Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

For decades now, thanks to the legacy of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schnersohn, we have heard much about the issue of “Who is a Jew?” Chabad Hasidim along with their Haredi and Sephardic allies have stressed, “giyur k’halacha,” conversion must take place under “Orthodox” standards.

I have often had many debates with Modern Orthodox rabbis over this medieval halachic position, which suffers from a draconian imagination. I warned my colleagues that someday, the religious extremists would turn against the Modern Orthodox as well. Unfortunately, the Modern Orthodox suffered from myopia.

I hate to tell you, “I told you so . . .,” but I told you so.

The issue was never really about “Who is a Jew?” but the real issue was, “Who has the right to define, ‘Who is a Jew?’” However, the Haredi and their Hassidic allies have now refined the question: “Who is a REAL Orthodox rabbi, worthy to perform a Jewish marriage?”

In modern political terms, we may reframe or simplify the question as, “Who is entitled to the mantle of rabbinic power?” If you ask a Haredi rabbi, he’ll tell you, “It’s not a ‘Modern Orthodox’ Rabbi!”

In Israel, the Haredim continue to sow discord and contempt for Halacha as a process and as a spiritual way of life.

The Haredi political party known as “Shas,” decreed that a group of religious Zionist rabbis and educators that performs no-charge Jewish weddings for an estimated 3,000 Israeli couples a will no longer be able to conduct the ceremonies. These generous rabbis have been blocked by Haredi leaders who run the government ministry that controls weddings.

The considerations have nothing to do with Halacha, for the Modern Orthodox adhere to the Halacha much like the Haredi. However, it definitely has everything to do with money; follow the money trail.

Rabbi Moshe Be’eri, Tzohar’s executive director, whose Modern Orthodox rabbis have been barred from performing these marriages observed, “For love of money and to attack Zionism, the Religious Services Ministry is willing to send Jews to get married in Cyprus instead of in accordance with halakha [Jewish law],” said Be’eri. “Every time I pleaded before the rabbinate or the Religious Services Ministry, I felt like someone going before the czar to protect his people, the people of Israel. But this time the czar is someone with a kippa.” Ditto, the Haredi feel the pinch-in their pocketbook.

It isn’t enough that the Haredi have power over the non-Orthodox in Israel, they want power over the Modern Orthodox as well.

People are tired of draconian religion; Israelis want freedom from religion—and it’s not just the non-Orthodox, even the Modern Orthodox want freedom of religion. The corruption seen in the Haredi and Hassidic (all Hassidic groups) in Israel (especially) is so appalling; lawsuits made against wealthy widows by leading Hassidic rabbis in Los Angeles, known for their telethons, casts a negative light on how the Ultra-Orthodox act in the name of religious expediency where the ends just the means—even if that means stealing an inheritance from widows and their families, or from their fellow Orthodox rabbis who just happen to be Modern Orthodox.

By joining with these religious scoundrels, the Modern Orthodox has effectively joined the ranks of their former non-Orthodox adversaries.

With this thought in mind, I will conclude this evening’s blog entry with one of my choice parables from Aesop—a personal favorite, “The Horse, Hunter and Stag.”

• A quarrel had arisen between the Horse and the Stag, so the Horse came to a Hunter to ask his help to take revenge on the Stag. The Hunter agreed, but said: “If you desire to conquer the Stag, you must permit me to place this piece of iron between your jaws, so that I may guide you with these reins, and allow this saddle to be placed upon your back so that I may keep steady upon you as we follow after the enemy.” The Horse agreed to the conditions, and the Hunter soon saddled and bridled him. Then with the aid of the Hunter the Horse soon overcame the Stag, and said to the Hunter: “Now, get off, and remove those things from my mouth and back.” “Not so fast, friend,” said the Hunter. “I have now got you under bit and spur, and prefer to keep you as you are at present.” Continue Reading

When witnessing the re-fetishization of faith, one wonders: What we can we do to bring civility back to faith, and remove its thorn of toxicity? Decades ahead of his time, the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber argued that one of the great spiritual challenges of our time is the process of purging our faith of all imagery that portrays the Divine as either vindictive or abusive.

In his short but insightful autobiographical book, Meetings, Buber describes a meeting he had with a very pious and learned observant Jew. They had a conversation about the biblical story of King Saul and the war of genocide waged against Israel’s ancient enemy, Amalek. After Saul captures King Agag of Amalek, Saul does not kill him. The prophet Samuel becomes enraged at Saul, who places the onus of the blame on the people rather than himself. Perhaps he cannot kill his enemies with such reckless abandon, but Samuel will not hear of it; he personally hacks Agag to death. Afterward Samuel tells Saul to abdicate the throne, but Saul refuses. Buber tells the man sitting opposite him, that as a child, he always found this story horrifying. Buber recounts:

• I told him how already at that time it horrified me to read or to remember how the heathen king went to the prophet with the words on his lips, “Surely the bitterness of death is past,” and was hewn to pieces by him. I said to my partner: “I have never been able to believe that this is a message of God. I do not believe it.” With wrinkled forehead and contracted brows, the man sat opposite me and his glance flamed into my eyes. He remained silent, began to speak, and became silent again. “So?” he broke forth at last, “so? You do not believe it?” “No,” I answered, “I do not believe it.” “So? so?” he repeated almost threateningly. “You do not believe it?” And once again: “No.”
• “What. What”—he thrust the words before him one after the other—”What do you believe then?” “I believe,” without reflecting, “that Samuel has misunderstood God.” And he, again slowly, but more softly than before: “So? You believe that?” and I: “Yes.” Then we were both silent. But now something happened the like of which I have rarely seen before or since in this my long life. The angry countenance opposite me became transformed as if a hand had passed over it soothing it. It lightened, cleared, was now turned toward me bright and clear. “Well,” said the man with a positively gentle tender clarity, “I think so too.” And again we became silent, for a good while.[1]

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