Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Kingston, Ontario was once a quiet peaceful community. That all changed when Mohammad Shafia, his wife, and son decided to murder the girls of their family. When he discovered his daughters sending pictures of themselves posing in bras and panties to their boyfriends, he said, “They betrayed humankind. They betrayed Islam. They betrayed our religion; they betrayed everything! I say to myself, ‘You did well.’ Were they to come to life, I would do it again. May the devil s— on their graves!”[1]

This case shocked and captivated the Canadian nation. This past Sunday, the court arrived at a verdict: Mohammad Shafia, his wife Tooba Mohammad Yahya and their son Hamed Mohammad Shafia had each been found guilty of four counts of first-degree murder. Justice Robert Maranger put it best when he said, “It’s difficult to conceive of a more heinous, more despicable, more honor-less crime.”

If this story interests you, read on.

The tragic murder of three female family members in Canada is a grim reminder that honor killings are still a problem even in the 21st century. Male family members may attack a female family member for a variety of reasons, e.g., for refusing to enter into an arranged marriage, for having been raped or sexually assaulted, for allegedly wanting to leave an abusive husband.

Although the Mohammad Shafia trial has attracted considerable attention in the Western press, in the Arab world, honor killings are routine and considered normal behavior—even in the 21st century. Honor killings exist in many Muslim countries with the tacit approval of local law enforcement agencies and clerics. Muslim women live with a deep-seated fear of their male family members. To most of us living in the West, this is a foreign concept most of us cannot understand.

Among the Palestinians, the Palestinian Authority, exempt men from facing any punishment if a male family member kills a female family member for “dishonoring” the family. Despite Abbas’s promise to eliminate this exemption, he has not undertaken any action.[2] Like American politicians, Abbas is skilled in the art of double-speak: say one thing to pander to the rabble, but do the exact opposite!

According to the UNICEF, about two-thirds of all the murders in the Palestinian territories are due to honor killings.[3] Men feel killing these “shameless” women removes the shame of adultery from the family.[4] The majority of the honor killings occur in rural villages, where the majority of its inhabitants are uneducated and live in squalor. Prior to Israel’s departure from Gaza, the Israelis kept records of the honor killings, which came to the attention of the Israeli police.

A number of brave Muslim women are speaking against this barbaric practice, such as Riffat Hassan, an activist who founded the International Network for the Rights of Female Victims of Violence in Pakistan. An Islamic theologian, she effectively speaks for women’s rights, especially regarding honor killings. Hassan courageously appeared on the ABC news program Nightline in February 1999 to address this “misogynistic” practice.[5] Although this extreme application of shari’a is not common in every Islamic country, it does occur. In countries like Iran, women who suffer rape are executed for bringing disgrace upon their families.

Like the Halachic concept of tsniyut (modesty laws), Shari’a law prescribes a dress-code for women they must adhere to. The hijab varies from one Muslim culture to another. Under the Taliban, CNN filmed a special documentary called, “Inside Afghanistan: Behind the Veil.” The film depicts an undercover female reporter who secretly documents the daily life of the Afghani women under the oppressive Taliban. While she covered her face a thick veil, she found life to be almost impossible. If she accidentally revealed her face or ankles, she could have been arrested.[6]

Even more conservative Muslim regimes like Iran and the Persian Gulf states have similar public dress codes that a woman must adhere to or face corporeal punishment. A woman who fails to conform to the local standard of hijab is likely to be punished severely. Worse, she brings disgrace on her family in the eyes of her community in a culture where honor is closely bound up with the virtues of modesty and purity. The standards extend from dictates about wearing the hijab to laws regulating behavior toward men. Often a woman is forbidden even to look at a man other than her husband or an immediate family member. Remember one rule: In the Middle East, people kill over honor. This is a tradition that stretches back to the earliest periods of recorded history.

Whether it be in the Mullacracy of Iran, or the Sheikdoms of the Middle East, or for that matter—in the streets of Jerusalem and Beth Shemesh. Women are dehumanized and reduced to sex objects by the men of their society. If you ever wanted to understand what Radical Islam and Ultra-Orthodoxy have in common, it is a mutual misogyny of women. No woman can define her identity apart from her husband, family, or community.

The war between Radical Islam and the West is fighting for control of our soul and our freedom. Radical Islam is not interested in peaceful coexistence. As Jews, we are also experiencing a similar problem in Israel, whenever we see Haredim attack women they perceive as, “immodestly dressed.” The Ultra-Orthodox wish to transform Israel into a theocracy. Although there is little we can practically do to change the overall situation, change is incremental. Supporting women’s groups that protect the rights of women, whether they be Muslim women’s groups or Jewish women’s groups—adding our voice to theirs may eventually produce the changes millions of women yearn to see in that troublesome part of the world.

Remember: One person can change the world. However, the power of two or more, can effect an even greater change! Continue Reading

The Neturei Karta cannot bear looking at the face of a woman—whether a real woman, or merely the image of a woman’s face, which they find “erotic.”

The philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas observed that the face is the only part of the body that we see in all of its nakedness. Lévinas develops this thought:

• Access to the face is straightaway ethical. . . . There is first the very uprightness of the face, its upright exposure, without defense. The skin of the face is that which stays most naked, most destitute. It is the most naked, though with a decent nudity. It is the most destitute also: there is an essential poverty in the face; the proof of this is that one tries to mask this poverty by putting on poses, by taking on a countenance. The face is exposed, menaced, as if inviting us to an act of violence. At the same time, the face is what forbids us to kill. (Ethics and Infinity 85-86).

The human face is God’s mirror; it is the reflection of our deepest humanity. It is capable of infinite expressions; emotions reveal the essence of our souls. How could we disrespect the one part of our neighbor’s humanity, whose countenance commands without words? The Ultra-Orthodox cannot look at a woman’s face, because to do so they would have to respect her humanity. Unfortunately, they do not see a human being with feelings, hopes and dreams. All they see is a sexual object to tantalize their forbidden thoughts and imagination. Nothing is more dehumanizing.

One prominent Orthodox rabbi, Rabbi Shlomo Aviner, decided to blot out the picture of Ruti Fogel, who was brutally murdered in the West Bank settlement of Itamar, along with her husband and children. Rabbi Aviner’s yeshiva, Machon Meir, publish some of the finest books in Judaic scholarship. It is a halachically progressive school. On the cover of the Machon Meir Newsletter, they blotted out her picture—allegedly, “out of respect.”

What kind of person gets sexually excited when seeing the image of a murder victim? Where is the “respect” in this kind of “halachic” ruling? The Machon Meir Yeshiva has actually dishonored someone who has died a Kiddush HaShem.

Somebody asked me the other day, “What is the Talmudic source for the Haredi ban on the woman’s face?” I thought about it. Actually, there is some antecedent in the Talmud. The Sages wondered, “What constitutes indecent exposure with respect to the She’ma prayer?” The Rabbis grappled with this issue:

R. Isaac said, “Anyone who gazes at one handbreadth of skin belonging to a married woman, constitutes sexual arousal.” Another rabbi said, “Even gazing at a woman’s pinky, constitutes indecent exposure. R. Hisda says, “Even a woman’s exposed leg constitutes indecent exposure.” Samuel said, “Even a woman’s voice constitutes indecent exposure!” (BT Berachoth 24a).

As strange as this Talmudic passage may seem to most of us, remember: the rabbis were concerned solely with a man’s intention, when uttering the She’ma. None of the rabbis prescribed burkas for the women of their community; nor did they tell their followers not to “look” at a woman.

Today’s Ultra-Orthodox acts more out of a sense of hubris; they believe that they are as pious as the rabbis were in the days of yore.

The Hasmonean King Alexander Jannaeus actually offers his Queen Salome some practical advice that one would not expect to hear, “King Jannai said to his wife’, ‘Fear not the Pharisees and the non-Pharisees. Beware of the hypocrites who ape the Pharisees; because their deeds are as immoral as Zimri’s; yet, they expect a reward like Phineas” (BT Shabbat 16b). Continue Reading

Like a bad penny, the problem will not go away. It doesn’t seem to matter what people say or do to prevent it. Beth Shemesh is a lot like a train-wreck that waiting to happen; actually, it has already happened, but the extent of the damage and casualties has yet to be determined.

Beth Shemesh continues to explode with internecine religious violence.  Today, hundreds of Haredim are rioting in the streets. Bear in mind that many Haredi leaders have condemned the violence but they are frightened. One prominent Haredi leader, R. Minster Ya’acov Litzman is scared because he has received numerous death threats from Haredi extremists over the last few months. Litzman is not exactly a flaming liberal in the Haredi movement; in fact, he happens to be one of the most important leaders of the Agudat Yisrael and United Torah Judaism faction of the Knesset.

You might wonder: Who’s behind the violence? Who is instigating the violence seen in Beth Shemesh? Sources close to Litzman say the Sikrikim (Hebrew סיקריקים) are acting as the ringleaders in Beth Shemesh. Interior Minister  of the Knesset Eli Yishai  revealed that he too has received threats from the Sikrikim.

San Diego Jews might find it hard to grasp the subcultures and factions that exist within the Haredi movement itself.

You practically need a scorecard.

Some Haredi leaders are very pro-Zionist. Other Haredim like Chabad and Gur, pay their taxes and serve in the Israeli army but still would never describe itself as, “Zionistic.” Virtually all Hassidic groups share the common belief believe that only God and the Messiah can establish a true theocracy and “Jewish State.”

Some Hassidim take a much more militant approach to the State of modern Israel. One of the oldest Hassidic groups, known as the “Neturei Karta” (“Guardians of the City”) is no stranger to the modern Jew. They believe that God punished the Jews by unleashing a Holocaust for having accepted Zionism instead of waiting for the Messiah. This was the group who met with the Iranian leader Mahmoud Ahmadinejad a few years ago. The Sikrikim are actually an extremist breakaway faction from the ultra-Orthodox Neturei Karta and Gerrer Hassidic movements.

The name “Sikrikim” ought to be familiar one to anyone who has read the Talmudic account of how Jerusalem got destroyed. The Sicarri (literally, “dagger” men) were the Jewish zealots who attacked Rome, resulting in the expulsion of our people.

Today’s Sikrikim gangs are no less violent and extreme; they operate mostly in Jerusalem, where they have won international attention for their attacks on their fellow Gerrer Hassidic Jews. When they first began, their core group was said to be about a hundred, but their ability to attract others to their philosophy has greatly expanded their ranks, which are now in the hundreds. No Haredi politician can escape the Sikrikims’ attention and threats [1].

The Sikrikim recently attacked Chief Rabbi Yona Metzger with stones for attending a popular book store, Ohr Hachaim, which did not follow specific “modesty standards.” The owner refused, until the Sikrikim put glue in the locks and dumped human manure inside the store. Attacks on prominent rabbis may also explain why so many important Haredi leaders are reluctant to speak out. Finally, the owners agreed to post a large sign requesting that all customers dress modestly. In addition one of the Sikrikim supervisors made sure the store-owner had to remove all controversial books from the shelves.

A few months ago, the Sikrikim vandalized a popular ice-cream store (I remember visiting several years ago) in Me’ah She’arim. The store had video-games and it was one of the few places where young boys and girls could actually socialize. Well, the Haredim put an end to that benign activity. However, the Sikrikim didn’t like the fact the boys and girls could still share the same table. So, this past October, the Sikrikim left signs asking men and women to be seated separately, and not to eat in public. The Sikrikim asserted that licking ice-cream cones was “immodest.”[2] Later that night, they broke in and vandalized the store.[3]

If Freud were living, he would probably have a field day with the Haredim . . .

The owners hoped the police would arrest four of the assailants since they were videotaped. However, at first, the police refused to get involved. Only a handful of the Sikrikim have since then been arrested and charged.

More recently, this past October, the Religious Zionist Orot Banot Girls School opened up in Ramat Bet Shemesh only to be greeted by the Sikrikim, who stood outside the school on school days and taunted the students, throwing rocks at them, claiming that the girls were “immodestly” dressed. [4]

As I see it, the presence of the Kosher-nostra gangs would disappear if the Israeli government decided to really put its foot down. All of us need to contact the Israeli Consulate and write letters to the Knesset urging them to actively arrest these people and make them serve real hard time in prison. Once this happens, Haredi and secular alike will breathe a collective sigh of relief.

It is strange that the Sikrikim gangs would have chosen to choose a name from ancient Israel’s most violent group; had they prevented Rabbi Yochanan ben Zacai from escaping the city of Jerusalem, Judaism might very well have disappeared from history. It is a pity the Sikrikim syndicate has such a superficial grasp of Jewish history for had their spiritual forbearers (the Sicarri) killed Rabbi Yochanan, they would not exist!

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Notes:

[1] Gill Hoffman. “Hundreds of haredim riot in Beit Shemesh.” Jerusalem Post, 2011-11-29.

[2]“Ultra-strict Jewish sect trashes ice cream parlour claiming licking cones in public promotes promiscuity.” The Daily Mail. 2011-10-18.

[3]  Lubell Maayan, (2011-4-22). “Religious zealots attack “immodest” Jerusalem shops”. Reuters.

[4]  Alison Kaplan Somer, “American enclave stands up to extremists”, The Jewish Daily Forward, 29 December 2011.

According to an apocryphal legend,^[1] Egyptian King Ptolemy Philadelphus (who ruled 285-246 B.C.E.) sent a delegation to a high priest named Eleazar in Jerusalem, who  organized  a group of 72 scribes  to write a new translation of the Bible for the city of  Alexandria.^[2] These men purportedly translated the Hebrew Pentateuch into Greek in only seventy-two days.

A Jewish philosopher named Aristeas, records how the scribes felt inspired and arrived at a synchronous translation. Philo of Alexandria also claims that each of the translators, working under divine inspiration, arrived at identical phraseology as though dictated by an invisible prompter (Moses, 302).

Historians know that this apocryphal tale does not represent the composition of the Septuagint that we have today. Rather, it was composed over a sustained period of time from approximately the  middle of  2^nd B.C.E. to the 1^st century C.E. In any event, the name “Septuagint,” actually derives from the Latin septuāgintā, “seventy” (from the traditional number of its translators) : septem, seven; see sept in Indo-European roots + -gintā, ten times; see dek in Indo-European roots]. [3]

Sleuthing One of the World’s Great Mysteries

Scholars and lay-people often wonder what inspired the first translation of the Bible? Why was the first translation of the Bible written in Greek? What was the motivation of the early translators of  the Bible? What did they hope to achieve?  The real story behind the Septuagint almost reads like a good detective novel.

Actually, there were many practical reasons why the Alexandrian Jews embarked on this most ambitious literary project. First and foremost, the Septuagint made it easier to educate a generation of Jews who had partially forgotten their ancestral language after having settled in Egypt. Alexandria rapidly became known as the Athens of the Ancient Near East. In fact, by many accounts, Alexandria rivaled Athens in brilliance.

Established by Jewish merchants at the time of Alexander, Alexandria became the world’s first cosmopolitan city–comparable to what Paris now is in Europe. The world’s very first university was built in Alexandria; libraries containing the works of many great Greek thinkers and other famous non-Greek thinkers found a home in a society that was remarkably tolerant of different ethnic groups. Alexandria was proto-modern in a way that was unique.

The Commonalities Between Jewish and Greek Cultures

Obviously, the Greeks and Jews of Alexandria realized that both of their cultures had much in common. Greeks believed they had a chosen vocation to spread Hellenistic culture throughout the world; the Greeks were “chosen” by the gods to achieve this task. The Jews also believed that they have a chosen divine destiny to spread ethical monotheism throughout the world. Obviously, the Greeks were very curious about the Jews and their traditions. A new translation of their works made a lot of sense.

Practical Reasons for Writing the Septuagint

For the Jews who lived in Alexandria, Greek was for these Jews much like what English is today for American Jews, the “lingua franca.” Greek was the language of commerce which made communication in the diplomatic and business world possible. Jewish masses forgot how to speak in Hebrew.

Recognizing that without a translation of the Torah in Greek, the Alexandrian Jewish community would further assimilate, something had to be done.  A Greek translation would make the Torah service at the synagogue more meaningful and relevant. With such a translation, the Alexandrian Jews now had a key to understanding their own religious heritage. The Septuagint also served as a guide for everyday instructional usage.

The Unexpected Consequences of the Septuagint’s Translation

There were other compelling reasons for advocating such a translation. Jewish translators hoped that the Septuagint would promote a greater tolerance towards the Alexandrian Jewish community. To some degree, it succeeded; to some degree this plan backfired. While many of the Greeks admired the wisdom portions of the Bible, some readers became alarmed after they read about the exploits of the Jew’s ancestor, Jacob, who deceived both his blind dying father and his older brother. To some degree, the Septuagint might have created anti-Semitism. Enemies of the Jews, like Apion, probably said,”Look at these dishonest Jews! It’s no wonder why they are so deceitful–they get it honestly. Just read their book about their ancestors!”

The Modern Historical Appreciation of the Septuagint

Modern scholars view the Septuagint as a treasure house of information. The Septuagint is historically important because it is  the parent text that inspired other translations of the Bible, e.g., Coptic, Ethiopic, Old Latin, Arabic, and Armenian, to name a few. Furthermore, one cannot understand fully the world of the Apocrypha and much of the Pseudepigrapha until one is familiar with the general concerns and content of the Greek Bible. From the perspective of textual criticism, the Septuagint, along with the materials from Qumran, the Samaritan Pentateuch, and to some extent the Targum literature, provide the textual tapestry against which the Masoretic textual (MT) tradition must properly be viewed, weighed and interpreted – especially with questions concerning the MT that are not easily discernible to the reader’s eye.

The Study of Textual Criticism and the Septuagint

The Septuagint differs from the Masoretic Text of the Tanakh in many important ways.  Significantly, there are more books in the Septuagint, than there are in the Hebrew Tanakh. The threefold division into the Pentateuch, the Prophets, and the Writings is abandoned. Writers of the Septuagint included other books dealing with the sequence of law, history, wisdom literature, and prophets.  Some of the books not included in the Hebrew canon are Greek translations of Hebrew originals (Tobit, 1 Maccabees, and Ecclesiasticus, also known as The Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach), and others are of Greek composition (Wisdom of Solomon; 2, 3, and 4 Maccabees; and others).^[4] Generally speaking, those books that had a Greek translation were deliberately left out of the biblical canon; unfortunately, The Wisdom of Sirach got left out despite its popularity among the Rabbis.  The real reason why Sirach got left out is for another study we shall examine at a future time.

The Birth of a Philosophical Biblical Translation

Historically, the Septuagint not only provided the populace with a readable translation of the Torah, it also rewrote numerous passages in a strenuous effort to banish all anthropomorphism, which were inconsistent with the translators’ ideas of the Divine.  It set a new tone for how to re-examine and reinterpret biblical language. Instead of reading a text literally, the biblical translators taught their generation how to read the text metaphorically–this was no small achievement.

Centuries later, the Aramaic translation of the Torah that was written by Onkelos, followed the template found in the Septuagint.  Many (but not all) of the Sages admired Onkelos’ effort in purging biblical language from the dangers embedded in anthropomorphism. Given the status of Onkelos’ great translation in rabbinical circles, it is safe to assume that many of the early rabbis in the first two centuries had a much more sophisticated grasp of theological subtleties than is commonly presumed.

Yet despite their similarities between these two great translations, there were broad differences separating Onkelos and the Septuagint. Onkelos eschews the use of anthropomorphism because of objective, theological and dogmatic reasons. In contrast,  the translators of the Septuagint were more concerned with subjective,  philosophical and apologetic reasons. The Greek world was already moving away from the mythic tradition of Homer, the Alexandrian communities were determined to preserve the essence of the Bible and not let it become a philosophical anachronism. To achieve this, they softened the the crudeness of biblical language in order to meet a new contemporary sensibility.

Both the writers of the Septuagint and Onkelos felt that the words of Scripture could be paraphrased, and if need be even modified, so as to eliminate any possible theological  misunderstandings in an effort to make the sacred text intelligible. Continue Reading

* I decided to completely rewrite and update an earlier post I had composed a couple of years ago.– Enjoy!

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Today’s article begins with a personal message I received from a Chabad acquaintance. The actual letter was a copy of a communiqué that originated from the Lubavitch Headquarters; the letter reminds the Hasidim how they ought to conduct themselves on Christmas Eve.

• December 25th is universally celebrated by non-Jews as the birthday of that person[1] upon whom a dominant non-Jewish religion was founded and who had the Halachic status as a Jew who lures other Jews to idol-worship. A spirit of impurity therefore prevails on that day. (Additionally, there was a period when members of that religion used to celebrate this eve by attacking Jews, which led to an enactment against keeping the Yeshivas open during the eve of Dec 25th).

The letter also quoted some comments expressed by the Friediker (Previous) Rebbe of Lubavitch, R. Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn and his son-in-law, R. Menachem Mendel Schnersohn:

• The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe adds, “It is our custom to refrain from studying Torah on Nitel Nacht until midnight. The reason, as the Previous Rebbe heard from his father, the Rebbe RaShaB (Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schnersohn, a.k.a., the 5th Lubavitcher Rebbe), is so that one will not add spiritual vitality to that person [Jesus], and those who presently follow his views [i.e., Christians everywhere]. The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe (i.e., Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn, the 6th Rebbe) quotes his father in the popular Hayom Yom (Teves 17), ‘I am not fond of those students who begrudge these eight hours and cannot tear themselves away from Torah study!’”[2]

Many Jews and Christians probably find this custom interesting but very strange–and for good reason!! Actually, even many Haredi Jews find the custom dubious and weird; for them, time is of the essence, and nobody should squander what precious time one has in this world pursuing trivial matters, when one ought to be studying God’s Torah instead! For them, “Nitel” is “bitul,” (a pure waste of time).

• The Origins of Nitel Nacht

The origin of Nitel Nacht in modern rabbinic literature is one of the more fascinating chapters of Jewish history and folklore. To begin with, this is a custom that exists only among Hasidim. Most Haredi communities, like the Lithuanian and Sephardic communities, generally disregard this custom; for them, the study of Torah is of primary importance.[3] R. Moshe Sternbuch correctly observes that the custom was unknown in Lithuania and it is only a custom among the Hasidim. One of the greatest Lithuanian luminaries of the 20^th century, R. Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz, (1878-1953) a.k.a., “Chazon Ish” did not discontinue his practice of studying Torah  “Nitel Nacht,” and said that it was forbidden to waste time from learning on this night and he criticized those who did not learn on that night.[4] Some Hassidic Jews, likewise won’t not study Torah on New Year’s Eve either for the same reason. Some of my old Litvak friends in the Litvisher yeshivas used to tell me that Hasidim will do just about anything not to study Torah! Behind every criticism is often a grain of truth . . . Oy, I think I have the soul of a Litvak!

Of course, the time of Nitel Nacht will vary depending whether one is a Greek Orthodox Christian or not, for they celebrate the holiday on January 6^th.

The earliest references to Nitel Nacht go back to the 17^th century; it was first mentioned by the Moravian scholar, R. Yair Chaim Bachrach (1638-1702).[5] Some scholars think that the famous Maharsha (R. Samuel Eides observed the day by the late 16th century.[6]

• The Meaning of “Nitel”

The etymology of the actual name, “Nitel,” actually comes from the Latin, “Natalis,” or, “Nativity Night.” It is truly ironic that 99% of all the Hassidic Jews follow this observance, haven’t the foggiest idea that Nitel Nacht means “Nativity Night.” It is also possible that Nitel Nacht may be a corruption of the Latin dies natalis, “birthday,” i.e., the “birthday” of Jesus.[7]

• Should Nitel Nacht be observed today?

On the one hand, the custom serves to remind us of an era when Jewish and Christian relations were strained and hostile. I once had a congregant who lived to be 95; she survived the Russian Revolution by hiding under a house, where the sewage was stored. With the sound of demonic  laughter, a Cossack crushed her  baby brother’s skull with his boot, while drinking his vodka. She remained traumatized by her experience–throughout her life. I imagine that the Schnersohn family also witnessed similar events in their lives as well and suffered from the lingering effects of these traumatic memories. No wonder the Jews of Lubavitch felt so nervous around Christmas season! Who could blame them? Remember “Fiddler on the Roof”? Sholom Aleichem merely hinted about this awful social reality. Undoubtedly, the world that created Nitel Nacht was filled with violence, hatred, and intolerance.

But that was then . . .

Fortunately, this is not the case anymore the case for Jews who live in Western countries. It’s time to leave the ghetto behind us; it’s time to exorcize the hurtred (pardon the neologism) and bitterness we have carried for a long time.

As a rabbi, whenever I see Jews show intolerance and bigotry toward non-Jews–whoever they may be–I get religiously offended. No religion is immune to the dangers of promoting religious prejudice; or as they say, “A pig with lipstick is still a pig.” Prejudice and intolerance should not be quietly accepted as if it is normal–because it’s not!

Yet, today, the religious intolerance seems to emanate more from Haredi Jews!? Aside from their intolerance toward other branches of Judaism and their endorsement of sexism, in Jerusalem, Haredi Jews often spit on the Greek Orthodox clergy of Jerusalem; in addition, a number of Hassidic Jews have the custom of spitting whenever walking by a church. Were this just an isolated case, one individual’s brazen act of spitting would hardly make the news, but it is a daily occurrence that has brought considerable embarrassment to Israel and to Jews all over the world. Others, still, will not even shake hands with a member of the Christian clergy. I actually saw this happen in Rock Island, when the Habad rabbi refused to shake hands with the local Monsignor, who was attending a Yom HaShoah community observance. To the Hassidic  rabbi’s credit,  he did eventually apologize—a year later.

On the other hand, Rabbi Shmuel Boteach of Chabad has just recently written a brand new book, “Kosher Jesus,” where he actually praises Jesus as a 1^st century Jewish teacher! I doubt the late Rebbe would have approved of his followers extolling the greatness of Jesus as a Jewish sage, but some people are attempting to change some of the old world attitudes. If anything, Hassidic followers of Chabad, Satmar, Bratzlav and others must be saying a collective, ‘Oy vei!” as his work goes to print next month. Kudos go to Rabbi Boteach! I doubt the Rebbe would have approved of such a book.

“The Jewish Annotated New Testament” was just released.  This volume is a study edition of the NSRV translation of the New Testament with commentary and essays by Jewish Biblical scholars (including Jewish New Testament scholars) such as Marc Zvi Brettler, Amy-Jill Levine, Daniel Boyarin, and Mark Nanos. The scholars attempt to understand the NT from a respectful Jewish perspective. Such a work would hardly have been possible a few centuries ago. Fortunately, countless numbers of Christian scholars are now studying Talmud and other Judaic texts to better understand the life of Jesus as a Jew.

Yes, the world is changing.

Should Nitel Nacht be observed today? Not unless you wish to offend your Christian neighbors. While there are number of customs that originated during the most depraved times of medieval history, it behooves us to let go of our medieval attitudes.

As modern Jews, it behooves us to cultivate a relationship with our Christian neighbors and friends based on the principle of mutual respect. Jewish leaders often insist that Christianity purge itself of its anti-Semitic attitudes, and this is necessary for the sake of all our sanity. As Jews, we have to do our part in getting rid of our own dysfunctional attitudes. Would it not be wonderful to see Haredi and Hassidic Jews seize the initiative and greet the Christian clergy of Jerusalem with a heartfelt, “Good morning, Fr. So-and-so . . .” A simple greeting would go a long way in bettering our relations. Spitting, on the other hand, will only create more anti-Semitism.

Certain customs really should have been discarded long ago in the dustbin of history. Fortunately, most Jews today have long historically embraced this change in attitude–except for a handful of Hassidic Jews in Brooklyn and in Israel who are still desperately clinging on to the ghosts of Christmas past. Unfortunately, many fundamentalists and radicals of all the Western faiths are still holding on to the negative and hateful caricatures of the Other that continue to be drummed into the minds of young impressionable children at home, church, synagogues, mosques, and schools.

Today, when we have a holiday celebration like Christmas and New Years, people generally have a family get-together, watch some football and enjoy their dinners, exchanging gifts. However, several centuries ago, people used to look for a different kind of entertainment; they would attack Jews on Christmas or Easter. The world was a very different kind of place.  Let us do our part and make sure our children never have to grow up in a religiously intolerant community again. Continue Reading

Any Sci-fi buff will tell you Enoch, Elijah, Jesus and others were probably abducted by extraterrestrial aliens from another galaxy. Bible scholars, however, cannot accept such interesting conjectures. in this brief little section, we shall examine some of the early rabbinical and Christian debates on a very perplexing passage that has inspired much of the intertestamental literature of the early centuries.

5:24 וַיִּתְהַלֵּךְ חֲנוֹךְ אֶת־הָאֱלֹהִים וְאֵינֶנּוּ כִּי־לָקַח אֹתוֹ אֱלֹהִים – Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him – The Targum of Pseudo-Jonathan paraphrases the verse as follows: “And Enoch served in truth before God, and behold, he was not with the sojourners of earth, for he was withdrawn and he ascended to heaven by the word of God.” The apocryphal Wisdom of Ben Sira also makes mention of this legend: “Few have ever been created on earth like Enoch, for he was taken up from the earth” (Sira 49:14).

Louis Ginzberg writes that nowhere in the entire corpus of Tannaitic literature, nor in either the Babylonian or Jerusalem Talmud, is there any mention made of Enoch and his ascension to the heavens. This assessment is only partially correct.  It seems to me that this may have been due more to polemical considerations, for Christians believed that Jesus experienced an ascension after his resurrection, which they likened to the ascension of Elijah and Enoch. For Christians, Enoch in a sense prefigures the “raptured elect” who are alive on the Last Day.[1] The rabbis demythologized Enoch’s death, and thus with one bold stroke, the rabbis also denied the Christian belief that Jesus, too, experienced an ascension. Enoch, like everyone else, was mortal; he died like all other people. Thus we find in the Midrash:

• On one occasion, some Christians asked R. Abbahu: “We do not find that Enoch died!”^[2] R. Abbahu inquired: “How so?” The Christians replied: “Because the Torah states, ‘then he was no more, because God took him,’ as it was similarly written in connection with Elijah.”

From these words, the Christians wished to find an antecedent to the idea of Jesus’s ascension in the Tanakh. Elijah “ascended” to Heaven, and the discussion continued:

• “As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. Elisha kept watching, crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen! But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces” (2 Kgs 2:11-12). But R. Abbahu challenged their argument: “If you wish to stress the importance of ‘taking,’ he answered, then examine how ‘taking’ is used in the Book of Ezekiel, where it says: ‘Mortal, with one blow I am about to take away from you the delight of your eyes’ (Ezek. 24:16).” R. Tanhuma observed: “He answered them well.” A matron asked R. Jose: “But we do not find death stated of Enoch?” He answered her: “If it said, ‘Enoch walked with God and is no more,’ I would agree with you. Since, however, it says, ‘and then he was no more,’ it means that he was no more in the world, i.e., having died, because God took him” (Gen. Rabbah 25:1).

Some of the medieval commentaries on the Talmud and on the Torah, as well as the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, argued that the verb לָקַח (läqah = “take”) implies ascension, both in Genesis 5:24 and Elijah’s ascension into the heavenly realm in 2 Kings 2:3, 10–11. This of course, flies in the face of R. Abbahu’s interpretation. We may surmise that R. Abbahu was familiar with the many legends concerning Enoch and Elijah, but he purposely chose to demythologize the text by stressing that “taking” is often used in the Tanakh as a metaphor for death. But did he really answer their question? Only partially, while a good case for Enoch’s death can be made, no such interpretation can be derived Elijah’s ascension, which the Early Church Fathers likened to Jesus’s ascension. As with many exegetical interpretations, one’s interpretation is, more often than not, seen through the interpretive lens of a faith tradition. Continue Reading

To decipher the symbolic and mythic significance of the serpent, one must understand its role as personifying the trickster archetype. According to Jung, the trickster archetype is invariably associated with wisdom and the beginnings of spiritual endeavor. Sometimes, as is the case with Genesis 3, it represents the first obstruction to true self-knowledge.[1] Traditionally, there are four aspects of the trickster’s identity that include: the divine, the profane, the human, and the animal. Its powers in many myths seem to be more of a supernatural order, and as such, tricksters possess the uncanny ability of frustrating the Supreme Being’s creative plans. From a literary perspective, the present text suggests that the Creator is not present or is possibly a silent observer. In light of this dramatic staging, the trickster always lives up to its potential for creating mischief—often to its own detriment.

By many mythic depictions, the trickster has an enormous capacity for lust and sensuality, as well as a hearty appetite for the forbidden (which would explain why in many Midrashic traditions, the serpent had sexual relations with Eve). In many tales of its exploits, the trickster’s deception consists of feigning ignorance, while laying a trap for its adversary worthy of a hunter. Quite often, the trickster is the unwitting victim of his own complicated plots. Although it is an intelligent being, it usually does not think of the consequences of its behavior. Throughout human history, the trickster parodies the norms of society; their expertise is to evoke paradox, self-reflection, unpredictability, and alternate visions of reality. As a contrarian spirit, the trickster lives to break down a society’s taboos, although they are certainly capable of creating mischief. In the final analysis, they are catalysts of change.

True to the trickster archetype, the serpent in Eden blurs the boundaries between the categories of animal, human, and divine. Although the Torah describes the primordial serpent as an animal, it differs from its fellow creatures in that it possesses the ability to speak and reason. In addition, it has an esoteric grasp of knowledge that makes it more akin to God and the angels. The serpent’s mysterious personality leaves the reader wondering what its motivation might have been. Like other such myths, the pay-off for the trickster is both a gain and a loss for which humans pay the price (this pattern also occurs in the Greek myth of Prometheus, who steals the celestial fire of the gods to give it to the mortals). Frequently, it is the trickster who pays the price for his deceit.

In many cultures throughout the world, the serpent acts as the instrument and catalyst of change. Ancient Mesopotamian and Oriental literature associates the serpent with the destructive forces of chaos that threaten to unravel the fabric of creation.[2] When the serpent was untamed, it symbolized destruction and evil; when it was conquered and subdued, it assumed the role of a protector.[3] In other mythic traditions, serpents symbolize esoteric wisdom, as portrayed in Genesis 3, The Epic of Gilgamesh, and Buddha and the Boda Tree.  For the unwary desert traveler, serpents were frequently associated with danger and death.[4] The ancients utilized snakes in many of their oracular magical rites; the serpent’s ability to rejuvenate itself by shedding its skin gave rise to the widely held belief that the serpent was immortal, as seen in The Epic of Gilgamesh, which dates back to about 2700 B.C.E. However, based on the appearance of serpents crafted onto numerous cultic objects dating back as early as the 6^th millennium B.C.E., some recent archeological discoveries indicate that the python was worshiped in African caves dating back 70,000 years ago—30,000 years earlier than the oldest previously known human rites.[5]

To decipher the symbolic and mythic significance of the serpent, one must understand its role as a personification of the trickster archetype.  According to Jung, the trickster archetype is invariably associated with wisdom and the beginnings of spiritual endeavor. Sometimes, as is the case of the Genesis 3, it represents the first obstacle to true self-knowledge. [6] The serpent also epitomizes masculine potency and sexuality—a notion that Sigmund Freud would later heartily endorse. Across the cultural divide, mythic depictions of the serpent reveal a creature endowed with a mysterious knowledge, power, and wisdom. In Greek mythology, “being licked” by a serpent’s tongue was considered a good omen; it meant that the gods would bless a person with supernatural gifts such as prophecy or extraordinary strength. Snakes were also associated with Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, and later in the Middle Ages with Prudentia, the personification of prudence or practical wisdom. Then again, there is the well-known saying of Jesus: “Be wise as serpents” (Mt. 10:16).

The primordial serpent’s role as trickster in this narrative raises many questions that remain unanswered by the biblical narrator. Why does the serpent resent humankind? Why would it want to deprive God’s choice creation of the gifts of immortality? Was its intention sincere, or did it have ulterior motives? What did the serpent stand to gain by Adam’s disobedience? Exegetes propose several plausible answers. The serpent may have been motivated by envy.

If this early exegetical insight is accurate, one could argue that the serpent projects onto Eve its own inner and unresolved conflict with the Divine, and by doing so, the serpent triangulates the couple into a personal struggle with God. When triggered, a psychological defense mechanism may cause a person to project certain objectionable traits, feelings, desires, or motivations onto another person as a means of protecting the walls of one’s ego.

It logically follows that when the serpent asserts that YHWH is “jealous” of His foremost creation obtaining this esoteric knowledge of good and evil, the serpent’s accusation actually reveals more about its own jealousy and its contempt toward the Creator.[7] Josephus explains that the serpent grew jealous of the happiness Adam and his wife enjoyed by virtue of obeying the Divine commandments. The serpent realized that “these gifts would be lost if it could persuade the woman to taste of the tree of wisdom.”[8] Another variant of this idea is explored centuries later in Milton’s Paradise Lost. Milton writes that after a failed coup d’état against Heaven, Satan is expelled and later enters into the body of the serpent in order to estrange Adam and Eve from their Maker.[9] Ultimately, both stories of the Edenic “Fall”—as depicted in Genesis and in Paradise Lost—can be attributed to failure to live in accordance with the hierarchy that YHWH established for all of His Creation.

Some of the early Christian exegetes offer a number of possible motivations. John of Damascus (ca. 650-750) argues that the serpent did not wish to be under Adam’s dominion. Ambrose (ca. 333-397) makes a similar point: the serpent did not like the human couple’s special standing in the world of Paradise. Some Jewish mystics propose that the serpent acted out of jealousy for it sensed its existence was only temporary. It knew that God intended for Adam and Eve to live forever.  By means of a cleverly laid trap,[10] it hoped to “even the playing field,” thus making them mortal, like itself.[11]

There is one answer the early exegetes did not consider—the serpent wished to appropriate for itself the very blessing that it had thought to deny the first couple—the gift of immortality. By diverting their attention away from the Tree of Life, and persuading them to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, the serpent hoped that it alone would eat of the Tree of Life and live forever. The Epic of Gilgamesh definitely resonates with this latter interpretation and provides the key to answering many of the questions thus far raised in the Genesis story. In this ancient tale about the origin of death, a serpent steals a magic plant from Gilgamesh that would have given him immortality, while he was bathing in a nearby pool. Although the story does not say that the serpent ate the coveted plant, the narrator implies that it did. However, in the Edenic narrative, the serpent does not achieve its goal. Unlike the Gilgamesh serpent, which disappears with the coveted prize, the serpent of Genesis suffers a talionic fate, and becomes the “most cursed of creatures.”[12] Continue Reading

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term gobbledygook, our word refers to any kind of text that containing unusual jargon that makes the subject matter difficult or even nearly impossible to understand.  Our nation’s tax code is a good example of modern day gobbledygook. There is also another example of gobbledygook that is surprisingly obtuse and difficult to understand—not because the subject is profound, but because the subject matter is expressed in language only the elite can understand—Kabbalah!

Thanks to the Kabbalah Center, Chabad, and a host of other (genuine) scholars and hucksters, everyone has now heard about the Kabbalah. Kabbalah commercials can now be heard on the radio. We sometimes hear that “Plato studied Kabbalah,” or that the Kabbalah is a “4000 year old tradition.” Or, “You don’t even have to be Jewish to study the Kabbalah!” There is not a shred of historical evidence to support these outlandish claims. Kabbalah and capitalism make strange bed fellows.

You might wonder, “Why do people gravitate to these Kabbalah salespeople?” The answer is simple: So many of us hunger for mysticism is real because we have become disenchanted with the usual pathways offered by organized religion. The rote readings, the absence of heart, synagogue/church politics has often flattened and annestized the heart from feeling anything that can even remotely be described as “spiritual.”

Promoters of Kabbalah frequently strike me as individuals who enjoy attracting a cult following. Many of the teachers I have watched over the year tend to portray themselves as Jewish gurus. Of course there are many Kabbalah teachers who really offer something profound. But how does one tell the difference between real mysticism from the counterfeit imitations? Are all Kabbalistic teachings even suitable for ordinary consumption? Not really; in fact some ideas can prove to be even quite toxic. In general, here are several questions that might prove to be beneficial for those wishing to study Kabbalah for the first time from a teacher who really understands the subject matter:

• Look for clarity and simplicity. Many (if not most) Kabbalah teachers love to couch their material in esoteric language that really doesn’t say much about anything. If Kabbalah sounds like gobbledygook, then I suggest you look elsewhere for your enlightenment.

• Stay far away from any Kabbalistic text that teaches you that gentiles are an inferior level of humanity when compared to the Jew.[1]

• Stay away from any Kabbalah teacher who does not wish to answer tough questions about the accuracy of the Kabbalah and its proponents’ ideas.

• See whether the Kabbalah teachers really understand who Plato was, and what he taught. Ask them if they know anything about the Neo-Platonic thought of Plotinus or Philo of Alexandria and how they have indirectly  influenced the formation of the Kabbalah.  Gershom Scholem, Moshe Idel, Elliot Wolfson, and Daniel Matt all have written superb expositions of the Kabbalah in a clear and modern idiom.

Here are some examples taken from a Chabad website:

• The partzufim referred to here are the partzufim of Atzilut; the meaning is that Abba of Atzilut nests in Atzilut, while Ima of Atzilut descends and rests in Beriah, and so forth.All this simply means that, although each world possesses its own array of ten sefirot (in the form of their respective partzufim), each world is nonetheless pervaded by an overall consciousness that is an expression of one of the partzufim of Atzilut. Abba is the partzuf of chochmah, which is the consciousness of bitul (“self-nullification”); a person experiencing a flash of insight is not aware of himself but is rather absorbed totally in the experience of the revelation. This, overall, is the general consciousness of the world of Atzilut; the revelation of G-d in this world is so great that it leaves absolutely no room for self-awareness.

• As you know, Zeir Anpin develops through three states of consciousness: fetal [ibur], suckling [yenika], and mature [gadlut]. Similarly, every soul develops through these states of consciousness.

Navigating your way through this kind of Kabbalah labyrinth requires a good road-map and a skilled guide, not to mention—lots of Kiddush wine and vodka. If the truth from a Kabbalistic text is not something that is immediately understood and clear, why waste your time trying to figure it out?

Although the German philosopher Nietzsche was unfamiliar with the Kabbalah, his cautionary words about the meaninglessness of useless metaphors certainly applies as well to much of the Kabbalistic literature:

• What is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonymies, in short a sum of human relations which have been subjected to poetic and rhetorical intensification, translation, and decoration, and which, after they have been in use for a long time, strike a people as firmly established, canonical and binding; truths are illusions of which we have forgotten that they are illusions, metaphors which have become worn by frequent use and have lost all sensuous vigor, coins which, having lost their stamp, are now regarded as metal and no longer as coins (emphasis added).[2]

Positive Examples of Kabbalistic Writing

On the other hand, there are some (but not a lot, however) of Kabbalistic works that attempts to distill the Kabbalistic language, rendering it somewhat more intelligible.  R. Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935) offers some lovely thoughts on spiritual yearning that does not require a lexicon to figure out what he was trying to say,

• Confirm me not in cages of substance, or of spirit I am lovesick. I thirst, I thirst for God. More than the deer for water brooks. I am bound to the world, to life; All creatures are my brothers. But how can I share with them my light?

• A life-giving illumination flows always from the source of the Torah, which brings to the world light from the highest realm of the divine. It embraces the values of the spiritual and the material, the temporal and the eternal, the moral and the practical, the individual and the social. These spell life to all who come in contact with them, and guard them in their purity.
• Meditation on the inner life and moral conformity must always go together with those qualified for this. They absorb the light pervading the world, which abides in all souls, and they present it as one whole. Through the influences radiating from their life and their fellowship with others, through the impact of their will and the greatness of their spiritual being, through their humility and love for all creatures, they then disseminate the treasure of life and of good to all. These men of upright heart are channels through which light and life reach to all creatures. They are vessels for radiating the light of eternal life. They are the servants of God, who heed His word, the messengers who do His will to revive those near death, to strengthen the weak, to awaken those who slumber.[3]

As you can see, not everything has to be written in Kabbalistic gobbledygook; some Jewish mystics actually can be quite articulate. For those readers interested in the heart of the Hassidic message, please read anything written by Martin Buber—who may well have been one of Judaism’s greatest 2oth century mystics. His “I and Thou” and “The Way of Man” are among the best books on the subject. In addition, Abraham Joshua Heschel’s “God in Search of Man,” “The Sabbath,” and “Man is not Alone” are among the best examples of Jewish mystical writing without the traditional Kabbalistic gobbledygook. 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

•  The just man knows the soul of his beast, but the heart of the wicked is merciless.                                            

—Proverbs 12:10

The author of Proverbs stresses an important ethical lesson: a humane person considers the needs of his animals and acts kindly towards them.^[1] The world of Creation is full of sentient beings, which also experience many of the joys and blessings that people commonly enjoy: like humankind, these creatures also experience pain. Suffering is a common language that links humanity with other species of animal life. Therefore, Jewish ethics take sharp issue with French philosopher Rene Descartes (ca. 1596–1650), who compares animals to machines that service people, stating that their suffering “means nothing more than the creaking of a wheel.”[2] In physiological terms, according to Descartes, what human beings and animals share is that their bodies function by the laws of mechanics. One might respond: How then do human beings differ from animals? Descartes argues that the Creator endows human beings with a divine soul and a moral conscience—qualities that are lacking in animals. In addition, unlike animals, human beings possess the ability to conceptualize and verbalize ideas. Most importantly, only human beings are capable of conscious and rational thought since they are uniquely endowed with the ability to be self-reflective. Only a human being is capable of exclaiming, “Cogito ergo sum.”

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[3] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite disregarding the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshipper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27). “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[4]

Pursuing a similar approach found in Philo, Maimonides comments on a number of biblical precepts dealing with preventing cruelty towards animals in his Guide:

• It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28), the reason being, is so that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in plain sight of the mother; the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There can be no difference in this case between the pain of man and the pain of other sentient beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by reasoning, but is a matter determined by instinct and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to ox and lamb, because of the domestic animals used as food these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. . . . If the Torah provides that such grief should not be caused to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow human beings![5]

According to Maimonides, an animal’s ability to feel emotional pain gives it moral standing; it is for this reason that the Torah prohibits these acts. Not all Jewish thinkers concur with Maimonides. Ramban claims that the prohibitions against cruelty to animals are not so much for the animal’s benefit, but for the sole moral development of humankind. Cruelty towards animals is desensitizing (commenting on Deuteronomy 22:6 and Leviticus 22:28), which will eventually produce brutality and insensitivity to the pain and suffering of others.

• The ruling on the mother bird is not predicated upon the Almighty’s “pity” for the animal. Otherwise, God would have forbidden their slaughter altogether! The reason, however, for the prohibition is to instill within us compassion and the avoidance of cruelty; butchers and slaughterers often become insensitive to the suffering on account of their occupation. Therefore, to avoid engendering these negative traits, the Torah proscribed precepts that a person should not slaughter the mother and its young on the same day (Lev. 22:28) and sending away the mother bird (Deut. 22:6). Such laws are not inspired by feelings of consideration for their suffering but are decrees to inculcate humanity in us. [6]