Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

When one takes a gaze at the Jewish horizon, one gets the distinct impression that many synagogues find themselves confronted by a spiritual problem they can scarcely understand—much less articulate: Irrelevance. Judaism may someday die—not by genocides—but by apathy. Yes, as rabbis we love to sermonize about Israel, political concerns, and a host of other miscellaneous topics ad nauseam, but we feel too embarrassed to talk, or engage one another about one of the most important issues of our time: recovering Jewish spirituality.

The obstacles are daunting.

For one thing, talking about God exposes our prepubescence. Can a sophisticated and educated person who is schooled in science still believe in God? Some of us also feel awkward about our ambivalence. Didn’t Feuerbach, Freud, and Marx convince us that God is nothing more but a human projection? Didn’t Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan tell us that God is anything but “personal”? Yes, history also gives us pause to wonder. God poses a mighty problem for those of us who remember Auschwitz and Rwanda, or the legion of Jihadists, who delight in destroying innocent lives in the name of Allah. Although we speak about the great miracles of the biblical past, e.g., the splitting of the Red Sea, we find ourselves cynically asking, “What have you done for us lately, God?” Maybe as a result of our collective suffering as a people, it is too hard for us to imagine God as “personal.”

Any close brush with evil makes it exceedingly difficult to talk about faith. Martin Buber asked poignantly:

• In this our time, one asks again and again: how is a Jewish life still possible after Auschwitz? I would like to frame this question more correctly: how is a life with God still possible in a time in which there is an Auschwitz? The estrangement has become too cruel, the hiddenness too deep. One can still “believe” in a God who allowed those things to happen, but how can one still speak to Him? Can one still hear His word? Can one still, as an individual and a people, enter at all in a dialogical relationship with Him? Can one still call on Him? Dare we recommend to the survivors of Auschwitz, the Jobs of the gas chambers: “Call on Him, for He is kind, for His mercy endureth forever?”[1]

Jewish tradition teaches us that anyone who lives in a cemetery could be considered insane according to mishnaic law.[2] I often wonder whether we have lost our sanity since Auschwitz. Nevertheless, the rabbinic proscription against sleeping in a cemetery ought to make us wonder: Is it possible that our concepts of God and the Bible might have been flawed to begin with? A friend of mine who is a large publisher of Jewish books confided with me, “Michael Leo, I cannot believe in a rabbi who does not believe in miracles.” In my usual Socratic style, I asked him, “Will you define for me, what you mean by ‘miracle’?”

We are so used to Hollywood defining what “miracles” are supposed to be–supernatural violations of natural law; as a result, we fail to consider the obvious. Miracle comes from the Latin miraculum “object of wonder,” and when we see something that awakens within us a sense of wonder, we experience the miraculous. From the religious perspective, the continuous survival of the Jewish people continues to surprise the world. When you consider the enemies that we have faced and out-survived, that too is a miracle. When one considers that the Jewish people bear witness to the reality of ethical monotheism despite the countless attempts of our enemies to destroy us, I am dwarfed by miracles.

There are no easy answers as to why bad things happen to good people, yet the continued existence of the Jewish people seems to point to something very majestic and profound—the God of history. Miracles are subtle. If a miracle can be subtle, I believe God is also subtle. Our childish images of Big Daddy God doing it all for us helpless fools, is passé—God is, for me, the Power that is giving shape to a good world. However, we are also God’s co-partners in Creation. Human generated evil would never be possible if we didn’t allow it to happen.  In my opinion, before we start pointing fingers at God, we need to start taking a sober look at our abdication as God’s shepherds and rescuers.

Lastly, when discussing spirituality, it is important to understand its Hebraic usage in the Torah and Tanakh. To be begin with, the “Spirit of God” רוּחַ אֱלֹהִים  (rûah ´élöhîm) mentioned in Genesis 1:2 describes  רוּחַ as the life-breath and life-principle that transforms the chaos of creation into a cosmos. In theological terms, רוּחַ alludes to the most profound dimension that converts, liberates, and sublimates human existence. In practical terms, when we embrace this aspect of spirit within our being—we can transform even the darkest forces of chaos into an orderly cosmos that exist in our world. This has been our task as God’s witness in history. Isn’t about time we start learning to get in touch with this profound dimension of our life that can improve and transform our earthly and spiritual existence?

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Ever since I was a kid, I love baseball. When I was about 7 or 8, I could rattle off the top ten pitchers, batters, along with their minor league and career averages.

Yes, baseball is terrific.

Yet, today,  I must confess: I do not like watching the Barry Bonds and the Roger Clemens baseball hearings take place. Though steroids have been banned in MLB since 1991, the league did not implement league-wide PED (Performance Enhancing Drugs) testing until 2003, two years after Bonds hit 73 home-runs.

On the basis of his impressive career alone from 1987 to 1999, a period where he was steroid free, Bonds would have been a lock for the Hall of Fame. Bonds would have been a first ballot Hall of Famer and he would have also been known as one of the greatest players ever.  Up until that point of Bonds career, he was a three-time National League MVP winner, he won eight Gold Gloves as a left fielder, and he had hit 455 home-runs.  At that time some baseball historians were saying that Bonds was one of the top 10 players ever to live.

If Bonds had never taken steroids, he would have played another six or seven seasons, each year fading a little bit.  He would have certainly surpassed the 500-homerun mark, and he could have made a run at 600.  But even if he ended his career with 445 home runs, he would have been a shoe in for the Hall of Fame because of the amount of home-runs he already had, plus his three MVPs and eight Gold Gloves.

Then Bonds’ record took off. In 2000, he hit a career high 49 home-runs, and then in 2001, he broke McGwire’s single season home-run record by hitting 73.  Bonds went on to surpass Hank Aaron’s career home-run record, and Bonds finished his career in 2007 with 762 home-runs.

It seems to me that some purists feel angry Bonds broke Aaron’s record.

Let’s be truthful with ourselves: the home-run race benefited baseball, and everyone looked the other way. Ok, the fact baseball czars did not test for PED means that one must give the benefit of the doubt to the players. If one wishes to be angry at anyone, be angry at the Baseball Commissioner and his associates for not testing the players. Bear in mind that after the infamous Baseball Strike of 1994-1995, fans like me, vowed never to watch another ballgame. When Big Mac and Sammy Sosa started their famous competition, thousands of fans came back to the game with a spirit of forgiveness. Bud Selig, the Baseball Commissioner delighted in the renewed interest of the game.

We all did.

The time has come for fans to give credit where credit was due.  If we want to go after anybody, we should inspect the politicians from the President to the common Congressman and see whether their records will stand the test of purity and honesty.

Somehow, I don’t think they would do so well.

Ask yourself a simple question: Who do the politicians think they are? Do they fancy themselves as the guardians of baseball purity?

What is wrong with this picture?

Think again.  Aren’t these the same politicians who have squandered Social Security monies and Medicare funding? Aren’t these the same charlatans who are personally enriching themselves at the expense of the public, e.g., inside trading?

“Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.”

Just for the record, whatever Bonds or Clemens may have done is benign when compared to the kind of the antics baseball has tolerated for much of its history. In fact, fewer sports can claim as many cheaters as baseball. Baseball and cheating have a long history. The artful deception of the Baseball Other is the stuff that baseball lore and legends are made up of. Contrary to popular political belief, there are a lot of players in the Hall of Fame who would have never made it for we have empirical evidence that cheating took place. Some cheated long enough to change the outcome of a pennant race, while others cheated throughout their careers. Some cheated just for the fun of it.

In Jungian terminology, baseball has a shadow side that cannot be denied. Let’s be honest, baseball is not a shrine for Catholic saints or Hassidic Rebbes (many of whom, also cheated). It is a place where we honor the memory and life achievements of baseball’s immortal heroes, but make no mistake: many of them were not saints.

In the interest of brevity, I will mention just a few of the game’s best known baseball cheaters:

• 1. New York Giants (1951)  – Bobby Thomson

The year was 1951. Bobby Thomson got mobbed by his Giants’ teammates after hitting the “shot heard ’round the world.”

“That year, the Giants admitted they had an elaborate sign-stealing system in place at the Polo Grounds in 1951. Did it help them erase the 13½-game lead the Dodgers had in August? Did Bobby Thomson know what Ralph Branca was throwing when he hit his “Shot heard around the world?” Those questions are unanswerable, even by Thomson, who exhibited Clintonesque qualities when he was once questioned by the Wall Street Journal, years later. He said,  “I’d have to say more no than yes . . .” After equivocating, he finally said, “No, I didn’t  steal the sign for that pitch.”

• 2. John McGraw (3B, SS, OF, Orioles, Cardinals, Giants, 1891-1906)

This Hall-of-Famer should have played football. Two old chroniclers named  Geoffrey C. Ward and Ken Burns  wrote in “Baseball: An Illustrated History,” On the field,  the 155-pound McGraw “held far bigger base runners back by the belt, blocked them, tripped them, spiked them — and rarely complained when they did the same to him.” He was known to grab onto runners belts as they were rounding third, and grab the belt loops of runners tagging up at third. “He uses every low and contemptible method that his erratic brain can conceive to win a play by a dirty trick,” wrote one reporter.

• 3. Gaylord Perry (pitcher, Giants, Indians, Rangers, Padres, Yankees, Braves, Mariners, Royals, 1962-1983)

“Gaylord Perry, a Hall-of-Famer, compiled his 314-265 record on the wings of a Vaseline ball. He’d stand on the mound, touching his cap or his sleeve, either loading up the ball or trying to convince batters he was doing so. In 1982, he became one of the very few pitchers to be suspended for doctoring the ball. Gene Tenace, who was Perry’s catcher with the Padres, said the ball was sometimes so loaded he couldn’t throw it back to the mound. Indians president Gabe Paul defended Perry: “Gaylord is a very honorable man,” he said. ‘He only calls for the spitter when he needs it.’”

• 4. Ty Cobb, one of Baseball’s greatest players, loved to sharpen his spikes and maim anyone who tried to tag him out when he would steal a base.

• 5. Whitey Ford has many outstanding records: Winning percentage, left-hander, career (minimum 100 wins), .690; Most World Series wins, career, 10; Most World Series starts. After his career ended, Ford admitted to occasionally cheating by doctoring the ball with his ring.  Ford, Sutton and Perry were often accused of throwing illegal pitches, scuffed ones or spitters.

We honor some men who found a way around the rules of the game while excluding others? Was Perry an isolated incident? Of course not, Whitey Ford is in the Hall as well. Whitey, the great, was fond of cutting up a baseball or two with a sharp ring he once wore. In short, the infamous list of less than honest citizens goes on. Despite the baseball antics, these players give much for the fans to cheer about. I personally resent the politicians and the purists who are trying to make the Hall of Fame into a religious shrine for the holiest players.

What about Pete Rose? Hasn’t he done enough penance yet? Let’s be honest: Pete Rose made a mistake. But he is hardly alone–we all do. To disregard one of the most successful baseball careers in the history of the game with a zero mistake policy does a disservice to Rose, the teams he played for, the fans who enjoyed watching him play, and the sport of baseball. Pete Rose’s suspension should be lifted for him, and for baseball. Heck, even the Pope forgives, just like Jesus–so should baseball.

Guess what? People who bring excitement to our favorite pastime deserve to have a break. If you want to test the players from now on (which we already do), then fine—but baseball didn’t mind letting their superstars play, and neither should we. Continue Reading

Historically, rabbinic tradition took a dim view of capital punishment. Mishnahic law required that those accused be warned by witnesses immediately before they commit the offense, and that they acknowledge such warning—a clear indication of the rabbinic distaste for capital punishment, explicitly found elsewhere.[1] Life imprisonment did exist for cases that could not technically be legally prosecuted, even though the evidence left no room for doubt[2]; such a person had to subsist on sparse diet of barley bread and water, and the Talmud indicates the criminal usually died from starvation. There may be a Scriptural allusion to this practice: the prisoner was condemned to eat “the bread of misfortune and the water of distress” (Isa. 30:20). Other rabbinic statements make it near impossible to convict the accused villain:

• R. Yose says, “Under no circumstances is one put to death unless both witnesses against him have given warning to him,” as it is said, ‘At the testimony of two witnesses’ (Deut. 7:6).”[3] He whose trial ended and who fled and was brought back before the same court—they do not reverse the judgment concerning him and retry him. He whose trial ended and who fled and was brought back before the same court—they do not reverse the judgment concerning him and retry him . . . A Sanhedrin which imposes the death penalty once in seven years is called murderous.
  
• R. Eleazar b. Azariah says, “Once in seventy years.” R. Tarfon and R. Akiba say, “If we were on a Sanhedrin, no one would ever be put to death.”[4] Rabban Simeon b. Gamaliel says, “So these Sages would multiply the number of murderers in Israel.”[5]

Moreover, the defendant may not be put to death unless two (or in some cases three) eyewitnesses testify against him or her. Each witness must be so certain of his testimony that he personally would be willing to carry out the execution. A passage from Deuteronomy 19:13-21 asserts that a plotting witness is subject to the same punishment as the defendant—including, in all probability, capital punishment. Although the Torah prescribes the death penalty in the case of adolescent rebellion (i.e., “the rebellious son” of Deut. 21:18-21), the Sages admit, “Such a case never occurred, and it never will happen.” They argue that the entire passage is heuristic, so, “That you may study [the Torah for its own sake] and receive reward.” [6]  The rabbinic angst and reticence to implement the death penalty, and its alternative system of imprisonment is of considerable relevance for modern biblical scholars and laity.

Subsequent rabbinical law is pretty straightforward about such cases. Maimonides writes, “The following rules apply when two groups of witnesses present conflicting testimonies. If a witness from one group came together with one witness from a different group and both deliver testimony concerning another matter, the testimony is of no consequence. It is obvious that one of them is lying, but we cannot ascertain which one.”[7]Likewise Maimonides also notes, “Should a court err with regard to a case involving capital punishment and convict an innocent person, ruling that he is guilty, and they discover a rationale that would require that the ruling be nullified and he be vindicated, they nullify the ruling and retry the case. If the Court erroneously ruled and acquitted a person liable to be executed, then the judgment is not nullified and the case is not retried.” [8]

According to the Jerusalem Talmud, one disqualified witness invalidates all other testimonies—regardless of the number of witnesses testifying. [9] If a judge suspects one of the witnesses is actually lying, he cannot render a decision (cf. Isa. 11:3-4). [10] Unlike American civil law that allows known criminals to testify in court against an alleged murderer, rabbinic law prohibits the testimony of criminals because (1) they have zero credibility in rabbinical law and (2) a credible witness cannot join forces with a dishonest witness. [11] Among modern Talmudic scholars, R. Louis Jacobs points out that despite the reticence of rabbis in the Talmud to apply the death penalty, the Sages acknowledged that are a number of important exceptions.

Against all this is the Talmudic statement (Sanhedrin 46a) that as an emergency measure, “when the generation requires it,” a court has the power to “act against the Torah” and to order an execution or other “illegal” physical penalties. In other words, although it is illegal to impose the death penalty, the court can, on rare occasions, act illegally if the aim is to protect the Torah. Naturally, it all depends on the circumstances that would warrant executions without the due process of the law. The statement was never interpreted as meaning that what the Law took away with one hand it gave back with the other.

The German and French communities in the Middle Ages ignored the statement altogether and never imposed the death penalty, not even when circumstances seemed to call for it. Not so in Muslim Spain, where the Gentile authorities gave the Jewish courts a good deal of autonomy. In Spain, albeit on rare occasions, the courts did rely on the Talmudic statement and imposed otherwise illegal penalties such as mutilation (found nowhere in the classical sources) of certain offenders; they also executed offenders such as informers who endangered the community. When Asher ben Yehiel (d. 1327) came from Germany to Toledo in Spain he expressed his horror at the Spanish practice, totally unknown in Germany, although later on, he himself conformed to the Spanish norm.

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Rabbinic minds have thought about the significance of Genesis in a number of different ways. For exegetes like Rashi, Genesis stresses how God is the Owner and Proprietor of the universe and, therefore, God alone has every right to give the Land of Canaan to whomever He pleases; in this case, He bequeaths it to the nation of Israel. As God’s people, Israel has a bond with the land that is eternal and irrevocable.[1] Rashi’s opening salvo was quite a remarkable comment to make at a time when Christians and Muslims were fighting for control of the Holy Land. What began long ago as an ideological struggle during the age of the Crusades continues to haunt present-day reality in the Middle East.

In contrast, some exegetes argue that Rashi’s answer to be inadequate.[2] Genesis stresses a basic theological truth, namely—God is the Author of all existence. Ramban[3] (1194–1270), as well other Judaic commentators teaches the importance of creatio ex nihilo—nothing would exist were it not for the creative power of God. Every creature and entity could not exist were it not due to the conscious act of the Divine bringing each being into existence at every moment.

Like Ramban, Rashbam[4] (ca. 1085-1158) also  supports the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo, while adding, “Do not imagine that this world you now see and experience had existed forever, for everything in the universe had an absolute beginning—that is why the Torah states from the onset: “At the beginning of the creation of the heaven and the earth . . .” (1:1). Furthermore, reasons Rashbam, the purpose of the creation narrative is to explain why the Sabbath is the cornerstone of all the Jewish holidays—a point that is emphatically stressed in the Decalogue: “Remember to keep holy the Sabbath day. . . . In six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the LORD has blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy” (Exod. 20:8-10). By observing the Sabbath, Israel bears witness to the world that God is the sole Creator of the universe.

Among the patristic fathers, Theodoret of Cyprus (393-457) explains that after centuries of oppression and assimilation, the Israelites became religiously indistinguishable from their Egyptian masters who believed solely in a visible creation. Consequently, the Israelites had forgotten about the one and true God of their ancestors, who created the heavens and the earth. “The statement that heaven and earth and the other parts of the universe were created and the revelation that the God of the universe was their Creator provided a true doctrine of God sufficient for people of that time.”[5] Theodoret’s point is significant. From the very outset of their freedom, Moses begins re-educating his people by teaching them about the creation story. The purpose of the Sabbath thus serves to teach the people of Israel about the nature of true faith and belief in God. Maimonides later expresses a similar point. According to him, each biblical precept—in one manner or another—aims to raise humankind, as theologian David Hartman notes, “from an anthropocentric to a theocentric concept of religious life.”[6]

Karaite exegete and theologian Aharon ben Eliahu (1260-1320), sharing a somewhat similar opinion to that of Rashbam, points out that the principles of Providence and prophecy would be inconceivable were it not for the belief that God created the world. “Moses,” argues Aharon, “wished to impress upon his people that they look only to God as the Ultimate Cause of their existence.” Like Rashbam, Aharon explains that the purpose of the Creation narrative also serves to theologically reinforce the celebration of the Sabbath.

• Genesis and the Origin of Ethical Monotheism  

R. Samuel David Luzzato (1800-1865) offers an altogether different interpretation. According to him, the opening salvo of Genesis teaches:

Now God wanted to proclaim to humankind about the unity of the world and the unity of the human race, for in error in these two matters caused many evils in ancient times. Without knowledge of the world’s unity, it followed that people believed in private gods with limitations and imperfections, and that people would do evil deeds in order to win their favor. . . . Without knowledge of the unity of the human race it followed that one people would hate and despise another and that physical force—not justice and righteousness—would rule among them. These two cardinal principles—the unity of the world and the unity of the human race—are the overall purpose in the story of Creation.[7]

S. D. Luzzato’s position is reminiscent of the early rabbinic view of 2^nd century sage, R. Simon Ben Azzai, who thought that the greatest single principle one may derive from the Genesis story—or for that matter, the entire Pentateuch—is the statement in Genesis affirming that God created humankind in His Divine image (Gen. 1:26; 5:1). According to Ben Azzai, the most supreme ethical principle in the Torah is the teaching of divine equality and equity. Moreover, this principle exceeds even the famous Levitical passage, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18). For Ben Azzai, respecting the divine image beginning first with oneself, and then with others ensures that society will be just and moral. To insult or harm the divine image in any of its forms is to deny the essential brotherhood and sisterhood of humankind. This is why Ben Azzai affirms that the verse affirming the Divine image is by far the most comprehensive principle of the entire Torah—the bedrock of all biblical morality.[8]

The opening chapters of Genesis thus provide the theological basis for ethical monotheism. Since all races of humankind are made in the image and likeness of God, anyone denying this principle will result in a world that is riddled with violence, tragedy, and needless suffering. One may further argue that this particular theme links together the books of Genesis and Exodus. People cannot mistreat one another with impunity, for in God’s creative order there is accountability. Humankind’s very survival depends upon mastering the forces of chaos that threaten its very survival. The same God who creates the universal laws that govern the cosmos also creates the moral law by which humanity must abide. The Decalogue at Sinai is more than a mere ethical prescription—all ethics regarding how one treats one’s fellow beings derive from the creation narrative.

• The Dangers of Pseudo-Piety

Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin also stresses the importance of ethical monotheism that is the bedrock of the Genesis narratives. He writes:

• The matter that is explained in the Song of Ha’azinu in the verse, ‘The Rock—how faultless are his deeds, how right all his ways! A faithful God, without deceit, how just and upright he is!’  (Deut. 32:4). The term “right” comes to justify the fairness of God’s judgement regarding the destruction of the Second Temple, a generation that can best be described as “perverse and crooked.” Although there were devout and pious people who labored in the study of Torah, they neglected to act uprightly in an ethical manner (lit. “ways of the world”). Due to the gratuitous hatred they harbored in their hearts, they lashed out against anyone they felt who lacked the “fear of God” as being either a Sadducee or a heretic. Their self-righteous attitude led to internecine strife—resulting in the Temple’s destruction. God’s judgement was truly just, for He does not tolerate self-righteous people of this sort. With respect to all ethical matters, they must walk in the proper path, and not in perversity—even if they claim that they are acting in the Name of Heaven, for in the end they were responsible for the Temple’s destruction.[9]

Berlin’s observations still resonate with our 21^st century political and religious landscape. The absence of interpersonal piety is a problem that has manifested itself in a variety of fundamentalist religions of our times and no religion can claim immunity from this charge. In our own day, the insistence upon ideological purity and Pavlovian-like obedience to ecclesiastical authorities often produces the worse kind of citizen.

This is certainly the problem with the Haredi and Hassidic communities in Israel, which insist that even non-Haredi Orthodox Jews comply with their standards of modesty and personal piety. The vitriolic disdain for the Other respects no persons, not even mothers or their young children. In the name of zealotry, violence toward the Other is endorsed by many of Jerusalem’s Haredi and Hassidic leaders, as these groups attempt to expand their political and social influence. With the political ascent of Jihadist Islam (a.k.a. Radical Islam), the threat of holy war and promises of a paradisial world replete with all the sexual pleasure a young man can possibly imagine, threatens to destroy millions in Israel with sophisticated nuclear and biological weaponry. Theocracies are a lot like meat and milk; religion, like milk is fine and politics as an endeavor can also be fine–but when they are mixed, you have a toxic substance.

Here is the paradox: the love of God can function as a healing life-force, the most profound wellspring of compassion. On the flip side, the love of God  is capable of transforming itself into a diabolical death-force, capable of annihilating all life. Religious hatreds tend to be merciless, unyielding, undying, absolute, and are seemingly capable of spontaneous generation.[10]

Let us pray that ethical monotheism finds a way to triumph over its evil twin—radical monotheism, which subsists upon the hatred of the Other for its existence and power.

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As a child, I used to love reading the golem stories attributed to Rabbi Judah Lowe, a.k.a., the famous “MaHaral of Prague” (1525-1609).  Since my father came from Czechoslovakia, I grew up hearing many family tales about the golem. These stories were especially delightful since my father was a naturally talented storyteller.  The golem was something like a medieval super-hero who protected the Jewish community from pogroms in its time.  It is interesting to note that despite the numerous tracts MaHaral wrote on various philosophical, talmudic, and mystical themes, never once does he ever refer to the golem that is associated with his name.

What is a Golem?

The term gōlem is a “shapeless mass” (Ps. 139:16), but according to Jewish folklore, a golem is a creature that is made from clay and is animated by magical and mystical means. One of the more apocryphal stories of the Talmud relates how a 4th century scholar named Rava, magically created a man through the Sefer Yetzirah and sent him to Rabbi Zera. The latter tried speaking to him, but the poor golem could not speak. When there was no response, he declared: ‘You must be a  product of our colleague. Return to your dust!’ and so he died (BT Sanhedrin 65b).

(By the way, in Yiddish, a “golem” can refer to someone who has marginal intelligence, who is almost incapable of sensible communication.)

Ironically, it is with no precedent in the Bible, except for the creation of Adam. It is remarkable how modern literature contains countless stories of how man has attempted to make an artificial “Mini-me.” I guess, since God has created us in His image, human beings have been trying to pay God back by creating a life-form in man’s image. Man has long fantasied about becoming a mini-creator. How could such hubris not fail? The mythos of the golem story always leads to chaos and destruction. How can it not be? Man’s own chaos is reflected in his handiwork–the golem.

Indeed, in nearly all the golem legends, it appears that anytime mortals attempt to create human life, it is an activity that is fraught with danger. It seems that our ancestors felt suspicious about the full extent of man’s creative powers. In many of the stories, the golem goes out of control, destroying everything in sight.

Adaptations of the Golem in Western Literature and Cinema

The Frankenstein story is a European re-adaptation of the Golem legends. In J. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Hobbit Gollum devolves into a treacherous shape-shifter under the malign influence of the Ring, it seems obvious that the author had these legends in mind.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, the character Data personifies  the golem legend. When attempting to integrate the emotional chip, he becomes capable of erratic behavior–even violence. Countless sci-fi films have developed this theme in numerous tales about humanoid-like robots turning against their masters, i.e., like the Terminator series. Even the X-Files had an interesting episode of a betrothed woman who turns her murdered husband into a golem, in order to avenge his death.

Some poor women I know, happen to be married to golems. It’s more common than you may realize.

According to some medieval tales, the golem is indestructible; if the golem had been created by writing the Hebrew word “אמת” (emet; “truth”) on its forehead, it could be destroyed by erasing the first letter to produce the word “מת” (met; “dead”). If one had created a golem by placing the name of God in its mouth, all that was needed was to remove the parchment.

Can a Golem Join a Minyan?

The golem has found a respectable place even in the Halachic literature. In one case study, Rabbi Zvi Ashkanazi (1660-1718) writes in a responsa how his grandfather, Rabbi Elijah of Chelm, once made a golem in his garage. In this remarkable responsa, he asks whether (1) can a golem count as one of the ten who make a minyan or quorum for prayer?  (2) If someone killed such an entity, would be considered a murderer? Each of these questions revolves around one basic question: could such a creature possess a human soul?

If the golem can be counted, does that mean that a golem may be considered as a Jew?  Or does he have a gentile status? On the other hand, it is logical to say that the golem should be no worst than an adopted child, who is considered “Jewish.”

The rabbi wondered:

“’Should it occur to you that a golem could have been counted for a minyan (or for that matter any occasion requiring a minyan),  why would R. Zeira deliberately destroy it? It could only mean that the Golem is not considered  a person, for otherwise Rava would have most certainly used him for a minyan! (I can hear him say, “Yo, Golem, we need ya for a minyan!”

According to this piece of “dazzling” wisdom (of course I am not being real serious) , it would appear that a golem is not really a ‘person’ in any real sense of the word, for the Torah clearly states, ‘If anyone sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; For in the image of God has man been made” (Gen. 9:6). In fact, were one to kill such a creature, it would not even be considered murder! [1]

In the case of Rava’s golem, since he was artificially made, therefore,  he could not actually be considered “human.” Rabbi Ashkenazi concludes, “Nevertheless, Rabbi Zeira should not have done away with it, unless it served no constructive purpose. If that is the case, its destruction can be of no consequence; therefore, it could not qualify for a minyan or, for that matter, any other sacred purpose . . . Moreover a golem is inferior even to the souls of women, and they are never counted for anything pertaining to a minyan.”

Defining “Personhood”

Right, Rabbi Ashkenazi, “inferior even to  the souls of women. . . ” I am curious: Since when is a soul, by itself, subject to gender? But that is another topic for future day.

It seems strange that the idea of a woman being a part of the minyan was not even a consideration, but the golem at least made the venerable rabbi pause for reflection. I suspect the Ortho-feminists of our time would most certainly have straightened Rabbi Ashkenazi out, if they could go back in time and argue with the rabbi.

Needless to say, a modern medical ethicist would definitely have serious problems with Rav Ashkenazi’s assertion that any person who  is artificially created– intrinsically–lacks the status of a “person.”

If Rav Askenazi’s logic is consistent, would a human being who  is in a deep comatose state also be considered like a “golem,” since he lacks the obvious visible signs of personhood?

Ultimately, it really boils down to the question: What is personhood? Using Descartes’ cogito ergo sum, if an entity is capable of thinking and self-reflection, then it is safe to presume it has the property of “personhood,” irregardless whether its origin is artificial or not. Equally important is the  matter of “reverence for life,” for once sentience and self-consciousness have been established, how can anyone not respect the “person” who possesses these two traits?

I often think of the Terry Schiavo story and how the State facilitated her death–by starvation. Within a year, Discover Magazine has produced a number of medical stories where consciousness did not die, and even people suffering from a chronic vegetative are still capable of regaining part of their mind back.[1]

Was Terri Schiavo a golem? No, I don’t think so.

Golems play an important role in the modern synagogue–a fact I can personally attest to seeing. As one of my colleagues once said, “If you wish to see ten golems, just come to an evening service  at my Shul.”

Ditto . . . but not in Chula Vista! Continue Reading

Horace Mann School of Cherry Hill, NJ,  is still living in the dark ages. It is ironic that the original Horace Mann opposed corporal punishment in the classroom. He was an early advocate for teaching moral values in the classroom, and that the character formation was as important as reading, writing, and arithmetic. Just as he opposed corporal punishment, he also opposed ridiculing children in the classroom.

Horace Mann would be turning over in his grave if he could see the things being perpetuated by the institutions that bear his name.

Our school system has a serious with respect to bullying. With respect to bullying, there is a good deal of bullying without violence, e.g., bullying by words, gestures, treating the bullied person as a pariah. Many children have committed suicide because the taunting they experience in the class room by their peers. When a teacher resorts to bullying, the problem is exponentially worse since children view adults as role models. That is exactly what happened in Cherry Hill, this past month.

When I read about Stuart Chaifetz’s ordeal with the Horse Mann School, I felt sorry for his poor son, Akian. I felt sorry for all the autistic children who might have had similar experiences. Their lives are hard enough without adults making their lives more miserable.

For those of you unfamiliar with the boy’s odyssey, the story began when the parent heard some complaints about his son acting violently in the class. The father related that this was out of character for his autistic ten year-old son, who always had a pleasant disposition. The father decided to wire his son, so he could hear exactly what was going on in the classroom.

The father was shocked by the degree of abuse his child had received from his teachers. The tenured teachers of Horace Mann began talking about their drinking binges, sexual exploits, gossiping about students and their parents. As if that wasn’t enough, they began taunting, shouting, and swearing at his son.

The teacher and her aides did their best to “make a living hell for my son,” Chaifetz said. After being insulted by the teacher and her assistants, Akian began to cry. The teacher began mocking him and yelling: “Shut your mouth . . . ‘Go ahead and scream because guess what? You are going to get nothing until your mouth is shut.’” After a few minutes, the teacher screamed, “Oh Akian, you are a bastard.”

The father’s decision to Youtube the conversation was a brilliant stroke.

Embarrassed by the incident, the school immediately fired one of the teachers; the other teacher is still remaining in the school.

But Chaifetz does not agree. ‘What you did was so disgusting that you should be walking around with your head in shame… And you’re still teaching children today,’ he said. He added, “I want an apology not for me,  so one day, I can play this video back for my son and say, ‘Akian, you did not deserve anything that happened to you. These people are at fault… This is to reclaim my son’s dignity.’”

The absence of human compassion is shocking. The Horace Mann School is probably not the only school that operates this way. Perhaps the time has come for the local school districts to start video-taping the classes that are believed to have serious problems like the case we mentioned above.

It seems to me that it might not be a bad idea for members of the clergy and other civic leaders to consider moral education into the curriculum, much like Horace Mann envisioned in the 19^th century. True, Horace Mann believed that the Bible was the best source for ethical values, but in the 21^st century, we may want to take ethical values from many traditions, e.g., basic teaching from Epictetus, Epicurus, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Aesop’s Fables, Buddha, Hillel, Jesus, Proverbs, Ben Sira, Ramakrishna,  and the Native American tradition.

A course in the Golden Rule should be a part of any ethics, philosophy, or psychology class in high school.

Our public schools need to teach values about respect, altruism, consideration, empathy, compassion, patience, and prudence. True, one might argue that it is the parent’s responsibility to teach these values, but historically—our country’s schools realized that teaching ethical values (not necessarily religious values) serves to help create a better citizen for society as whole.

If we wish these values to take root, they must be instilled from the pre-school and up, one year at a time. If we wait for children to start learning these values by the time they get to middle school, I am afraid we may be too late. By the time the children become older, bad habits become engrained in their character.

As for Stuart Chaifetz, a lawsuit against the Horace Mann School may be one of the best ways to teach the school a lesson in accountability. It is unfortunate that we have to use lawyers, but this is no frivolous lawsuit. Society needs to learn the hard way that there are serious financial consequences in abusing children—especially those children who have no voice to advocate for them. Continue Reading

In this week’s parsha we read about the death of Aaron’s two sons, who died from an accidental explosion in the Tabernacle. Aaron’s reaction is quite telling–despite the absence of scriptural detail from the narrator. As is often the case with biblical narrative, more is said by what isn’t stated, than by what is actually mentioned. In the book of Leviticus, the biblical narrator says in but a couple of words the reaction of Aaron:  וַיִּדֹּם אַהֲרֹן (wayyidöm ´ahárön) “And Aaron was silent” (Lev. 10:3).

Nowhere does the biblical narrator provide us with a sense of what Aaron must have been feeling. Did he blame himself? Was this God’s pay-back for when he made the Golden Calf? Did he neglect to tell his sons how to carry out their duties in a safe and careful manner? To decipher Aaron’s response, we must read in between the lines and look for clues.

Among the Hebrew words for “silence” dumah stands out as a term associated with grief and loss.

Another bereaved father in the Bible, Job, does not accept his children’s death silently or stoically–much to the surprise of his community. The differences between these two men’s emotional response certainly ought to pique our curiosity. Job’s community criticizes Job for questioning God’s justice. He refuses to play the role of the quiescent victim, resigned to his misery. Perhaps the men of Job’s community expected him to react like Aaron did after he lost his two sons Nadab and Abihu, who died in the prime of their youth.

In both the narratives of Job and the death of Aaron’s two sons Nadab and Abihu, there are a number of nuances that define the shape and pathos of a grieving silence.

Unlike Aaron, who is forced to hold his feelings within because his priestly office demands no less, Job refuses to accept his loss in stoic silence. He is determined to confront his feelings of torment and anger by directing these toxic feelings to God. Job deeply resents the theological attitude espoused by his “friends” that since his sons were obviously “sinners,” they ultimately received what was coming to them–death. Job’s friends assert that  the social order is maintained whenever God exacts vengeance against His enemies. Job cannot accept such theological nonsense.

Whereas Aaron’s silence was pierced with a divine visitation by God, Job was not as fortunate as Aaron; he is denied an immediate revelation. God seems to be reluctant in responding to Job’s plea for justice. Job’s own silence–and especially the silence of God–threatens to destroy him.

It is an experience known well by anyone who has ever suffered. The best way to understand someone who is grieving is for us to see ourselves as walking in the shoes of the Other. Ergo, the  feelings of restlessness, disorientation, incoherence, shock, and terror often reduces us to silence. Extreme suffering often destroys our ability to communicate for the weight of our suffering leaves us feeling verbally incapacitated. We feel stone-like and lifeless. Trauma makes us feel overwhelmed, terrified and distressed. When we suffer, we must find a language that will lead us out of our bondage of muteness and through the wilderness of silence. We seek a language of redemption. We have felt wronged, we have cried, and we have felt outraged.

All the subtle nuances of Aaron’s and Job’s silence are familiar experiences to most Holocaust survivors and to a lesser extent to their children who grew up in the captivity of silence.  Many survivors like my father, whose family was murdered in Auschwitz, lost their capacity to speak about the horror of the camps. Many second-generation children of survivors grew up never hearing our parents speak about the atrocities that they experienced. Frightened and confused, we never encouraged our parents to tell us their stories.

Several years ago, a refined woman in my congregation lost her father and husband to cancer within the same year. On the anniversary of her husband’s death, her son hosted a golfing tournament. He was a very well-fit young man, age 26, who exercised every day and was the apple of his mother’s eye. After personally winning the tournament, he dropped dead from a heart attack. After the autopsy, they discovered he had ephedrine in his blood, which caused him to have his heart attack. His mother faced a sorrow of Jobian proportions; and for many years, she could not bring herself to pray in the synagogue. Who could honestly blame her?

Another young woman I once knew, had worked at a bar and went to bring a hot beverage from a large coffee maker, which exploded and burned over 90% of her body. Accidents like this occur every day, and it is in these painful epiphanies of the diabolic, the human soul often gets mangled and disfigured along with the body.

Any close brush with the diabolic makes it exceedingly difficult to even talk about faith. Martin Buber asked poignantly:

In this our time, one asks again and again: how is a Jewish life still possible after Auschwitz? I would like to frame this question more correctly: how is a life with God still possible in a time in which there is an Auschwitz?

The estrangement has become too cruel, the hiddenness too deep. One can still “believe” in a God who allowed those things to happen, but how can one still speak to Him? Can one still hear His word? Can one still, as an individual and a people, enter at all in a dialogical relationship with Him? Can one still call on Him? Dare we recommend to the survivors of Auschwitz, the Jobs of the gas chambers: “Call on Him, for He is kind, for His mercy endureth forever?”[1] There is a place in Judaism for religious skepticism. When the wisdom literature of the Bible included Job into the Canon, the ancient Sages revolutionized Judaism forever. You could say that today’s skeptic serves an almost prophetical role in keeping professional rabbis and theologians honest. There is a place in Judaism for questioning and doubting. Skeptical feelings should never be silenced but welcomed into any discussion about faith.

When we suffer we hunger for a restoration of God’s Presence (theophany), and a settling of the records. Like Aaron and Job, not only do we wait for consolation—we expect it; we demand justice. The Psalmist was not unaware of this kind of evil, “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from Him comes my salvation” (Psa. 62:1).