Book Review — Very Near to You: Human Readings of the Torah

Avraham Burg is an interesting personality. He challenges the religious and sensibilities of the Orthodox and Jewish world. Burg is also a leader in the Israeli peace movement. He served two terms in the Israeli Knesset. Over the years, he has emerged as one of Israel’s most articulate advocates for religious pluralism, women’s rights, ecological issues—not to mention—Israeli and Palestinian peace. At times, Avraham Burg almost sounds like a modern day biblical prophet.

His newest book, “Very Near To You: Human Readings of the Torah,” (Jerusalem: Gefen, 2012) captures many of his seminal ideas on the weekly Torah portion. Burg calls it the way he sees it. His philosophical insights expose a part of the text that towers above his competition. Whereas many of today’s rabbinical scholars extol the virtues of midrashic expositions, Burg challenges the reader to question everything—including the sacred text itself. He does not slavishly accept traditional sources simply because they are canonized as “traditional.”

You will not find Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik or Nechama Leibowitz engage in the type of postmodern deconstructions of the biblical text that Burg does in “Very Near To You.” Burg’s honesty is refreshing. He is not afraid to say that certain biblical stories strike today’s readers as morally problematic for a contemporary sensibility.

So, in the interest of brevity, let us examine one well-known biblical story Burg examines that characterizes his original thought: The story of Noah. Burg admits in the beginning, that he really didn’t care that much for Noah. Rabbinical wisdom teaches that Noah pales in comparison to other biblical personalities who, “spoke to God, fought with him, complemented Him…compared to them, Noah would not have been ‘considered at all’” (p. 12). However, Burg comes up with a wonderful novelty, “Noah is neither a lawgiver or a prophetical voice. Noah belongs among people who build and do. Noah is a pioneer, not an intellectual a manual worker rather than a noted philosopher…”

Ditto. Noah’s greatness is precisely because of his humanity. The Torah describes Noah as a “righteous man,” which happens to be an awful translation. The Hebrew term ish tsadik really means, “a man of integrity,”  or simply, “a just man.” Since the time of Webster’s  Dictionary,  the term “righteous” implies piety, but it really connotes someone who acts with total and complete integrity. Hassidic and Haredi tend to focus on Noah’s religious piety, and overlook the significance of Noah as a “a man of integrity.” As Jewish ethical literature teaches, the acquisition of personal integrity must come before one attains piety.[1] When you consider the violent and unjust times Noah lived in, his moral achievement was no small accomplishment. To use a modern example of Noahide integrity, imagine a Palestinian standing up for Israel in the streets of Gaza–that’s the kind of moral fortitude Noah possesses. He may not be a prophet, but his dignity and personal integrity stand out in a crowd.

Noah’s realism and love for the earth enables him to save it from destruction. “Without Noah,” contends Burg, “there can be no Abraham.” Burg cites the well-known Mishnah, ‘If there is no flour, there can be no Torah—that is, learning and culture cannot survive without the bare essentials of life. By this measure, Noah was the flour; only in his wake could Abraham come with his Torah, his message of revealed truth” (p. 14).

The best part of Burg’s exposition of Noah is how he compares the Flood narrative to the Holocaust. Personally, I have always found this part of the narrative most disturbing. Let’s be honest: Noah probably thought God was a mass-murderer! How can anyone relate to a Deity, Who is deeply out of control with His emotions? Burg is certainly aware of the moral problems posed by the ancient biblical text. As to be expected,  Burg totally rejects any effort to view the Flood story as historical truth. For him, it is all about metaphor that depicts God’s relationship with Creation. Burg makes a stunning observation and claims that God behaves “childishly” by creating man to be an automaton, who obediently responds to God’s every command:

  • When man deviated from his assigned path, God became enraged and banished him. He took the ball back and didn’t want to play anymore, so to speak. In this week’s portion that process repeats itself on a global scale. The creator rebukes himself, regrets the creation and, saddened to his core, lashes out murderously: I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the earth’ (Gen. 6:7). Only much later does God mature, change, relax, and become the God who is patient with his world and his faithful. At this stage every solution that occurs to him is violent, homicidal, and vengeful: the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the killing of the firstborn sons, and so on.”

Burg goes on to mention how some (actually many!) rabbinical scholars liken the Holocaust to the Flood. However, Burg contends that the scholars are mistaken for, “In the Flood, humankind had nothing to say because God wasn’t listening. By contrast, the Holocaust was not an act of God, but a destructive act of man who did not hear a thing. How is the God who once utterly destroyed the world by flood different from the God who didn’t intervene in Hitler’s flood?”

The questions he raises are wonderful. In my new volume on Genesis 4-11, I raise similar questions. There is a theological message that might have made Burg’s exposition of the Flood narrative that much more compelling. Simply put, “The Torah speaks in the language of humankind.” Why is this relevant? When the Torah says, “And the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth,” this is an example of how the human mind imagines the workings of the Divine Mind. The biblical statement really says more about our flawed image of God.

The 18th century Italian commentator and thinker, Shmuel David Luzzato offers a remarkable perspective that deals with Burg’s straightforward questions. Luzzato contends that when the prophet wrote this narrative down, he spoke in an idiom that the people of his generation could understand.” This is a bold statement, for Maimonides, Ibn Ezra, and Philo of Alexandria arrived at the same conclusion. Moses evokes the imagery of curses and calamity because he wants the Israelites to walk the straight and narrow path.

Remember: our ancestors were not philosophers, nor were they theologians. The carrot and the stick theology  found in Deuteronomy’s list of  biblical curses were written for an unsophisticated generation. When you hear religious leaders evoke the “wrath of God” theology when speaking about the Holocaust, Katrina, the Tsunami, or whatever–you get the impression we have not evolved very much since the days of Noah and Moses.

As people evolve, so too does the concept of God also evolve. As the Sages say, “The Torah speaks in the language of man.” Language is never static; it is dynamic, communicative, alive and capable of eternal expression.

Abraham Isaac Kook’s insight about the nature of God language says much about the evolutionary direction that differentiates the God of the Flood vis-à-vis the God of Psalm 23, who is described as a shepherd and companion. Kook notes, “All the ideological arguments among people and all the inner conflicts that every individual suffers in his own world outlook are caused by a confused conception of God . . . .One must always cleanse one’s thoughts about God to make sure they are free of the dross of deceptive fantasies, of groundless fear, of evil inclinations, of wants and inadequacies. Faith in God must enhance human happiness . . . . When the duty to honor God is conceived of in an enlightened manner, it raises human worth and the worth of all creatures, filling them with largeness of spirit, combined with genuine humility. But a crude conception of God tends toward the idolatrous, and degrades the dignity of man and of other beings  . . .” [2]

Does this mean that the God of the Flood is hopelessly incompatible with the God of Psalm 23, Abraham Isaac Kook, or for that matter Maimonides and the mystics? Well, sort of . . . As Burg intimates, the story of the Flood is really a parable. Although Burg does not always make it crystal clear what the parable represents, this ancient story really says a lot the human conception of God. and how it has evolved. By the end of the story (Gen. 9), God rescinds much of his authority to accommodate human freedom.

Erich Fromm has often said, the story of Noah reveals how an impetuous God becomes a constitutional monarch, who learns to rule by law. In his pericope on the Flood, Burg mentions nothing about the covenant God makes with Noah after the Flood. This is an unfortunate omission on Burg’s part. God enters into a covenant with humankind that obligates both parties to work out their differences. Human responsibility represents the new standard for justice. Human beings– from this point forward–are and will forever be responsible for human generated evil that exists in the world—and not God.

Burg’s concluding remarks presents a vision that I wholeheartedly endorse; he writes,

  • The new Torahs that emerge from the Holocaust must point the way toward the shaping of a better humanity, toward teachings that do not give rise to victimizers like the Nazis nor permit victims to be destroyed as were—as the Gypsies, gays who were there with us, as the Armenians before us and the slaughtered of Rwanda and Cambodia after us. The new theology, particularly, the Jewish one, must break through the boundaries of the old faith . . . The time has come for the faith of Noah and his commitment to repairing the world; the time of beliefs in destruction, whether divine or human, is over (p. 17).

Burg’s treatment of the Akedah (“Binding of Isaac,” see Gen. 22) is also interesting; he names that sub-chapter, “Abraham’s Great Failure.” This section did not reveal anything new that I did not hear before. Burg accuses Abraham of failing the test, and he uses an old but familiar approach championed by Kant, the Sefat Emet, Emil Fackenheim, and more recently—Rabbi Shlomo Riskin. Like the others, Burg claims that after the Akedah, God never spoke to Abraham again. I often wonder: How can modern scholars claim to understand the mind of a biblical narrator, or for that matter–God? The Torah only contains a partial disclosure of Abraham and God’s relationship–and nothing more.

As one who has also written extensively on this topic, I believe there is much more to the story of the Akedah than what the postmodernists are willing to admit. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, we will have to tackle this topic at some future date.

Many of Burg’s expositions are wonderful and the way he engages the biblical stories will challenge and renew your spirit. There is a great prophetic and ethical message he brings to the sacred text. What more could you possibly want from such an outstanding book?

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Expanding Upon Martin Luther King’s Dream for Ethiopian Jews in Israel

As we give pause to the memory of Martin Luther King and his profound ethical message concerning the evils of racial intolerance, it behooves us to ask ourselves: Have we, as a religious community, fully embraced the principles that cost this great man his life? Most American Jews have taken valuable steps in combating racism in our great country. However, some of us have yet to take a meaningful first step.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe spent many years preaching about the importance of ahavat Yisrael—on how, “we should love our fellow Jews.” However, the Rebbe and his Hasidic followers were careful never to admit that this great commandment does not apply to Ethiopian Jews. Since the famous rescue of the Ethiopian Jews (Beta Israel) in the 1980s, Chabad schools have adopted a policy that openly discriminates against Ethiopian Jews—despite the fact they have undergone Orthodox conversions in Israel and have been accepted in many Haredi yeshivas!!

Ethiopian parents often hear from Chabad principals, “We don’t take in Ethiopian children. We don’t think you match our lifestyle and we’re not sure about your Jewishness either.” This is exactly what five young girls of Ethiopian descent heard when they arrived with their parents at the “Or Chaya” school in Petah Tikva. By the way, Or Chaya is a Chabad school. Moshe Ashgara, the father of another girl, experienced the same treatment. “My daughter is a diligent student. Why won’t they take her?” That is a good question and the Principal of Or Chaya was unavailable for questioning.

The answer is simple: Chabad endorses racial discrimination against people it does not feel are “real Jews.” The late Lubavitcher Rebbe expressed doubts over the Jewish origins of Ethiopian immigrants to Israel and instructed that they be excluded from Chabad institutions—regardless whether they went through the most rigorous conversions.

Mind you, they have no problem accepting Jews from Ashkenazi and Sephardi backgrounds, not to mention, Jewish immigrants from the former Soviet Union. But not a single Ethiopian Jew is enrolled in the educational network. This policy applies not only to the Israeli secondary schools—it applies to every Chabad Heder and yeshiva all over the world.

Menachem Brod, spokesman for Chabad, confirms that Ethiopian children are not accepted in the Hasidic movement’s institutions. “This is an instruction from the Lubavitcher Rebbe and also a ruling by our rabbis,” he said. He also reiterated that the “Ethiopians are not being singled out, since Chabad policy applies to anyone whose Jewishness is in question.”[1]

When the Ethiopian Jews began their immigration from Ethiopia, the Chief Rabbinate obliged all immigrants to undergo giyur lehumra (pro forma conversion) because of doubts raised about their Jewishness by Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox rabbis. However, in 1984 the rabbinate adopted as its official policy the well-known halakhic ruling that Rabbi Ovadia Yosef – the spiritual leader of Shas – issued a decade earlier, which held that there was no doubt about the Jewishness of the Falasha, the Beta Israel (Ethiopian Jews ). From this point on, instead of the demand to undergo conversion, members of Beta Israel wishing to marry had to undergo a “clarification of Jewishness.”

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein wrote to his son-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Tendler concerning the Ethiopian Jews:

  • As you mentioned, they should not be brought to the Land of Israel, unless they have undergone a conversion, in order to not increase the concern for assimilation [i.e., intermarriage with Jews who do not have a doubt regarding their Jewish status and also a weakening of the faith of Ethiopian Jews themselves]. But if they have legally converted, and as I have heard they are doing, we shall consider them like all Jews, and one must assist them and support them for all needs of livelihood, both physically and spiritually. And I suffered great anguish because I have heard there are those in Israel who are not drawing them close in spiritual matters and are causing, G-d forbid, that they might be lost from Judaism. And it seems to me these people are behaving so only because the color of the Falashas’ skin is black. It is obvious that one must draw them close, not only because they are no worse than the rest of the Jews – and because there is no distinction in practical application of the law because they are black – but also because one can say perhaps they are gerim [converts], and are therefore included in the mitzva “and you shall love the convert.”[2]

For the record, the Lubavitcher Rebbe never endorsed the rescue of Ethiopian Jews in their most critical time of their history.  Every other major Halachic scholar accepted the Ethiopian Jews as Jews, but many did insist upon a pro-forma conversion in the event of marriage.[3] This is all the more amazing when one considers that the Lubavitcher Rebbe always stressed the importance of saving lives superseded even the laws of the Shabbat!

Last week,  Channel 2 in Jerusalem exposed an agreement signed by residents of an apartment complex in Kiryat Malachi that forbade the sale or rental of apartments to Ethiopian Jews – even if the potential renter was an exemplary Israeli citizen, and their decision was extensively backed by a Chabad neighbor who wrote an essay defending the racism. Such behavior embarrasses Jews everywhere, and our enemies use these stories to tarnish Israel’s reputation to the world.

If the Haredim in Israel are willing to accept the Ethiopian Jews, one must wonder: Why won’t the Chabad also accept the Beta Israel? Why should the Chabad institutions receive a free pass to continue their racial discrimination? In fairness to the Chabad public, it is doubtful whether most of their supporters are even aware of this problem. However, the organization leaders may want to rethink the Rebbe’s position because it goes against the vast majority of Haredi rabbis, who have for the most part, openly embraced the Ethiopians in Israel. Clearly, Rabbi Schnersohn has been overruled by the vast majority of Torah scholars of his time, and it is foolish to continue a policy that is so morally offensive, not to mention—contrary to Halacha.

About 2,000 people gathered on Tuesday to demonstrate against racism in Kiryat Malakhi, after members of the Ethiopian immigrant community there said that local homeowners’ committees refuse to rent them apartments. They were joined by hundreds of people who came from around the country to support them.

What a shanda!

A pig with lipstick is still a pig, and racism–even–with a smiley face is still racism.

The Israeli government is outraged about this shabby treatment of Israel’s beloved Ethiopian Jewish community and promises to strike hard at the racist policies that are harming the Jewish people of Israel. President Shimon Peres expressed our sentiments with eloquence, “The racists should be ashamed of their actions and their words,” Peres said on Thursday. “When we established the state, our dream was that Ethiopian Jews would immigrate to Israel, along with Libyan Jews, Russian Jews and Jews from all over the world.”

 


Notes:

[1] “Chabad School Refuses to Accept Ethiopian Students,” Chabad News on September 08 2011, http://www.crownheights.info/index.php?itemid=37556.

[2] Cited in Igrot Moshe Vol. 9 (I have personally ordered the book, and I promise to cite the response when I receive it in the mail.

[3] R. Eliezer Yehudah Waldenberg, Ziz [i.e, Tzitz] Eli’ezer, 10:25,ch. 3, sec. 10; Tzitz Eli’ezer, X, no,. 25, chap. 3, sec. 19.

A Maimonidean Prescription for Haredi Behavior

Badatz Yerushalayim logo

One of my congregants asked a recent synagogue class, “How can we try to be respectful and understanding of the ultra-Orthodox when they are at the forefront of hostile activities like rioting at places which are open on Shabbat and more recently, vandalizing a girls’ school in Bet Shemesh because it bordered their neighborhood?”

The short answer is simple: Everybody deserves respect, provided one acts in a manner that is respectful. Since the Haredim do not behave in a manner that is respectful, they need to change and improve their behavior to win our respect back.

They may want to start the process of healing  by following Maimonides’ prescription for repentance. The first step is an acknowledgement of responsibility and fault. The second step involves a change in behavior for the better–no more attacks on innocents. The third step requires restitution to the city and school property, which were damaged. Arresting and incarcerating those responsible for the violence might also be included in this step. Forgiveness comes only in the end when all the other steps have been carried out to fruition.

Platitudes and empty promises mean nothing. Without a change in behavior, they are analogous to Maimonides’s example of the individual who immerses himself in the mikveh, while holding on to a rat–the symbol of ritual defilement. Immersion means nothing so long as the individual is still holding on to dysfunctional attitudes and deeds. [2]

Some law-abiding Haredim in Israel find their cohorts’ religious behavior embarrassing. Yet, despite the condemnations we have heard from the leading Chief Rabbis of Israel, we have yet to hear a universal condemnation from all of the Haredi scholars and leaders—and this attitude is most disturbing. Some have even done the opposite!

Eidah Haredit [the Haredi ecclesiastical authority of Jerusalem]released a  letter earlier this week, “The arrests of violent Haredim who attacked police, women and girls is yet another chapter in the worst of all the exiles, the one imposed by the evil State of Israel . . . they harbor a deep jealousy for those who fear God . . .who serve God in truth and purity . . .”

Houston, we’ve got a problem . . .

How can constructive change occur if the leaders of the Haredi deny all responsibility? Not only do they enable poor behavior by saying nothing, many of them have even actively encouraged violent behavior.

How can constructive change occur if the leaders of the Haredi deny all responsibility? Not only do they enable poor behavior by saying nothing, many of them have even actively encouraged violent behavior. The ancient Chinese philosopher Confucius said, “When a man in his own person is guilty of doing evil, a superior man will not associate with him” (Analects 7:1). Jewish tradition has similar teachings, “You shall not join hands with the wicked to act as a malicious witness” (Exod. 23:1); “I hate the company of evildoers, and will not sit with the wicked” (Ps 26:5).  The Sages sum up this idea well, “‘Woe to the wicked and woe to his neighbor!’  (Numbers Rabbah 3:12). A person is judged by the company one keeps.

We seem to be reliving a chaotic period of Jewish history, “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what he thought best” (Judges 21:25).

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[1] MT Hilchot Teshuvah 1:1

[2] Ibid., 2:3.

Creating Space: Piercing the Light of Creation

 

  • Once a simple supernal light irradiated all existence. . . . There was no emptiness of space—only the light of the Infinite One. . . . As the Infinite One desired to create worlds and emanations, the Infinite One focused upon the central point of the light, removing the light from all sides as it were. As an empty space emerged, a complete vacuum appeared. . . . Now, this withdrawal (tsimtsum) was equal all around that central, empty point, in such a manner that that empty space formed a circle which was totally equidistant all around. It was not in the form of a square, with right angles, for the Infinite One withdrew Itself in the form of a circle, equidistant on all sides . . .

        —R. HAYYIM VITAL, Etz Hayyim (The Tree of Life)

 To paraphrase the well-known saying of St. Irenaeus, the religio peremis is fundamentally this: the Real entered into the illusory so the illusory might be able to return unto the Real. It is this mystery, together with metaphysical discernment and contemplative concentration that are its complement, which alone is important in an absolute sense from the point of view of gnosis: for the gnostic—in the etymological and rightful sense of the word—there  is in the final analysis no other “religion.” It is what Ibn Arabi called “the religion of love”, placing the accent on the element of “realization.”       

  • SEYYED HOSSEIN, FRITJOF SCHUON, The Essential Frithjof  Schuon

 Theologians and philosophers have long wondered how God created a world that possesses a separate sense of self—one that seems apart from God. The renowned 16th century Kabbalist, Isaac Luria, explains that in order for a world to exist—both finite and self-conscious of its own being—God has to “diminish” the light of His own infinite Being, by “withdrawing”, as it were, “to the periphery.” Luria metaphorically describes this creative process as צמצם “tsimtsum” – a word that means “contraction” or “constriction.” Luria’s tsimtsum, to a large degree, is based on the rabbinic notion of the Shekhinah. Historically, Luria’s myth of the tsimtsum is not without its antecedents. One recent study traces the origin of the tsimtsum to certain Gnostic traditions (of the Valentinian variety), which seeped their influence into the Zohar. The notion of “God withdrawing into Himself” prior to emanation, derives from the 2nd century Christian Gnostic thinker, Basilides of Alexandria, who established a Gnostic sect known as the Basilideans.[1]

According to one 5th century Midrashic text, the notion of God’s Presence is said to have been contained (מצמצם שם שכינתו) within the parameters of the Ark of the Covenant (15:10).[2] Other rabbinic teachings of the Midrash and Talmud regarding a concept of tsimtsum include: “Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Blessed Holy One, has nothing in this world but the four cubits of Halacha [Jewish Law] alone” (BT Berakhot 8a). [3] The renowned historian of Kabbalah, Gershom G. Scholem, differentiates between the earlier rabbinic models of the tsimtsum from the concept that he championed:

The Midrash—in sayings originating from third-century teachers—occasionally refers to God as having concentrated His Shekhinah, His divine presence, in the Holiest of Holies, at the place of the Cherubim, as though His whole power were concentrated and contracted in a single point. Here we have the origin of the term Tzimztum, while the thing itself is the precise opposite of this idea: To the Kabbalist of Luria’s school, Tsimtsum does not mean the concentration of God at a point, but his retreat away from a point. [4] What does this mean? It means briefly that the existence of the universe is made possible by a process of shrinkage in God. . . . Something of the Divine Being is exiled out of Himself, whereas the Tsimtsum could come to be considered as an exile into Himself.[5]

Most Kabbalists point out that the concept of   צמצם is only meant metaphorically since space (and time) has no ontology prior to Creation.[6] Had the Infinite God not restricted His light, then everything would be overwhelmed by God’s totality. Yet conversely, the tsimtsum does not represent a complete withdrawal of God—only a partial one. Were the tsimtsum a total withdrawal, creation as we presently know it, would never have even an inkling of anything pertaining to Divinity and our sense of cosmic unity would be totally undifferentiated, i.e., without any sense of separate identity. More to the point, for human beings to have the freedom to become self-aware of their nature and origin of being, God must accommodate human freedom by withdrawing a part of His infinite power. God “contracts” some of His infinite essence in order to create the ontological space for a finite universe and world to exist.

The withdrawal of the Divine is not altogether complete, and may be analogous to a type of spiritual “black hole” where the divine energy is kept in check. Some Kabbalists compare this progression to the residual fragrance that is left in a perfume bottle after its contents has been emptied. More importantly, there is a second aspect of the tsimtsum that is equally as important to the initial withdrawal of God—to Himself, so to speak: the reintroduction of the Divine light into the ontological void that reveals God as the Creator within the primordial space of this new emergent creation. As the celestial light of the Ein Sof (the Endless One) flows and contracts, and flows and contracts, it gradually brings order into the chaotic space until each dimension of Creation becomes increasingly more tangible and limited. Thus, new levels of phenomenal reality are created, finally producing this material universe with all of its diverse expressions.[7] There is a mystical verse in the Psalms that captures this imagery—the notion that God creates the universe by wrapping Himself in a garment of light (Psa. 104:2).[8] (See notes on Genesis 1:3).

In analogical terms, almost any kind of creative human activity requires a “clearing” of mental “space” so that the power of the imagination will reveal new creative thoughts and concepts. As the power of conceptualization unfolds, the nascent concept may seem like a thin beam of light entering into the conscious mind. Once this light appears, the intellect will expand upon the concept and eventually seek to manifest itself into an inspired product of creativity or a new idea—this process ought to be especially familiar to anyone who has ever attempted to write a book! Some Jewish mystics say that the process of tsimtsum can be recognized whenever a conscientious teacher clears his or her mind and distills a sophisticated thought so that even a young child may comprehend its new wisdom. Continue Reading

Just Who’s inside the ‘Big Tent?’

Tonight’s blog is a combination of local Jewish politics, linguistics, and a garden variety of mishmash. If the material sounds rambled, please forgive me. Writing helps me process conflicting emotions; it’s very good for finding clarity and peace of mind.

It is ironic in a sense.  I could not help not notice the new NY Jewish Week’s article on: “Who’s inside the ‘Big Tent?’ It happens to be the theme for the upcoming Jewish Federation Conference in Denver.

The “Big Tent” is a lovely metaphor that suggests inclusive Jewish communities working together. I wonder why the JFC decided upon this theme. Were they concerned that they needed to reach out to all Jewish communities, but perhaps had failed to do so? Do the Jewish Federations across the country already feel they have reached this goal for the most part? If it is the latter, I dare say they are suffering from hubris.

Well, if the local Jewish Federation of San Diego is any realistic indicator, I must say JFSD has failed miserably. Furthermore, it perpetuates the mythos of factionalism,[1] which has arguably been the “Original Sin” of Jewish tradition, since the time of the Second Temple.

Without intending to be disrespectful, I must admit that the “Big Tent,” and Jewish Federations sounds like an oxymoron. I am, of course, basing my observations upon the San Diego Jewish Federation, which recently sent me a solicitation for their organization, which I politely refused.

I wanted the local president of the Jewish Federation to understand why we as a synagogue decided not to give anything to the Federation. The San Diego Jewish Federation does not believe in the “Big Tent” ideal at all; instead, it perpetuates a doctrine of favoritism—for all the local and wealthy congregations.

When our board members met with Steve Morris, the local president of the JFSD, we pointed out a variety of reasons why we have no interest in supporting the Jewish Federation or the La Jolla JCSD. After meeting with him, some of us felt that the La Jolla JCC is really an acronym for the “La Jolla Jewish Country Club” since there is nothing communitarian about its philosophy. As most of you know, country clubs appeal solely to people of financial means and as such, generally have a closed membership.

President Steve Morris honestly informed our board that he has met with many other Jewish communities in the surrounding area and to his surprise, they too felt that their communities were being ignored and marginalized. If I were on the Jewish Federation board, I would seriously ask myself: Why does this common perception persists?

It is a pity that the local Jewish leaders think solely in terms of the bottom line; favoring the strong over the small and struggling congregations is a disturbing reality that needs to be acknowledged. In our day, the Occupy Wall Street consortium applies not only to the economic institutions of our society; in some ways it also applies to the religious organizations that claim to be concerned with the welfare of Jewish posterity.  We can and must do better . . .

 

One last thought:

In Biblical Hebrew, the term for זָר  (zār ) “stranger” or “enemy,”  often has a negative connotation pertaining to anyone who is on the “outside” and the noun is related to the noun, זֵר (zēr) “border,” or “edge”—perhaps because the stranger is always standing at the edge. This is a most intriguing  etymology worthy of serious reflection.

C.G. Jung observed how etymology represents the unconscious side of human language. I believe he was absolutely on target. As human beings evolved, our ancestors tended to think of their own families in different terms from other family clans. Despite tens of thousands of years of human evolution, we still tend to divide the human family into “insiders,” vs. “outsiders.” Nothing much has really changed. In many ways, we remain as primitive and psychologically backward when it comes to our perception of the Other. Somehow, I think God expects more from us as Jews. We must transcend the parochial vision of our ancestors.

The concept of the “Big Tent,” is a great idea, but like all great ideas, it needs to be embodied as a reality. Continue Reading

Letting Go of Our Scapegoats

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

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

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

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

IN SUMMARY . . .

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

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

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

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

“What about your own faults?”

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

Developing Adult Theology: Taking Responsibility for Human Evil

Recently, I read an interesting article by Rabbi Shmuley Boteach in the Jerusalem Post (Sept. 11, 2011) on whether or not God was present at Ground Zero? Boteach poses several interesting but unrealistic questions:

  • Could God possibly have caught them? Could He have extended the famously outstretched arm He used in Egypt to save the Israelites and grant the jumpers a soft landing so they could safely return to their families?
  • Could God not have reached down from his heavenly throne and plucked them from the inferno, just as he saved Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah from Nebuchadnezzar’s cauldron in the Book of Daniel?
  • And as the two planes flew at great speed toward the towers in the first instance, could the same God who provided defensive clouds and protective fire to the Israelites for forty years in the desert not have provided a barrier and shield that would have made the buildings impregnable to the aerial assault?
  • Why God allowed a tragedy of this magnitude is something we humans will never know. But our ignorance should not let God off the hook. In commemorating the tragedy we dare not practice a submissive, counterfeit faith that assumes our own sinfulness and God’s righteousness.

Boteach’s argument strikes me as specious. The cognitive distortion is not really about  “counterfeit” faith, the examples he maps out really  illustrate the problem of “childish” faith, i.e., childish notions of God that we, as adults, have never quite outgrown. From this perspective, Childish faithrelies upon big Daddy God to rescue people out of dangerous situations, while people sit by and do absolutely nothing but watch in religious awe. Such a view is the antithesis of biblical faith which always demands active human participation and mature responsibility. This theological wrong-headed attitude has never worked in Jewish history–especially during the Holocaust.

Besides, one of the most important aspects of anthropomorphic theology is the idea that Divine “hand” resembles the human hand. Thus whenever we open our hand to the poor and needy, God’s “hand” becomes instantly manifest because human beings are made in the Divine image. By the same token, the human face paradoxically resembles the Divine face.

Actually, for me I have no problem whatsoever about God and 9/11 and I think it is foolish to expect that God should somehow be accountable for “allowing” something like this tragedy to occur.  Human beings must assume human responsibility for the human evil that exists in this world. Midrashic tradition contends that Cain argued that it was God’s fault for allowing Abel to die at his hand! But even in the earliest sections of the Bible, God expects human beings to emulate the Divine Shepherd by shepherding others from harm’s way.

Secondly, it is important to also point out that the miracles of the Exodus did not necessarily suspend the laws of nature as Boteach wishes to imply. This is a point that many of the medieval rabbinic scholars point out in their biblical expositions on the subject of miracles.

Each of the plagues of Egypt can be explained through a series of natural explanations. In the interest of time, we shall take one of the most remarkable miracles of the Exodus: The splitting of the Sea of Reeds. In Exodus 14:16, the verse reads: “But you lift up your staff, and stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it . . .”

The wording poses a profound question: Did Moses’ mighty staff magically or supernaturally cause the sea to split as commonly portrayed in the movies? Or asked in more precise terms: How did the Sea of Reeds actually split? We must also remember that the splitting of the sea was facilitated by a strong east wind. Other natural forces appear to play a considerable role as well. Evidence was this may be garnished from several poetic  references to the Exodus, e.g. Judg. 5:4–5; Pss. 77:16–19; 114:3–6; Hab. 3:3–6, – all of which suggest the presence of an earthquake shock.

On the other hand, Josephus himself that the Israelites benefited from a low tide that gave them ample time to cross! In fact, he went on to say that similar occurrences have been known to occur throughout history. From the works of the classical sources we learn that Alexander the Great, exploited a similar natural phenomena when he found passage through the Pamphylian Sea in his conquest of the Persian Empire. It is likewise recorded by the Roman historian Livy, who writes  how the winds drove back the waters of the lagoon which enabled Scipio Africanis to capture New Carthage. [1]

Clericus in his commentary on the Pentateuch, also records a similar incident in the English-Dutch war in the year 1672. At that time, he explains that the waters recessed at an extraordinary ebb and this natural phenomena prevented the English from overtaking the Dutch armies.

Moral of the story, the unfolding of a biblical miracle is always in the precise timing. Its impact may also be measured in the awe that it inspires in the heart of the one who has been extricated from certain death. Never does the miracle disrupt the texture of nature itself; rather God utilizes nature to achieve His ultimate purpose.

With respect, to the 9/11 attacks, there were many human foibles that contributed to the attack; had the State Department been more vigilant with the names of the perspective terrorists they knew were already in the United States, the attack could have been thwarted.

Of course, as I mentioned in some earlier articles, had the United States taken the 1993 threat more seriously, our country could have prepared itself more effectively. Even now, there is a tremendous tendency to view the Al Qaeda attack as a criminal attack, rather than as a state-sponsored attack endorsed by countries like Iran and others. How can any religious thinker seriously hold God responsible for the evil that occurred on September 11, 2001?

Where was God then? God is always with those who sacrificed their lives for the sake of saving other human beings. God was present with those who forced United Flight 93 to crash in a field near Shanksville, PA, rather than to allow the terrorists to inflict further harm on the  city of Washington. Yes, courageous people are always acting as God’s calling card in a world that is consumed by human violence. And let us not forget the 341 members of the New York City Fire Department (FDNY) along with two paramedics who died saving the lives of their fellow citizens, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s fellow man” (NT John 5:13).

Martin Luther King appears to have anticipated this genre of theological questioning. In his Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community, he asserts, “Structures of evil do not crumble by passive waiting. If history teaches anything, it is that evil is recalcitrant and determined, and never voluntarily relinquishes its hold short of an almost fanatical resistance. Evil must be attacked by a counteracting persistence, by the day-to-day assault of the battering rams of justice the forces of light cautiously wait, patiently pray and timidly act. So we end up with a double destruction: the destructive violence of the bad people and the destructive silence of the good people.” [2]

I believe King’s provocative words offers the only realistic solution to fighting Islamic terrorism in our time: persistence and courage. I believe God’s will is manifested in our will to actively thwart the forces of chaos and religiously inspired fanaticism, which perpetuate diabolical images of how God and the world are interrelated. Continue Reading

Obamian Entropy

It is hard to imagine how any one man could have a more dangerous impact on the peace of the world. If you thought George Bush was bad, Obama’s style of leadership  is far more dangerous. (It would be nice to have a competent president for once.)

Sound harsh? Please consider the following blunders our President has made since coming to the White House.

After President Shimon Perez of Israel was whisked  out of the White House by the President, this was the first sign of erosion. Shimon Perez is Israel’s most beloved dove; surely he and Obama could have hit it off well with one another. All he wanted to do was to congratulate Obama on winning the election.

Rarely does a President have the power to really make a difference in a society like Iran, which persecutes its women, gays, and dissidents with such brazen impunity. Remember how the masses gathered  and threatened to topple the Ayatollah regime, Obama stood silent. As Iranians were being killed in the streets, they wondered: “Why isn’t President Obama fighting for our rights against this evil and radical Islamic dictatorship, not to mention the world’s worse violator of human rights?”

In Jewish tradition, our faith teaches us not to stand idly by the blood of our neighbor. Jews across the country observe Yom HaShoah and more often than not castigate the German people for not standing up to the Nazis. Yet, our failure to confront the mad Mullahs of Iran is nothing short of moral and intellectual cowardice. And so, a rare opportunity to change the face of a state that today constitutes the gravest threat to world and regional peace vanished.

So what did President Obama do instead? He decided to support at that time, Bashar Assad of Syria, endorsing him as a “peace partner” of the United States and Israel!! One can only wonder what the poor Syrian people were saying at this point. And when the bloodbath in Syria came gushing forth, once again our neophyte President said nothing, did nothing.

Hey Mr. Obama, whose side are you really on? Is there some reason you like Bashar Assad and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad your bosom friends? Why is it that you turn on your country’s friends, and not its enemies?

But wait, the picture gets worse:

Then Obama decided to pick upon Egypt’s greatest leader: Mubarak. Nobody has championed peace in the world like Mubarak; he has done better than any Israeli prime minister. Mubarak should have received a Nobel Peace Prize for ensuring peace between Israel and Egypt. Saudi Arabia was rightfully upset when it came to criticizing the young presidential neophyte for abandoning of America’s greatest friends and allies!  He has proven to be a foe of Islamic radicals, supported the United States in its proxy war against Iran. Is he an angel? No. Is he a dictator? Yes.  But compared to what’s out there, he is a saint!

Shaming someone in the Middle East since ancient times is a casus bellis. In the diplomatic world, you criticize someone behind closed doors, but never in public. Not Mr. Obama, wishing to demonstrate his presidential prowess, he humiliated Mubarak, much to the horror of Jordan Saudi Arabia, and Yemen.

Now, the Muslim Brotherhood looks like it is going to take over Egypt’s government and you can kiss the Israeli-Egyptian Peace Accord goodbye. Thank you. Mr. Obama.

Out of control? You betcha. That’s Mr. Obama.

Had it not been to the practical real politick of Saudi Arabia, another ally of the United States—Bahrain—would have become another client state of Iran. The Saudis took possession of this country and made the hard choices that needed to be done and repressed the Islamic demonstrations—much to the chagrin of President Obama.

Then there was Libya. Gaddafi is no saint either; he has blood on his hands but over the years he has taken serious steps to atone for some of his misdeeds. A few years ago Gadaffi unilaterally gave up his nuclear program and was hailed as a great leader even by the United States. But now, Obama supported the Al Qaeda (remember 9/11?) and ousted him. Who’s in charge of Tripoli? Al Qaeda!! Continue Reading

Satan’s Pedagogical Role in the Spiritual Evolution of Humankind

There is nothing in the Torah, or in the Talmud and Midrash, or Kabbala that would suggest that there is a supremely evil being that is determined to wage war against God. The noun “Satan” in the Tanakh simply means “adversary” or, “to oppose.” The Hebrew term appears in Numbers 22:22,32; 1 Samuel 29:4; 2 Samuel 19:22; 1 Kings 5:4; 11:14,23,25; Psalm 109:6, normally translated in English as adversary or accuser. In Job 1-2; Zechariah 3:2; and 1 Chronicles 21:1 the same term is translated as a proper name and designates the angel that acts as the “Public Prosecutor.”

The passage in 1 Chronicles 21:1 is based upon the parallel story in 2 Samuel 24:1, but it is God who entices David to count his people and not Satan! The Satanic angel who serves as Public Prosecutor is not an apostate nor is it some fallen being, an idea that is nowhere suggested in the Hebrew Bible. However, it is in the apocryphal books of the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls we find that Satan who is more commonly referred to as “Bliyal” (“the baseless one”), is portrayed as the “Adversary of God.”

Apocryphal literature later influenced the early Christian Bible. In the Book of John (16:11) for instance, Satan appears with a capital “S.” Matthew, Mark, and Luke clearly accept and teach a doctrine of a personal Satan and called the Satanic agents, “fallen angels” or “demons” (Mark 3:22). Sometimes referred to as Lucifer, Christian legends teach that Satan vaingloriously sought to overturn the regime in heaven and waged war against God’s loyalists. Defeated by the Archangel Michael, the angel who would be God was cast into his inferno, to brood in the darkness, “hatching vain empires.” Satan did not go unescorted, along with him went about a third of the heavenly host, a horde of fallen angels.

According to Christian doctrine, angels were created separately and were given free will, just as humans were. Their “fallenness” had to do with a denial and distortion of angelic life just as human fallenness has to do with the denial and distortion of goodness and truth. In contrast, normative Judaic faith teaches that only humanity was endowed with freedom of choices; angels are often described as “omdim” (beings who occupy a stationary position cf. Isaiah 6:2, Eze. 1:21-25, 10:3-6) while human beings are described as “mehalchim” (movers) for only human beings are capable of transcending their baser natures. Angels are often compared to animals (cf. Eze.1:5) because the character of angels is instinctive much like an animals’ instinct. Angels cannot help but be what God intended for them to be. Their being and personality are defined by their nature.

This may also explain why they are sometimes referred to as seraphim (“fiery ones”) as in Isaiah 6:2, because it is the nature of fire to ascend and so it is the angelic nature to also “ascend” to God much in the same manner. Other times angels are called, “hayoth” (= “animals”) as in Eze 1:5, 13, 32.

For poets like Milton, Satan is the archetypal antihero, the rebel who wages eternal guerrilla warfare against his Creator. One famous passage, contains the psychological animus that motivates Satan’s behavior: “ Better to reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n . . .”

Maimonides and rabbinic tradition took a much more sober view of Satan. Frequently Maimonides in his “Guide to the Perplexed” argues that Satan is only a metaphor for the evil inclination (Yetzser Hara) and is not a supernatural being. This has some basis in the Talmud (Cf. Bava Batra 16a) but many of the Talmudic rabbis did regard Satan as a supernatural being who serves God by testing humanity’s moral character. Rabbinic tradition even says that Satan’s intent is to serve Heaven, not itself!  R. Levi said,Both Satan and Peninah both acted with pious intent.”[1] Continue Reading

Did Hillel Invent the Golden Rule in Judaism?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance,

for he keeps a strict account ofa their sins.

Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done,

and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray.

Does anyone harbor anger against another,

and expect healing from the Lord?

If one has no mercy toward another like himself,

can he then seek pardon for his own sins?

If a mere mortal harbors wrath,

who will make an atoning sacrifice for his sins?

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

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

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

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