Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

For Jewish Values Online:

Are Haredim changing the face of Traditional Judaism? Is the divide between the ultra-Orthodox and other denominations (Modern Orthodox, Conservative and Reform) too great to promote a better understanding and respect between each other?

Not all Pharisees of the Talmud are worthy of our admiration. No, this statement is not one I personally originated; this idea actually comes from the Talmud itself.

Two thousand years ago, the Jewish community had an entire class of people who delighted in such feats of piety. The Talmud heaps scorn on the religious pretentiousness of these “foolish Pharisees.”

The Jerusalem Talmud writes, “Who is a man of piety that is a fool? “He, for example, who, if a woman is drowning, says, ‘It is unseemly for me to look at her, and therefore, I cannot rescue her. . . . Who is the pious fool? He who sees a child struggling in the water, and says, ‘When I have taken off my phylacteries, I will go and save him.’ By the time he arrives to rescue him, the child has already expired. Who is the crafty scoundrel? R. Huna says, ‘He is the man who behaves leniently toward himself, while teaching others only the strictest rules.’”[1]

“Our Rabbis have taught: There are seven types of Pharisees: the ostentatious Pharisee[2], the Pharisee who knocks his feet together and walks with exaggerated humility[3], the Pharisee is one who knocks his face against the wall rather than gaze at a woman[4] The Pharisee who feigns religious piety while constantly exclaiming, ‘What is my duty that I may perform it?’”[5]

You have just returned from Memory Lane.

Imagine a Haredi convention where the great rabbis come up with their latest technological and religious innovations designed to keep men and women apart. Wait until you see the latest fashions the Haredi rabbis decreed upon their enthusiastic followers. Mind you, I am not saying that all Haredi are lunatics–however, the Belzer, Satmar, Gerer Hassidim have hundreds of thousands of lunatics following some very shady religious leaders. I did not include the Lubavitch or the Bratzlav, for both of these movements operate on a principle of ahavat Yisrael–for the most part (but not always). This is obviously a topic nobody in the Haredi world want to talk about. Like most dysfunctional families, family “secrets” are necessary to allow the dysfunction to continue.

Now, back to our subject . . .

Last year’s innovations included:

• A  ban on mannequins.
• The Personal Mechitza, which is a small partition Haredi Jews wear around their heads when travelling on El Al Airlines. The PM prevents Haredim from gazing at the lovely El Al Stewardesses. It comes in only one color: black.
• Women must sit at the back of the bus!
• How to attack Modern Orthodox girls walking to elementary school.
• How to attack wheelchair bound children on Shabbat!
• Rock concerts for Haredim during the Shabbat, where non-Haredim get stoned!
• Separate sidewalks!

This year’s innovations include:

• Use only “BLACK” rabbinically certified baby carriages!
• Using gangs to intimidate other Haredi Jews.
• Living like the Coneheads—special headgear for women designed to out-Taliban the Taliban burka!
• Separate elevators for women as of 1/18/2012![6]

The Taliban are probably experiencing envy as you read this article. “Why can’t we become more religious, more fanatical like the Haredim?” asks a child to her mother.

Most of you have probably heard of OCD—Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I personally prefer identifying this acronym as, “Orthodox Compulsive Disorder.” Hey, if the shoe fits, wear it!

OCD is a very common kind of anxiety disorder. Haredi behavior makes sense when you realize that all these new “halachic” acts of piety involves ways of coping with underlying anxiety, tension, anger, and guilt.

Most modern psychologists and therapists probably are not deeply in love with Freudian psychology, but I have a pretty healthy respect for Freud’s view of religion as an obsessional type of neurosis. Unlike Jung, Frankl, Rodgers, Fromm, and others who saw religions as serving a potentially positive function in society and in the life of the individual, Freud only concerned himself with the pathological aspects of religion that constricts rather than liberates the human spirit from its shackles.

When Freud wrote “Religion as Obsessional Neurosis” in 1907, he observed how religious people suffered from an overwhelming feeling of guilt:

• We may say that the sufferer from compulsions and prohibitions behaves as if he were dominated by a sense of guilt, of which, however, he knows nothing so that we must call it an unconscious consciousness of guilt, in spite of the apparent contradiction in terms. This sense of guilt has its source in certain early mental events, but it is constantly being revived by renewed temptations which arise whenever there is a contemporary provocation. Moreover, it occasions a lurking sense of expectant anxiety, an expectation of misfortune, which is linked, through the idea of punishment, with the internal perception of the temptation. . . [7]

Freud was right. Religion for many people is a mental disorder. Continue Reading

The other day, I came across an interesting story, worthy of a Sherlock Holmes tale based on this past week’s Torah parsha.

The time:  Feb 12, 2010.

The place: Somewhere in Brooklyn.

Lubavitcher women sponsored a special collection for Shaarei Zedek Hospital in Jerusalem. Deena Yellin writes, “The herd of brightly-colored stuffed animals filled our front porch with all the panache of an overblown Muppets production. They arrived by the dozens in gargantuan bags and boxes – Elmo, Kermit, Big Bird, Mickey Mouse, Winnie the Pooh, and enough Beanie Babies to strike envy in collectors everywhere. The cuddly creatures soon covered so much of our home that the cleaning lady surmised we were opening a toy store. In fact, we planned to give them out for free.”[1]

There is more to this story than what meets the eye. Acts of kindness are always appreciated, whether altruistically motivated or not. In this case, the collection conceals an attitude that is not apparent to a bystander reading this story. The real reason the ladies made this collection has more to do with a taboo regarding the depiction of unclean animals.

Now you will hear the rest of the story . . .

Mickey Mouse has been a friend of children for many generations. However, for the Lubavitcher Rebbe  and his Hasidim, Mickey and Minnie are persona non grata.

Mickey is not alone; Goofy, Porky Pig, Road-runner, Tweedy Bird, Kermit the Frog, Winnie the Pooh, Big Bird, are also forbidden to enter your typical Lubavitcher home. In fact, the Rebbe encouraged his followers to use only kosher animals in all their educational materials and play-toys.

At first blush, most of us reading this are probably wondering: What’s the matter with Mickey? Why did the Rebbe come out against many of the Disney characters? At first I thought it might be due to the fact that some people claim Walt Disney was an anti-Semitic. The evidence is inconclusive. For the record, Walt Disney received the B’nai Brith Award in 1955.

Admittedly, Disney sometimes got carried away with some of his caricatures. In his original version of “The Three Little Pigs,” the Big Bad Wolf comes to the door dressed as a stereotypical Jewish peddler. Disney changed the scene after Jewish groups expressed their criticism. In his short 1929 film, “The Opry House,” Disney portrays Mickey Mouse dressed and dancing as a Hasidic Jew.

Portraying Mickey as a Hasid probably irked Rabbi Schnersohn. The Rebbe cites “Halachic” reasons for ruling that Mickey is unkosher for young children. The Rebbe felt that cartoons about impure animals had a spiritually damaging affect upon a young child’s psyche. If you ask most Lubavitchers Hasidim, you will find that most of them feel uneasy about this ruling. Unfortunately, none of the blogs I have read on this topic seems to deal with the wider ecological implications of the Rebbe’s messianic vision of a world without impurity. This is also the one of the reasons why Lubavitchers do not have dogs or cats in their homes either. Impure animals “spiritually” harm the child.[2]

In one passage, the Rebbe introduces his rationale:

“Concerning the Days of Moshiach (of the Messiah) it is written, ‘I shall remove the spirit of impurity from the earth.’ As the footsteps of Moshiach approach ever closer, we should now enjoy a foretaste of the revelations which will be ours in future time, just as concerning Shabbat it is written, ‘Those who savor it shall merit eternal life,’ a phrase which inspired the Friday afternoon custom of tasting the delicacies prepared for Shabbat. Accordingly, it would be advisable to use illustrations only of pure subjects. When choosing toys for infants, buy only representations of kosher animals. Children illustrations and booklets must have only kosher animals, and so on.”[3]

The Rebbe’s exposition raises an important question: Does the Rebbe seriously envision a time when all unclean animals will cease to exist on the planet? Does this mean we have to say farewell to Flipper and Lassie too? Are they also doomed to extinction once the Messiah arrives? What about all the countless insects that are ritually unclean, not to mention the unclean fish? This is a bizarre scenario, one that is alarming for most people concerned with the preservation of endangered species.

There is some evidence the Rebbe subscribed to such an idea, “Why is the pig called ‘chazir’? For in the end-times, the swine shall return to a pure state (le’ha’chazir‘) to us.” Rabbi Schnersohn writes, “In the Messianic Era, when the true Divine nature of every creature will be openly revealed, the pig will be vindicated as a kosher animal.”[4] Possible antecedents for this idea derive from a variety of Midrashic texts. There is a famous verse from the Psalms (146:7) “The Lord sets the prisoners free (matir assurim).” With the help of a pun, God will permit dietary prohibitions (matir issurim). One Midrashic text even notes that the pig will someday become kosher.[4]

Based on this reading, the good news is Porky Pig will someday become kosher. But what about Mickey and Minnie Mouse? What about the Lion King? Biblical and rabbinical literature suggests otherwise.

More seriously, will all animals undergo a physical rebirth to become kosher for the Messianic era? Hardy. No matter how one looks at the Rebbe’s idiosyncratic theology, all of us who love our dogs, cats, hamsters, birds, and fish—may have a serious problem living in a Messianic world without such delightful creatures—all because they are “impure.”

The Rebbe neglects to explain that the terms “pure,” or “impure” are not necessarily a moral indictment on the animal. These terms are only relevant in terms of what is ceremonially permitted as a sacrifice, or for human consumption. Where would we be without bees playing an important role in our planet’s ecology, besides making just honey? In addition, the corpse of an animal only defiles for one day, whereas the corpse of a human being lasts seven days (Mishnah Kelim 1:1). The Mishnah’s logic is compelling. Human beings defile nature more than animals, and this is obvious to anyone who is familiar with the ecological problems of our time.

One of the most beautiful ancient works is the Perek Shira—“The Chapter of Song,” which celebrates the song of Creation, where every creature—clean and unclean—join in melodic harmony. There is a lovely story about how an unclean frog once taught King David a lesson in humility. The story goes something like this:

He exclaimed to God, “Master of the universe, is there any other creature in Your world that utters more songs and paeans of praise than I? In that instant a frog appears and meets him. The frog then says to David, “Don’t act so boastfully. I utter more songs and paeans of praise than you.”[5]

Even if one subscribes to such a peculiar view, where in rabbinical tradition does it state that all animals, including Mickey Mouse’s relatives will become kosher?

Toward the end of Genesis, in Jacob’s blessings, the aged patriarch compares four of his sons to unclean beasts, e.g., “Judah is a lion’s whelp . . .” (Gen. 49:9); “Issachar is a strong donkey, lying down between the sheepfolds” (Gen 49:14); “Dan shall be a snake by the roadside, a viper along the path that bites the horse’s heels so that its rider falls backward” (Gen. 49:17); “Benjamin is a ravenous wolf, in the morning devouring the prey, and at evening dividing the spoil” (Gen. 49:27). Of all the sons,  Naphtali is compared to a doe, which is a clean animal, “let loose that bears lovely fawns” (Gen. 49:21).

In light of the Rebbe’s disdain for unkosher animals, it would seem his legions of followers ought to ask themselves why the Torah has no problem using unclean animals to represent the tribes. Why doesn’t Jacob use only kosher animals instead? Ironically, the Messiah himself is destined to ride a donkey, “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zec. 9:9). Of course there is the famous passage from Isaiah 11:6-8, which foresees a peaceful arrangement for all of God’s creatures–pure and impure alike!

The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp . . .

Historically, the Hassidic movement followed the teachings of Rabbi Dov Ber of Mezeritch (דוב בער ממזריטש‎) (1700- 1772). His name, “Baer,” means “bear,” in English. [6]

Lastly, with respect to pets, animals provide us with many wonderful things, e.g., companionship, love, devotion, happiness, laughter. Most importantly, they teach us how to care for living beings. One must feel great sorrow for generations of Lubavitcher children who have never experienced a loving response from a beloved pet. Children–whether Jewish or otherwise–can learn many wonderful social skills from having “unkosher” pets; animals greatly contribute toward the development of compassion and respect toward all of God’s creatures.[7]

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Continue Reading

For Jewish Values Online:

Question:I am taking a college course on Politics and Religion. Why don’t Jews, like Mormons and Jehovah Witnesses and other faiths go out and spread the word?

Answer: Your question is an excellent one. People often ask me, “Why doesn’t Judaism openly try to spread its message of faith to the non-Jewish world like other faiths? Why does Judaism discourage new perspective converts?”

Historically, there was a time when Judaism went out of its way to encourage proselytes. Prior to the Temple’s destruction and even for about a century afterwards, Judaism really did its best to spread the message of Judaism as the religion of philosophical and ethical monotheism. The city of Alexandria purposely tried to make Judaism more meaningful by translating the Bible into Greek. This proved to be a great success and many people from all nationalities and ethnic groups started to study and embrace Judaism as a viable spiritual path. After the destruction of the Temple, most of the attitudes toward the non-Jews continued to be somewhat positive, although not uniformly. Many of the Sages of the first and second century came from families of proselytes. Their family names bear witness to this development, e.g., Antigonous, Alexander, Ben Bag-bag, or Onkelos–and numerous others bears witness to how deeply accepted proselytes were for a time of our history. Here is one of my favorite stories:

• “And the Levite . . . and the proselyte shall come” (Deut. 14:29). Moses spoke up to the Holy One, “Do You really consider a proselyte as important to You as a Levite?!” God replied, “He is even more important to Me, since he became a proselyte for My sake. A parable of a stag that grew up in the wilderness and on his own joined the flock. The shepherd not only gave him food and drink, but loved him more than any of the other animals in his flock. Someone asked the shepherd, “How is it that you love the stag more than any other in the flock?” He replied: I had to perform many kinds of labor for my flock until they grew up: I took them out in the morning and brought them back in the evening. But this one, who grew up in the wilderness and forests, came into my flock—all on his own! Should I not love him very much?” Likewise the Holy One said, “Much did I have to labor for Israel: I brought them out of Egypt, lit the way for them, sent down manna for them, swept in quail for them, made the well gush up for them, and encompassed them with clouds of glory before they were willing to accept My Torah. But this one came on his own volition. I consider him to be not only the equal of an Israelite, and even as equal to a Levite!” [1]

However, the changes began to unravel with Emperor Constantine I, and especially later on when Emperor Constantine II assumed control of the Roman Empire, for it was under his reign Jewish proselytizing became a crime punishable by death.[2] Some historians claim he was worried that the Jews might possibly force a slave or a Christian spouse to convert, but the animus he felt toward the Jews was aimed at marginalizing them as a potential competitor.  Instant liberation was granted to any Jewish or Muslim slave who declared his intention to become Christian. Similar policies were adopted by subsequent Christian emperors who later prescribed the death penalty for any Jew attempting to proselytize a Christian. Similar decrees were also made in the Muslim communities, where the penalty of proselytizing was–and still is (in several contemporary Muslim states)–death. Conversion from Islam to Christianity is considered apostasy (kefirah)—a religious crime that is punishable by death.

Throughout this period of time, the rabbis were concerned with the survival of Judaism; anyone coming to them who expressed a desire to convert was understandably viewed with suspicion. What else would anyone expect from a traumatized people who have experienced terrible persecutions? Had these changes not occurred, who knows how large the Jewish people might have been?

On the other hand, the greatness of a people is not contingent upon its numbers. The Jewish people—despite their size—has produced in our day more Nobel Prize winners, 25% of the total winners.[3]

That’s nothing to sneeze at!

Over the last few decades, Rabbi Alexander Schindler, president of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, proposed in 1991 that Reform Judaism actively seek converts among non-Jews. In 1996, Rabbi Harold Schulweis, a prominent Conservative leader posted an advertisement in the LA Times welcoming all non-Jews to come and discover Judaism. This is a change for the better.

One last note, more and more rabbis, like myself, are doing whatever we can to encourage anyone who is interested in converting to Judaism. The time has finally arrived for us to re-embrace the Alexandrian tradition that won the hearts of many spiritual seekers of the 1st century and beyond. Our world today reflects more the kind of cultural pluralism that epitomized the great city of Alexandria. It’s time we learn to welcome the spiritual pilgrim that comes our way.

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Notes: Continue Reading

You must have heard this story about a child named Haim, who attended Heder (religious school). After coming home from class, his Zeyde (grandpa) asks him, “So nu, what did you learn today at Heder?” The child answers, “Well,  the Rebbe told us a story about Moses and all those people crossing the Red Sea that was really great! … So Moses got on his Ipad 2, texted some messages to the Israeli Air Force, the jets soon flew over and bombed the Egyptian army to smithereens!” The Zeyde can hardly believe his ears, “So, is that what they are teaching you in Heder?!”  Haim replies, “Zeyde, if I told you what the Rebbe really taught us, you’d never believe it!”

Jewish historical events often reflect the spin of the narrator. This does not necessarily mean that a story is a fiction. We simply need to understand the context by how a story is narrated. Hanukkah is one of those holidays, much like Passover. Even myth often has a basis in fact, which is often embellished by tradition. The task of a modern scholar is to solve the mystery of how the story came to assume its present form. In this sense, the scholar must be a little bit like Sherlock Holmes (see the new movie, it rocks!!)

The children of the original Hasmoneans who fought the Greeks proved to be a disappointment; most of them became as corrupt as the people their grandparents revolted against. Perhaps the marriage of priestly and political power proved to be too incongruous to balance—much like we see in Israel today. Politics and religion are a lot like meat and milk; each by itself is permitted, but when cooked, they form a forbidden substance.

Several centuries later, around the time of the Talmud’s redaction (ca. 400 C.E.), the Talmud nonchalantly asks:

• What is the origin of Hanukkah? Our Rabbis taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev begins the days of Hanukkah, which are eight, and on which mourning and fasting are forbidden. For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oils therein, and when the Hasmoneans [i.e., the Maccabees] defeated them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil with the seal of the High Priest,  but which contained enough [oil] for one day’s lighting only; yet a miracle happened and they lit [the menorah from that single cruse of oil and it lasted for] for eight days. The following year these [days] were made a Festival including the recitation of the Hallel and thanksgiving.[1]

The rabbis make no reference to the actual book of Maccabees, which the Christian church preserved. It is significant that the narrator of 2 Mac 10:5 does not mention anything about the miracle of the candles burning for eight consecutive nights. Here is what it does say:

• On the anniversary of the day on which the temple had been profaned by the Gentiles, that is, the twenty-fifth of the same month Chislev, the purification of the temple took place. The Jews celebrated joyfully for eight days as on the feast of Booths, remembering how, a little while before, they had spent the feast of Booths living like wild animals in caves on the mountains. Carrying rods entwined with leaves, green branches and palms, they sang hymns of grateful praise to him who had brought about the purification of his own Place. By public edict and decree they prescribed that the whole Jewish nation should celebrate these days every year.  Such was the end of Antiochus surnamed “Epiphanes.”[2]

Another ancient text dating back toward the beginning of the 1^st century, the Megillat Ta’anit, explains a different reason why Hanukkah lasted for eight days:

• Why did the rabbis make Chanukah eight days? Because … the Hasmoneans  entered the Temple and erected the altar and whitewashed it and repaired all of the ritual utensils. They were kept busy for eight days. And why do we light candles? When the Hasmoneans entered the Temple there were eight iron spears in their hands, which they covered with wood and drove into the ground, lighting oil in each and using them as lamps.[3]

According to this version, it ought to be obvious why the Rabbis purposely left the real story out. A single canister of undefiled oil would have become instantly defiled once it was used on the spears, which were ritually contaminated from war.

A second midrashic source, the Pesikta Rabbati, composed around 845 CE, relates the following:

• “Why do we kindle lights on Chanukah? Because when the Hasmoneans sons, the High Priest, defeated the Hellenists, they entered the Temple and found there eight iron spears. They stuck candles on them and lit them . . .”[4]

The story gets much more interesting when we read the Mishnah 10:1 of tractate Sanhedrin:

• Rabbi Akiva says, Even one who reads external books – Kehati explains, “there are the books by heretics, who interpreted the Torah, Prophets, and Writings according to their own opinion, and did not rely on the expositions of the Sages (R. Yitzhak Alfasi).”

In one Talmudic discussion found on page 100b, the “Sifre Minim” is referred to by some of the Amoraim, e.g., R. Yosef, who notes that the forbidden books refer to the writings of Ben Sira, but concludes that certain passages may be read so long as they do not offend the religious sensibilities of the community. Ben Sira’s book is interesting because he appears to reject the belief in the afterlife—a point which would most certainly have earned his book being excluded from the biblical canon, e.g., “When a man dies, he inherits corruption; worms, gnats and maggots” (Ben Sira 10:11).

Some scholars propose, it is also possible that the entire Apocrypha was included among the other “forbidden books,” because the book of Maccabees glorifies the triumph of the Hasmoneans.[5] I would only add that the glorification of the Hasmoneans’s descendants ( the Sadducees) was an anathema to the young Pharisee movement, as personified by R. Akiba and his colleagues. In addition, the absence of the miracle of oil burning eight nights would have undermined rabbinical authority and its “official” version of the Hanukkah story. Besides, much of the Apocrypha extolls Greek wisdom and represents one of the first major attempts to graft the philosophical values of Jerusalem and Athens together–a process that would later get jump-started by Philo of Alexandria, Saadia, Maimonides, Gersonides and other Jewish thinkers in the medieval era.

Simply put, the real story had to be suppressed because of political reasons.

Now, outside of the Talmud, there are some other narratives that explain why the holiday of Hanukka was originally called “lights,” which reads:

• Now Judas celebrated the festival of the restoration of the sacrifices of the temple for eight days; and omitted no sort of pleasures thereon: but he feasted them upon very rich and splendid sacrifices; and he honored God, and delighted them, by hymns and psalms. Nay, they were so very glad at the revival of their customs, when after a long time of intermission, they unexpectedly had regained the freedom of their worship, that they made it a law for their posterity, that they should keep a festival, on account of the restoration of their temple worship, for eight days. And from that time to this we celebrate this festival, and call it Lights. I suppose the reason was, because this liberty beyond our hopes appeared to us; and that thence was the name given to that festival . . .[6]

Note that Josephus actually provides much more than a scant and reluctant mentioning of the holiday’s origins especially when contrasted to the Babylonian Talmud’s version. The theme of light plays an important role as a symbol of perfection, enlightenment, clarity, and perfect being. Interestingly enough, just as Aaron and his sons lit the menorah in the Temple, so too did their descendants—the Hasmoneans (as noted by Ramban, in his commentary on Numbers 8:1-4). In addition, the 25^th word of the Torah is “or,” (light), and its synchronicity helped reinforce the triumph of light over the forces of darkness and hopelessness.

Lastly, there is some conjecture that the suggests the victorious Jews may have witnessed either a large meteorite shower or possibly saw the appearance of a comet at the time the Temple was being cleansed of its ritual impurities, hence the name, “Lights,” which incidentally is also mentioned in the NT John 10:22, where it is explicitly identified as the “Feast of Dedication.”

Incidentally, the Feast of Dedication, i.e., Hanukkah, was also known as the “Tabernacles of the month of Kislev” (2 Macc 1.9).

Notes:

[1] BT Talmud 21b.

[2] Cf. 1 Macc 4:36–59; 2 Macc 1:18–2:19; 10:1–8 for a fuller account of what happened.

[3] Megilat Ta’anit ch. 9.

[4] Pesikta Rabbati ch. 2. Continue Reading

December 8th happened to be the anniversary of John Lennon’s untimely death. Most of us who have grown up in the sixties remember John Lennon’s most famous song, “Imagine.” Chant along with me!

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people living life in peace….

Like any great artist, Lennon’s song makes you think about his message. Is all religion necessarily bad? Or was he referring only to “organized religion,” because of its role in fostering hatred in the world? When one examines the hundreds of millions of people over the course of recorded history who were wiped because they refused to accept a religious dogma or faith, I have to admit: a world without this kind of religion would probably be a very good thing.

On the other hand, as Paul Tillich has often said, “religion is man’s ultimate concern for the ultimate.”  Any kind of passion or obsession can become a religion—whether it’s organized or not.

Religion can become a good thing if it’s used properly. If we didn’t abuse religion, chances are we would misuse some of our other creative talents. It’s more a problem of human nature itself; we are a violent species and we probably would never have survived were it not for our ancestor’s realization that we cannot survive without adopting a more civilized approach to the alternative of continuous warfare. One might argue that religion even helped to rein in some of these (but not all!) violent impulses. Animal sacrifice took the place of human sacrifice, but religion still has plenty of dark aspects that make it less civilized; if religion is used for evil, it is because the heart that promotes violence in the name of religion is evil.  The Romans used to say, Homo homini lupus—“man is wolf to man”—and this is the problem I believe John Lennon did not understand. We seemed to be hardwired to act barbarically–an obvious inheritance from our prehistorical genetic history.

From a different perspective, John Lennon’s denial of the afterlife is not without precedent in Jewish tradition. Over 2200 years ago, there was a brilliant Jewish philosopher named Jesus ben Sirach, commonly quoted in the Talmud as “Ben Sira.” He lived in the beginning of the second century B.C.E. and taught in Jerusalem (Ben Sira 50:27; cf. 51:23ff.). Given his disbelief or ambivalence regarding the afterlife, it is quite likely he was a practicing Sadducean. The work is believed to shortly after the famous Maccabean Revolt, probably around 180 B.C.E.

When a man dies, he inherits corruption; worms, gnats and maggots. — Ben Sira 10:11

•  For it is easy with the LORD on the day of death to repay man according to his deeds. A moment’s affliction brings. A forgetfulness of past delights; when a man dies, his life is revealed. Don’t call a man “happy” before his death; but only how his life ends, is a man known. — Ben Sira 11:26-28  

• The dead can no more give praise than those who have never lived; they glorify the LORD who are alive and well.[1] —Ben Sira 17:23

• Do not forget, there is no coming back; you do the dead no good, and you injure yourself. — Ben Sira 38:21

• All that is of earth returns to earth, and what is from above returns above.[2] —Ben Sira 40:11

Actually, Ben Sira’s attitude about the afterlife is not without precedent in the Tanakh itself. Consider the following passages:

• The heavens belong to LORD, but the earth He has given to the children of Adam. The dead cannot praise the LORD, nor do any that go down into silence. But we will bless the LORD from this time on and forevermore. Praise the LORD! —Psalms 115:16-18
  

• For the living know that they are to die, but the dead no longer know anything. There is no further recompense for them, because all memory of them is lost—Ecclesiastes 9:5

Then again, there are some rabbinical teachings that derive also from Sadducean influence (despite the protestations of the Orthodox, who claim these men were Pharisees, but that is another discussion for a different posting). Consider Antigonos of Socho who used to say:

“Don’t be like slaves who serve the master with a view to receiving a present; but be like slaves who serve the master not with a view to receiving a present: and let the awe of Heaven be upon you.”(Avoth 1:3) [3] This teaching is consistent with the classical Sadducean attitude about the afterlife.

Antigonos’s perspective also resonates with Ben Sira’s perspective. Don’t worship God because you expect to be “saved” in the afterlife. If you act that way, you are not serving God; you are only serving yourself—your ego. In the final analysis, “Let virtue be your own reward.”

There is another rabbinical source that speaks about the immortality of memory, which is similar to Ben Sira’s concept:

R. Johanan said: Jacob our patriarch is not dead.

R. Nahman objected: Was it then all for naught, that he was bewailed and embalmed and buried?!

R. Yochanan said: I derive this from a Scriptural verse, as it is said: “But as for you, have no fear, my servant Jacob, says the Lord, and do not be dismayed, O Israel; for I am going to save you from far away, and your offspring from the land of their captivity” (Jer. 30:10). The verse likens Jacob to his progeny Israel—just as his progeny will then be alive, in a sense so shall he too will be alive. [4]

In summary, Ben Sira seems to have felt that heaven is what you make in this world; and the same applies to hell. One is reminded of an old classical parable told in the Hassidic traditions, but versions of the story is told in other faith traditions as well.

• A tsadik (righteous man) once received a visitation from Elijah the Prophet one day and said, “Master, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”Elijah led the tsadik to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the tsadik looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the tsadik’s mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful. But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths. The tsadik shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. Elijah said, “You have seen Hell.”They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one.  There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the tsadik’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well fed and plump, laughing and schmoozing. The tsadik said, ‘I don’t get it .  .  .’ ‘It is simple,’ said Elijah, “It requires but one skill. You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.”  Continue Reading

The belief in the Evil Eye (in Hebrew, it is known as the Ayin Hara) has existed since time immemorial in cultures all around the world. Ancients believed that the world was suffused with invisible powers that could be utilized as a supernatural weapon against one’s foes. In magic, the squinting of the eye as well as its gaze, could magically affect the image “captured” by the eye and it is for this reason, the belief in the Evil Eye in all primal societies is linked to witchcraft or demonology. Before there was Madison Avenue, ancients developed a unique appreciation for the power of the image. They believed that if you could control the image, you could enslave your foe, or perhaps even entrance someone you wish to attract! (Strange as it may sound, many of our modern perceptions of the image have not changed that much!)

To understand the meaning of the Evil Eye, a brief word about magic is important. Freud in his “Totem and Taboo” wrote that the attitude that is fundamental to all magic is that the belief that thought is omnipotent. Such beliefs are found in many of the primal religions of humanity. He adds that even the cannibals believe that eating their enemies enables them to absorb their strengths and abilities.[1]

Jung, in contrast, took issue with Freud and believed that thought somehow mysteriously participates in an unseen order in the world. Jung’s concept of synchronicity, or “purposeful coincidence,” is based upon the assumption that there exists a psychical connection between a physical event and the psychic condition that appears in juxtaposition with it. Freud, of course, regarded Jung’s concept of synchronicity as an example of animistic thinking.

Yet, even Freud would admit that the power of belief in magic and superstition can affect the behavior of its believers. Maimonides himself was not overly critical of Jews  utilizing amulets whenever someone was dangerously ill. As a physician, Maimonides understood the importance of placebo in helping people recover from illness—but he cautioned: amulets have no efficacy whatsoever.[2]

One would think that human civilization would have abandoned its infantile beliefs in the Evil Eye and amulets centuries ago. Yet, beneath the veneer of civility, there exist certain strata of our psyche that has not evolved much over the millennia. This part of the psyche continues to manifest itself in a variety of seemingly “civilized,” ways.

For example: Have you ever been in a New York or LA traffic jam? Have you ever observed how people behave when it’s the middle of rush hour, or when somebody cuts ahead of you? How do they react? It is usually accompanied with certain finger gestures and verbal incantations designed to wreck havoc upon the life of the other driver. Though we normally don’t think of this type of reaction as being particularly superstitious, it is. Verbal curses and hand movements galore are part of the tradition associated with the Evil Eye. If you have ever engaged in such discourteous behavior, you have participated in primal religion!

Given the nature of medieval life and the constant dangers people experienced from day to day, it was only natural folks would develop preventive and curative measures and gestures (e.g., hand signs), as well as spoken formulas to ward off the Evil Eye. Among Yiddish speaking Jews, for example, we often hear of the famous expression Kennahora ‑‑ an abbreviation for the Hebrew “let there be no Evil Eye.”], fumigations, the use of fire, salt, horn, metal, the wearing of amulets (often hand‑shaped e.g, the Hamsan), tattoo marks, jewels (e.g., commonly seen by ladies who wear the “Chai”], the application of blue color, the symbols of the number five, and so forth.

Despite the rational faith we have inherited from Maimonides and other Jewish rationalists, Jewish customs and laws have long been influenced by its neighboring folk religious traditions. Many of the Talmudic beliefs regarding the ubiquitous presence of demons and magical beings that are contained in the Talmud specifically derive from ancient Babylonian religion! By the way, Kabbalists–medieval and modern–treat these teachings quite seriously.

The Talmud, for an example, suggests that if one wishes to immunize himself against the Evil Eye, he should hold his right thumb in his left hand and take his left thumb and place it in his right hand, and say, “I, so‑and‑so, am a descendant of Joseph, over whom the Evil Eye has no power over.”  If he is afraid of his own Evil Eye, he should look at the side of his left nostril.”[3] The custom of spitting three times when mentioning something good about a person was believed to chase away the Evil Eye.  The practice actually goes back to ancient Greece, where the Greeks use to spit three times in the fold of their garments to avoid the Evil Eye. In ancient Rome, spitting on one’s children was believed to magically ward off the influence of the Evil Eye. Since the earliest stages of human history, spitting was believed to contain magical powers—capable of creating life itself (see my blog articles on spitting).

The Talmud provides numerous anecdotes about the power of the Evil Eye. In one passage, some rabbis of Late Antiquity claimed that for every 100 people who die, 99 people die because of the Evil Eye. Some sages had the power to reduce to human beings into heaps of bones just with the power of their gaze. This ancient teaching would explain where we get the famous English expression, “If looks could kill . . .” Isn’t amazing how modern society has unconsciously passed down many of these ancient folk beliefs?  Ancient historians of Babylonian religion acknowledge a huge debt of gratitude to the rabbis of the Talmud, who—more than anyone else—preserved the superstitious beliefs and rituals of the ancient Babylonians.[4]

Back to the Present

I am certain the roots of superstition and magic were wedded to capitalism long ago. One can only imagine the ancient business of selling talismans (not to be confused with the tallis) and amulets. It was probably a profitable business—perhaps, even a family business!

Yesterday, I came across an amazing advertisement that suggests the ancient craft of selling amulets has not disappeared altogether from history.

Perhaps in honor of Black Friday and Cyber Monday, rabbis in Brooklyn made the following advertisement:

• Evil Eye Removal $50, Credit Cards Accepted Continue Reading

For many years, I have found the study of atheism and skepticism rather fascinating. Whether it is Christopher Hitchen’s intriguing polemic, “God Is NOT Great,” or Sam Harris’ “The End of Faith,” or Richard Dawkin’s attacks on traditional theism, I have always found the questions they pose to be relevant for discussion.

Freud himself often said that the greatest skeptics of religion are not necessarily the atheists, but rather it is the true believer who feels the compulsion to prove the Existence of God. One can easily invert Freud’s position as well: Skeptics, who kvetch about the non-existence of God, are probably closet theists!

I love my atheistic friends; they often speak about God as much as the theists do! This morning, I came across a remarkable story about a new illustrated Bible that was pulled off the shelves of Sam’s Club and Wal-Mart—”The Brick Bible: A New Spin on the Old Testament by Brendan Powell Smith” (http://www.bricktestament.com).

Smith makes no pretense about his atheism and sardonic wit when it comes to interpreting biblical narratives. Smith uses LEGOs to depict pretty explicit images stressing the more violent and vulgar parts of the biblical narratives. Even if you don’t like Smith’s message, you admit his artwork is irreverently funny. But is his violent depictions of God’s wrath that much different from the great French artist, Gustav Dore (1832 –1883) depiction of the Flood? Actually, Smith’s portrayal is tame by comparison.

In fairness to Smith’s book, the biblical commentators, along with Christian and Jewish clergy tend to ignore the more ethically challenging passages of the Bible that deal with violence. Smith’s theological grasp of the Bible is extremely childish. He illustrates the problem of adults who never outgrow their childish images of God and religion.

Is this the kind of book that you would want to buy for your children as a Christmas or a Bar Mitzvah present? Hardly. Personally, I would not spend a nickle on it. His website pretty much says it all. The book is meant to generate disrespect for the Bible and especially its believers. I think he’s trying to say that the Bible is much too graphic and violent for young people. Is Smith being sarcastic? You betcha!

Whenever I read a book—whether it is written by a theologian or a skeptic—I generally ask myself: what is the scholar or writer trying to say? What kind of world-view is s/he coming from? If I came from a similar cultural background, how would I see or experience the world? I suspect that Smith would probably agree with this statement: Religious people don’t have much of a sense of humor. Guess what? Smith is probably more correct than not. The inability to laugh at some of the more problematic passages of the Bible suggests a seriousness that many of the biblical writers themselves did not share!

Picture God’s revelation to Abraham and Sarah, where God sends three angels to announce that a 99 year old man and a 90 year old mother are going to have a child named, “Isaac,” a name that is associated with wild laughter! God is portrayed by the biblical narrator as a trickster, someone who introduces paradox into the rather incredulous lives of Abraham and Isaac. Granted this kind of humor might not make Saturday Night Live, but the Bible often makes puns to introduce the element of surprise into a narrative. One could almost interpret the binding of Isaac much the same way.

In fact, Woody Allen did exactly that in one of his most profound biblical reflections. After going through the traditional story, Woody Allen’s conclusion is especially worth mentioning:

• And so he took Isaac to a certain place and prepared to sacrifice him but at the last minute the Lord stayed Abraham’s hand and said, “How could thou doest such a thing?”And Abraham said, “But thou said —” “Never mind what I said,” the Lord spake. “Doth thou listen to every crazy idea that comes thy way?” And Abraham grew ashamed. “Er – not really … no.”

• “I jokingly suggest thou sacrifice Isaac and thou immediately runs out to do it.” And Abraham fell to his knees, “See, I never know when you’re kidding.” And the Lord thundered, “No sense of humor. I can’t believe it.”“But doth this not prove I love thee, that I was willing to donate mine only son on thy whim?” And the Lord said, “It proves that some men will follow any order no matter how asinine as long as it comes from a resonant, well-modulated voice.” And with that, the Lord bid Abraham get some rest and check with him tomorrow.

It would seem that Woody Allen is the first Jewish interpreter to add a humorous hermeneutic to the story that probably escaped the watchful eye of the early rabbis and Church Fathers. But here’s the real question readers ought to ask themselves: Can the biblical text tolerate a humorous hermeneutic? Consider the following statement: “The Torah speaks in the language of humanity.”[1] What is language without humor and tonality? I would argue that to read a biblical text with a stoic perspective seems to miss the whole point of human language, which is full of paradoxical nuances, inflections–and humor!

Woody Allen is not the only comedian to utilize biblical motifs in a humorous fashion. Bill Cosby did one of the most brilliant parodies on the lives of our Edenic ancestors I have ever seen:

Years ago, comedian Bill Cosby offered a brilliant interpretation explaining the straightforward meaning of the text in a way that is clearer  than most rabbinic and non-rabbinic commentaries:

• Whenever your kids are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God’s omnipotence did not extend to God’s kids. After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing he said was, “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” Adam replied. “Don’t eat the forbidden fruit,” God said.  “Forbidden fruit?  We got forbidden fruit? Hey, Eve…we got forbidden fruit!” “No way!” “Don’t eat that fruit!” said God. “Why?” “Because I am your Father and I said so!” said God (wondering why he hadn’t stopped after making the elephants). A few minutes later God saw his kids having an apple break and was angry. “Didn’t I tell you not to eat the fruit?” God asked. “Uh huh,” Adam replied. “Then why did you?” “I dunno” Eve answered. “She started it!” Adam said. “Did not!” “Did too!”At least he didn’t say, “No problem.” At least he didn’t say, “No problem.” All right then, “Get out of here! Go forth and be fruitful and multiply.”Having had it with the two of them, God’s punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own.  [2]

With respect to many of Smith’s depictions, I frankly found many of them comical. Some of the more sexual passages like Smith’s interpretation of bestiality depicts a man trying to hump a bear—which is pretty stupid and dangerous! The sexual depictions should have been left out by Smith, because they are really unsuitable for children, teenagers, young adults, older adults, etc . . . but I suspect he wanted to say that there are a lot of R rated stories in the Bible. Well, in an age where religious communities censor literature because of its sexual content, perhaps all of us would be wise to remember that the Bible contains not only R rated material, but some X rated sections as well (cf. Song of Songs). As one pundit wrote, “The Good Book has never been particularly prudish about sex, covering rape, marital relations, incest, prostitution and endless begetting. However, Smith may be the only one who has illustrated them with LEGOs.” Say what you want about Smith–he knows how to sell books!!

More to the point, would Smith’s book be so outrageously sacrilegious when we compare it to comedians on prime time television (especially in Israel) doing biblical skits with irreverent humor? No, I don’t think so. Sometimes religious people really lack a sense of humor. Perhaps our tendency towards being overly serious could well be one of the reasons why so many people become skeptics in the first place. Continue Reading

Once upon a time, some American tourists went to Mexico on a vacation; they toured some hot springs, where they saw the natives washing their clothes! One tourist said to his guide, “My, isn’t it wonderful how Mother Nature provides her children with hot water to wash their clothes?” The tour-guide replied, “So you might think, Senor, but the natives complain that Mother Nature doesn’t provide the soap!”

It’s been said that the hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.  Chinese wisdom teaches, “When you drink from the stream remember the spring.”

Research has shown that people who regularly practiced grateful thinking were more than 25 percent happier, slept better, suffered lower levels of stress and even spent more time exercising. People sure like to complain. Kvetching is—for many—a national pastime, yet complaining tends to diminish the quality of our lives and relationships. According to one recent author, who wrote a book on gratefulness, Prof. Richard Emmons explains that” Preliminary findings suggest that those who regularly practice grateful thinking do reap emotional, physical, and interpersonal benefits. [...]  Grateful people experience higher levels of positive emotions such as joy, enthusiasm, love, happiness, and optimism [...] The practice of gratitude as a discipline protects a person from the destructive impulses of envy, resentment, greed, and bitterness.”

Cultivating an attitude of gratitude is a lot harder than it might seem. When we contemplate the economic problems of our society today, it is easy to get depressed. For a young family that loses a home, or a job, the economic and psychological effects can be devastating.  The idea of offering thanksgiving might even strike one as cynical. Some of you are probably familiar with Bart Simpson’s famous Thanksgiving quip, “Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” I fear that Bart Simpson’s remark probably reflects the contemporary attitudes we often hear in our society.

One day of Thanksgiving will not solve all the problems of the world. Suffering has always been a part of the human condition throughout recorded history. As Rabbi Harold Kushner has pointed out, there’s never been a time in which bad things didn’t happen to good people.

The pilgrims experienced enough hardship to leave them demoralized. When they first began their colony, they were propelled by the strength of their dreams. Despite the bitter winter storms that threatened their fledgling community, they did not give hope. They sat for three days, feasting, rejoicing and grateful for what they had. Rejuvenated, they made it through that first winter, and another, and another — just as our immigrant ancestors who left the Old Country did.

Thanksgiving beckons us to see the cup as half-full, as we focus upon the many blessings we experience daily. The name “Jew,” comes from the root which means “to give thanks,” and that is what our tradition teaches us in so many ways. We expect to wake up in the morning and expect to be healthy, but when we receive a diagnosis that we have an illness, suddenly we appreciate and recognize what we have now lost. There is a quality of mindfulness that we must always have when it comes to being thankful for all of God’s gifts.

As rabbis, we often see people living on the ragged edge of life. Today’s economic problems impact the lives of many people we know. The human face demands that we treat that unfamiliar person with kindness and compassion. When in doubt, it is much better to err on the side of compassion.

The Judaic meaning of gratitude must go beyond the mere recognition of God’s countless blessings we experience in our lives. What exactly does “thanksgiving” mean? Thanksgiving comes from two words, “thanks,” and “giving.” True thanksgiving involves a willingness to share God’s blessings and create blessing in the lives of others around us. By creating blessing for others, we reveal that we are not choosing to live in a state of scarcity and want. By opening our hearts to the pain of our brothers and sisters, we are infusing them with a feeling of hopefulness for a better tomorrow.

For many, the yearly community service — helping in a soup kitchen, delivering canned goods to the needy, sick or elderly — has been fulfilled, and they can feel gratified in knowing they’ve done a good deed for others.

I am reminded of a comment I once heard about Thanksgiving, from the Jay Leno Show, concerning the human condition. Leno noted how on Thanksgiving, restaurants give away free meals, soup kitchens pop up all over the place, all kinds of groups provide all kinds of food to the poor. But, Leno pointed out, for the most part, all those who help out do so only on Thanksgiving. “We give these people one big meal a year, really stuff them and tell them, “That oughta hold you. See you next Thanksgiving.’”

We’ve said our thanks, counted our blessings and passed the peas, along with the candied yams. Thanksgiving is over, and as soon as the holidays are out of the way, we can get back to our lives. Why do so many of us relegate thoughts of thankfulness and limit kindly-acts to a single day, or a single season? Continue Reading

Thanks to the Kabbalah Center, the study of Kabbalah has become very well-known throughout much of the Americana landscape. Kabbalah represents the esoteric part of Judaism that tries to understand and articulate the great chain of being (to quote Arthur Lovejoy).

Please don’t get me wrong. I think the Kabbalah Center’s marketing is brilliant; I also think Rabbi Berg and his sons have done a fine job distilling Kabbalah to a general audience—up to a point. On the other hand, the Kabbalah center is run like a business, and its leaders know how to schnorer money—large sums in fact—from its glassy eyed followers.

To the Kabbalah Center’s credit, they have done a masterful job in drawing some of the largest crowds in all of Los Angeles to their weekly services—certainly no small feat. Surprisingly, they stream their services for a live broadcast for people all over the world who are interested in participating in the weekly services. A good friend of mine, is one of many who participate at this electronic minyan.

That being said, one of disturbing things about the popularization of the Kabbalah in general (without casting stones at any one organization), is the tendency for many pseudo-scholars of Kabbalah to merchandize the Kabbalah for personal profit and fame. One Israeli Kabbalist, Rabbi Yosef Pinto charged the basketball star Lebron James a six-figure sum for his Kabbalistic advice. Give me a break. James may be a fantastic basketball player, but he is getting ripped off by one of many Kabbalistic shysters who have perpetuated this myth that they are privy to a secret esoteric wisdom that all the other poor demented fools of the world are not privy to.

As a congregational rabbi, I have seen these types of phonies come and go; they love to pontificate about the wonders of Kabbalah—or should I say, “McMysticism.” For those of you unfamiliar with my term, here is a short definition:  You would never confuse the fast-food world of McDonalds with a real restaurant or bistro known for its fine dining.

The same can and ought to be said about the Kabbalah.

Most of the Kabbalah handbooks and guides written about the Kabbalah by people who do not even know how to read an original Kabbalistic text, much less know how to translate it properly into lucid English prose.  Or take for example, Rabbi David Batzri: Here’s a tech-savvy exorcist who recently attempted the world’s first exorcism via Skype.  [See my earlier piece on this telephonic Kabbalist) His father, R. Yitzchak Batzri and his host of other rabbis, decided to fly over Israel and say some prayers designed to prevent the spread of swine Flu from spreading in Israel.

On the other hand, there are some Kabbalists like Abraham Isaac Kook, whose words are so beautiful and lyrical; one can easily see that Jewish mysticism can be uplifting and personally transforming.  The same may be said of the 20^th century Jewish moralist, R. Eliyahu Dessler, who often makes use of Kabbalistic motifs that have practical significance.  Martin Buber’s genius can be seen in how he simplifies the Hassidic message in a way that is both  transpersonal and inspiring.

How can you tell a real Kabbalist from a pretender?

• For one thing, a true Kabbalist will not perpetuate the myth that he is a Jewish guru and that you are nothing more than one of his mindless drones.

• A real Kabbalist will help you get in touch with your own inner truth through the imagery of Jewish mysticism.

• A real Kabbalist does not live for the photo-op, nor does he perpetuate infomercials about his methodology in the name of God and capitalism.
• A real Kabbalist could care less about the celebrities he hangs out with.

In sum, Kabbalistic wisdom  is a lot like Mother Goose’s nursery rhyme about “The Girl with the Curl.”

There was a little girl who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead;

When she was good, she was very, very good,

And when she was bad she was horrid.

The same can be said about the Kabbalah: Continue Reading