Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

• “No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses”-Herman Melville

Father always used to say, “Never say anything or do anything in private that you would be ashamed to do in public.” Dad always was a wise man; a philosopher who was much in the mold of an Eric Hoffer, one of San Francisco’s great heroes. President Obama’s decision to permit domestic consumption of horse meat is alarming to say the least. Many of these animals are old retired race horses, who over the span of their brief lives have developed a profound sentient relationship with their owners. The fact that President Obama did not go public with this announcement is indicative that he knew such a decision would not be appreciated by over 70% of all Americans who oppose using horses for their meat. On the other hand, countries like Japan, Belgium, and France view horse meat as a delicacy and look forward to the exportation of American horse meat. Maybe dog meat is next for consideration.

Obama’s behavior is all the more perplexing —especially since in 2008, Obama pledged, “Federal policy towards animals should respect the dignity of animals and their rightful place as cohabitants of our environment. We should strive to protect animals and their habitats and prevent animal cruelty, exploitation and neglect…. (Excellent! -MLS) I have consistently been a champion of animal-friendly legislation and policy and would continue to be so once elected.” During the campaign Obama co-signed a bill banning horse slaughter in the US and was asked, “Will you support legislation …to institute a permanent ban on horse slaughter and exports of horses for human consumption“? He answered in the affirmative.

This article is not meant to be political in nature, but this writer feels that the President is making a very poor ethical decision—one which he ought to seriously reconsider before the Congressional bill becomes law. As someone who is politically independent, I would be upset regardless who signed the bill!

Jewish tradition has much to say about humanity’s profound relationships with the animal world. In the ancient Perek Shirah, which is a tract dedicated to exploring the spiritual song of Creation which reports that after King David finished writing the book of Psalms, he felt boastful, saying to “The Holy Blessed One and Master of the Universe: Is there any [other] creature You created in Your world that utters more songs and paeans of praise than I? In that instant a frog happened to meet him and said: David, don’t be so boastful. I utter more songs and paeans of praise than you.” This ancient tract seems to imply that animals have some conscious awareness of their Maker.

Our relationships with horses in particular is attested in Jewish texts going back to the first century Jewish philosopher—Philo of Alexandria, who writes:

• As, therefore, when the charioteer has his horses under command and guides the animals with the rein—the chariot is guided wherever he pleases; but if they become stiff, and get the better of the charioteer, he is often dragged out of his road, and sometimes it even happens that the beasts themselves are borne by the impetuosity of their course into a pit, and everything is carried away in a ruinous manner.[1]

According to Philo, there is a remarkable union of consciousness when the skilled charioteer and the mind of his horses merge as it were, into a single being. This is a distinction that is probably more unique with horses than other animals.

Most people who are familiar with Martin Buber’s seminal concept of the “I and Thou” are undoubtedly aware of how God is triangulated in every human relationship. Buber stresses that each person must come to see the Divine Presence that is manifest in all interpersonal relationships.

But can a person have an “I and Thou” relationship with something Other than human? Although ecology as a philosophical discipline was in its infancy for most of Buber’s life, Buber had a great love of nature; for him the “I and Thou” had a profound ecological dimension as well. Ecological themes appear throughout much of Buber’s writings. In his famous, “I and Thou,” Buber tells us a story that most pet owners can easily relate to:

• The eyes of an animal have the capacity of a great language. Independent, without any need of the assistance of sounds and gestures, most eloquent when they rest entirely in their glance; they express the mystery in its natural captivity, that is, in the anxiety of becoming. This state of the mystery is known only to the animal, which alone can open it up to us – for this state can only be opened up and not revealed.”[2]

Cats in particular are interesting. Buber admits that the I and Thou relationship can quickly turn into an I and It relationship rather quickly-a fact that never ceases to amaze cat owners. Cats almost at times seem indifferent to our presence; other times, they seem to peer into the depths of our souls. But one could even have an I and Thou relationship with a tree.

• I can look on (a tree) as a picture: stiff column in a shock of light, or splash of green shot with the delicate blue and silver of the background. I can perceive it as movement: flowing veins on clinging, pressing pith, suck of the roots, breathing of the leaves, ceaseless commerce with earth and air - and the obscure growth itself. I can classify it in a species and study it as a type in its structure and mode of life. I can subdue its actual presence and form so sternly that I recognize it only as an expression of law… I can dissipate it and perpetuate it in number… In all this the tree remains my object, occupies space and time, and has its nature and constitution. It can, however, also come about, if I have both will and grace, that in considering the tree I become bound up in relation to it. The tree is no longer It. I have been seized by the power of exclusiveness.

Buber discovered within the Hasidic tradition a great spirituality that nature can teach us, provided we are attentive. In one of his favorite anecdotes, Buber tells a lovely story about the great Maggid, Dov Baer of Metzitch, who had just died. The students gathered around to talk about the greatness of their master. He writes:

• After the Maggid’s death, his disciples came together and talked about the things he had done. When it was Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s turn, he asked them: “Do you know why our master went to the pond every day at dawn and stayed there for a while before coming home again?” They did not know why. Rabbi Zalman continued: “He was learning the song with which the frogs praise God. It takes a very long time to learn that song.”[4]

Yes, the eyes of an animal express unconditional love—an experience that dog and horse owners can easily attest to. As sentient and intelligent beings, their face commands that we act ethically toward them—as much as is humanly possible. As we have mentioned in other blog postings, animals are not mere automatons as Aristotle, Descartes and modern-day vivisectionists tend to believe. When we name our animals, we enter into a moral relationship. Moral relationships are bilateral in nature. We cannot treat them as though they are mere commodities; their eyes speak volumes about their love and trust of their owners. Buber’s love of horses helped provide him with the profound insights that would later from expression in his ethical theology of the “I and Thou.”

• When I was eleven years of age, spending the summer on my grandparents’ estate, I used, as often as I could do it unobserved, to steal into the stable and gently stroke the neck of my darling, a broad dapplegray horse. It was not a casual delight but a great, certainly friendly, but also deeply stirring happening. If I am to explain it now, beginning from the still very fresh memory of my hand, I must say that what I experienced in touch with the animal was the Other, the immense otherness of the Other, which, however, did not remain strange like the otherness of the ox and the ram, but rather let me draw near and touch it.

• When I stroked the mighty mane, sometimes marvelously smooth-combed, at other times just as astonishingly wild, and felt the life beneath my hand, it was as though the element of vitality itself bordered on my skin, something that was not I, was certainly not akin to me, palpably the other, not just another, really the Other itself; and yet it let me approach, confided itself to me, placed itself elementally in the relation of Thou and Thou with me. The horse, even when I had not begun by pouring oats for him into the manger, very gently raised his massive head, ears flicking, then snorted quietly, as a conspirator gives a signal meant to be recognizable only by his fellow-conspirator; and I was approved. But once—I do not know what came over the child, at any rate it was childlike enough—it struck me about the stroking, what fun it gave me, and suddenly I became conscious of my hand. The game went on as before, but something changed, it was no longer the same thing. And the next day, after giving him a rich feed, when I stroked my friend’s head he did not raise his head. A few years later, when I thought back to the incident, I no longer supposed that the animal had noticed my defection. But at the time I considered myself judged.[5]

In short, each of us has a responsibility to act with compassion toward all animals, but especially the higher animals that have long enjoyed the companionship of human beings. Continue Reading

For gay and lesbian Christians and Jews, the phraseology is a source of suffering, discomfort and embarrassment. For the clergy, the passages regarding the homosexual are among the most disturbing to our modern ethical sensibilities. Mark Twain once quipped, “It ain’t those parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand. …” Here is the verse: You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination (Lev. 18:22). Well, would this verse qualify?

Traditionally, most biblical translations render tôʿēbâ as “abomination.”

According to Etymology Online, the noun “abomination” is a term that means: “feeling of disgust, hatred, loathing,” from O.Fr. abomination,which in turn derives from the Latin word abominationem (nom. abominatio) “abomination,” from abominatus, pp. of abominari “shun as an ill omen,” from ab- “off, away from” + omin-, stem of omen. Its meaning was intensified by the folk etymology derivation from L. ab homine “away from man,” hence rendering it as, “beastly.”

Thus, abomination is synonymous with hatred, corruption, and depravity. The Latin root corresponds to the Hebrew term tôʿēbâ derives from the Hebrew verb tʿb “to hate” or “abhor,” but the original biblical text of Lev. 18:22 does not explain why homosexuality is so abhorrent.

Aside from its obvious association with homosexuality, tôʿēbâ also has a distinctly religious and idolatrous connotation as in Isa. 44:19, or even for a specific pagan deity, as in 2 Kgs. 23:13 where Milcom is called “the abomination of the Ammonites.” Until recently, it was supposed that homosexual behavior was associated with cultic prostitution. [1]

The distinguished British biblical scholar Gordon Wenham explains:

• Since male prostitutes were sometimes castrated and often took part in ceremonies flaunting their effeminacy, it may well be that aversion to homosexuality partially explains the ban on castrated men participating in the public assembly, or on wearing women’s clothes. The latter is described as ‘an abomination to the LORD’ (Deut. 23:1; 22:5). It could well be that the law is banning anything suggestive of homosexual practice . . . [2]

However, most modern biblical scholars doubt whether there cultic male prostitutes existed in ancient Israel. Despite the reticence of the modern scholars, given the carnivalesque quality of the ancient fertility rites, homosexual prostitutes most likely played a role alongside with the female prostitutes of antiquity. It seems doubtful their male counterparts would have been excluded.

If the Mesopotamian legal codes are of any relevance to the passage in Lev. 18:22, we may be able to decipher the Torah’s real meaning that the ban against homosexuality may well be referring to (a) father and son incest (as mentioned in the Hittite codes) (b) homosexual rape (as spelled out in the Middle Assyrian Codes), (c) male pedophilia, (d) castrating a male for sexual exploitation.

Bear in mind that ancient Israel was the only civilization to have formulated such a proscription against homosexuality. Indeed, the Talmud in BT Sanhedrin 54b interprets the word “zachor” to also include male child. The word “zachor” in the Bible frequently means “male child.” [3]

If this is indeed the real meaning of the text (and let me remind you that we have no way of knowing for sure), then it is possible that the prohibition was not directed at monogamous male relations, which was not the concern of the biblical writer, but was aimed at male incest, pedophilia, and homosexual rape, i.e., anyone who sexually preys upon males of any age. In times of war, it was not unusual to rape male captives. [4] The sexual humiliation of a male living in a testosterone-driven society probably filled the biblical writers with complete revulsion. The story of Sodom (Gen. 19:1-11) supports this exposition as well. The ancients may have feared that the moral fabric of society might unravel should males prey upon other males.

According to one rabbinic legend, Ham was guilty because he sodomized his own father while King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon was believed to have sodomized captive kings. Using other biblical texts as a type of intrabiblical commentary provides the rational behind the biblical prohibition of homosexuality and why it is called, “an abomination.”

Lastly, the one likely exposition we have not considered is the possibility that the Torah forbids homosexuality because it goes against the biblical imperative for human beings should ‘be fruitful and multiply’ and does not fit in the scheme of Creation as defined in Genesis 1 and 2. As Wenham notes, “God did not create a male partner for Adam, but only a female counterpart, with whom they could together become ‘one flesh.’ This would also explain why Paul in the Christian tradition regarded homosexuality as being, ‘contrary to nature’ (Rom 1:26), and this would explain why the Bible refers to it as an “abomination.”

While there is some merit to Wenham’s statement, I believe the biblical designation of tôʿēbâ as “abomination” is because the idea of someone sexually exploiting males–of any age–horrified the ancient Israelite psyche, just as it still does even today. As mentioned above, in modern society, the idea of men being raped still strikes a primal fear in the hearts of men because it is so rare in society, except among prison populations.

It would seem that the biblical writers did not concern themselves with the reality of a loving and monogamous homosexual relationship.

It is worth noting that some of the best known Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox) scholars are refraining from using such caustic biblical language to define homosexuals.[5] These devout communities are making a serious effort to be more welcoming and compassionate; their rabbis have criticized parents for shunning their gay children from participating in the family.

These positive changes have resulted in fewer evictions, and more young people are no longer finding themselves treated like family rejects. The suicide rates have also gone down. However, despite these significant changes for the better, the rabbinic communities still regard the homosexual as someone who is psychologically “sick,” and urge them to undergo discredited “therapies” intended to bring them back to “normalcy.”

For the gay community, the process of change is certainly not moving fast enough; but again, religious communities tend to change more slowly. The rabbis are still tethered to an archaic world view that maintains people are not born “gay.” This writer is faintly optimistic that in time, a more benign attitude promoting complete acceptance will occur sooner or later. Continue Reading

People often ask: “Was David gay?” The question is simple, but the answer is unfortunately complex.

Before examining this question, I wish to make some preliminary remarks about the nature of hermeneutic interpretation as an enterprise of human thought. The comments below are selected from my new book, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).” The issues we shall soon examine have great relevance for how we approach any biblical passage. In the interest of brevity, I have left out some of the longer footnotes so we can focus primarily on the text that is before us.

• With all the literature that has been written on Genesis, this commentary was written utilizing two fundamental interpretive sets of guidelines: exegesis and eisegesis.[1] Exegesis involves a process by which one draws out a meaning or meanings from a text. In contrast to exegesis, the process of eisegesis is a way of reading or imposing a pre-existing interpretation onto the text, especially whenever it supports a predetermined position,[2] custom, or conclusion.[3] To borrow a famous analogy from R. Yaakob Kranz[4] (1741-1804), the process of eisegesis is analogous to a person shooting a bull’s-eye. One way involves using skill to hit the center of the target. The other method involves shooting at a random target and then painting concentric circles around wherever the arrow lands. For this reason, eisegetes are often criticized because they sacrifice objectivity for the sake of subjectivity. One could argue that if there is such a thing as an “objective truth” and an objective standard of right and wrong given by the Tanakh, then eisegesis and subjectivism must be marginalized in favor of exegesis.

• Although eisegesis may seem arbitrary because of its inherent subjectivity, it does permit readers to situate themselves within the text, allowing for certain moral and practical lessons to be deduced and applied. No sermon would ever have the power to inspire a faith community if it did not convey a strong eisegetic message. Eisegesis allows for the text to remain practical and relevant.[5] If the Torah is truly as its name implies—a book of spiritual “instruction”—then its message must transcend the original context of its historicity to reveal a pathway for readers of every generation to experience the Divine. Unlike an exegetical approach, eisegesis allows the text to speak to new situations, thus acknowledging that the sacred text is polyvalent. It behooves a modern interpreter to integrate both exegetic and eisegetic approaches. Any new conceptual applications ought to find its grounding in an exegetical way within the text, i.e., its historical context, language and cultural background, rabbinic models of interpretation, and so on. Albeit such a concept may not be explicitly expressed, nevertheless, its meaning is certainly intimated by the text’s more subtle nuances.

• One might well argue that the distinction between these two categories is not as great as it may seem, since texts are inevitably read in the light of the reader’s beliefs system. Indeed all exegesis involves a certain degree of eisegesis, then paradoxically—exegesis is eisegesis . . . [6]

Thus far, we have tried to demonstrate the importance of reading the Scriptures through our unique interpretive lenses. The dialogical relationship each of us has with the Bible will yield different results and will produce a different kind of interpretive understanding of a text. In simple terms, we all want someone in the Bible we can identify with.

Our original question about David and Jonathan’s love has intrigued me ever since I taught the book of Samuel in the yeshiva. There is a famous quote from Oscar Wilde, who describes David’s love for Jonathan as, “the love that dare not speak its name.” This phrase comes actually from Lord Alfred Douglas in his poem, “Two Loaves.”

To begin with, it is impossible for a contemporary reader to logically answer this question. The reader inevitably cannot be completely impartial because each individual approaches a text with a certain bias and predisposition to begin with. Those individuals who view homosexuality as an “abomination,” would never think to impute such behavior to someone as beloved as David. Gay theologians and interpreters approach the same biblical text with a special “hermeneutic of suspicion.” For them, there is a possible hidden message that must be extracted from the biblical narratives.

Some scriptural support for this theory derives from a number of passages pertaining to David’s great love of Jonathan. Part of this theory is also based on the idea that soldiers in times of war often developed erotic love for one another, which was especially the case in Greek society, where homosexual love was openly accepted. However in ancient Israel, homosexual love was never something Israelites would openly talk about because of the traditional stigmas associated with homosexuality. In light of this, the biblical narrators were careful to suppress the details of their relationship.

Given what we now understand about psychology, there seems to be a credible case for suggesting that David may have been bisexual in nature.

Consider the verses in question:

I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;

greatly beloved were you to me;

your love to me was wonderful,

surpassing the love of women.

2 Sam. 1:26

Centuries before the term “homosexuality” even existed in the ancient lexicons of Israel, the phrase “surpassing the love of women,” could easily be understood euphemistically as a love between men. Another biblical passage might also be a source for this conjecture:

• Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. ⁴ Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt (1 Sam. 18:3-4).

Saul’s violent behavior toward his son Jonathan is reminiscent of how “straight” fathers react when they discover that their sons are “gay.” When I was working on my doctorate, many of the gay participants in our collegiate group related similar experiences once they told their fathers that they were homosexual. After Saul learns that Jonathan acquiesced to David’s request to excuse himself from the New Moon meal, Saul explodes with anger:

• Then Saul’s anger was kindled against Jonathan. He said to him, “You son of a perverse, rebellious woman! Do I not know that you have chosen the son of Jesse to your own shame, and to the shame of your mother’s nakedness? ³¹ For as long as the son of Jesse lives upon the earth, neither you nor your kingdom shall be established. Now send and bring him to me, for he shall surely die.” (1 Samuel 20:30-31).

The perspective of the gay theologians and other advocates of this position can yield this type of understanding, but the reader should be aware that eisegetical readings offer merely one way of looking at the text. Evangelical and Orthodox approaches have every right to view the text differently—ultimately, the interpretive process says more about us than it does about the scriptural text. Continue Reading