Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Jewish folklore has always tantalized the imagination of young Jewish children for ages. One of the most memorable books I remember reading was Nathan Ausbell’s brilliant, “Treasury of Jewish Folklore,” which I loved reading when I was about eleven years old. The stories of the Golem, and other tales of the Jewish supernatural were almost as good as reading comic-books!

One story that is among the most famous stories concerns a 1^st century rabbi, named Simeon ben Shetach, who single-handedly killed eighty witches in the town of Ashkelon.

Here is the story:

• After R. Simeon ben Shetah was designated head of the Sanhedrin, some people came and told him, “There are eighty witches in a cave in Ashkelon, bent on destroying the world.” On that day there was a heavy rainstorm. Still R. Simeon ben Shetah arose at once, gathered eighty young men of tall stature, and took them with him. He gave each one a new jug with a cloak folded up in it, and they placed the jugs upside down on their heads. Then R. Simeon said to them, “When I chirp the first time, put on your cloaks. When I chirp a second time, all of you enter the cave together. After you enter, each of you is to take one of the witches into his arms and lift her off the ground.” For such is the way of a witch-once you lift her off the ground, she can do nothing at all. Then R. Simeon went and stationed himself at the entrance to the cave and called to the witches, “Oyim, oyim, open for me, for I am one of you.” They asked, “How did you manage to come here bone-dry at such a rainy hour?” He replied, “I walked between the raindrops.” They: “What did you come to do here?” He: “To study and to teach, and to have each of you do what she knows.” So one intoned whatever [incantation] she intoned and produced a loaf of bread; another intoned something else and produced a cut of meat; a third produced a cooked dish; and a fourth produced wine. Then they asked him, “And you, what can you do?” He said, “I can chirp twice and produce for you eighty young men wearing dry cloaks. They will find joy in you and give joy to you.” He chirped once, and the young men put on their cloaks. He chirped a second time, and all of them entered the cave together. R. Simeon said, “Let each select his mate.” They picked them up, went out, and hanged them.

• The kinsmen of the eighty women were thereby provoked to anger. Two of them came and bore witness to a charge against R. Simeon ben Shetah’s son, which made him liable to the death penalty, and he was sentenced to be put to death. On his way to be stoned, he said, “If I am guilty of this iniquity, let not my death be my expiation; but if I am not guilty, may my death be expiation for all my iniquitous deeds and may the collar [of perjury] encircle the necks of the witnesses.”When the witnesses heard what he had said, they retracted and confessed, “We are false witnesses.” The father wished to bring his son back [from the place where he was to be stoned]. But the son said, “If you really wish to bring deliverance during your regime, regard me as though I were not your son [and let the Sanhedrin decide my fate]. [From William G. Braude's trans. of N. Bialik's Sefer Aggadah s.v. witches.]

The story is interesting, largely because R. Simeon ben Shetach ignored what is commonly referred today as, “due process.” In the early posting that I cited concerning Simeon’s observation of a murder crime, which he did not actually see, the alleged assailant was ultimately killed by a poisonous serpent. Although there was no actual due process, the assailant met his fate by the hand of God.

Simeon ben Shetach’s behavior is surprising. Why did he take it upon himself to rid the inhabitants of their alleged witches? Why did he violate the rabbinic law that no court is allowed to execute more than two people a day? From the sound of the Talmudic narrative, it seems that Simeon acted as judge, witness, jury, and executioner—all in one. How could he flagrantly violate the due process law of Jewish tradition?

I came across a fascinating study by Meir Bar-Ilan, who writes extensively about the nature of witchcraft in the ancient Judaic world. Many of his observations may offer (with some tweaking on my part), a possible answer to our questions. According to Prof. Meir Bar-Ilan [1], women in the Talmudic era were not the only ones who engaged in witchcraft, indeed, many men—especially rabbis—frequently participated in witchcraft, yet nobody thought to hold them accountable.[2] He explains the reason why they were singled out for oppression and not the menfolk!

• Linking women to witchcraft can serve as a lesson in suppressing a lower social class, but also in how the stronger class can strengthen its political status. One should also note another aspect of the sexual division in the issue at hand. In reality, all the sources which deplore women for their witchcraft are “male” sources. All the books quoted above were written, to the best of our knowledge, by men, and R. Yose and R. Simeon bar Yohai, who deplored women because of witchcraft, were also men. Indeed, one should note that the same R. Simeon bar Yohai who deplored women for their witchcraft was himself involved in witchcraft. After all, we are told that he removed a spirit which had entered into the body of the emperor’s daughter (Me’ilah 17b), i.e., he was engaged in exorcism. It was R. Simeon bar Yohai who looked at his opponent and turned him into a heap of bones (JT Shevi’it 9:1, 38d), or, in other words, by the use of the “Evil Eye”. So too are other miraculous deeds attributed to him.[3]

He further argues that in a male dominated culture like that of the Pharisees and their rabbinic successors, women did not enjoy equal political power like the men (he neglects to mention that Queen Alexandra Salome was the exception to the rule). As one might expect, men often blamed women for all the ills of their society—hence, executing witches was seen as something good for the social order—even though the rabbis violated rabbinical and Scriptural laws to do so. Bar-Ilan further points out that some of the Sages were of the opinion that most Jewish women participated in witchcraft! Because of their powerlessness in a male-dominated society, women sometimes resorted to witchcraft as a way of empowering themselves in an oppressive world.

There may be yet another factor to consider. According to the JT in Sanhedrin, it appears as though the leaders of Jerusalem were somewhat divided upon who should be the head of the Sanhedrin. There may have been a political motivation that would secure his position as the leader of the Sanhedrin instead of R. Yehuda ben Tabbai, who appears to have been a possible competitor.[4] R. Simeon ben Shetach’s political promises probably appealed to the arch-conservatives of his time who simply hated women. Bar-Ilan is correct in also pointing out that misogyny was very rampant in much of the early rabbinical world, and a number of rabbis had no qualms speaking disparaging comments about the nature of women in general.[5]

The death of R. Simeon ben Shetach’s son may be more the result of tallionic justice than a mere happenstance. In the rabbinical imagination, there is a principle of divine justice that always operates in the world—whether people are aware of it or not. The false charges levied upon R. Simeon ben Shetach’s son, his subsequent execution indicates that here is an example of a son suffering because of the sins of the father. Because of Simeon’s disregard for due process, and his failure to interrogate witnesses properly—he paid a tragic price. Heaven decreed against him, because his actions violated the ethics of the Torah regarding capital punishment.

This personal tragedy may also explain the sobering advice attributed to R. Simeon ben Shetach in Pirke Avoth, “Do much in examining the witnesses; and be careful in thy words; perchance by means of them they may learn to lie.”[6] This teaching would suggest that there is always a punishment from God whenever people try to manipulate the legal system to arrive at a foregone conclusion. Indeed, who would know better than R. Simeon ben Shetach? Continue Reading

The ancient Near East has always been a good-old-boy’s club. Testosterum was (and still is) always in the air and especially in religion and culture; women, especially, lived politically marginal lives. That part of the world has hardly changed. Just look in the Middle East today; whether it is in Iran, Syria, Libya, or even Israel (among the Haredi and Hassidic communities)! Yet, in the same period of human history that witnessed the rise of Cleopatra in Egypt, there arose another great female leader that most of the world probably as never heard about- Queen Alexandra Salome.

Who could imagine that there was actually a female ruler in ancient Judea? Yes, over 2ooo years before Golda Meir became Israel’s first female prime minister, there was a beautiful woman who ruled ancient Judea in one of the most turbulent periods of her history— Alexandra Salome (Ἀλεξανδρα Σαλομε ), also known as Sholom-Zion—“the peace of Zion.” She belonged to the Hasmonean family.

You may recall that the Hasmoneans were the priestly family that took political control of Judea after defeating the Syrian Greeks. They were the heroes of the Chanukah story every Jewish child knows so much about.

Little is known about her, except for what little information Josephus provides about her.[1]

Queen Salome’s life sounds like a story made for the silver-screen. Born in 139 B.C.E., Alexandra Salome may have come from a Pharasaic family. Alexandra’s first husband was a madman named Aristobulus I (Definitely not a nice guy!), who had seized power from his mother, and even left her to starve in prison along with his poor brothers. After her first husband’s death she recognizes that she too might end up the same way as her ill-fated mother-in-law, she engineers the death of Aristobulus’ brother and successor—Antigonus—and soon, she became Queen! For her first queenly act, she immediately frees her poor mother-in-law and brothers, and marries Aristobulus’ youngest son, Alexander Jannaeus (very bad idea!).

Although she expected him to be weak, she had hoped to influence him to become a part of the Pharisee party. However, all of this backfired against her. Jannaeus proved to be a great enemy of the Pharisees, and his policy led to a civil war that resulted in the death of 50,000 people.

Alexandra’s sons proved to be a life challenge. One good-natured son was named Hyrcannus II (who had become a loyal Pharisee); she also had a more aggressive son who definitely behaved a lot like her former ex husband, named Aristobulus II (who remained loyal to the Sadducees). In her effort to keep the peace and to avoid the inevitable civil war that would soon follow, she decided to remain as Queen as long as she possibly could. She realized that in a man’s world, survival would prove to be a daunting task.

This conflict set the stage for Alexandra Salome’s reign. The Talmud, a codification of Jewish Oral Law, names her brother (or possibly cousin as some modern scholars now believe) was the famous Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach, one of the early Pharisees who popularized the oral tradition. Queen Salome is mentioned in a number of places in the Talmud.[2]

Queen Salome had a remarkable way of keeping family members from dismembering one another (pardon the pun).

Upon the death of her husband, she had to go through the proper burial rites, and for the sake of peace, she gave him an appropriate burial.

As the Pharisee party grew in popularity, Queen Salome took the steps to expand the influence of the Pharisees by appointing them to key positions throughout the country. The Sadducees soon realized that the political reality had begun marginalizing their influence.

Simeon ben Shatech once again assumed his position as head of the Sanhedrin. Under Queen Salome, the Sanhedrin focused exclusively upon religious issues and questions of justice; Judaism under Queen Salome started to become more of a populist religion for people of all ages, and was no longer viewed as just a priestly religion, as understood and taught by the priestly Sadducees.

Under her influence, Judea became a much stronger military power in the ANE. From time to time, she ordered military expeditions to secure the country. She also built strong garrison cities to ensure the safety of Judea’s borders. In addition, she saw to it that the widows and orphans were cared for by the State. Cities replaced dishonest and crooked judges with honest people who could not be corrupted. Witnesses had to be carefully cross-examined and investigated before a judge(s) arrived at a verdict.

It is unclear how exactly Queen Salome died. Was she poisoned by her ruthless son Aristobulus? Had she not died, she probably would have been forced off the throne by Aristobulus. In any event, after she died, both of her sons competed for control of Judea. Recognizing that Rome was the new world power, each brother tried to bribe Pompey. Pompey later met with both brothers and favored Hyrcannus II, who was also the rightful heir to the throne. Hyrcanus’ powerful chief minister named Antipater, who was Idumean, brokered a deal with Rome in 63 B.C.E. and Judaea then became a Roman vassal state. Antipater’s second son later became the famous King Herod, who is mentioned in the NT and Josephus.

However, Aristobulus II was not about to give up his throne, so he engaged the Romans in battle. The results were disastrous: 12,000 dead soldiers. The Temple had become a battle zone. Pompey conquered Jerusalem, and Aristobulus II was taken as a prisoner to Rome. The Romans positioned Hyrcannus II as the High Priest, but the Romans banned him from politics.

In summary, Queen Alexandra Salome demonstrated to the world that a woman could do a man’s job and run the country better and more effectively than many believed possible. Jewish history has demonstrated since biblical days that women have always distinguished themselves in so many ways. Queen Salome joins the ranks of Miriam, Deborah, Esther, Golda Meir and others—as women who brought civility and courage to a people that needed compassionate and responsible leadership.

One of the more theologically challenging stories of the Talmud involves a first century rabbi named R. Simeon ben Shetach (c. 120-40 BCE). He survived the brutal reign of the Hasmonean king, Alexander Jannaus, who was famous for his purge of over 800 Pharisee scholars.[1]

There is some discussion whether he was a Nasi (leader) of the Sanhedrin, or whether his colleague, R. Yehudah ben Tabbai might have been. According to the JT, each man became the Nasi [Patriarch] at different times and commanded considerable respect over the Alexandrian and Jerusalem communities, where both men fled to escape Jannaus’ purge.[2] Both men were instrumental in the early formulation of the “oral” tradition.

Simeon’s sister was Alexandra Salome (also known as Shulamit), who was the wife of Alexander Jannaus of Judea. Due to his close family relationship with his sister and at the Queen’s behest, the King finally left the Pharisees alone. After the tyrant died, Alexandra Salome became Queen over Judea and inaugurated a Golden Age where Jews throughout the country prospered as a result of her wise and compassionate rule.

There are a number of famous stories in rabbinic literature and folklore regarding R. Simeon ben Shetach’s piety and principles. This is the first of two short blog pieces I have written on this most interesting sage of Late Antiquity.

• It has been taught on Tannaite authority: Said Simeon b. Shatach, “May I [not] see consolation, if I did not see someone run after his fellow into a ruin, [with a sword in his hand, and the pursued man went before him into a ruin, and the pursuer ran in after him,] and then I came in right after him, and saw [the victim] slain, with a knife in the hand of the murderer, dripping blood, and I said to him, ‘You evil person! Who killed this one? [May I [not] see consolation if I did not see him [run in here].] Either you killed him or I did! But what can I do to you? For your blood is not handed over to me, For lo, the Torah has said, ‘At the testimony of two witnesses or at the testimony of three witnesses shall he who is on trial for his life be put to death’ (Deut. 17:6).

“ ‘But He who knows the thoughts of man will exact punishment from that man.’ He did not move from the spot before a snake bit him, and he died” [T. San. 8:3].

After studying this passage, I began to wonder: What is the moral message of this story? Surely, there are many people who have gotten away with murder! Perhaps there is a deeper message to this narrative. R. Simeon ben Shetach is teaching us that in a world where it is difficult to perceive the justice of God, do not despair. Divine justice operates with a synchronicity that is both subtle and profound. God has many agents at His disposal to achieve His purpose in the world.

Think about it for a minute. O.J. Simpson is one example of a man who certainly fits the description of the man R. Simeon ben Shetach was chasing. In his famous trial, Simpson was acquitted of the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman. In 1997, the court gave the bereaved families a judgment for their wrongful deaths.

In the year 2007, Simpson was finally arrested for armed robbery and kidnapping, and was sentenced to prison for 33 years. According to the news, he has been beaten up several times by the inmates. His life in prison is not especially pleasant and in all likelihood, he will (hopefully) remain there for the rest of his miserable life.

This past week, the Libyans killed the dictator Muammar Gaddafi. Without a doubt, Gaddafi was a very bad man (but a saint when compared to Assad Sr. and Jr., or the mad mullahs of Iran). Here is a man who was responsible for the blowing up the Pan AM flight 103, which killed 270 people in 1988. Yet, like the murderer of Simeon ben Shetach’s story, he managed to escape justice--or so we thought . . .

After Gaddafi was captured, he was beaten by the people he wronged, before finally being shot. The bodies were put on public display, with Libyans from all over the country coming to view them. Many took pictures on their cell phones. Westerners may wonder why Gaddafi’s body was put on display, but the answer is obvious to anyone who is familiar with Semitic history. Leaving the body out for display was considered to be one of the worse insults one could do to a person. In ancient Egyptian mythology, hanging the body of a criminal meant that his soul could not make safe passage to the World of Eternity.

In Jewish tradition teaches in the Mishnah, the Sanhedrin used to hang the body for a short time for all to see, but they would not leave the body overnight because the Torah says leaving a dead body over night is an affront to God (cf. the sin of the blasphemer in Deut 21:22-23).[3]

The moral of the Simeon ben Shetach story is abundantly clear; evil doers sooner or later will receive their just punishment; we should not lose faith in the traditional religious belief that God is ultimately a Just Judge, Who holds all mortals responsible and accountable for their earthly deeds. Continue Reading

The recent arrest of Rabbi Moishe Turner has sent shock-waves across the insular world of Monsey, N.Y. This 58 year man has been arrested for sodomizing a number of underage boys. Surprisingly, the Haredi (Ultra Orthodox and Hassidic) rabbis of his synagogue were well aware of this man’s behavior and even banned him from attending their synagogue. However, they never called the police, nor did they allow the victims’ families to contact the police. Subsequently, Turner went on to allegedly rape more boys.

As you can see, the Catholic Church is not alone with its scandalous record concerning pedophilia.

While I was reading up on this story, I began to wonder: Why are the Ultra-Orthodox groups so reticent to contact the police when a crime has taken place—especially when it involves the welfare of minors?

The answer to this question has much to do with the cloistered world of the Haredi community; in many ways they share affinities with the Catholic Church. Both communities trivialize crimes against children; both communities prefer hiding behind a cloak of secrecy—lest the outside world find out and expose their complicity and cowardice. Both communities have no moral problem sacrificing an innocent child, if it ensures the general welfare of the collective they share.

Much like in the ancient Greco-Roman tradition, the innocent child has become the scapegoat for their religious communities. His/her sacrifice serves to protect the religious community from scandal and disgrace-but such a delusional attitude does not really work, for the truth will sooner or later come out. The rabbis/Church officials who have both aided and enabled pedophiles to function openly are responsible for this travesty; neither they or their institutions can hide.

There may be other considerations that have been based upon antiquated rabbinical policies that no longer pertain to the United States. In Europe, governments had no qualms about blaming the Jew for any sort of crime—both real and imagined. Given the constant threats these anti-Semitic governments posed, it is almost understandable why the rabbis would have forbidden any Jew to the authorities, for it was never clear whether the accused could reasonably expect a fair trial.

Alternatively, anti-Semites would relish the opportunity to make the entire Jewish community suffer for the crimes of the few. In other words, the Christian community held the Jewish community corporately responsible for the behavior of its citizens. Other arguments assert that the prisons today are so dangerous—even in the United States—that sending an offender there may be tantamount to giving him a death sentence.[1]

Fortunately, the United States personifies the ideal of the “just government.”[2] Corruption and collective guilt really does not exist in this country (except with regard to Affirmative Action). Many of the Haredi Jews living in this country really do not understand the ideals and laws that define the unique identity of the United States. Jews are no longer corporately responsible for the crimes of one of its members. Yet, in their minds, they still see themselves—even three generations later!—as if they are living in Europe during the early part of the 20^th century. Readers may be surprised to know that a large number of these folks can barely read or write English.

I have Haredi family members who still speak Hungarian, or with such a heavy Yiddish accent, one would think they had just arrived off the boat at Ellis Island. Someone should tell them, “You’re not in Russia anymore!” The Haredim need to start respecting the law of the land (dina d’malchut dina).

For both of these Ultra-Orthodox communities, they would be wise to be more concerned with the physical welfare of the victim than the punishment that the offender might receive in prison. By banning parents from reporting these crimes to the police, they are endangering the physical welfare of numerous other potential victims. Are the lives of children somehow halachically considered less important than the life of a predator?

Some rabbis, like R. Jack Simcha Cohen, argue the main reason for turning deviants like Turner in to the authorities is because of hillul Hashem—a desecration of God’s Name.[3] There is something positive to be said about Cohen’s view, even though the prime consideration ought to be the welfare of the child—which is far more compelling than just “looking bad to the gentiles.” By choosing to be silent in the face of this crime, the Orthodox world is broadcasting a message across the world: we are not concerned about Jewish criminals in our midst. Continue Reading

This week, I plan to focus on a number of common questions people ask about the Messiah. Throughout much of Jewish history, rabbis have long speculated about the Messiah’s arrival. News stories about the “identity,” of the Messiah never cease to make the headlines in Israeli newspapers.

To begin, I would argue that anyone claiming to be the messiah is either someone who suffers from megalomania, or else he just happens to be a charlatan. Before going any further, it is apropos to first define our terms:

• According to psychologists, the term “megalomania” is a psycho-pathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of power, relevance, and/or omnipotence. People suffering from this condition typically experience an over-inflated sense of importance, and is not much different from Heinz Kohut’s classical definition of a narcissistic personality disorder.

• The term “Messiah” מָשִׁיַח (māšı̂aḥ) is used as an adjective and noun; it derives from the root, מָשַׁח (māšaḥ) “anoint,” “spread a liquid.” The word, “Messiah” is an adjectival form with a passive sense derived from the Hebrew verb meaning “to anoint.” It is used with respect to “the anointed priest” (Lev. 4:3). While used occasionally of priests and prophets, the term is used to refer principally to kings whose installation to office included a ritual anointing (cf. 1 Sam. 10:1; 16:13). Lastly, the “messiah” need not necessarily even be Jewish! King Cyrus, a non-Israelite, of Persia, acted as the Lord’s anointed (limšı̂ḥô, Isa 45:1) despite the fact Cyrus worshiped Marduk and other pagan deities. Yet, for the purpose God chose Cyrus, he became the instrument who freed Israel from her Babylonian captivity and allowed them to return to their ancestral homeland.

Given the long history of false messiahs in Jewish history [1], it is not at all difficult to see how these personality disorders created great harm to the deluded minions who believed in their leader’s words. This has been a pattern that has long been associated with the likes of Shabbtai Tzvi of the 17^th century (Turkey), Jacob Frank (Poland) of the 18^th century. Charismatic leaders get into considerable trouble once they start believing in the hype that their followers attribute to them. And yes, many of them were charlatans, as evidenced by Shabbtai Tzvi.

One might just as easily wonder whether Jesus, himself, bought into all the hype his followers attributed to him. Nowadays, rabbinic scholars tend to view Jesus as a “failed messiah,” someone who was truly sincere in his mission to better the world, but because of circumstances that were out of his control, he did not succeed in realizing his goal.

Many years ago, I recall the changes I witnessed with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who began giving frenzied talks about the Messiah’s imminent arrival with all Hasidim at live broadcasts that could be heard all around the world. (In Israel we used to get up at 3:00 AM to hear him rant and rave about ‘bringing the messiah.’ That got old very quickly with me, and I made it a point to always sleep through his talks.) Soon came the childish mantra, “We want Moshiach now!! We don’t wanna wait.” As the Hasidim mindlessly chimed in, the Hasidim demanded that the Rebbe “reveal” himself as the “Messiah.” Little did I realize that the Rebbe really “got off” on this adulation, as the Hasidim rapidly lost touch with reality and so did Rabbi Schnersohn.

Thank God I realized this pattern already in the late seventies; I felt like I was an inmate in some sort of insane asylum.

A legion of zealots, who had visited the Rebbe in a private audience, extolled the Rebbe for his wisdom. Even decades later, whenever his Hasidim visit the Rebbe’s grave, they still pray to him to intercede upon their behalf. The great 18^th century Talmudic titan, the Vilna Gaon, criticized the cultic tendency of the early Hasidim to worship their Rebbe as a deity. In Nissan Mindel’s biography of Rabbi Sheneir Zalman of Liadi, the author cites the view of the Karliner Rebbe who taught that the rabbi is indeed, godliness in the flesh—i.e., incarnational theology. Rabbi Schnesohn himself occasionally speaks in his sichot of the Rebbe as though he is the manifestation of God in the flesh. On numerous occasions he used to mention detailed conversations he just had with his deceased predecessor, R. Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn, after visiting his tomb.

In short, I cannot believe the Rebbe was a charlatan, but I do believe he was seriously delusional about his role in Jewish history. At the same time, I believe that Rabbi Schnersohn played both sides of the fence; to his Hasidim, he demanded that they give him messianic respect; on the other hand, he was coy enough not to make any obvious statements to the outside Orthodox world that might imply that he really thought or claimed to be “the Messiah.”

The Rebbe could have very easily have brought his Hasidim back to reality by publicly introducing his successor; perhaps R. Adin Steinzaltz (famous for his Talmudic translation into Modern Hebrew and English) might have been an excellent choice. However, the Rebbe yearned to be the Messiah and only God could stop him from realizing his dream if he died before he could manifest the Messianic Kingdom. Ironically, most of his Hasidim still entertain the possibility that he will arise from the earth and make his “second coming” known to all. Sound familiar?

Despite offering this criticism, I do think Rabbi Schnersohn’s movement has done a lot of good in reminding people the need to do their part to improve the world. Redemption of the world must in the final analysis begin with the redemption of the individual. This is a familiar kabbalistic theme; Jewish mysticism recognizes that we have a hidden potential that can transform the world.

Had Rabbi Schnersohn studied pop-culture, I think he could have benefited from a wonderful song written by the Eagles:

Take it easy, take it easy
Don’t let the sound of your own wheels
Drive you crazy
Lighten up while you still can
Don’t even try to understand
Just find a place to take your stand
and take it easy

Each of us can and must take our stand to make a difference; beyond that, even great rabbis need to “take it easy . . .” and remember that sin of hubris always demands a price. Besides, as the Eagles can easily attest, even Rebbes are not “rock stars.” Beware of anyone you think who might be suffering from the Messiah Complex. [2]

With respect to messianic speculations, the Talmud offers wonderful wisdom for anyone worried about this subject to remember:

“Three things occur when you least expect it: Messiah, a found article and a scorpion” (BT Sanhedrin 97a). I have always liked this passage, for in its simplicity, the Sages teach us that it is not for mortal men–or women–regardless how pious or learned they happen to be, to engage in the mindless pursuit of messianic prognostications. The Messiah will appear when we least expect him (or her!) to arrive.

Continue Reading

One of my favorite stories about the holiday of Sukkoth comes from the 18^th century.

The Duke of Manheim asked R’ Zvi of Berlin: “Why do children ask the ‘Four Questions’ on Passover and not on Sukkot? It would appear that Sukkot brings more changes to their lives than Passover does! For example: during Sukkoth, everyone eats their meals outside in the Sukkah, such a tradition does not exist with Passover . . .”

R’ Zvi answered the Duke’s question with sardonic wit, “During the Passover Seder, the child sees everyone sitting around the table, at ease like free men, and not like a wandering people in exile. This brute fact arouses the child’s curiosity and he asks the obvious question: ‘Why is this night different?’ On Sukkot, however, the child sees Jews exiled from their homes and without a true roof over their heads. That does not surprise him at all; Jews have always lived that way, ever since they first went into exile.”

Freedom for the Jew living in Europe seemed more like a dream, rather than a reality.

As I pondered this story, I decided to double-check the historical records of various different expulsions of Jewish history—if only to satisfy my curiosity.

Here is a cursory glance at many of the wanderings our people have experienced over the last 2000 years.

250 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Carthage

415 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Alexandria

554 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Diocèse of Clermont (France)

561 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Diocèse of Uzès (France)

612 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Visigoth Spain

642 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Visigoth Empire

A member of the western Goths that invaded the Roman Empire in the fourth century settled in France and Spain, and established a monarchy that lasted until the early eighth century. The Arian Visigoths were also tolerant of Jews. However, the Visigothic persecution of Jews began after Visigothic King Reccared converted to Catholicism. Shortly after the King was elected, the bishops urged him to declare that all Jews must be baptized or expelled. Sound familiar? Now let’s look at some other dates of Jewish history where this same pattern reoccurred:

855 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Italy

876 — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sens

1012 — - - - - - - - - - - - —-Mainz

Note: 1012 - Emperor Henry II of Germany expels Jews from Mainz; this marked the beginning of persecutions against Jews in Germany. As you can see, by the time Martin Luther had come around, anti-Semitism had several centuries to gestate in Germany.

• In 1290, King Edward I issued an edict expelling all Jews from England. Lasting for the rest of the Middle Ages, it would be over 350 years until it was formally overturned in 1656, thanks to the efforts of Oliver Cromwell and Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, the famous Jewish leader of Amsterdam. The edict was not an isolated incident, but the culmination of over 200 years of conflict on the matters of usury.

Note: 1306 The Expulsion from France. Jewish wealth was more often than not the main motivation in the Jews’ expulsion from these countries. The Catholic Church coveted Jewish money, and their local leaders frequently used religion as an excuse to rid their countries of the Jews.

Historically, the Jews had settled in France for well over a thousand years, but this quickly changed when Philip Augustus came to power in 1179. Augustus decided to rid the country of his Jewish citizens so he could confiscate their wealth and also solidify his power as King. He used the infamous blood libel canard as his excuse.

I will not go into further detail about the other expulsions; I just wanted to provide some simple illustrations why the Rabbi Tvi of Berlin was more correct than many people might realize.

The various expulsions of the Jews illustrates the morally bankrupt polices that governed the Christian world all the way up to the modern period. The Holocaust would never have been possible had the Christian world not already prepared the ascent of Hitler by promoting the Jew in the most disparaging light. It is a pity that Christianity has rarely ever practiced the precept of forgiving one’s enemies, as Jesus instructed in his Sermon on the Mount and in other NT narratives (cf. Matt. 5:43-44; Luke 17:2-4, passim). Jews have been unforgiven-even though 2000 years separate their 1st century ancestors. I often wonder what Jesus himself would say to his followers, “Ladies and gentlemen, I think you got it all wrong . . .”

Most modern Jews tend to think that anti-Semitism is not especially virulent in the United States. However, in troubled times such as ours, it could very easily become a spiritual airborne virus. Today, with the Occupy Wall Street crowd, once again we are hearing many of the same type of canards against “Jewish money” that we have heard long ago.

Sukkoth reminds us that anti-Semitism is a disease that transcends geographical boundaries. More importantly, Sukkot teaches all human beings the importance of creating shelter for the homeless and the vagabonds, who more often than not, become the scapegoats for a troubled society.

Remarkably, much of the Sukkot holiday focuses on the importance of hospitality. Despite the countless expulsions of our people, Jews celebrated Sukkoth by creating shelter for all those who found themselves on the ragged edge of life. I, for one, am very proud of how Israel has welcomed so many refugees who have been rejected by their original country of origin. Since her inception as a nation, Israel absorbed over a million Jews, who were kicked out of the Arab countries in 1948. Thousands of Druze also found sanctuary in Israel, as well as the Bahai, whose Temple was rebuilt in Haifa.

Israel is the only country that protects the rights of its Arab citizens as well. I would also add that when people suffer from natural or man-made catastrophes anywhere around the world, Israel is always there to offer a helping hand—creating shelter wherever possible. In the early 1970s, Israel welcomed the famous Vietnamese boat people, and later Christian Ethiopians, Sudanese refugees, and numerous other ethnic groups.

Much of historical memory is rooted in the biblical injunctions, “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 22:20). “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 23:9). Think about it. There are thirty-six warnings against exploiting the resident alien, who frequently was at the mercy of the host country. Sound familiar?

With 36 warnings against unsuitable behavior toward a stranger, no other commandment is referred to as frequently as much as this particular biblical proscription. Our tradition teaches us over and over again: “You shall love the stranger…The resident stranger that dwells with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:34).

Henri Nouwen, the distinguished Catholic theologian writes about the basic essential qualities of hospitality shortly before he died:

• In a world full of strangers, estranged from their own past, culture, and country, from their neighbors, friends, and family, from their deepest self and their God, we witness a painful search for a hospitable place where life can be lived without fear…That is our vocation, to convert the hostis into hospes, the enemy into a guest and to create the free and fearless space where brotherhood and sisterhood can be formed and fully expressed. Continue Reading

Thank God, Gilad Shalit is finally home with his family. Emerging out of the bowels of a Gaza prison is nothing short of a miracle. Yet, despite the euphoria many Israelis are feeling this hour, much of the country feels understandably nervous. Many Israelis are upset because their families were destroyed by so many of the terrorists who were just released. Who could honestly blame the victims’ families feeling this way?

More to the point: What will happen if another soldier is kidnapped again?

Admittedly, I am one of those people who feel somewhat uneasy. How can anyone not feel this way as well?

Some well-known rabbis, such as the IDF Chief Rabbi Avishai Rontzki, are of the opinion that the Israeli army should have killed the terrorists and not have allowed them to live. Other West-Bank rabbis, such as Rabbi Dov Lior and Rabbi Shmuel Eliyahu condemned the Gilad Shalit prisoner swap as reckless.

Rabbi Lior wrote in a letter addressed to “Our brothers, the people of Israel… there is no doubt that surrender to terrorist extortion can endanger our brothers who reside here in the future, as previously happened when many of the terrorists who were released went back to their old habits and that is a real threat to the people of Zion. This is why we cannot save one and almost definitely endanger the entire population . . .”

I must admit, I personally do not like Lior or Eliyahu; their racist positions regarding the Palestinians are beyond the pale of civil discourse. However, Hamas and Hezbollah have only confirmed the rabbis’ fears that other soldiers will be targeted.

Why doesn’t the Israeli army not adopt a “take no prisoners” approach and simply shoot the terrorists—especially since their presence poses a clear and dangerous threat to its citizens? That might well be a plausible approach that Israel needs to consider.

On the other hand, the capture of terrorists can provide real-time intelligence that can prevent other future attacks; there is certainly merit to this position as well. In addition, the Geneva Convention has very specific rules demanding the humane treatment of enemy soldiers. (One might wonder whether terrorists are deserving of the epithet, ”soldier,” and perhaps the time has arrived for civilized nations to revise the Geneva Conventions). Bear in mind also that Israel does not practice capital punishment like we do here in the United States.

One must be King Solomon to solve this ethical dilemma.

I believe that the Israeli military may want to consider injecting some sort of miniaturized GPS device in their soldiers, which would give the Israeli military real-time information on the whereabouts of a captured Israeli soldier. I have little doubt that the Techinon in Israel is already working on such possible solutions. Yet, even technology may not be able to prevent all kidnappings.

More to the main question at hand: How does a society weigh the ethical demands of saving human life, especially when the lives of many might possibly be jeopardized? Certainly, the Mishnah in Sanhedrin stresses the infinite worth of the individual and it does not differentiate the utilitarian value of the individual to society. Each individual is a world by himself. [2] Such statements have rarely been heard even in the most famous philosophical tracts of the Enlightenment, or, in John Stuart Mill’s famous essay, “On Liberty.” Yes, the human worth of an Israeli soldier is invaluable, but so is the human worth of the lone Israeli citizen.

These are sobering questions that really transcend the boundaries of individual rabbinic opinions—regardless of how nutty many of these dubious religious leaders actually are.

As I mentioned in a previous posting, the Mishnah in Gittin plainly states that one should not pay an excessive price for the victim since it might encourage further kidnappings. [3] And while historically, there are documented cases where the Jewish community has raised exorbitant monies to rescue certain valued individuals, there still remains another serious question people need to consider: What about the value of other innocent lives that will be taken next time there is a conflict? How does one determine the value of any human being—soldier, or non-soldier? Does the government have the right to say, “Who says your blood is redder [i.e., more valuable] than your neighbor?” [4]

The last question is no less complicated: If the Israeli Government ignores the welfare of one of its captured soldiers, will this undermine the soldiers’ loyalty to the army, thereby weakening their response to terrorism and/or war? On the other hand, a large number of those prisoners released were sent to other places than their country of origin, e.g., West Bank terrorists were sent to Gaza, Kuwait, and other places.

In Jewish tradition, questions are considered more important than answers. There is something to be said about a tradition that grapples with ethical ambiguity. It is God-wrestling at its best! Continue Reading

The recent news about the prisoner exchange between Hamas and Israel has created some very interesting debates about whether or not, releasing over fourteen mass-murderers might be too high of a price to pay, for the release of Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who has been languishing in a Hamas prison for the last five years. Such questions are hardly modern; as early as the 4^th century, the Mishnah dealt specifically with this ethical question about negotiating with kidnappers (which would certainly include today’s terrorists). The Mishnah[1] rules, “Captives must not be ransomed for more than their value for the good of the public welfare.”[2]

Historically, one of the most famous medieval cases involving pidyon shevuyim (“the redemption of captives”) was the famous ransoming of the great 13^th German scholar, Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg (also known as the MaHaRam). Looking to raise some money for his kingdom, German Emperor King Rudolf I demanded 23,000 pounds of silver for the rabbi’s freedom. Remarkably, Rabbi Meir instructed the Jewish communities not to acquiesce to the rogue leader’s ransom demands, despite the fact that leading rabbinical leaders like R. Asher ben Yechiel (1250 or 1259 – 1327), managed to raise the funds. He was imprisoned for seven years and died at age 78. A wealthy man named Alexander ben Salomon Wimpfen paid the ransom; his only request: he wanted to be subsequently buried next to the saintly rabbi.

In light of today’s reality of terrorism, the objections against releasing the Hamas terrorists are certainly on the surface, quite compelling and differ considerably from the types of ransoms we have seen in earlier Jewish history.

• Releasing 1000 terrorists will certainly inspire the rogue terrorist state of Hamas to kidnap more Israeli soldiers or other Israeli citizens and they will demand even higher ransoms.

• Every terrorist released is a potential mass murderer and after gaining a heroic status in their society, they will look to continue perpetuating more random acts of violence against Israel.

• Evidence has shown time and time again how formerly captured terrorists continue to rain death upon Israelis whenever possible.

• Negotiating with Hamas serves to enhance their image to the international community, and paradoxically undermines the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank; worst case scenario: Hamas strengthens its ability to eventually seize control of the West Bank, thus endangering millions of Israelis living near the West Bank.

• Some of the terrorists do not have blood on their hands from murder, despite having enabled others to do their dirty work.

The arguments for negotiating with Hamas are also significant.

• Bringing Shalit home raises the moral of Israeli soldiers who know that the government will go to extreme measures to bring them back home.
• Shalit’s return represents an important morale booster for the entire nation. Continue Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN ANTIQUITY

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

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

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

THE SCAPEGOAT IN MODERN TERMS

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE JEW AS SCAPEGOAT

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

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

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

IN SUMMARY . . .

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

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

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

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

“What about your own faults?”

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

The Chinese say, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” Tonight we begin our spiritual journey with a celebration of Yom Kippur—a holiday that is wholly devoted to the cultivation of forgiveness and spiritual renewal—both as individuals and as a community.

“I have forgiven you as you have spoken” Fewer subjects personally challenge our moral sensibilities like forgiveness—both as individuals and as a society.

As we commemorate the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, it is important for us to revisit some of the important questions about the nature and dynamics of forgiveness.

But what are the limitations of forgiveness? What are its possibilities? Should a person forgive unconditionally? Should the terrorists be forgiven for their crime of murder? In Jewish tradition, it is often customary to broach an important topic with a story. Afterwards we shall examine the important implications of the story to our original questions.

You are a Jewish prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. You are sent to work in a hospital. A nurse brings you to a German soldier named Karl, who is mortally wounded. The dying soldier confesses that he has committed terrible atrocities against your people and asks you to forgive him. What would you do?

Actually, this was the question faced by renowned Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal and is the focus of his autobiographical novel, The Sunflower. Wiesenthal took the soldier’s hand listened to his story.

The patient recounted a horrible act in which he had participated. All of the Jews, mothers with infants and children, young and old, were rounded up and crowded into a large yellow house. The commanding officer ordered the house to be set afire.

When the Jews started running from the burning building and jumping out windows, the commander ordered the troops to fire. After telling the story, the patient asked Wiesenthal if he would forgive him for his role in the massacre.

Ultimately, young Wiesenthal walks away in silence. He can’t forgive the man. But his own soul is scorched with the agony of his decision to walk away. Liberated from the camps, Wiesenthal seeks out the dead soldier’s mother to ease his mind. He finds a broken woman, left with nothing but the good memory of her son.

Wiesenthal decided not to tell her of her son’s confessed atrocities, his silence brings him peace of mind. He couldn’t forgive the soldier for the murder of others; he can spare an old woman suffering.

WHO HAS THE RIGHT TO FORGIVE?

Wiesenthal later wrote, “Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is a choice, and only the person who suffers is qualified to forgive” As the years went by, his conscience still haunted him: Did I do the right thing in refusing to forgive the SS soldier? What do you think? Are there some crimes that simply cannot be forgiven?

When Wiesenthal first printed his book, there was a remarkable range of responses. Most Jewish respondents felt that Wiesenthal was right in not forgiving the dying Nazi. How could a mass-murderer be forgiven?

DID KARL FINALLY REPENT?

Did Karl truly repent? Possibly. However, in Karl’s case, we cannot confuse the beginning of a journey with its ending. Only God knows, but it is possible that he took a significant meaningful first step toward some form of redemption . . . The rest of his journey can only continue in the World of Eternity. Therefore, it seems only apropos for the souls of the victims to deal with the souls of their perpetrators on their own terms. But regardless how one views the story, this much is known: Could either young Simon or Karl have ever imagined that their mysterious encounter would challenge the moral sensibilities of countless millions of people across time? I believe there is a profound spiritual significance that is behind this synchronicity-one which ought to give our souls a pause to reflect upon . . .

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JUDAISM AND CHRISTIANITY

Wiesenthal’s book highlighted for me one of the most important distinctions between Judaism and most but not all forms of traditional Christianity.[1] Many Christian thinkers and theologians argued the opposite. Forgiveness should and ought to be unconditional. Just as God is gracious in forgiving sinners, so must we be as well. Not long after 9/11, Pope John Paul II expressed the following prayer: “We pray for the victims today, may they rest in peace, and may God show mercy and forgiveness for the authors of this horrible terror attack . . .”

This position is not altogether new. Shortly after Timothy McVeigh was found guilty of murdering 168 people in the Oklahoma City bombing, a minister invited Americans to forgive him In a second case, Michael Carneil, a freshman at Heath High School in West Paducah, Kentucky, gunned down three students attending a prayer group on campus. A few days later the students erected a banner saying, “We forgive you, Michael.”

A personal note: Within a day of the 9/11 attack, I will never forget the words of the local Presbyterian minister who said, “We should understand and forgive the terrorists for bombing the World Trade Center which left over 3000 dead, since they were only reacting to our foreign policies . . .” Some local ministers said, “We need to love the bombers in the spirit of compassion and forgiveness . . .” There seemed to also be a consensus of religious leaders across the world see who felt that we must solve the problem of evil by listening, offering compassion and bestowing forgiveness. As one might have expected, they were more concerned about the terrorists than they were about their innocent victims.

IMAGINING MAIMONIDES’ RESPONSE TO 9/11

Maimonides in his Laws of Repentance writes that repentance requires five elements: recognition of one’s sins as sins (hakarát ha‑chét’), remorse (charatá), desisting from sin (azivát ha‑chét’), restitution where possible (peira’ón), confession (vidúi) and-only then-forgiveness (michila).

From Maimonides’ criteria, we can deduce several important points: Forgiveness can only be given by the victims; those clamoring for forgiveness were not the ones who were wronged—it is the victims of these terrorist attacks who were wronged. Therefore, it is totally inappropriate for anyone to offer forgiveness on behalf of someone else. Fortunately, not all Christians believe like the Pope, the Protestants and countless New Age cults. Some of the scholars and theologians I will briefly mention offer a very Judaic understanding of forgiveness and even may serve to amplify our understanding of Maimonides’ Laws of Repentance.

One of the great Lutheran heroes of WWII was the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945); he will always be best remembered for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler; in the end, he was hung by the Nazis. Aside from being a great symbol of conscience, he went against the classical Christian understanding of forgiveness and warned all Christians about the dangers of “cheap forgiveness” because it enables evil. Had Bonhoeffer lived to see 9/11, he would have condemned the desire to forgive Al Qaeda terrorists as misguided and morally outrageous.

Bonhoeffer is not the only one thinker to challenge the morally vacuous theology of carte blanche forgiveness. One contemporary Korean Christian theologian, Andrew Park, develops a similar approach. He argues that every broken or shattered relationship requires that the offender heal the shame of the victim; this applies no less if the person is a victim of emotional abuse, sexual victimization, violence, or any number of other ways.

Park argues convincingly that forgiveness is a two-step process; whenever you harm someone in word or deed, you are unleashing anguish and misery to that person, resulting in a scarring of the soul. The offender cannot find healing in his own soul until he takes the necessary steps to heal his victims. Both the Catholic and Protestant Church have done a serious injustice by ignoring the victims, putting the onus on them to find their own way to wholeness and inner peace.

Thus, the person who was once a drug pusher who now commits his life to keeping young kids off the streets, or the father who had in the past neglected his children, now becomes a model father who is truly involved in their lives, or the spouse who cheats, who later becomes an ideal mate and life-partner—all these examples personify the concept of han. Or as the Talmud would say, Yom Kippur has the power to transform sins into good deeds—provided someone truly repents.

I believe that Park’s observation fits perfectly with the Maimonidean paradigm that we have mentioned.

The process of addressing the victim’s pain is what Korean society refers to as han; han is the relational consequence of sin—and shame of their victims. To reconcile yourself with God and with other humans, you must take the steps to heal the pain you have caused.

The bottom line is simple: The evil we see in the world is a sad reflection of the apathy and tolerance we have for evil. Religious leaders have to stop making excuses for the diabolical exploitation of religion. For the most part, Muslim leaders especially, have done a terribly poor job speaking out against the hijacking of their faith; we have a duty to hold their leaders accountable and insist that they take a more active role in condemning the jihadistic theology that inspires young people to commit such acts of violence in the world. Yes, there are some outspoken Muslim leaders who share this sentiment, but they pale when compared to the lunatics that speak in the name of the Islamic faith. The media can play an important role in assisting these men find a broader audience, but the media seems to be only interested in only maintaining the status quo. Continue Reading