Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Over a year has passed since the terrible Arizona shooting, when a gunman opened fire, killing six people and wounding 13 others.  Gabrielle Giffords, a conservative Democrat representing Arizona’s Eighth District, was among those wounded. She remained in critical condition after she survived a single gunshot to the head fired at point-blank range. Within three days after the shooting, one of her doctors described her chances of survival as “101 percent.” Her neurosurgeon, Dr. Dong Kim, called her progress “almost miraculous.”

We are all blessed with her recovery, but  greater challenges lie ahead for Gabrielle and ourselves as a nation, which sometimes teeters on the edge of insanity.

We wonder: Have we learned anything new from this devastating experience?

One bill that appeared before Congress proposed that the House of Representatives “reduce” the time allowed for criminal background checks. The Senate asked for a three-business day waiting period. The amended Bill in the House proposed a 24 hour waiting period. The reason: gun shows are very popular during the weekends. They argue that there would be no time to conduct a background check on people wishing to purchase arms.

Oh really?!

I think our politicians are living in Chelm, a place in Jewish history reserved for fools who think they are wise. If somebody wishes to purchase firearms at a convention, why don’t the new purchasers take the test one week before the gun show? What is wrong with this picture?

Over the last decade and a half, more and more states are starting to require psychological testing as a condition of hiring any full time police officer. Given the immense stress of the job, this decision makes perfect sense. In fact, schools across the country now require psychological testing for its faculty members. Even Wal-Mart requires psychological testing for its workers—perhaps because they sell firearms at their stores.

Now, it seems to me that the recent Arizona shooting might have been avoided had the state required psychological testing for anyone wishing to own a gun. In fact, if every state required psychological testing, we might be able to cut down the number of accidental shootings, or even willful shootings that seem to occur every year in our great nation.

One cannot expect a family to recognize or, for that matter, even be willing to admit that their son may have deep-rooted psychological problems requiring professional help. In addition, I think the question of machine guns, semi-automatic weapons, assault-rifles, and similar type weapons should be banned except for the military or police. Private individuals do not need to act like Rambo when a vagrant is breaking into their home. [1]

In Judaism, safety is a religious concern. The Bible requires that a roof be properly gated, in order to prevent people from falling off of it (Deut. 22:8). One precept in particular is especially important, “You shall not curse the deaf; you shall not put a stumbling block before the blind, but you will fear your God; I am YHWH ” (Lev. 19:14).

This verse includes two types of prohibitions: (1) placing a stumbling block in front of the blind for sport or entertainment, (2) taking advantage of someone’s ignorance–especially for pecuniary gain. The verse stresses that a God fearing person will not take advantage of anyone for any reason.

By the expression, “God fearing,” this is the biblical way of describing a moral person who acts with a reverence toward life. God-fearing also indicates that Creator and Judge of the world will hold all such offenders accountable for disrespecting human life. Authentic piety is best reflected by acts of compassion and consideration–especially toward individuals who suffer from a serious disability–whether physical, emotional, intellectual, and psychological. [2]

It is also instructive that Maimonides asserts that enabling someone to commit a crime, (e.g., the individual who offers a bribe, or offers to pay interest on a loan) violates the above biblical dictum.[3]

In light of the Arizona shooting—or for that matter, any other well-known shootings that we have seen in recent history, the Columbine or Virginia Tech incidents—the onus of responsibility cannot be placed on someone who is mentally-impaired or schizophrenic, or someone suffering from psychotic-break with reality.

It is not realistic to expect psychotics like Jared Lee Loughner to behave like normal citizens. I expect the judge will send him to a special hospital for the criminally insane. Local courts and governments have a duty to make it as difficult as possible in determining who can and ought to own a gun. Certain individuals should never own a gun of any kind. The duty to protect citizens is the government’s responsibility.

I would argue that we apply the same standards that exist for other professionals in our country also be applied to anyone wishing to own a gun. The time has come for the gun-lobby to start leading the campaign to protect the country from individuals who endanger public welfare. Ultimately, such a responsible move will not diminish the constitutional rights of owning a gun–but such sensible legislation will enable all of us to breathe easier

=========== Continue Reading

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

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

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

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

The story of Noah disturbs me for many reasons . . .

For now, I will focus on the passage,  “I will never again curse the ground for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth. . .” (Gen. 8:21).

Is evil something innate to the human condition? Theologians have been debating this for over 1700 years.  After everything has been said and done, one may still wonder: Was Augustine’s cynical view of human nature accurate? Are the traits of ruthlessness, selfishness, and cruelty an inherited condition? The history of genocide in the 20^th century alone might give one pause to wonder whether Pelagius and Kant might have been overly optimistic about the human condition.  The verse would seem to intimate, that to some degree, it is. Are we to assume that children are prenatally programmed with some of these less-than-desirable traits?  What about God’s role in a world that suffers from evil? Is God also responsible to some degree?

As the biologist Lyall Watson strikes at the heart of our problem:

• I am conscious at this delicate point of circumventing all the long arguments of theodicy in a somewhat cavalier way.  Saint Augustine, Irenaeus the Bishop of Lyons, and more recently the theologian John Hick, have all labored to produce a standard Christian answer to the existence of evil in a universe designed and presided over by a good God.  Their musings, to my mind, have been superseded by  events in Nazi Germany, Chile, Cambodia, Uganda, Vietnam, Serbia, and Rwanda, to mention but a few: which makes it clear that we, and we alone, bear the blame.  History, even in this century, has confronted us squarely with our own demonic capacities. We have, like Faust finally coming face to face with Mephistopheles, been forced to concede that the mask he wears bears features very much like our own. He is us, and neither evil nor can we be redeemed. We just are; and we clearly are the products, for good and evil, of our biological evolution.[1][1]

While these ignoble traits are what our species began with, this does not necessarily mean that human beings cannot learn to transcend their natural tendencies for mere biological survival. The Torah itself will later attest to a profound theological and psychological truth that has withstood the test of time: “[O]ne does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deut. 8:3). If a man was nothing more than an animal, the product of blind and relentless evolutionary forces that are beyond his control, bread would satisfy his fundamental needs, but this is not the case.

For reasons we believe to be rooted in the divine ontology and mystery of our being, we hunger for something more fulfilling than bread alone can provide. Our individual and collective capacity for discovering spiritual meaning and purpose beckons us and allows us to re-design our moral nature anew. As Maslow has forcefully argued, human beings require certain “meta-needs” that enable the spirit to thrive and expand. When these spiritual impulses are frustrated, the deprivation of these spiritual needs leads us to developing unhealthy states such as alienation, anguish, apathy, and cynicism.[2]

The psychologist Victor Frankl arrives at the same conclusion based on his experiences in the concentration camps. He discovers that whenever a person fails to find meaning to one’s life, or the purpose to life, “a person will tend to drift aimlessly like a ship without a rudder.” Frankl believes that people need something to live for, something to look forward to, something that transcends themselves to which they can give themselves. Discovering meaning to life must be found in cultivating creative values (such as experiencing the achievement of a task that establishes a person in the world), experiential values (experienced through the appreciation of the good and beautiful in the world and in the loving of another person), and in attitudinal values (experienced through dealing with one’s suffering).

In biblical terms, nature does not have the final say; humankind can rise above its destructive impulses.

The presence of evil may be seen as a deficiency disease. When people fail to instill the values of compassion and respect for life, children can develop into monstrous adults. Thoughtfulness, consideration, empathy are  some of the important  values that enabled  our prehistoric ancestors to survive as a species.  Living with a reverence for life can enable people to rise above any situation. Religion can play an important role in the healing of the human spirit–provided people embrace and emulate a God that loves and respects life.

This may well be the most important message of the Flood story as well.

Rabbinical salaries are a relatively late innovation.

From the year 50 CE, to the early medieval period, rabbis did not receive financial remuneration for their Torah study or teaching. However, elementary teachers were paid. As a whole, the working class people literally combined Torah study with a worldly occupation and the Mishnaic literature makes numerous hints about this arrangement.

Here are some examples:

Rabban Yohanan b. Zakkai said, “Do not take credit for the amount of Torah study you have studied, for that is the purpose you were created” (Avoth 2:8). R. Eleazar b. Azariah says, “If there is no study of Torah, there is no derech erertz (job).  If there is no derech eretz, there can be no study in Torah” (Avoth 3:17); Rabbi Zadok said, “Every one that makes a profit from words of Torah removes his life from the world.” R. Ishmael, his son, says, “He who learns so as to teach —they give him a chance to learn and to teach.  He who learns so as to carry out his teachings— they give him a chance to learn, to teach, to keep, and to do.”  R. Sadoq says, “Do not make [Torah teachings] a crown with which to glorify yourself or a spade with which to dig.  (So did Hillel say [M. 1:13], “He who uses the crown perishes.”) Thus have you learned, “Whoever derives worldly benefit from teachings of Torah takes his life out of this world”’ (Avoth 4:6).

In his youth, Abaye was a farmer and watered his fields at night so he could study in the day time (BT Gittin 60b). If someone asked a question while he was working, he told the questioner: “Work on this irrigation canal for me, while I ponder your question.” Later he became a wine merchant (BT Berachoth 56b). He was not the only sage to work at a worldly occupation; there were many others rabbis who engaged in ordinary livelihoods to survive.

Maimonides takes a pretty strong position on this question and argues:

• Anyone thinking that he should involve himself in Torah study and not engage work (thus deriving his livelihood from charity), desecrates God’s name, dishonors the Torah, extinguishes the light of faith. He also brings evil upon himself,  and forfeits his chance to enter Paradise. It is forbidden to derive pecuniary benefit from the words of Torah in this world. Our Sages declare: “Whoever who makes profit from the words of Torah forfeits his life in the world.” Also, the Sages further added, “Do not make them a crown to magnify oneself, nor an axe to chop with.” The Sages also prescribed, “Love work and despise the rabbinate.” All Torah that is not accompanied by work will eventually be negated and lead to sin. Ultimately, such a person will steal from others (MT Hilchot Talmud Torah 3:10).

If Maimonides were observing the Haredi parties in Israel today receiving State welfare while everyone else is working, what do you think he would say?

Of course, one might also ask, “What would he say about professional rabbis receiving a salary?” This is a fair question, but the job of the rabbinate is much more nuanced than it was in Maimonides’ time. Today, the modern rabbi functions in a variety of capacities. Sometimes (s)he works as a counselor, social worker, works in crisis intervention, public relations, and so forth.

It is safe to presume Maimonides would have been horrified about the Haredim remaining in their yeshivas studying, while the rest of the Israeli youth serve in the army and defend their country from enemies poised to destroy her. 

⁶ But Moses said to the Gadites and to the Reubenites, “Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here? ⁷ Why will you discourage the hearts of the Israelites from going over into the land that the Lord has given them? ⁸ Your fathers did this, when I sent them from Kadesh-barnea to see the land. ⁹ When they went up to the Wadi Eshcol and saw the land, they discouraged the hearts of the Israelites from going into the land that the Lord had given them. ¹⁰ The Lord’s anger was kindled on that day and he swore, saying, ¹¹ ‘Surely none of the people who came up out of Egypt, from twenty years old and upward, shall see the land that I swore to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, because they have not unreservedly followed me— (Num 32:6-11).

In all likelihood, Maimonides probably would regard the Haredi rabbis as thieves who are robbing the public—a view that is shared by most Israelis across the religious divide. Maimonides most likely would be among those condemning the Haredi welfare state in Israel.

In addition, Maimonides’ disdain of the Kabbalah and its anthropomorphic theology was something that troubled him mightily; the idea of a Rebbe standing as an intermediary between God and man probably would have seemed a lot like idolatry. Today’s legions of Kabbalistic psychics and hucksters probably would get an earful from Maimonides, who hated all forms of superstition.

Maimonides would certainly find the internecine battles between Jews very troubling. I think Maimonides would have been very proud to see Jews reclaim and resettle their homeland after nearly 2000 years; he would have heralded 1948 as a great miraculous event in the history of our nation–perhaps on par with King Cyrus’s momentous decision to let the Jews of Persia return to their ancestral and spiritual homeland. Continue Reading

The biblical story of Creation is often criticized for endorsing an attitude that promotes the exploitation of the environment. During the 1960’s and throughout the next decade, biblical scholars of all different stripes have claimed that Genesis 1:28 is   largely responsible for many of the ecological problems currently facing our planet: the extinction of numerous species, ongoing deforestation, and potentially dangerous global climate changes are just a few of the controversial issues. Some intellectuals continue to criticize the “Judaeo-Christian” tradition (conveniently, but incorrectly conflating these two different faiths) as being “anti-Nature” and by extension, even “anti-female,” since man’s domination of woman is viewed within the context of man’s domination over nature (Gen. 3:17).

Mythologist and philosopher Joseph Campbell, as well as his admirers, contend that patriarchal religions tend to be violent and out of control. In contrast, the female goddess religions, regarded as paragons of civility, are characterized as violence-free, and evoking an aura of peacefulnes. Campbell further asserts that the Eastern religious perspective of nature is infinitely more advanced and spiritual than views proposed by the West. In one book, Campbell nostalgically recollects a conversation he once shared with the popular Buddhist apologist and missionary, D. T. Suzuki:

• I remember a vivid talk by the Japanese Zen philosopher Dr. Daisetz T. Suzuki, which opened with an unforgettable contrast of the Occidental and Oriental understandings of the God-man-nature mystery. Commenting first on the Biblical view of the state of man following the Fall in Eden, “Man,” he observed, “is against God, and Man, and Nature, are against each other. God’s own likeness, (Man), God’s own creation (Nature) and God himself—all three are at war. [1]

Similar attitudes are also expressed by the 20^th century historian of medieval history, Lynn White, Jr., who also blames humanity’s ecological woes on the old biblical notion of dominion. White believes that this Scriptural passage entitles and empowers people with the right to utilize the natural world however they see fit. Furthermore, he alleges that Genesis 1:26-28 teaches that man has a right to dominate, subdue, and control nature with no regard for the welfare of the environment. [2]

White believes that primitive and Eastern religions show more sensitivity toward the welfare of the environment than Christianity, and in much the same way are better sources for environmental ethics. Unlike the ancient Oriental and Greco-Roman religions, or Native American Indian faiths that venerate animals, trees, rivers, and mountains in the belief that all entities are endowed with guardian spirits which need to be placated—biblical religion was very different. White asserts that once Judaism and Christianity overcame primitive animism, these religions made it possible to exploit nature with an attitude of indifference toward all natural objects. As a solution White suggests:

• Since the roots of our trouble are so largely religious, the remedy must also be essentially religious, whether we call it that or not. We must rethink and re-feel our nature and destiny. The profoundly religious, but heretical, sense of the primitive Franciscans for the spiritual autonomy of all parts of nature may point out a direction. I propose Francis as the patron saint for ecologists.[3]

The models of Franciscan and Dominican stewardship that the Catholic Church promotes are indeed excellent models, as White wisely recommends. However, White’s analysis makes a number of unproven assumptions that are suspect and questionable. When speaking about Judaism’s ethos, reference must also be made to the entire corpus of religious beliefs—especially those found in classical rabbinic texts, which contain some of the most detailed expositions of stewardship found in the ancient world.

As a case in point, theologian Louis Jacobs presents a clear summary of how Judaism follows a philosophy that is “eco-sensitive”:

• Waste-disposal, for instance, was a major concern in rabbinic times. Care was to be taken, the Rabbis urged, that bits of broken glass should not be scattered on public land where they could cause injury. Saintly men, the Talmud (Bava Kama 30a) remarks, would bury their broken glassware deep down in their own fields. Other rubbish could be deposited on public land, but only during the winter months when, in any event, the roads were a morass of mud because of the rains. In the Mishnah (Bava Batra 2), rabbinic concern for a peaceful and clean environment was given expression in definite laws. . . . Carcasses, graves, and tanneries must be kept at a distance of at least 50 cubits from the city. A tannery must not be set up in such a way that the prevailing winds waft the unpleasant odor to the town. A prohibition known as bal tashḥit, ‘do not destroy’ is based by the Rabbis on the biblical injunction not to destroy fruit-bearing trees (Deuteronomy 20:19), but it is extended by them to include wasting anything that can be used for the benefit of mankind. For instance, while it was the custom to rend the garments on hearing of the death of a near relative), to tear too much or too many garments violates this rule (Bava Kama 91b). Maimonides formulates this as: “It is not only forbidden to destroy fruit-bearing trees but whoever breaks vessels, tears clothes, demolishes a building, stops up a fountain or wastes food, in a destructive way, offends against the law of “thou shalt not destroy”. Maimonides’ qualification, “in a destructive way” is intended to convey the thought that if, say, a fruit-bearing tree is causing damage to other trees, it may be cut down since then the act is constructive. A Midrashic homily has it that the reason why the wood used for the Tabernacle in the wilderness was not from fruit-bearing trees, was to teach human beings that when they build their own homes they should use wood from other than fruit-bearing trees.[4]

The gaps in Lynn White’s critique of the Judeo-Christian faiths are alarming and his article is a good example of someone who utilizes a straw man for making what is truly a specious and one-sided argument. One of the best responses to the allegation these men raise can be found in a seminal work, written by a man who is often described as the “father of environmentalism,” René Dubos (1901-1981). Dubos offers a number of pointed criticisms aimed at White’s article and to D. T. Suzuki (whom he credits with originating this polemic back in the 1950’s).

• In my opinion, the theory that the Judeo-Christian attitudes are responsible for the development of technology and for the ecological crisis is at best a historical half-truth. Erosion of the land, destruction of animal and plant species, excessive exploitation of natural resources, and ecological disasters are not peculiar to the Judeo-Christian tradition and to scientific technology. At all times, and all over the world, man’s thoughtless interventions in nature have had a variety of disastrous consequences or at least have changed profoundly the complexion of nature  . . .[5]

Dubos also shows how even Oriental societies treated the environment with recklessness and indifference. He notes that China was ahead of the West in science and technology which in turn caused massive ecological damage to their region. The barren hills of central and northern China were once heavily forested. Dubos added that human ecological problems were not just limited to the Occidental countries, but were also felt throughout other communities in Asia as well.

• Even the Buddhists contributed largely to the deforestation of Asia in order to build their temples; it has been estimated that in some areas they have been responsible for more than half of the timber consumption. The Chinese attitude of respect for nature probably arose, in fact, as a response to the damage done in antiquity. . . . In Japan also, the beautifully artificial gardens and oddly shaped pined trees could hardly be regarded as direct expressions of nature; they constitute rather a symbolic interpretation of an intellectual attitude towards scenery. Wildlife has been so severely reduced in modern Japan that sparrows are the only kind of birds remaining of the dozens of species that used to pass through Tokyo a century ago.[6]

Many of the ecological problems occurred when early Neolithic man struggled mightily for survival, and killed any animal that posed a threat to his existence. In ancient Egypt, the Pharaohs and their Assyrian neighbors killed large numbers of wild animals just for the pleasure of the sport as is well-documented on many ancient drawings. Even in the farthest regions of the world such as Australia, the native Aborigines’ penchant for setting off fires contributed toward its semi-arid climate.  If anything, Dubos notes that “the Judeo-Christian peoples were probably the first to develop a pervasive concern for land management and an ethic for nature.”[7]

Dubos, of course, is referring to the institutions such as the sabbatical year and the Jubilee Year that treat the earth similar to that of a sentient being, which is entitled to the benefits of “rest” and cessation from human hands (Exod. 23:11; Lev. 25:4; 25:49). It is remarkable that each ecological-based precept exerts profound sociological ramifications for the entire faith community as well. During the Sabbatical year, debts are cancelled (Deut. 15:1–9); the Jubilee Year provides release for Hebrews who had become servants through poverty (Lev. 25:39–41, 54). During these festivals the poor are free to eat the produce from all of the fields (Exod. 23:11; Lev. 25:6–7, 12). Likewise, the Torah aims at curtailing human violence against the environment—notably during a time of war (Deut. 20:19-20); as well as the laws restricting the co-mingling of different seeds when sowing a field (Deut. 22:9-11), and the law against mixing meat and milk together. (Exod. 23:19). Continue Reading

This article is the first of a new series dealing with faith–or better yet, the loss of faith we are witnessing in our society today. Two excellent sayings capture much of the message found in tonight’s blog:

“Doubt is the beginning, not the end, of wisdom,” (Spanish proverb), or, “If there is room for question, something is wrong” (Yiddish proverb).

One of the first Jewish thinkers to seriously grapple with the role of doubt and religion was the ninth century Jewish philosopher Saadia Gaon. He pondered: Why do so many people have doubts about their faith in God and religion in general? Although he was speaking to a medieval audience, his ideas are very relevant for the people of 21^st century who have become deeply disenchanted with traditional faith for a variety of different reasons. Saadia writes:

• My heart grieves for humankind and my heart is affected on account of my own people, Israel, who I see in my own time. Many who follow their faith, but they have a distorted understanding of their faith; consequently, their faith is replete with unenlightened views and absurd beliefs that are current among those who follow Judaism. Others, who deny their faith, proudly denigrate their unbelief, ridiculing those who truly believe . . . I also saw people drowning in a sea of doubt, overwhelmed by the waves of confusion with no diver to raise them up from the depths, with no swimmer to bring them to rescue . . .[1]

Had Saadia lived in today’s era, he most certainly would have spoken about the state of spiritual anarchy that is so pervasive in today’s religious societies. Men of all faiths have abdicated their responsibility to care and shepherd their people. Everyday there are countless stories of clergy either participating or covering up crimes of pedophilia. Religion has in many circles become increasingly militant, often encouraging its followers to commit acts of terror and mayhem against its foes; this problem has been especially virulent in the Middle East, but with the Al Qaeda attack on the Twin Towers, even quiet Western societies have now been affected by the forces of religious intolerance.

Such behavior hardly inspires belief in a kind or benevolent Deity, whose followers commit the worse kind of human atrocities and moral indecencies. I am amazed how mute religious leaders have been in chastising the fanaticism and moral corruption of their zombie-like followers.

The Jewish community has certainly not been altogether immune to these accusations. Various institutions of higher and advanced Jewish learning prefer to castigate the Government as well as sincere minded Jewish citizens who are demanding moral accountability. In Israel, where the religious parties exert a powerful influence on the affairs of State, the corruption is even more ubiquitous. Religious coercion and draconian laws have become a way of life, along with politicians receiving kickbacks and bribes.

Whether it be well-known Hassidic rabbis fleecing poor widows of their wealth in the name of their religion, or whether it be rabbis trafficking human organs, or committing acts of fraud in the areas of fraud, Jewish education, sexism, or endorsing the sexual exploitation of females—the end result has darkened the light of faith.

Is it not any wonder why more serious-minded people have come to the conclusion that religion is an illusion that has long outlived its contemporary usefulness? Yes, legions of once devoted followers find it difficult to believe in a faith that enables the worse kind of human behavior—and they are absolutely right.

But Saadia was only partially correct. In his day, many people were drowning in the sea of doubt, but today countless numbers of people are drowning in a sea of cynicism—produced by charlatan shepherds who have made it their life mission to fleece the flock.

Yet, Saadia offers an important prescription: doubt can serve a positive function, for it is the first step toward discovering a knowledge that is self-authenticating. It is precisely through skepticism one refuses to accept things as they present themselves; it is only by questioning, one can arrive a better understanding of what it truly means to believe; doubting is essential, if one is ever arrive at pure concept of truth.

Yet, Saadia offers an important prescription: doubt can serve a positive function, for it is the first step toward discovering a knowledge that is self-authenticating. It is precisely through skepticism one refuses to accept things as they present themselves; it is only by questioning, one can arrive a better understanding of what it truly means to believe; doubting is essential, if one is ever arrive at pure concept of truth. Moses Maimonides actually concurs and explains that before we can arrive at a truth belief in God, we must first shred all the inauthentic conceptions based upon a distorted theological understanding of the Divine. How true!

Just as Jacob wrestles with God, so must we wrestle with God; our questioning, our dissatisfaction with glib and stupid answers simply won’t do. Continue Reading

Stephen Hawking in the beginning of his book, “A Brief History of Time,” relates a story he believes originated with the scientist-philosopher Bertrand Russell, who once fielded an interesting question asked by an elderly woman after finishing a lecture he gave on astronomy:

“He described how the earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the center of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy. At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said: “What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise.” The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, “What is the tortoise standing on.” “You’re very clever, young man, very clever,” said the old lady. “But it’s turtles all the way down!”[1]

The woman’s question was actually based on the ancient Hindu myth where the world was once thought to rest on the backs of four elephants, which in turn stand on the shell of a turtle!  Bertrand Russell  in his book, “Why I am not a Christian,” writes: “It is exactly of the same nature as the Hindu’s view, that the world rested upon an elephant and the elephant rested upon a tortoise; and when they said, “How about the tortoise?” the Indian said, “Suppose we change the subject . . .” And who says philosophers don’t have a good sense of humor?

Are today’s physicists arriving at a similar conclusion?

The prospect of discovering of the Higgs-Boson particle, better known as the “God Particle,” by scientists working at the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) in Bern, Switzerland has created much excitement in the news. The elusive Higgs-Boson particle is one of the fundamental building blocks of matter. Give credit to the Nobel Prize winning scientist Leon Lederman, for coming up with a better name than the “Higgs boson.” “God Particle” is certainly pretty enticing to the imagination. I plan to read his 2006 best seller, “The God Particle: If the Universe Is the Answer, What Is the Question?” over the few weeks. Besides being smart, Lederman also knows how to sell books.

I find the conversations between scientists and theologians quite exciting. The physics of the this newest discovery are complicated. Besides, I never had aspirations to become a physicist. But from what little I have tried to conceptually glean, I can say that the existence of particles invisibly existing apart from mass is breathtaking. Ordinarily, one might think that items endowed with mass tend to be perceived as more “real,” than things that are bereft of mass, but such an assumption is now scientifically unwarranted. The Higgs boson is regarded as a “fundamental” particle; one of the vital building blocks that make up our universe. Physicists think it is the last missing piece in the leading theory of particle physics which describes how particles and forces interact.

All of this sounds pretty mystical to me; science can be as esoteric as any text of the Kabbalah. Actually, many of the Jewish mystics have candidly referred to God as the “Holy Nothing,” because God is not an object one can physically point to. Both Maimonides and the philosopher Alfred Ayers would probably agree about the “nonsense,” concerning God–because God is beyond our senses. One wonders what will these physicists discover next? Will they someday discover that the God Particle is in itself made up of something even more ethereal and abstract? Has the God Particle always existed? How will this discovery impact the way we look at the universe and at ourselves? Here is another more perplexing question: Are we the first species in the universe to even notice that the God Particle exists? If we are, then what does this say about the nature of human consciousness and its possible uniqueness in the universe? If we are not the only entities in the universe, can some older extraterrestrial race of beings kindly explain, “What the heck is going on?” Maybe one of them can write a book called, “The God Particle for Idiots,” which I would certainly rush to buy despite the title.

On NPR Radio, I found the comments of the atheist scientist to be especially enlightening. He marveled at the intellectual achievement of these men as a triumph for rational thought and not religion. The atheist scientist makes a valid point. I would just ask a simple question, “Is it not amazing that the human mind and the Logos (to borrow the famous term from the pre-Socratic philosopher, Heraclitus) of the universe both communicate (so to speak) through the language of mathematics?” For a theistic person like me, this reality has profound religious implications.

British theologian Keith Ward offers a perspective that is important to our discussion. “The cosmos not only springs from a Supreme Consciousness: it is destined to produce beings that will relate in knowledge and in cooperative action to that Consciousness. . . . The cosmos must be such that it will produce beings of awareness, intention, a sense of transcendence, and the possibility of conscious union with God.”[2]

Ward’s interpretation adds new meaning to the passage, “From my flesh I see God” (Job 19:26). By contemplatively gazing into the inner processes of the human mind, we may come to the novel recognition that we perceive only the outer manifestation and presence of a deeper hidden reality that can be seen in such scientific epiphanies as the God Particle. This commingling of the human and cosmic consciousness (as evidenced through the language of mathematics) illustrates that our minds correspond to a Universal Mind that has made the universe wonderfully comprehensible to our puny brains. Indeed, this innate sharing and purposeful commingling of the human and Divine Consciousness constitute from the religious perspective, one of the greatest miracles of all Creation.

In the words of the prophet, we find a most relevant passage to our discussion about the God Particle, “Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who has created these?” (Isaiah 40:26).[3]  When the ancient biblical writers beheld the awe-inspiring complexity of the universe, they probably wondered: Why is there something rather than nothing? Why is there an order manifested in the cosmos? How did it get there when it did not have to be there? Who gave it when it did not have to be given? Why am I even capable of conceptually expressing this immense mystery? More specifically, why do I even exist? Philosopher Martin Heidegger rightly observed that this is the most basic question of philosophy.[4] Although Einstein did not believe in an anthropomorphic deity that is taught by most of the Western religions, he did come to realize that God is an artist of sorts–a God of Mystery–much more grand than the human mind can possibly fathom:

• The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery–even if mixed with fear—that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our  minds—it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man.[5]

Physicist Harold Schilling offers a deeply profound understanding of the term “mystery” that is reminiscent of contemplative silence. By the term mystery, Schilling explains:

• [I]t does not mean an unsolved puzzle or a gap in our knowledge. Rather, the notion of mystery refers to something that is inherently unknowable and inexplicable. No amount of knowledge can ever diminish or eliminate the sense of mystery. On the contrary, our desire to grasp the nature of the cosmic mystery is only intensified as our knowledge of it expands with each scientific discovery. In religious terms, the sense of mystery we experience when gazing at the heavens is the source of all wonder, and is the bedrock of true worship and devotion.”[6]

Perhaps Schilling’s perceptive point is something that both theistic and atheistic minded people can all agree upon. Creation spirituality revolves around the kind of existential question that point toward these ultimate issues and concerns. Indeed, for most people, the beauty of science is probably better conveyed through the imagery of poetry and religion than it is through the discursive idiom of mathematics. Continue Reading

In Late Antiquity the Greek cynic and philosopher Epicurus fleshes out the cognitive dissonance people experience when contemplating the problem of theodicy:

1. Is God unable to prevent evil?

2. Is God unwilling to prevent evil?

3. If God is able and willing to prevent evil, then where does evil come from?

4. If God is neither able nor willing to prevent evil, then why do we call him “god”?

If God micromanages creation, as the Flood narrative seems to teaches, then why does the Creator tolerate natural evil? More to the point: Is all natural evil directly or indirectly due to moral evil? When the Lisbon earthquake struck in 1759, many skeptics wondered how God could allow such a devastating disaster to strike. From the modern critical perspective, the story of the Flood raises serious issues regarding the relationship between natural evil, commonly referred to as “acts of God,” and God’s justice.  In the case of moral evil, the impact felt by the victim is identifiable and with the help of the law, the perpetrator(s) can be brought to justice. But natural evil poses a different kind of problem. One cannot subpoena an earthquake or a fire, or a disease after they strike. When natural evil strikes, the effects leave for the most part, little positive benefits with nobody to blame—except God.

After the Lisbon earthquake, the French philosopher Voltaire articulated his own brand of Epicurean doubt. Voltaire wondered how religious people could still refer to God as “benevolent” or “loving” after the death of so many thousands of innocents. In response to Voltaire’s criticism, his fellow Frenchman, Jean Jacques Rousseau argued that human beings must take the primary responsibility for what happened during the Lisbon earthquake. Poorly designed structural buildings, along with a lack of thoughtful urban planning and human error, played a role in the corporate damage the earthquake caused. A superiorly designed city might have suffered much less casualties and death. [1]

It is remarkable and ironic that Voltaire would put greater reliance on God given his penchant for upsetting the local ecclesiastical authorizes on matters of faith. It is no less ironic to see one of the great secular philosophers of his age, Rousseau, defend God’s order of creation with the vim and vigor of a skilled theologian.  “If,” as the philosopher Susan Neiman writes, “Enlightenment is the courage to think for oneself; it is also the courage to assume responsibility for the world which one is thrown into.”[2]  This message applies to all the genocides that we have witnessed in the last 100 years or more. Mature faith calls for diligence and activism.

Rousseau and Voltaire’s debate could apply no less to the destruction of New Orleans produced by Hurricane Katrina. Voltaire would certainly condemn the faith of those who believed in a benevolent deity. By the same token, Voltaire would have also scoffed at the religious leaders of today who saw Katrina as a divine tribulation for the city’s brazen sins. Religious leaders from numerous faiths ascribed a variety of reasons as to why Hurricane Katrina was so devastating. Some leaders blamed the licentious life-style of New Orleans[3], while others claimed it was divine retribution for the United States’ support of the removal of Jewish settlers in the Gaza Strip.[4] Buddhist and Hindu scholars blamed it on karma, while Muslim across the globe imams proclaimed in unison, “The Terrorist Katrina is one of the Soldiers of Allah…”[5]

One can only respond with the famous words of Thomas Hobbes, who popularized this ancient Roman proverb, Homo homini lupus—“man is wolf to man.”

Evidently, according to these religious men, God never left the Flood Business.  But on a more serious note,  Katrina illustrates how the various bodies of government (e.g., the City of New Orleans, the State of Louisiana, the Federal Government, FEMA, the Mayor, the Governor, the President, the local residents, and so on) failed to make maximum use of the resources available. Local officials knew in advanced that this type of storm was possible and that the levees could break. Why was nothing done about it? Why were the monies allocated for rebuilding the levees not utilized decades after they were collected from the government? Why was there no effective evacuation plan? Why did it take so long for the relief agencies to respond? How the local inhabitants compound the problem with their disregard for the law. Although the weather was fierce, the onus of Katrina’s damage did not come from the weather but from the systemic breakdown of government.

The Lisbon earthquake and Hurricane Katrina represents only one kind of theological dilemma involving theodicy. On December 26, 2004, an undersea earthquake measuring 9.3 100 miles off the western coast of Sumatra, Indonesia produced the second largest earthquake in recorded history and generated massive tsunamis. Over 230,000 people lost their lives in just a matter of hours. Given the destructive force of the tsunamis, would Rousseau agree with Voltaire, and hold God responsible for the tsunamis?

Not necessarily.

One could logically argue that given the technology, wealth, and information we possess of weather patterns and seismic conditions, nations can now take steps to help minimize natural catastrophes. Tectonic plates will continue to shift; magma from volcanoes will continue to explode with fiery force; the wind will continue to generate hurricanes and tornadoes (which incidentally, were also detected on the planet Saturn—a place far removed from human habitation).

Natural law will not change; yet, when these disasters occur, people of good faith can bring tikkun (repair) through a tsunami of compassion. When God enjoined Adam to, “Fill the earth and subdue it!” (Gen. 1:28), the biblical narrator may have had this type of thought in mind. “Conquering the earth” may very well involve fixing nature’s many imperfections. A mature faith in God requires that we be responsive to the various mishaps and flaws of creation through a covenantal co-relationship with the Divine.

Among the medieval theologians, Aquinas argued that all types of natural disaster derive from the fact that they are earthly phenomena, which are by their very constitution prone to corruption and dissolution.[6] A physical world based on the laws of physics, has no choice but to be subject to the reverberating fluctuations of imperfection. Only in the truly spiritual realm are entities believed to be bereft of deficiency. Thomistic theology asserts that had Adam refrained from sinning, his physical constitution would have been completely subservient to the soul’s spiritual life-force (a point which Augustine and Ramban both agree). Natural evil would exist, but it would not have any effect upon him; Adam and his progeny would have remained spiritual supermen, completely unaffected by aberrant changes in the environment. The human capacity to exercise ethical judgment would remain unimpaired, due to the soul’s complete harmony with the body, which God ensures. However, in a “fallen world,” humankind must come to terms with the world’s state of disrepair.

This writer takes sharp issue with Aquinas’ view that the world is “fallen,” but would agree that we have to come to terms with the world’s state of disrepair.” Maimonides stresses time and time again that natural law will operate on this planet whether man exists or not. Much of our problem with the natural evil that occurs in this world is due to a mistaken belief that is human-centric. As human beings, because of our higher intelligence we get disturbed at the great loss of life that occurs whenever a hurricane or a tsunami strikes. Animals do not obsess over the question: Why do bad things happen to good lions or tigers? Nature seems to accept the inherent randomness of the universe. We suffer perhaps because we tend to think our technology can save us; while that is certainly true some of the time, it is not true all the time.

In Genesis 1:31, the biblical narrator tells us, “God saw everything that he had made and indeed, it was very good.” Some subtleties get lost in translation, and this verse illustrates this point well.  Every aspect of Creation, from the most majestic galaxies to the most infinitesimal particle, functions as God intended it to.[7]  In my Genesis commentary on this verse I wrote:

• Although the term “good”  טוֹב (tôb) appears six times earlier [8] in the creation narrative, here it appears for the seventh time to symbolize completeness. The peshat reveals that it is only after God has created humankind—after His image and likeness—that Creation graduates from being merely “good” to becoming “very good.” Some Jewish mystics observed that the letters of the word מְאֹד (mĕ’ōd = “very”) may also be read as an anagram for אָדָם (‘ādām = “human being”).^[9]

In a Talmud class I had just given last night, I was privileged to hear a most wonderful insight from a young 17 year old student named Austin, who has a promising career as a future zoologist. He pointed out that pine cones have a very unusual way of releasing its seeds. Pine cones remain tightly closed until the cones are heated at an extremely hot temperature, as in the case of a forest fire. At the death of the parent pine cone, the seeds are then released, which produce future pine trees. The story about the pine cones illustrates that in the face of a natural catastrophic event, like when a lightning bolt strikes a dry patch producing a raging forest fire; something can arise from the ashes of death itself–even when we least expect it.

Continue Reading

James L. Kugel, a Modern Orthodox rabbinic scholar, demonstrates a willingness to engage and integrate the historical-critical methods of biblical criticism, especially remarkable when considering his theological background and training. Kugel points out several other differences between the P school vis-à-vis the J school, which are deserving of special mention. Speaking as someone who was trained originally in the Hassidic tradition, I can personally attest to the courage and intellectual integrity Kugel possesses. Most Orthodox scholars would never have the strength of religious convictions to express the kind of ideas Kugel champions in his writings. Bravo! The following article is Part I of my con-versation with James Kugel that I wrote in my new commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).”

WARNING: The article is fairly lengthy and probably too technical for people who are unfamiliar with the basic theories of the Documentary Hypothesis. If reading gets too boring, do what I do–skip it! For those who are more of the stout of heart, enjoy!

=======

According to Kugel, P’s theology contains some of the most “chilling conceptions” the ancients ever had about the Deity:

• It was already noticed that the God of Genesis 2-3 had a more “hands-on” approach to creating the world than the God of chapter 1, attributed by scholars to P. In chapter 1, God simply speaks and things happen—suddenly there is light, suddenly there is a firmament, and so forth. One would not be wrong to characterize this God as somewhat more impersonal. But even this description is more personal than the God revealed in later portions of the priestly text, according to scholars. Recent analysis has in fact highlighted the difference between the way God is depicted in the priestly parts of Genesis and the way He is depicted after that. In P’s part of Leviticus, for example, God does not speak in the first person, “I will do this” or “I have ordered that”—not even to Moses. It is as if P seeks to deny that God can be thought of as a person-like Being, one who can say “I.” So too, P’s God does not personally punish people; punishment just somehow falls on wrongdoers and they are “cut off” (in the passive voice) or otherwise disciplined (P doesn’t say how). Nor does He personally forgive; instead; it is forgiven to the sinner who makes good his infraction. P’s version of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai is consistent with this picture; Moses enters the cloud and hears a voice, but the people outside hear nothing at all.  All this seems to correspond to something profound in P’s theology.[1]

Clearly, there is scriptural support to Kugel’s theological position. However, closer scrutiny reveals that P’s depiction of the image of God is not really as “impersonal” as Kugel asserts. For example, it is no linguistic fluke that the divine epithet אֱלֹהִים (‘élöhîm) also means “judge,” for God creates the universe according to a template of order and justice. When a human being adheres to the divine harmony that pervades the cosmos through observing the precepts of the Torah, earthly existence literally becomes enlightened and unencumbered. Life is a journey where every human act carries within it the seeds of its own well-being and life destiny. Alternatively, the sinful act unleashes forces that will engulf and self-destruct the wrongdoer, or at the very least, make one’s life difficult to manage. This thought is captured beautifully in Psalm 1:

Happy are those who do not follow the counsel of the wicked,

Nor follow the path of sinners,

Or has joined the company of the impudent;

Rather, the teaching of the Lord is his delight,

God’s teaching they study day and night.

They are like a tree planted beside streams of water,

That yields fruit in its season,

Whose foliage never wither,

And whatever it produces thrives.

But the wicked are different!

They are like the chaff driven by the wind

Therefore, the wicked cannot survive judgment

Nor will sinners be in the assembly of the just

The LORD loves the way of the just

But the path of the wicked leads to ruination

Psalm 1:1-7

Psalm 1 stresses that throughout our existence we must learn to recognize the difference between the wheat from the chaff, and the real from the illusory; we must consciously choose between the experience of being connected with the divine, or the feeling of being spiritually anxious and homeless. Regardless of our individual choices, one thoughtful or thoughtless action impacts the world. This message runs like a stream of consciousness throughout the Genesis narratives.

However, this theological notion is certainly not at all unique to P but is present in the theology of J as well, a good example being the story of the Exodus. When YHWH commands mighty Pharaoh to release the Israelites, the Egyptian monarch soon discovers that there are consequences to his disobedience. Soon, his entire country is plagued by a series of natural disasters that bring misery and suffering to all of his people. Nature, herself, rebels against the rule of tyranny and attempts to set the record straight once and for all. The great spiritual “chain of being” found in the tradition of P, is equally present in the stories attributed to J and not just P, as Kugel claims.

Kugel further asserts that in Leviticus, God does not speak to mortals in the first person.[2]  Evidence for such a theory seems inconclusive. The fact remains that there are ample instances where God does speak in the first person, as personal pronouns appear throughout Leviticus, which is the locus classicus of priestly texts.[3] These passages are replete with numerous anthropomorphisms that one would not expect to see if P truly had an aversion for using them. Note, also, that whenever God says, “I will . . . ,” it is always spoken in the context of a dialogue with His covenantal party. There is absolutely nothing “impersonal” about this exchange between God and Moses, or with Aaron and the Israelite people. God is also portrayed by the Holiness Code of Lev. 19 as being intensely personal and concerned with ethical human conduct. Therefore, P appears to be more concerned with the human condition than Kugel is willing to acknowledge.

Still, in Leviticus 26-28, P paints a very different picture. God does announce that He will take it upon Himself to personally afflict wrongdoers (note the repetitive phrase, “I will . . .”) who violate the commandments. Thus, the biblical language illustrated in Leviticus 26-27 is as anthropomorphic in its imagery as any passage found in the J tradition. In each of these passages, the Creator is always depicted as playing an active role in administering retribution whenever it is warranted.

• Prayer, Sacrifice and the Priestly Theological View 

One of the most extraordinary claims Kugel makes pertains to the relationship between sacrifice and prayer:

• Perhaps the most striking thing to scholars about the God of P is that people do not pray to Him. The book of Psalms is full of prayers and songs of praise to God, many of them quite ancient, and scholars have established that the majority of these psalms were composed to be recited in God’s “house,” the temple where He was deemed to be present.  But a reader of P would never guess that this was so. P describes in great detail the offerings in the temple, but he never says a word about prayers or songs being recited there. In fact, in P people never pray; what good would it do? P’s God is an almost impersonal force. So, too, the ancient festive hymns praising Him are never mentioned in P either . . . . . . In our own modern society, such a vision of God might actually appear comforting to some. After all, without quite putting the thought in words, we live in a world that is based on ruling out a role for the divine in daily life. That would suit P just fine—keep supporting the temple, he would say, and we’ll keep offering the sacrifices. Meanwhile, political upheavals, natural catastrophes, the suffering of the righteous—these are not problems for P’s theology; God is enthroned in splendid isolation. He has no interests in thank-yous, so save your breath.[4]

Kugel assumes that sacrifice did not co-exist with prayer, yet, in Hosea 14:3 we find: וּנְשַׁלְּמָה פָרִים שְׂפָתֵינוּ (û|nüšallümâ pärîm Süpätêºnû) “Instead of bulls we will pay the offering of our lips” (NJPS), which suggests that prayer is the equivalent of sacrifice, or, prayer is a replacement for sacrifice. The Talmud bears this wisdom out: “With what shall we replace the bullocks we formerly offered to You? ‘Our lips,’ in the prayer we pray to thee.[5] Rabbinic tradition attributes the institution of prayer to the patriarchs[6] or to a Mosaic decree and this tradition has remained an important part of the sacrificial cult since its inception.[7] Perhaps it could be said in defense of Kugel’s claim, that the Hosea passage represents an evolutionary change in the theological imagination of ancient Israel; Hosea expresses a thought that is not present in P—at least as it is understood in the Pentateuch. However, closer study of the Leviticus texts does not bear this out. If anything, the imagery of Hosea is predicated upon the sacrificial imagery of Leviticus.

The relationship between sacrifice and confession is stressed in numerous passages in the Levitical literature: (1) With regard to the guilt and trespass offerings (Leviticus 5:5), it is significant that the Torah insists spiritual rehabilitation of the sinner must begin with the verbal act of confession, thus preceding the sacrificial act. Atonement begins within the heart and soul of the worshipper in order for Divine forgiveness to become effective (cf. Psa. 51:16). Confession, per se, is crippled unless it is motivated by one’s sincere feelings of remorse and contrition.[8] (2) The Yom Kippur offering referred to in Leviticus 16:21, establishes confession as a pre-condition for atonement and purification, without which the Yom Kippur offering is useless. (3) In Leviticus 26:39-42, we discover that the act of verbal confession atones for sins that can no longer be expiated through sacrifice—a reality that is caused by the state of Israel’s expulsion from her homeland. It seems difficult to imagine how any kind of atonement offering could be effective without the verbal declaration of confession. (4) Based on the priestly legislation of Numbers 5:7, all acts of fraud, perjury and embezzlement are no less morally defiling than that of leprosy. In many ways, these moral failings ought to be considered far worse since crimes of moral turpitude require an act of will and a denial of conscience; cultic impurity that is due only to physical circumstances pale in comparison. To enter God’s Presence, there must be an effort expended to repair the breaches that undermine social justice and personal trust. To facilitate the spiritual renewal of a sinner, one must make a confession and bring the appropriate atonement offering. In the priestly worldview, those individuals who defile the spiritual integrity of the Tabernacle are a far greater affront to its purity than those suffering from physical ailments such as leprosy, unusual body discharges, and corpse contamination. This same point is also repeatedly stressed throughout the prophetic literature.

From this perspective, the collage of verses referenced above prove that prayer, at least in the form of a confession, existed early on in the priestly traditions of Leviticus and Numbers and played a vital role in the sacrificial cult. The evidence for this assertion contradicts Kugel’s image of an isolated deity who is indifferent to human offerings. Sacrifice in the Tanakh always involves more than just rote ritual; the act of sacrifice adds a sacred dimension to the community and individual, but this sacredness is contingent upon the moral integrity and purity of mind and deed of the person offering the sacrifice. Human morality in the final analysis is, according to P’s theology, the benchmark of the Divine Image referred to in Genesis 1:26.

From an anthropological standpoint it is fair to ask, what primal society didn’t offer prayer along with its sacrifices? Among nearly all the major religions of the world, the relationship between sacrifice as a means of expiation, always presupposes the existence of a Higher Being, whose moral character demands a change in the worshipper’s moral behavior, namely, that individual is personally responsible for the removal of his sin. Human fault may occasionally be traced to a moral lapse, but it can also be due to the failure of properly carrying out a ritual, or may even be the result of an unconscious reason that requires expiation. In terms of the other types of sacrifice, thanksgiving offerings are invariably accompanied with prayers of praise, acknowledgement and gratitude for the goodness the worshipper receives.

• Priestly Theology and the Priestly Benediction

Perhaps one of the most personal and best known ancient priestly prayers[9] that Kugel does not take into consideration is the Priestly Benediction of Numbers 6:22-27:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, “Thus you shall bless the Israelites: You shall say to them,

“The Lord bless you and keep you;

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

So they shall put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.

The visceral power of this prayer is due to the fact it is shamelessly anthropomorphic. While discursive theological language speaks much ado about the nature of God, it cannot begin to describe in words the actual experience of God. Prayer flows from a heart that is alert and open to the miniature synchronicities which disclose God in the world. Biblical theology stresses that even with all its obvious limitations—anthropomorphism is the language of encounter par excellence throughout the Tanakh. Continue Reading

According to Rashi (1040-1105), one of humanity’s chief distinctions from the animal world lies in its unique ability to formulate speech in expressing ideas about itself, the world, and God. As proof, Rashi cites the Aramaic translation (Targum) of Onkelos (2nd cent. c.e.), who paraphrases the verse to mean: וַהֲוָת בְאָדָם לְרֻוחַ מְמַלְלָא “and it became within man, a speaking spirit,” as if to say humanity represents the most evolved of all created entities, for humankind alone was granted the power of understanding and speech.

These traditional interpretations regarding the human capacity for complex and abstract speech raise important questions in light of our contemporary knowledge of zoology, comparative linguistics, anthropology, and neuroscience. Simply put, how unique is the human capacity to speak and communicate through language? Is human language the by-product of a long evolutionary history, or is it more the result of spontaneous development that is unique to people?

There is a large scientific interdisciplinary debate about the nature of human communication going back to the time of Darwin, who originally theorized that human language is simply an evolved form of communication, no different in principle from the grunts, gestures, and calls generated by other non-human species. Darwin posits, “I cannot doubt that language owes its origin to the imitation and modification of various natural sounds, the voices of other animals, and man’s own instinctive cries, aided by signs and gestures.”[1] While natural selection argues for a gradualist account for language, the appearance of organized language makes its mysterious but spontaneous appearance only in humankind. Until the 20^th century, the origin of language remained a forbidden topic in certain academic circles, probably because of its highly speculative nature.[2]

Still and all, some linguistic scholars like Noam Chomsky reject the Darwinian idea that language could have evolved by natural selection. Chomsky asserts that the human language instinct is fundamentally incompatible with the modern Darwinian theory of evolution, in which complex biological systems arise by gradual accumulation over generations of random genetic mutations that enhance reproductive success. As such, language is a skill limited strictly to humans, who are the sole possessors of the cognitive hardware which makes language possible.

Chomsky contends that human language is radically different from primate communication and draws attention to the incredible ease with which children learn to communicate (as opposed to learning, for instance, mathematics) far beyond the intellectual capacity of their years.[3] Such ability is actually hardwired within the brain itself, which enables it to grasp the words along with its grammar, intuitively knowing how to make symbolic sense of the words that are spoken. Chomsky refers to this mental faculty as the “Language Acquisition Device” or simply “LAD.” The child’s innate ability to acquire the grammar necessary for a language can best be explained only if one assumes that all grammars are variations of a single, generic “universal grammar,” which is a cross-cultural phenomenon that reveals how all human brains come “with a built-in language organ that contains this language blueprint.” He postulates that there is an “organ” within the brain that enables it to effortlessly learn the meaning of symbolic language. It is this “instinct” or “innate facility” that makes human language unique.

Among modern linguists, M.I.T. Professor Steven Pinker offers one of the most controversial theories about human language in his book, The Language Instinct.[4] While Pinker is sympathetic to many of Chomsky’s original insights regarding the uniqueness of human language, he also sides with the Darwinian view that the brain’s innate grammatical abilities are not necessarily incompatible with natural selection and mutation. He writes, “There must have been a series of steps leading from no language at all to language as we now find it, each step small enough to have been produced by random mutation of genes and with each intermediate grammar being useful to its possessor.”[5]

One could argue that once a person defines language from a purely human perspective, other forms of non-human language are at a disadvantage from the start. It is perhaps more relevant to ask ourselves, how do animal species communicate with one another? Or, can human beings, for example, train primates to understand or speak human language? If in fact, the understanding of symbols is a vital prerequisite to the development of language, then, is the phenomenon of syntax, as Chomsky argues, the most important defining feature that is exclusive to human language?

Some scientists, like primatologist Sue Savage-Rumbaugh, contend that certain species of primates are capable of developing a basic sense of syntax. She offers an altogether different approach to the relationship of animals and language, through the use of lexigrams and computer-based keyboards, the same kind of technology that is used for children and adults with language deficits. With this method, each lexigram or symbol represents a word; however, a symbol is not necessarily characteristic of the words it represents. Remarkably, the information gathered at the center regarding the primates’ abilities to acquire symbols, comprehend spoken words, decode simple syntactical structures, learn concepts of number and quantity, and perform complex perceptual-motor tasks have revolutionized the way  scientists understand primate communication. [6] Other researchers have also managed to teach gorillas how to utilize sign language.[7]

Studies with the African Grey Parrot, named “Alex,” have been studied for the past thirty years by animal psychologist Irene Pepperberg, initially at the University of Arizona and later at Harvard and Brandeis University. Prior to her studies, most scientists believed that birds were only capable of mimicking human speech, but were incapable of using words creatively. According to Pepperberg, birds actually possess a capacity to reason and utilize words in expressing themselves and can even count! Alex’s intelligence is believed to have been comparable to that of dolphins and great apes, if not that of a five-year-old human child. Had it not died prematurely because of illness, it might have developed an even greater capacity to express itself through human language.[8]

Marine biologists have also discovered that the humpback whales’ songs continue to change as the season progresses. The New Year’s song will start off where last year’s song has ended, providing evidence of an enormous memory capacity. As the season progresses, the song will gradually change. New pieces will be added while other sections will be dropped. One whale may carry a note a bit longer than another whale, but the structure and components are the same. One recent study points out that their language sophistication is so great, that some whales seem to sing in different dialects depending on their place of origin. For example, blue whales off the Pacific Northwest sound differently from blue whales in the western Pacific, which sound differently from those living off of Antarctica. Moreover, they all sound differently from the blue whales living near Chile. Whales in the eastern Pacific are purported to emit lower-pitched sounds followed by a tone, while other whale populations use a different variety of pulses, tones, and pitches. Perhaps the regional differences in their tones are similar to the distinctions between French and Italian, or are variations of the regional accents found in this country. In addition, whales even have a grasp of grammar whenever they communicate with one another.[9] Continue Reading