Thursday, August 20, 2009

“Religious”... and crooked?

My fear right now is that some things will be soon forgotten, and nothing will have changed.


But the reality is that in the past year, the Orthodox Jewish community, and the Jewish community as a whole, has been stung by some stunning revelations of corruption. Most recently, it was the arrest of several rabbis, mostly from within the tight knit Syrian Jewish community of the Jersey Shore, who were involved in money laundering, while others were involved in trading in human organs for transplant. There was Dina Wein Reis, who lived in an opulence that was funded by her defrauding major corporations. Bernard Madoff, who was not Orthodox, travelled almost exclusively in Jewish circles, benefited, then nearly ruined, many Jewish philanthropies and philanthropists. And a year ago, the raid on Rubashkin and their many violations of labor and immigration laws. There are others as well, many others, that could be added to this list of shame.


Many Jews, when they hear news like this, worry what non-Jews think. I don’t usually worry much about what non-Jews think about us. Those who are anti-Semites will always find what to add to their arsenal. At a time when we hear about plenty of crimes and indiscretions committed by clergy, one can find what to say about any religious group.


What concerns me first is what Jews will think.


Many Jews regardless of their level of ritual observance of Judaism still take pride in its moral and ethical obligations. But there is more to Judaism than ethical monotheism. Covenantal Judaism is a holistic system that includes both interpersonal obligations and commitments between the Jew and God. When one sets himself apart in the garb of a “religious Jew” or under the title of Rabbi, that person should live up to the whole package - it isn’t just about how we deal with God, but also with those who are created in God’s image - Jew and gentile alike. When a Jew sees a “religious Jew” engage in illegal activities, whether it is fraud or the trafficking in human kidneys, what is that person supposed to think? The conclusions are counterintuitive, that neither God nor the ritual aspects of Jewish life make a person a better human being in the eyes of one’s fellow man.


When a Jew engages in unethical practices, it denigrates the importance of all mitzvot. Our tradition teaches us that good business practices are as important as Shabbat observance, that compassion to human beings is as meaningful as kashrut. Our homes are as sacred as our synagogues, and our spouses and children as sacred as any sacred item we can possess.


And yet, what the gentiles might think is also important, but not for the reasons that we usually think.


The task of the Jew in this world, the essence of Jewish chosen-ness, is kiddush hashem, the sanctification of God’s name through the living embodiment of God’s will. The term that we use for the actions of those like the rabbis and others mentioned earlier is hillul hashem, a desecration of God’s name. Traditionally, these terms are used to express the concern for how Jewish behaviors will appear to non Jews, and how those actions might lead them to either sanctify, or vilify, God. We now need to think about the examples set within our community. Often, observant communities apply pressure to members to maintain their particular ritual standards. Perhaps the same communal pressure should apply to the observance of those mitzvot bein adam lachaveiro, those interpersonal obligations of justice, compassion, fairness, and domestic well being, that are meant to protect the dignity and integrity of those whom God created in His own image.


It is also the task of Jewish educators across the spectrum to teach about values that go beyond the letter of the law. Halacha does not spell out the specifics of business and financial practices that may apply in today’s market place, but we can certainly derive from the Torah how we should conduct our dealings. We also have a halachic principle that states dina d’malchuta dina - the law of the state is the law, and we are obligated to abide by it.


On the surface, many Jewish laws that apply in the public realm do not technically apply to the relationships between Jews and gentiles. The sages of the Talmud, however, tended to eliminate those differences mipnei darkei shalom, loosely translated, to promote the ways of peace. Some explain that the rabbis instituted this as a means of protecting Jews as a minority in a hostile majority culture. But shalom, peace, is so important a value that leads me to conclude that such critiques are cynical in character. Our interpersonal and business relationships with the gentile world do matter, and as such, we need to treat everyone with dignity as a means of bringing Godliness into this world. Cheating or mistreating a non-Jew is not acceptable Jewish behavior, as it inhibits darkei shalom, the ways of peace. And excusing such behaviors due to a history of victimization is no longer acceptable, as this sort of behavior against Jews in our society in our day is the exception, not the rule that it once was.


We are at the threshold of the month of Ellul, the period that precedes the New Year and marks the beginning of the introspective penitential season. It is a time when schools resume their classes and communities initiate activities for a new annual cycle. It is appropriate at this time that Jewish schools, synagogues, and community institutions commit themselves to instituting programs and curricula on Jewish interpersonal and business ethics. It isn’t enough to say that living as a Jew has to do with Shabbat or holidays, synagogue and tzedakah. It is about living it, adopting behaviors that allow it to permeate our lives in our homes and at work, in our dining rooms and our board rooms. That is a challenge that we should all consider as we prepare to begin a new year.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

To bring an end to mourning on Tish'ah b'Av

Tish’ah b’Av is an extraordinary day on the Jewish calendar. On the one hand, we are in mourning on that day, and yet we fast, something that one does not do while mourning. It is an inverted day in that we do not put on Tefillin for Shacharit (the morning prayers,) but we wait until Mincha that afternoon to fulfill that obligation that is none the less upon us. We strip the synagogue of decorations, the coverings of the ark and the table, but we return them to their places before Mincha. All this to commemorate the destruction of a building, bricks and mortar, a place that was supposed to serve as the spiritual nexus between Israel and God.

The prophets are very clear as to the reasons for the destruction of the Temple by the hands of foreigners. It wasn’t because of any procedural abnormalities within its precincts per se, but mostly because of behavior outside its walls. Ritual obeisance was meaningless when a Jew treated others with total disregard, when selfishness ruled the day, when the weakest members of society were left to fend for themselves. A people who treated others in this way was not worthy of a nexus of bricks and mortar; if it really wanted one, it would have to change its ways.

After the first Temple was destroyed and a newer but simpler one was built in its place only decades later, a question was posed to Zechariah, a prophet in the early days of the new Temple:

הַאֶבְכֶּה בַּחֹדֶשׁ הַחֲמִשִׁי הַנָּזֵר כַּאֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי זֶה כַּמֶּה שָׁנִים
Shall I weep during the fifth month (Av)? Shall I continue to abstain as I have these many years? [Zc 7:3]

It was not an outrageous question. After all, the fast and other prohibitions of Tish’ah b’Av were not decreed by the Torah, but by the prophets in response to the calamity of the Temple’s destruction. Now that a new one was built in its stead, was fasting and abstinence still warranted?

Zechariah’s prophetic response is not a short and simple yes or no answer; prophetic responses are rarely short and simple. The response, taking up two chapters of this short book, is, in essence, as follows: Our fasting on this day is not something that we do for God’s benefit, but for ourselves. The time has not come for us to stop fasting, for we still have to be mindful of the perversion of justice, both legal and social, that is rampant in society. God wants nothing more than a return of His people to Zion, where they would live an exemplary life in security. Once this new order is achieved, Israel can look forward to the following:

כֹּה־אָמַר ה’ צְבָאוֹת צוֹם הָרְבִיעִי וְצוֹם הַחֲמִישִׁי וְצוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי וְצוֹם הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה לְבֵית־יְהוּדָה לְשָׂשׂוֹן וּלְשִׂמְחָה וּלְמֹעֲדִים טוֹבִים וְהָאֱמֶת וְהַשָּׁלוֹם אֱהָבוּ
Thus says God of Hosts: The fasts of the fourth month (Tammuz), the fast of the fifth month (Av), the fast of the seventh month (Tishrei - Tzom Gedalyah) and the fast of the tenth month (Tevet) shall be, for the house of Judah, for rejoicing and happiness, for joyous festivals; but you must love truth and peace. [Zc 8:19]

The concluding verses of this chapter make clear why the contingency - a domestic justice and peace loving Israel - is so important to God. See the scenario of the final verse:

כֹּה־אָמַר ה’ צְבָאוֹת בַּיָּמִים הָהֵמָּה אֲשֶׁר יַחֲזִיקוּ עֲשָׂרָה אֲנָשִׁים מִכֹּל לְשֹׁנוֹת הַגּוֹיִם וְהֶחֱזִיקוּ בִּכְנַף אִישׁ יְהוּדִי לֵאמֹר נֵלְכָה עִמָּכֶם כִּי שָׁמַעְנוּ אֱלֹהִים עִמָּכֶם
Thus says God of Hosts: at that time when ten men from nations of every tongue will grasp the corner of the cloak of a single Jew saying, ‘We will accompany you, for we have heard that God is with you.’ [Zc 8:28]

Tish’ah b’Av commemorates disaster after disaster that occurred on or around the same date on the calendar: the destruction of both Temples, the fall of Betar, the expulsion from Spain, the start of the First World War (which led to the near annihilation of European Jewry in the Second World War,) just to name a few, all calamities that were visited upon Israel by foreign peoples. but Tish’ah b’Av, as Zechariah would have us understand it, is not a day for laying blame with others for our misfortunes. It is a day for introspection, to gain an understanding of our own failings as a people, and how those failings cause us to forsake our mission in this world.

Zechariah’s vision is one of a world that is awaiting the Jewish people to be Jews, as exemplars of how good humans can be to one another, maintaining a peaceful and just society that would exude godliness. The proof that God is with Israel is not sought through wonders and miracles, but through the very behavior of the Jewish people as a whole, with a sense of justice that is tempered with compassion and caring.

Sadly, we are nowhere near the point of realizing Zechariah’s vision. But. just as we change the tone of the day at Mincha time from one of despair to one of hope and comforting, we cannot lose hope that we can do better. In bringing that about, we do more than create a temple in Jerusalem, but we build an earth that lives in the image of the Godly realm, filled with love and justice, compassion and well being for all who were created in God’s image.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Pinchas - What to Make of his Zeal

As religious zealotry and violence in the name of God gain influence on contemporary events, we find an opportunity to consider this approach to religious life in the two Torah portions that we read on these two Shabbatot, the parshiot of Balaq and Pinchas. The story that overlaps these two parshiot raises important questions on the nature of zealotry in a system that makes demands on one’s love of God.

The story, in brief, goes as follows: Balaq, king of Moab, sends Balaam on a mission to lay a curse upon Israel, a mission that proves unsuccessful. The Moabites fear Israel because of recent successes in battles against neighboring Amorite kingdoms. Instead of cursing Israel, Balaam is forced by God to bless the people. What could not be achieved by magic might otherwise be achieved by lust and seduction. And so, Moabite women set out to seduce the men of Israel who act on their lust, leading them to participate in the Ba’al cult of the Moabites, a cult that may have included ritual prostitution. A plague breaks out among the Israelites, and God tells Moses that in order to assuage his anger, the ringleaders are to be rounded up and impaled. Apparently, before this happens, a prominent Israelite man and a notable Moabite woman are seen in the Israelite encampment, flaunting their relationship. Incensed by the scene, Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, takes a spear, enters the tent, and catching them in the act, he thrusts his spear through both of them at once. Numbers 25:11-12 records God’s reaction to this act:

פִּינְחָס בֶּן־אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן־אַהֲרֹן הַכֹּהֵן הֵשִׁיב אֶת־חֲמָתִי מֵעַל בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּקַנְאוֹ אֶת־קִנְאָתִי בְּתוֹכָם וְלֹא־כִלִּיתִי אֶת־בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּקִנְאָתִי: לָכֵן אֱמֹר הִנְנִי נֹתֵן לוֹ אֶת־בְּרִיתִי שָׁלוֹם: וְהָיְתָה לולּוֹ וּלְזַרְעווֹ אַחֲרָיו בְּרִית כְּהֻנַּת עוֹלָם תַּחַת אֲשֶׁר קִנֵּא לֵאלֹהָיו וַיְכַפֵּר עַל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל
Pinchas, son of Eleazar, son of Aaron the Priest, assuaged My anger from the Israelites when he took My zeal upon himself in their midst, preventing me from destroying Israel in My anger. Therefore, let it be said: Behold, I give him My covenant [of] peace. It should be for him and his descendants a covenant of eternal priesthood for having been zealous for his God and atoning for Israel.

While space does not allow for an extensive examination of the concept of zealotry -qin’ah – here, we can make a few observations. This term is found in several occasions in the Bible, for instance, in the Decalogues. One interesting citation helps to define it, but in the process raises more questions than it answers. In Shir haShirim (Song of Songs) 8:6-7 we read:
כִּי־עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה
קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה
רְשָׁפֶיהָ רִשְׁפֵּי אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה:
מַיִם רַבִּים לֹא יוּכְלוּ לְכַבובּוֹת אֶת־הָאַהֲבָה
וּנְהָרוֹת לֹא יִשְׁטְפוּהָ
אִם־יִתֵּן אִישׁ אֶת־כָּל־הוֹן בֵּיתוֹ בָּאַהֲבָה
בובּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לווֹ
…For love is fierce as death,
Passion (qin’ah) is mighty as Sheol [the netherworld];
its darts are darts of the mightiest flame.
Vast waters cannot extinguish love,
nor can rivers drown it;
if a man offered all the wealth of his household for love,
he would be treated with utter contempt.

The parallel between love and qin’ah (translated in the NJPS edition as “passion”) is clearly drawn, but what of the description of this love? While at once a testimony to the power of love, the metaphor draws on indomitable destructive forces, and while one might surrender his worldly possessions in the pursuit of this love, he may in the process lose his dignity as well. The question, thus, it what type of love is described here? Is it a love marked by mutuality, or is this a love that is marked by infatuation, of ego, of self-love? Which is one more likely to describe with fierce metaphors?

The problem in applying this interpretation of qin’ah to Pinchas’ actions is that he is rewarded with God’s covenant of shalom for this impulsive act of violence. Is a covenant of shalom a fitting reward?

If you thought that discomfort with the zealous act of Pinchas is something for moderns, think again. The Talmud is also troubled by this act of summary justice, as are several commentaries over the ages. It is clear that Pinchas, in lancing both Zimri and Cozbi in flagrante, disregarded all the laws of jurisprudence and would deserve punishment himself for taking matters into his own hands.

Pinchas is hardly mentioned otherwise in Tanach. One other mention is found in Psalm 106:28-31:
וַיִּצָּמְדוּ לְבַעַל פְּעוֹר וַיֹּאכְלוּ זִבְחֵי מֵתִים:
וַיַּכְעִיסוּ בְּמַעַלְלֵיהֶם וַתִּפְרָץ־בָּם מַגֵּפָה:
וַיַּעֲמֹד פִּינְחָס וַיְפַלֵּל וַתֵּעָצַר הַמַּגֵּפָה:
וַתֵּחָשֶׁב לווֹ לִצְדָקָה לְדֹר וָדֹר עַד־עוֹלָם:
They attached to Ba’al P’or and ate offerings of the dead.
They angered with their actions and You brought forth a plague.
Pinchas stood and prayed and You ended the plague.
You accounted it to his merit for all generations forever.

This is not the same story we read in the Torah. The licentiousness is sanitized, but more importantly, so is Pinchas’ action. Finally, detail of the reward goes unspecified. Of course, Ps 106 is an historical summary, so one does not expect the detail as the event is recorded. But Pinchas prayed? That goes unmentioned in the Torah; what is mentioned is that his passionate act of killing Zimri and Cozbi brought an end to the plague.
Perhaps the Psalmist is less than comfortable with Pinchas?

We would say that the reward for Pinchas’ zealous act is the eternal priesthood, but in looking at his actions, is this really a reward? Pinchas’ action is marked by its spontaneity, its spur of the moment reaction to the act that he witnessed. But the priesthood allows for little spontaneity; in fact, one might say that in all its rules and rituals it leaves no room for one to act in a spontaneous manner. If such is the case, then we might see this “reward” as a measure of control, as if God were saying to Pinchas to get into a routine that would prevent such sudden behavior, even if the cause or outcome is correct.
But what makes the outcome here correct? Consider the events before Pinchas took up his spear:
וַיִּחַר־אַף ה' בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל: וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל־מֹשֶׁה קַח אֶת־כָּל־רָאשֵׁי הָעָם וְהוֹקַע אוֹתָם לַה' נֶגֶד הַשָּׁמֶשׁ וְיָשֹׁב חֲרוֹן אַף־ה' מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל: וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־שֹׁפְטֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הִרְגוּ אִישׁ אֲנָשָׁיו הַנִּצְמָדִים לְבַעַל פְּעווֹר

... And God was inflamed with Israel. God said to Moshe: Take all the leaders of the people and impale them before God in open daylight, and God’s fierce anger with Israel will subside. Moshe said to the judges of Israel: Each of you, kill those of your men who have attached themselves to Ba’al Pe’or. (24:4-5)

There is some ambiguity here. Does God want Moshe to impale the leaders of the people, or does God want him to impale just the ringleaders responsible for fraternization with the Moabite women? Moshe then instructs the judges to kill those who engaged in the wayward behavior. Apparently, nothing happens, except –

וְהִנֵּה אִישׁ מִבְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בָּא וַיַּקְרֵב אֶל־אֶחָיו אֶת־הַמִּדְיָנִית לְעֵינֵי מֹשֶׁה וּלְעֵינֵי כָּל־עֲדַת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל וְהֵמָּה בֹכִים פֶּתַח אֹהֶל מווֹעֵד
And here came an Israelite man and he brought this Midianite woman before Moshe and before the Israelite community; they were all weeping before the Tent of Meeting. (v. 6)

As the scene unfolds, the leaders - Moshe and those before the Tent - sit and weep, taking no action.

In earlier incidents, when expresses a will to punish all of Israel for grievous misdeeds, Moshe intercedes and God is mollified. Here we see no intercession by Moshe; we also do not see him following through on God’s instructions, but changing them, and they are not carried out. Pinchas sees the inaction, and he also knows that there is a plague running rampant throughout the camp. Did he know God’s instructions to Moshe? Was he aware of the instructions Moshe had given to the judges? We do not know any of this. What we do know is that he acted - he mollified God’s anger by impaling both the Israelite man - a leading Shimonite - and the woman - a leading Moabite, when they acted en flagrante.

The picture of Moshe and the leaders, sitting and weeping at a time when something needed to be done is disturbing. A leader cannot afford the luxury of weeping. Leadership demands deliberation and decisive action. Pinchas acted to fill the vacuum of leadership left open by Moshe and the leaders. When leaders abdicate their responsibilities, that is the point when social and legal institutions break down, when chaos and anarchy can take over, when instinctive reaction takes the place of judicious action.

While Zimri and Cozbi were certainly guilty of their offense, Pinchas acted as judge and witness, denying the two due process, and yet, he did what needed to be done.

In the end, we are left with something nebulous. Sometimes zealous actions may be needed, but there is a problem with spontaneous action. Pinchas’ reward may be a backhanded one, saying that yes, he did the right thing, but he must curb his enthusiasm lest his zeal get out of hand.

Friday, July 03, 2009

A mishnaic thought on lasting love (mAvot 5:16)

During the months between Passover and Rosh Hashannah, it is customary to study a chapter of Mishna Avot (or Pirkei Avot) on a weekly rotation. Avot, a mishnaic tractate, is unusual because it is entirely non-legal in content within the highly apodictic context of the larger corpus of the Mishna. It contains a variety of maxims as well as other interpretations of biblical ideas. This coming Shabbat we (re)read chapter 5, a chapter that is mostly organized by numerically organized statements, until we get to the following passage in mishna 16:

כָּל אַהֲבָה שֶׁהִיא תְלוּיָה בְדָבָר, בָּטֵל דָּבָר, בְּטֵלָה אַהֲבָה
וְשֶׁאֵינָההּ תְּלוּיָה בְדָבָר, אֵינָהּ בְּטֵלָה לְעוֹלָם

Love that is dependent on something, once that something is negated, so the love is negated.
[Love] that is not dependent on something, it is never negated.


Most commentaries that I have seen tend to approach this mishna from a literal level. Love that depends on some form of gratification, whether it is material or physical, is destined to failure as soon as the gratifying factor is no longer evident. Taken on that level alone, it would seem that this statement is little more than a truism.

But there are layers to this statement that, when peeled back, reveal deeper meanings than the surface meaning. Take, for instance, the noun דָּבָר . It can be understood as a thing, something physical or material, and hence the literal interpretations of this passage. But דָּבָר can also refer to words. Words can be full of meaning, but words can also pass through the air as little more than sound waves. As important as communication is to a healthy relationship, it cannot be based on words alone. Words need to be a prelude to actions that have significance. Words can be an expression of affection or romance, but love cannot exist on that alone. How often does love take root in a situation where words are spoken and promises are made, only to find those words sooner or later to become בָּטֵל, unfulfilled, wasted, abrogated, meaningless? Yes, this mishna can be telling us that love which is dependent solely on words but otherwise unsubstantiated is doomed to failure when those words are devoid of meaning, when they are little more than sweet sentiments. But the relationship that goes beyond words, where there is a good faith effort to honor those words, (bearing in mind that sometimes our best efforts fail,) the effort has meaning that allows the relationship to survive its many trials and tribulations.

There is yet another level to this passage, this one dependent on the concluding statement: Love that is not dependent on something, it is never negated. The word לְעוֹלָם translated above as never, has deeper implications. לְעוֹלָם is eternal - forever. When love is real and meaningful, even death cannot abrogate it. I can recall seeing people who have lost a mate, but for whom the love of the lost mate remained palpable and even sustaining for the surviving spouse, even when that survivor went on to find a new partner.

The mishna can also teach us an important lesson about the relationship between the individual and God. That relationship is not one that should be founded upon what material benefit one derives from it, but rather as a true relationship, even though it is not a relationship between equals. It is typical for people to turn to God in a time of need, but what about between those times? It is a tremendous challenge to build a relationship with God, who is at once omnipresent yet invisible. We may believe in God as Creator and Provider, but sometimes those very attributes get in the way of developing a relationship that goes beyond self interest.

It is interesting that this mishna does not condemn love that is dependent on something. In fact, it is love, but it is self love, a love that does not extend beyond meeting the egoistic needs of the lover. Self love is not necessarily wrong, but self love alone is not sustainable, and in fact can lead to self loathing. Such is the example of Amnon’s “love” of Tamar. Once love can surpass the love of self and be given in full to another that it becomes mutual, and with that it becomes something that can become eternal. Jonathan’s love for David exemplifies the negation of self interest in the face of a relationship. Saul told his son Jonathan that David stood between Jonathan and his would-be eventual kingship, yet Jonathan did not let the thought of crown and power to interfere with his love for his friend.

When it comes to love, this mishna challenges us to look beyond the ourselves and our own needs in order to make a loving relationship that is lasting and meaningful.

שבת שלום!