows, but it is possible that he took a significant meaningful first step toward some form of redemption . . .  The rest of his journey can only continue in the World of Eternity. Therefore, it seems only apropos for the souls of the victims to deal with the souls of their perpetrators on their own terms.  But regardless how one views the story, this much is known: Could either young Simon or Karl have ever imagined that their mysterious encounter would challenge the moral sensibilities of countless millions of people across time? I believe there is a profound spiritual significance that is behind this synchronicity–one which ought to give our souls a pause to reflect upon . . .

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JUDAISM AND CHRISTIANITY

Wiesenthal’s book highlighted for me one of the most important distinctions between Judaism and most but not all forms of traditional Christianity.[1] Many Christian thinkers and theologians argued the opposite. Forgiveness should and ought to be unconditional. Just as God is gracious in forgiving sinners, so must we be as well.  Not long after 9/11, Pope John Paul II expressed the following prayer:  “We pray for the victims today, may they rest in peace, and may God show mercy and forgiveness for the authors of this horrible terror attack . . .”

This position is not altogether new. Shortly after Timothy McVeigh was found guilty of murdering 168 people in the Oklahoma City bombing, a minister invited Americans to forgive him In a second case, Michael Carneil, a freshman at Heath High School in West Paducah, Kentucky, gunned down three students attending a prayer group on campus. A few days later the students erected a banner saying, “We forgive you, Michael.”

A personal note: Within a day of the 9/11 attack, I will never forget the words of the local Presbyterian minister who said, “We should understand and forgive the terrorists for bombing the World Trade Center which left over 3000 dead, since they were only reacting to our foreign policies . . .” Some local ministers said, “We need to love the bombers in the spirit of compassion and forgiveness . . .”  There seemed to also be a consensus of religious leaders across the world see who felt that we must solve the problem of evil by listening, offering compassion and bestowing forgiveness. As one might have expected, they were more concerned about the terrorists than they were about their innocent victims.

IMAGINING MAIMONIDES’ RESPONSE TO 9/11

Maimonides in his Laws of Repentance writes that repentance requires five elements: recognition of one’s sins as sins (hakarát ha‑chét’), remorse (charatá), desisting from sin (azivát ha‑chét’), restitution where possible (peira’ón), confession (vidúi) and–only then–forgiveness (michila).

From Maimonides’ criteria, we can deduce several important points: Forgiveness can only be given by the victims; those clamoring for forgiveness were not the ones who were wronged—it is the victims of these terrorist attacks who were wronged. Therefore, it is totally inappropriate for anyone to offer forgiveness on behalf of someone else. Fortunately, not all Christians believe like the Pope, the Protestants and countless New Age cults. Some of the scholars and theologians I will briefly mention offer a very Judaic understanding of forgiveness and even may serve to amplify our understanding of Maimonides’ Laws of Repentance.

One of the great Lutheran heroes of WWII was the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945); he will always be best remembered for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler; in the end, he was hung by the Nazis. Aside from being a great symbol of conscience, he went against the classical Christian understanding of forgiveness and warned all Christians about the dangers of “cheap forgiveness” because it enables evil. Had Bonhoeffer lived to see 9/11, he would have condemned the desire to forgive Al Qaeda terrorists as misguided and morally outrageous.

Bonhoeffer is not the only one thinker to challenge the morally vacuous theology of carte blanche forgiveness.  One contemporary Korean Christian theologian, Andrew Park, develops a similar approach. He argues that every broken or shattered relationship requires that the offender heal the shame of the victim; this applies no less if the person is a victim of emotional abuse, sexual victimization, violence, or any number of other ways.

Park argues convincingly that forgiveness is a two-step process; whenever you harm someone in word or deed, you are unleashing anguish and misery to that person, resulting in a scarring of the soul. The offender cannot find healing in his own soul until he takes the necessary steps to heal his victims. Both the Catholic and Protestant Church have done a serious injustice by ignoring the victims, putting the onus on them to find their own way to wholeness and inner peace.

Thus, the person who was once a drug pusher who now commits his life to keeping young kids off the streets, or the father who had in the past neglected his children, now becomes a model father who is truly involved in their lives, or the spouse who cheats, who later becomes an ideal mate and life-partner—all these examples personify the concept of han. Or as the Talmud would say, Yom Kippur has the power to transform sins into good deeds—provided someone truly repents.

I believe that Park’s observation fits perfectly with the Maimonidean paradigm that we have mentioned.

The process of addressing the victim’s pain is what Korean society refers to as han; han is the relational consequence of sin—and shame of their victims. To reconcile yourself with God and with other humans, you must take the steps to heal the pain you have caused.

The bottom line is simple: The evil we see in the world is a sad reflection of the apathy and tolerance we have for evil. Religious leaders have to stop making excuses for the diabolical exploitation of religion. For the most part, Muslim leaders especially, have done a terribly poor job speaking out against the hijacking of their faith; we have a duty to hold their leaders accountable and insist that they take a more active role in condemning the jihadistic theology that inspires young people to commit such acts of violence in the world. Yes, there are some outspoken Muslim leaders who share this sentiment, but they pale when compared to the lunatics that speak in the name of  the Islamic  faith. The media can play an important role in assisting these men find a broader audience, but the media seems to be only interested in only maintaining the status quo. Continue Reading

A great primer . . .

While Arab Israelis are not generally required to serve in the IDF, many (especially from the Druze and Bedouin communities) have often volunteered to do so, and have served their country with great distinction.

Both the LA Times and Christian Science Monitor have recognized Arab service in the IDF on their own pages. As noted by Snapshots, the LA Times published a correction of a similar error in Feb. 2004, stating that “In fact, although they cannot be drafted and most choose not to serve, Israeli Palestinians can enlist in the service.” And the CSM published an in-depth article on Arab Israelis in 2002 that noted:

As Arab citizens of Israel, the villagers aren’t required to serve in the army. A visit to any of trhe Arab cemeteries reveals that almost every family in the village has a member in the local military cemetery.

Indeed, a recent study indicated that the number of Arab volunteers to the IDF ? including Muslim Arabs ? is growing. Given both media outlets’ prior recognition of this fact, the error can only be ascribed to sloppy editorial review, which should be acknowledged and corrected.

According to Honest Reporting, [ UPDATE 5/22: Both papers have issued corrections: LA Times correction , CSM correction]

2) STATUS OF ARAB ISRAELIS

It is amazing how American diplomats and seemingly educated people buy into the canard that Israel treats the Arab minority, much like the United States treated Afro-Americans in the South before the era of civil rights This, too, is an irresponsible distortion.

Though the government of Israel has officially recognized some policy shortcomings toward its Arab minority, it’s ludicrous to compare that to the discrimination suffered by African-Americans during that period in American history. Consider:

• As opposed to the U.S., the foundational document of the State of Israel upheld the principle of civil equality ? despite the fact it was drafted during a state of war with surrounding Arabs:

• [The State of Israel] will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex… We appeal, in the very midst of the onslaught launched against us now for months – to the Arab inhabitants of the State of Israel to preserve peace and participate in the building of the State on the basis of full and equal citizenship and due representation in all its provisional and permanent institutions. (Israeli Declaration of Independence, 1948)

• Eleven Israeli Arabs currently serve in Israel’s Knesset, including two in the dominant Likud party.

• Israeli Supreme Court — Justice Salim Joubran. As an Arab Justice, Salim Joubran, holds a seat on the Israeli Supreme Court.

• The Israeli government is currently implementing a 4-year, 4 billion shekel plan to develop infrastructures in the Arab sector.

• Israeli Arabs attend and lecture in every Israeli university. In fact, prominent Arab academics such as Sari Nusseibeh (possibly the greatest true intellectual of the Palestinian community) were outspoken against the recent boycott of Israeli universities by the UK’s Association of University Teachers.

•  Even diplomatic positions are open to Israeli Arabs, who have held key posts in Atlanta (Consul-General), South America, Finland (Ambassador) and elsewhere. Continue Reading

Over the last several years, radio host Glenn Beck has become quite a media sensation.  I began listening to his program about five years ago and always regarded him as an articulate friend of Israel. Mind you, many of my colleagues see him as a religious fanatic. Yet, at a time when Israel is struggling for respectability in a world that is so blatantly anti-Semitic, trust me—Glenn Beck is a refreshing change, especially when you compare him to the daily pundits found in European societies, where it is still fashionable as ever to blame the Jews  for all the world’s problems. Yes, I said, “blame the  Jews,” because we are still the world’s favorite scapegoat. Some traditions die hard in the world but today anti-Semitism has taken on a new clever guise. Instead of openly espousing anti-Semitism, it has fostered “anti-Zionism.” Of course, in the Nazi-esque mentality of the Muslim suicide-bomber, every Jew is in the final analysis—a Zionist.

Unfortunately, that’s not really true either. Strange as it may sound, there is a chorus of Jewish intellectuals and rabbis, who routinely argue that if Israel gave up all the “Occupied territories,” then there would be peace. How stupid can we be?  The prophet Isaiah sometimes likened Israel to the most picturesque metaphor:

The ox knows its owner,

and the donkey its master’s crib;

but Israel does not know,

my people do not understand.

Isaiah 1:3

It doesn’t matter how many missiles Hamas and Hezbollah shoot into Israeli cities. The “civilized” world always blames Israel for defending her people. When a reporter asked Mahatma Gandhi what he thought of “Western Civilization,” he replied, “I think it would be a good idea.” Well, I personally think that “Western Civilization” with respect to its treatment of the Jewish people is an oxymoron. There is nothing “civilized” about Europe’s treatment of the Jews. Their societal and religious hatred of our people runs like a stream of consciousness and is still firmly embedded in their psyche.

However, Europe is not alone. There are American leaders that tend to think like Europe whenever it pertains to Israel and the Jews. Take President Obama for an example. Jews love it when he says how much the United States values Israel as a friend, and yet—without missing a heartbeat—Obama then tells Israel they need to make the new proposed Palestinian state contiguous, even though that will mean that Israel will lose its territorial integrity. Unlike any American President of the past, Obama declares the old Jewish quarter of Jerusalem as, “occupied.” Like a trained chimpanzee, liberal American Jews accept the President’s words without a criticism.

According to these misleaders, Israel should merely accept the promise that Palestinians want to live in “peace.” Maybe Israel and their American Jewish cousins should purchase a bridge in Brooklyn too.  Palestinians don’t even have Israel on their map; nor do they teach mutual recognition in their schools. Instead, they pay homage to the cult of the Shihad; the suicide bomber is a hero every Palestinian child is taught to emulate and adore.

Of course, this reality brings to mind a famous quote from the  singer Willie Nelson, “Are you going to believe what you see or what I tell you? “ Groucho Marx made a similar remark, “Who are you going to believe – me or your own eyes?” Well, the Jewish community has more often chosen to believe what our “friends” like Obama and the Europeans tell them to believe, despite the empirical proof of what we see with our own eyes.

As a child of a Holocaust survivor, I refuse to accept the platitudes these leaders offer about being Israel’s “friends.” With friends like these, who needs enemas? (pardon the pun.) For all of President Obama’s platitudes and excessive moralization, he has yet to even visit Israel. The answer is compellingly simple: In his heart, he views the State of Israel and its continued existence as a moral problem. Obama doesn’t want to give the impression that he even recognizes Israel; he stands with the likes of Iran, Syria, and Hamas–Israel is to be eliminated, if not immediately, then piecemeal.

So why do I like Glenn Beck? It’s not because of his personal theology. I really could care less about his eschatological beliefs regarding the End-times.  What matters to me is more how Christians act and behave toward Israel and by this standard, Glenn Beck is a standup man worthy of our admiration and respect. When my evangelical friends flew to Israel to stand by Israel during its war with Hezbollah, every  Jew knew in Israel who our “real” friends are and guess what, it’s not the Presbyterians, or the Methodists, or the other mainline churches that demonize Israel.

Consider some of Beck’s comments:

“The grand councils of the earth condemn Israel. Across the border, Syria slaughters its own citizens. The grand councils are silent…

Note that the President has been exceptionally tight-lipped about Assad and until just a few months ago, regarded Assad as a viable “peace partner” for Israel. How foolish can one possibly be? “Who are you going to believe – me or your own eyes?” When the people of Iran a few years ago challenged the Mullahs of Iran, President Obama did nothing, and said nothing. In his mind, Iran is a country that is happy to be under the watchful eye of the Mullahs. President Obama enables thugocracies. Continue Reading

Hillel is remembered for many innovations. During the Sabbatical Year, he made it possible for lenders to still collect outstanding debts so that people would be able to borrow money during the Sabbatical Year. It is widely believed that Hillel invented the famous ‘Hillel Sandwich” during the Passover Seder (this is not true, Semites have been making sandwiches for thousands of years!). Many people also think he invented the “Golden Rule.”

According to Jewish tradition, the best known version of the Golden Rule derives from the teachings of Hillel. Here’s the origin of the tradition. When a non-Jew came to Hillel, seeking to make fun of the old teacher, he asked Hillel to teach him the entire Torah while he stood on one foot.

Unlike Shammai, who chased the practical joker away, Hillel knew exactly how to make his point poignantly clear to his wily guest. Hillel exclaimed, “What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor: that is the whole Torah, while the rest is the commentary thereof; now go and study it.”[1]

Although Hillel is credited with inventing the Golden Rule, he was not the first Jew to formulate it.

Here are at least four sources that most people are unfamiliar with that antedate Hillel’s Golden Rule by at least three centuries:

The king received the answer with great delight and looking at another said to the Sage: ‘What is the teaching of wisdom?’ And the other replied, ‘As you wish that no evil should befall you, but to be a partaker of all good things, so you should act on the same principle towards your subjects and offenders, and you should mildly admonish the noble and good. For God draws all men to Himself by his benignity.’[2]

The first century Jewish philosopher, Philo of Alexandria observes, “Moreover, it is ordained in the laws themselves that no one shall do to his neighbor what he would be unwilling to have done to himself.”[3]

And in the book of Tobit, we also find: “Do to no one what you yourself dislike.”[4]

According to the wisdom of Ben Sira, one of my favorite Jewish philosophers of antiquity, the Golden Rule pertains to many important areas of human relations—especially with respect to forgiveness.

The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance,

for he keeps a strict account of^a their sins.

Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done,

and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray.

Does anyone harbor anger against another,

and expect healing from the Lord?

If one has no mercy toward another like himself,

can he then seek pardon for his own sins?

If a mere mortal harbors wrath,

who will make an atoning sacrifice for his sins?

Remember the end of your life, and set enmity aside;

remember corruption and death, and be true to the commandments.

Remember the commandments, and do not be angry with your neighbor;

remember the covenant of the Most High, and overlook faults. [5] Continue Reading

Despite the daily pogroms, persecutions and misery of the old European Shtetle, the pre-modern Jew had an inner faith in a personal God who was always close to his heart. The Eastern European Jew resembled Shalom Aleichem’s character Tevye, the old pious Jew who addressed God as freely and intimately as one would speak with a friend or neighbor. His spiritual language portrayed metaphors that were shamelessly personal, passionately rich and profoundly anthropomorphic. It was a culture of intense intimacy, spirit, song, dance, and tears. The Eastern European Jew could still address God as Tatte (Yiddish for daddy). God was perceived as a Bore Olam – Creator of all the world. God-talk contained many terms of endearment and signified how God’s living Presence could be discerned in the world.

The political, social, scientific events that shaped the 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries exploded the naiveté and innocence that characterized the pre-modern Jewish world.  An early 20th century Jewish existentialist Franz Rosenzweig, tells about a conversation Herman Cohen, a famous Jewish neo-Kantian philosopher, once had with an old pious Jew. This conversation typified the dilemma Jewish intellectuals in the post- Emancipation era experienced when the ghetto walls finally crumbled down:

He once expounded the God-idea of his Ethics to an old Jew of that city. The Jew listened with reverent attention, but when Cohen was through, he asked, “And where is the Bore olam (Creator)?” Cohen had no answer to this, and tears arose in his eyes.

Rosenzweig added:

Here the term Bore Olam does not mean something remote, as the content of the words seem to indicate. On the contrary: in popular speech the words are fraught with emotion, they are something near, and in the case of the God of the heart, the heart never for a moment forgets that He is the one –who is. So here the spark does not merely oscillate between the two poles of nearness and remoteness, but each pole has a positive and a negative charge, only in a different pattern. The Creator who is above the world takes up his “habitation,” and the abstract God of philosophy has his “being in the crushed heart.”[3]

Herman Cohen’s concept of “ethical monotheism” utilized the idea of God as the organizing principle and nexus of ethical behavior. The God idea was a necessary postulate in order to have a just and ethical world. However, Cohen’s reduction of God to an idea meant that Jews would not have to relate to God on a personal level. Cohen was convinced that any “personalization” of God was nothing more than a Christian aberration.

Despite Cohen’s secularity, he still felt a sense of homelessness when it came to his relationship with God. It did touch his heart. In many ways this feeling is emblematic of the way many Jews today feel about their faith in God, and in their own identities as Jews. The current sensation of “homelessness” stems from fragmentation and ‘loss of soul’ that has become commonplace in today’s postmodern Judaic community.

As if the changes initiated by the new historical consciousness were not enough, the trauma of the Holocaust shattered the old pious world-view of the Jew into a million pieces. Like the old nursery rhyme, “All the kings horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty Dumpy back together again.”

Since the end of the second World War,  picking up the pieces and redefining the nature of our faith has proven to be a profound challenge; our traditional ideas of God have dissolved in a sea of doubt and endless questioning. Our capacity and personal ability to experience of the God of the Exodus has proven cognitively as well as emotionally difficult.

Still and all, while the experience of God may seem problematic for many, I would encourage you to follow Maimonides’ principle: Before you can arrive at what you do believe in, you must first determine what you do not or will  believe in. Faith requires that we see our lives in terms of a great and wonderful quest that leads to the greatest discovery of fulfillment and purpose. Yes, Tillich is correct: religion is about our Ultimate Concern and hopefully, this realization will help us redefine our relationship with the Divine. Continue Reading