Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

The Letter of James is arguably one of the most Jewish sounding works of the NT.

Martin Luther’s disdain for James is especially significant. Luther writes in his Preface to the NT that James is an “epistle of straw”[1] because the author rejected the Pauline doctrine of “justification by faith” that is at the heart of Pauline Christianity.[2] By referring to James’ value as “straw,” Luther wished to convey the idea that the Letter of James has no value to a Christian. Luther even argued for its removal from the NT canon because of its “Judaic” overtones.

Traditional Judaism has long stressed that actions speak louder than platitudes about faith. In fact, a person’s faith even says much about that person’s true beliefs and values. That being said, in deference to Luther, Christian scholars have been historically debating about the inclusion of James into the NT canon for nearly 1700 years!

Except for the opening line of James–an obvious interpolation–the rest of James focuses good old fashion Jewish ethics. To the chagrin of Luther, there is no mention about Pauline Christianity anywhere in the book. I suspect this book may have been a favorite among the ancient Jewish-Christian sect known as the Ebionites (the “poor ones”) who regarded Paul the Apostle as a heretic.

The book of James reads much the famous rabbinical work, Pirke Avoth (the “Ethics of the Fathers” which is a short tractate of wisdom aphorisms derived from rabbinical tradition).

Here are some of my favorite passages in James:

• Anyone who listens to the Word, but takes no action is like someone who looks at his own features in a mirror—once he has seen what he looks like, he promptly forgets what he looked like. But the one who peers into the perfect law of freedom and perseveres, and is not a hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, such a one shall be blessed by what he does (NT James 1: 23-25).

James writes in the second chapter:

• So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead. Indeed someone might say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Demonstrate your faith to me without works, and I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works. You believe that God is one. You do well. Even the Devil believes that and trembles. Do you want proof, you ignoramus, that faith without works is useless?

^{Commentary: Who do you think is the “ignoramus” James is referring to? Obviously he is speaking about anyone who would be foolish enough to follow Paul’s “justification by faith” doctrine that subsequent Christianity accepted, hook, line and sinker. James appears to have held a position similar to the Ebionites, who categorically rejected Paul’s doctrine of the Virgin Birth, as well as his metaphysical belief in the “divinity” of Jesus. The Ebionites regarded the Hebrew Gospel of Matthew as the only true record of Jesus’ teachings, and they also followed all the traditions and laws of traditional Judaism. Most important, the Ebionites rejected the supersessionist claim that Christianity “replaced Judaism,” thereby completely eliminating the Torah’s distinction between Gentile and Jew.}

Here’s another great passage:

• Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar?You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by the works. Thus the scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,” and he was called “the friend of God.” See how a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. And in the same way, was not Rahab the harlot also justified by works when she welcomed the messengers and sent them out by a different route?For just as a body without a spirit is dead; so too, is faith without works also dead” (NT James 2:17-26).

^{Commentary: I would argue Abraham shows more faith by not sacrificing his son! Moreover, this position is more consistent with ethos of James.}

The relationship between Paul and James is very interesting. The NT bears witness to several meetings that took place between these two men. Paul meets James for the first time in Jerusalem (Gal. 1:18-24). What exactly took place, we only know from Paul’s perspective, but it is clear that James and Paul had some serious differences between the two. One suspects that James found many of Paul’s new ideas about Jesus strange and perhaps even outlandish.

They meet again according to Gal. 2:11-14, and it appears that James did not feel like interfering with Paul’s outreach to the Gentile community. Like a good Jew, James was concerned with the survival of Judaism. Interestingly, Paul acknowledges that James had a vision of Jesus (1 Corinthians 15:3), but intimates that his revelation was qualitatively superior to that of James and the other original Apostles.

People who read the Bible-whether it be the Tanakh or the NT-tend to eliminate the idea that dialectical and emotional tension plays a significant part of the drama. We tend to read the texts with reverential silence; as readers we fail to sense or add tonality to the words we are reading. This point is especially true when reading either the Talmud or the autobiographical story of Paul. If you read in between the lines, and adopt a “hermeneutic of suspicion,” one may gather from the not-so-humble disclosure of Paul, that there was definitely some bad blood between him and James. I suspect James felt glad that Paul decided to go after the Gentiles and leave the Jewish community alone! Anyone reading Paul’s writings can easily see that James’s role in early Christianity has been downplayed in the tradition(s), and Paul’s version of Christianity-due to his immensely superior marketing skills-won the day.

For those Christian readers who truly admire Paul, I must apologize, but James strikes this reader as the more likeable of the two. When you read James, it is clear he is attacking Paul and the “new” metaphysical Christ that he has invented. James must have felt that his brother Jesus would have been horrified at the way Paul was distorting his ethical message. In the words of James, we discover a man who felt he had a responsibility to clarify what his brother Jesus really taught. It is amazing the designers of the Christian canon decided to keep this subversive little book, because James undermines the message of Paul.

Thoughts on Martin Luther and James . . .

How are we to understand Martin Luther’s negative attitude about James? Despite Luther’s disdain for James, in some ways, Luther would have made James quite proud of him—at least in the beginning of his career. Think back . . . Wasn’t it Luther who opposed the medieval practice of purchasing credit (the first “Buy now, sin later . . .” campaign in Christian history) with God through indulgences and opposed it with his cry of “faith alone”?

Yep, he sure did! Why did he so radically change? Maybe because the book of James reminded him too much of Judaism. Friends, that is one very important reason why Jews ought to study James!

Like Mohammed before him who befriended the Jews only to turn his back against the Jews, Luther also turned his back against the Jews after failing to convert them to his new faith. Just take a took at Mohammed’s ruthless jihad on the Jews of Mecca and Medina.

Although Luther wasn’t as violent as Mohammed, he nevertheless knew how to fan the fire of religious bigotry just like Mohammed. Anti-Semites always seem to follow the same playbook; some are more benign, while others are just plain malignant.

Luther made some Nazi-esque comments about the Jews that goes completely against the ethics that is spelled out in James. In 1543, Luther’s animus probably reached its zenith in a scathing pamphlet, Concerning the Jews and Their Lies, in which he urged the authorities to act against Jews with the utmost severity.

For example:

• Set fire to their synagogues or schools,” Martin Luther recommended in On the Jews and Their Lies. Jewish houses should “be razed and destroyed,” and Jewish “prayer books and Talmudic writings, in which such idolatry, lies, cursing, and blasphemy are taught, should be taken from them.” In addition, “their rabbis should be forbidden to teach on pain of loss of life and limb.” Still, this wasn’t enough.

Luther also urged that “safe-conduct on the highways be abolished completely for the Jews,” and that “all cash and treasure of silver and gold be taken from them.” What Jews could do was to have “a flail, an ax, a hoe, a spade” put into their hands so “young, strong Jews and Jewesses” could “earn their bread in the sweat of their brow.”

Is it any wonder why Luther has often been called, “one of the Church Fathers of anti-Semitism”? On November 9–10, 1938, the Nazis decided to actualize Luther’s hatred of the Jew by honoring his memory with Kristallnacht.

You know, the Christian world could have created a much better world by following James’ practical ethics that triumphs good deeds over faith. Jewish tradition would invert Luther’s remarks about James: any faith that is without good deeds, ethics, and nobility of action is about as valuable as an “epistle of straw.”

In Jewish tradition, we find a similar attitude that parallels James’ theology of action.

• R. Ḥanina b. Dosa said, “Every one whose fear of sin precedes his wisdom, his wisdom endures; and every one whose wisdom precedes his fear of sin, his wisdom does not endure.” He also said, “Every one whose deeds are more than his wisdom, his wisdom endures. And every one whose wisdom is more than his deeds, his wisdom does not endure.”[3]

Simply put: Actions will always speak louder than the platitudes of faith.

And now you know, the rest of the story. Continue Reading

This selection is from Vol 2 of my new commentary on Genesis, “Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Vol 2. Genesis 4-11), which hopefully (!) will be released sometime in 2012.

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6:2 וַיִּרְאוּ בְנֵי־הָאֱלֹהִים – the sons of God saw—The expression בְנֵי־הָאֱלֹהִים (běnê hā’ělōhîm), the “sons of God” (more precisely, “sons of the gods”), does not refer to the actual progeny of God, but reflects the common Semitic use of “son,” בֵּן (bēn), to signify members of the divine household (i.e., a collectivity of gods) or God’s ministers, more particularly to the lowest orders among them (Cassuto).[1] “Sons of the gods,” then, designates beings belonging to the heavenly or divine sphere. A.B. Davidson defines the difference as follows:

The angels are not called “sons of God” as if they actually derived their nature from Him as a child from its father; nor in a less exact way, because though created they have received a nature similar to God’s being, being spirits; nor yet as if on account of their steadfast holiness they had been adopted into the family of God. These ideas are not found here. The name Elohim is a name given directly to angels in contrast with men…the name is given to God and angels in common; He is Elohim pre-eminently, they are Elohim in an inferior sense.^[2]

Following this ancient tradition, the njps translates this expression as “divine beings” who left their spiritual position in the heavenly realm and assumed mortal form in the days leading to the Flood; hence they became known as “fallen angels.”^[3] It was the union between the good and evil forces that angered God enough to want to destroy the world.^[4] Hertz, in his commentary, criticized those scholars who attributed more of a mythological dimension to this story. He argued that such a view must be regarded as the product of the Hellenistic Jewish imagination, but Hertz’s assessment seems overly apologetic and inaccurate. Aside from the ancient Hellenistic Jewish sources, there are numerous Midrashic accounts,^[5] led even by Rashi himself, who maintained that the בְנֵי־הָאֱלֹהִים (běnê hā’ělōhîm) were indeed angels who cohabited with mortal women. Interestingly enough, the njps follows the same ancient Jewish tradition which translated this verse to mean “the divine beings saw how beautiful the daughters of men were and took wives from among those that pleased them.”

Demythologizing the Text

Exegetes who generally opt to demythologize the biblical text interpret the fall of the Nephilim in much more terrestrial terms. These scholars reject the “fallen angels” rendering for the following reasons:

• If the angels were the guilty parties, why should God punish humankind? Surely the angels should bear the onus of the blame, and not nascent humanity.^[6]

• The Torah is clear that what led to the disaster of the Flood was the senseless violence perpetrated by men (cf. vv. 3, 5–7), and not angels.

• If they were indeed angels, why didn’t the Torah refer to them as מַלְאֲכֵי אֱלֹהִים (mal’ăkê ’ělōhîm = “angels of God”)?

• The Torah has, on other occasions, systematically opposed mythology; therefore, how could it use a narrative that is associated with a mythological legend?

For these reasons, most traditional rabbinic exegetes suggest that the בְנֵי־הָאֱלֹהִים. (běnê hā’ělōhîm) were the sons of princes and judges, powerful men who wielded authority over the masses. Instead of defending the weak and oppressed, these men were responsible for committing acts of violence against the innocent. Early interpretive traditions reflecting this non-mythic view of the peshat can be found in Targum Onkelos, who renders the text as בְנֵי רַברְבַיָא (běnê rabrebaya = “sons of lords”) and גִבְּרַיָא (gibbārayā’) signifying either “giants” or “mighty ones.” Targum Neofiti renders the verse as: “these are the warriors that were there from the beginning of the world, warriors of wondrous renown.” (For a further discussion, see Excursus 22 at the end of chapter 7). Continue Reading

For many decades, modern biblical scholars have relied heavily on the celebrated Documentary Hypothesis (DH) in their expositions of biblical themes. Although the DH has enjoyed considerable success and popularity, over the last century several new approaches have developed, including one new approach I am introducing, which I call, “Theological Criticism.”

The term “criticism” frequently carries some negative connotations in the way it is used in contemporary society—especially when it is associated with the adjective “biblical.” The critic is typically regarded as someone who makes or reserves judgment upon something or someone, who has failed to live up to certain expectations. “Criticism” is frequently synonymous with condemnation or judgment. Yet, there is another kind of criticism, which in particular connotes: the systematic activity of analyzing, verifying, classifying, interpreting, or evaluating literary or other artistic works. Such a working definition is especially apt here. Here are some new genres of biblical criticism that have developed in the last hundred or more years:

A. Form Criticism: At the turn of the 20^th century, the German Bible scholar Hermann Gunkel began to ask whether the approach of the Brothers Grimm—concerning the origin of German folktales originating from oral traditions—might not also be applicable to understanding the biblical narratives as well. Gunkel believes that the diversity and the discrepancies of the Bible may have been more the result of different oral traditions which had evolved over the centuries, possibly containing an “historical echo” that was essentially embellished over time, thus preventing these stories from becoming a reliable source for determining a historical record.[1] Tales about Creation and the lives of the patriarchs were passed down from generation to generation, becoming the building blocks of an oral society before they finally crystallized into a literary form. Form criticism has become one of the most valuable tools for the reconstruction of the pre-literary tradition.

Gunkel is convinced that the narratives behind the Scriptures are more the result of a community’s collective memory than they are by the skilled authors who penned them. In the final analysis, claims Gunkel, the transmissions of these tales depended upon the faith community to maintain and pass on. One way of understanding the Bible, is to break the text down into a series of pericopes, which are in turn analyzed and categorized by genres (e.g., prose, verse, letters, apodictic laws, laws, court records, warrior hymns, poems of lament, and so on). The form critic then theorizes on the pericope’s cultural context in which the biblical text was composed.[2]

B. Traditional Criticism: This methodology examines the oral and written traditions, as well as other integral forces that contribute to the Bible’s present construction, and attempts to trace the various evolutionary stages through which these traditions were handed down—as well as the forms that resulted at these various stages—before reaching the people who committed them to writing. For example, the patriarchal stories may have been derived from a variety of different locations before they were finally collected, edited, and merged together.

C. Redactional Criticism: The early 20^th century Judaic scholar, Franz Rosenzweig, once quipped that “R” ought to be rendered Rabbenu (in Hebrew, “our Master”), since it is to the credit of the Redactor to whom we owe the present form of Scriptures that we now possess. Orthodox Jews traditionally identify this role as belonging to Moshe (Moses) Rabbenu. Since the end of WWII, redactional criticism places considerable emphasis on how the final form of the Scriptures assumes shape; even more so than some of the other critical approaches, it also focuses on the nature of authorial intent. In addition, redactional criticism tries to understand the social and religious forces that may have given final assemblage to the sacred text. Sometimes strands of older traditions (written or oral) were collected in order to address new situations that had risen in the life of the nation. There is no unanimity as to whether the final redaction is the product of a long series of redactions, or whether it was the result of a single redaction. Talmudic tradition, as indicated earlier, sees the role of Ezra and his school as pivotal here (see Excursus 2b).

D. Literary Criticism: One of the condemnations often aimed at the heart of source criticism is the heavy-handed and reductionist manner in which the Bible is treated. Like redactional criticism, literary criticism primarily concerns itself with the text in its entirety; i.e., the text constitutes a “world” in its own right independent of what its authors may have originally intended. Subsequently, literary criticism attempts to analyze biblical texts in much the same ways other great works of literature are studied and interpreted. One of its best representatives is Erich Auerbach, who is among the first scholars to compare and contrast Homer’s Odysseus with the biblical story of the Akedah—”The Binding of Isaac” (See the earlier section “Where Genesis and Homer differ”). Northrop Frye is another example of a literary scholar who interprets the Bible in terms of its cultural impact upon Western imagination as revealed in both art and literature. In his Great Code, for example, Frye demonstrates the liberating vision of how the Bible redeems the human condition, offering the possibility of hope and freedom for all humankind. Indeed, the casting off of tyranny and human exploitation is one of the Bible’s lasting legacies to the modern era and is one of the theological cornerstones of American values.

Antecedents of literary criticism are indeed quite ancient. The Pseudepigraphal writings may have been among the first proto-Midrashic efforts to explain the Bible in a more popular idiom; R. Ishmael himself stresses repeatedly how “the Torah speaks in the language of humankind.”[3] Early Christian writers occasionally compared the philosophical genres of Greek and Latin literature with the various biblical narratives (e.g., Origen’s treatment of Lot and his daughters[4]). Oftentimes, literary criticism can also draw analogies between the Bible and the literary world of Mesopotamia and its neighbors. Several scholars use a literary approach when comparing the covenantal imagery and language of Deuteronomy with the language found in the ANE documents known as the suzerain treaties.[5] Umberto Cassuto, Peter Craigie, Cyrus Gordon, Michael Fishbane and others have demonstrated numerous similarities when comparing Ugaritic poetry and the Bible in terms of their expressions, metaphors, parallelisms and meter, the reflective way in which they were written, the expressive manner in which they might have been read, and so on.

E. Canonical Criticism: Canonical criticism, a method which is eisegetical in nature, aims to situate the world of the reader into the pages of the sacred text. This approach has been championed largely by Brevard Childs, and more than other earlier methodologies, attempts to examine the biblical text from a theological and conceptual perspective—specifically from within the context of the faith community that enshrines its words. In one well-known quote, Childs exclaims, “Israel defined itself in terms of a book! The canon formed the decisive Sitz im Leben (cultural context) for the Jewish community’s life, thus blurring the sociological evidences most sought after by the modern historian.”[6] Since its significance is contingent upon the faith community, the meaning attached to the sacred words has always been fluid. More to the point, the Tanakh is not just an historical recollection of the past—it contains a message for the present day social situation. Every generation has utilized the Tanakh to address the issues of its day. As always, the history of the community and its interaction with the biblical text mediate the meaning of the Tanakh today.

From this writer’s perspective, canonical criticism enjoys a decisive advantage over source criticism, for the goal is to expound upon the Scriptures in ways that are truly valid and contemporary. However, Childs concedes that this interpretive technique does not claim to be a substitute for historical-critical methods; rather, the aim is to enhance our appreciation of the text, enabling us to relate to it within a modern theological and philosophical context.

F. Narrative Criticism: Unlike the reductionistic approaches of the source critics, narrative criticism is more concerned with how the text works—by interpreting them as stories. Plot and characterization are considered more important than whether the text is historically reliable or not. In this pre-critical method, the biblical personalities’ life experiences become the locus through which the reader encounters the Divine. Biblical narratives are essentially rooted in the existential drama of human life. Special attention is given to the elements in the text which have to do with plot, characterization and point of view. This methodology claims that the biblical stories serve as a mirror of the “real” world; as such, the narrative world has the potential to transform the inner life of its readers. To its credit, narrative analysis refuses to allow the text to become theologically and historically sterile.

G. Structuralism: Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (1857-1913) argues that language echoes certain universal patterns or structures of thought that condition the way we perceive the world and its pre-existing organizational structures. Structuralism aims to discover the interrelationships existing between the elements within a text (e.g., rhetoric, poetic devices, phonemes[7], cultural and linguistic expression) and the anthropological realities and deep structures that circumscribe these universal elements (e.g., its mythic beliefs)—all of which define and govern societal consciousness.[8]

Claude Lévi-Strauss is recognized for establishing structuralism in his study of anthropology, theorizing that all languages share a mental structure, which organize the great spectrum of human experience in terms of binary oppositions (e.g., light—dark, good—evil, life—death, male—female, sacred—profane, and so on). Moreover, these “deep structures” of consciousness exist in all cultures around the world and determine perceptions of reality. One might note that Lévi-Strauss’s exposition of structuralism bears a striking similarity to C. G. Jung’s theory of the archetype (which could ultimately be traced back to Plato’s doctrine of the eternal forms) that permeate human consciousness and are present in every place and every epoch of history.[9] The same may also be said of Mircea Eliade and Joseph Campbell’s approaches. Each of these thinkers explores the archetypal motifs that are present in all religions, mythologies, legends, art forms, social institutions, dreams, and fairy tales; their language is always metaphorical in nature. In addition, these structures of primitive thought remain embedded and viable in our conscious minds. Jung recalls:

For years I have been observing and investigating the products of the unconscious in the widest sense of the word, namely dreams, fantasies, visions, and delusions of the insane. I have not been able to avoid recognizing certain regularities, that is, types. There are types of situations and types of figures that repeat themselves frequently and have a corresponding meaning. I therefore employ the term “motif” to designate these repetitions. Thus there are not only typical dreams but typical motifs in dreams. . . . [These] can be arranged under a series of archetypes, the chief of them being . . . the shadow, the wise old man, the child (including the child hero), the mother (“Primordial Mother” and “Earth Mother”) as a supraordinate personality (“daemonic” because supraordinate), and her counterpart the maiden, and lastly the anima in man and the animus in woman.[10]

Myths especially disclose these deep structures of thought existing within the human mind. Although such stories will vary from culture to culture, they all share a mutual purpose: mediating between different patterns of social organization and representing meaningful ways of interpreting the world. By examining and comparing these ancient mythical structures and their impact upon present-day society, the reader is better able to grasp and understand how the myth’s deeper structures possess a quality transcending time and circumstances, thus expressing a symbolic and timeless meaning that reveals the paradoxes existing at the heart of human societies.

As an alternative to finding meaning inherent in words or thoughts per se, structuralists examine the ways human beings have traditionally shaped their thoughts and expressions. In terms of biblical studies, structuralism is concerned with the received text in its present form; authorial intention and historical context are not necessarily the determiner of meaning, rather, meaning is defined by codes that are derived from the unconscious limitations of linguistic convention. Jacques Lacan applies many of the principles of structuralism to the field of psychoanalysis, as one Jungian scholar notes:

• Lacan went beyond the proposition that the unconscious is a structure that lies beneath the conscious world; the unconscious itself is structured, like a language. This alone would suggest parallels with Jung, and Lacan is said to have tried to meet him. Lacan divides the phenomena with which psychoanalysis deals into three “orders”: (1) the Symbolic, which structures the unconscious by a fundamental and universal set of laws; (2) the Imaginary, which approximates to psychological reality, inner world processes (such as fantasy, projection, and introjection), attitudes and images derived from, but not the equivalent of, external life. This is considered by Lacan to be our means of coping with the pain of separation (or rupture, as he calls it), the rupture of birth, of weaning, of growing up; (3) the Real, corresponding not only to external reality but also to what might be called the mystery of reality . . .[11]

In an effort to define the common psychological thread that unites various biblical texts, as well as to compare these with similar archetypical motifs expressed in other cultures, several structural ideas are utilized throughout this work. This approach will prove quite useful in deciphering the mythic content of Genesis 1-3. However, as important as the structural approach is, in terms of interpreting the deeper structure of the text, it represents merely just one way of interpreting the Tanakh.

H. Psychological Criticism: This new school of interpretation attempts to understand the psychological thought processes behind the literature, in general, and particularly within the Bible. This approach attempts to examine the relationship between the author and characters’ conscious and unconscious psyches. Various insights gleaned from the writings of Sigmund Freud, Carl G. Jung, Carl Rodgers, Ernest Becker, Joseph Campbell, Abraham Maslow, Erick Fromm, Jacques Lacan, and numerous other psychoanalytical philosophers—when applied to the subtle nuances and textual word-play of the biblical narrative—enhance and aid the process of fleshing out the multi-layered meanings of the stories, and the characters’ complex personalities.

I. Theological Criticism: This neologism best describes the primary methodology utilized in this commentary, the aim of which is to take into account the theological underpinnings of the text as understood by various biblical interpreters and commentators over a span of 2300 years. Such an approach brings into focus the diverse theological, structural, mythical, psychological and metaphysical disciplines that have contributed toward a unique understanding of the biblical text and its spiritual relevance. Both written and spoken words convey symbolic and structural concepts, distinctive meanings, and subtle nuances; thus, a foundational knowledge of the various biblical languages provides valuable insight regarding the thought-processes of ancient Israel.

Similarly, this method of scriptural interpretation and exegetical application draws thought-provoking ideas from such comparative studies as structural criticism, archetypal psychology, ancient history, Semitic mythology, source criticism, comparative linguistics, intratextual biblical thought, traditional theology, psychoanalysis, anthropology, sociology, and postmodern philosophy—most of which are capable of illuminating and enhancing any established time period’s appreciation of a biblical text. In contrast to other critical methods used to examine the Tanakh, theological criticism will not shy away from asking the difficult questions that challenge a faith community to confront, re-examine, and apply new meaning to a continuously evolving theology. This interpretive approach also recognizes the synchronic and diachronic characteristics influencing theological perspectives that ultimately derive from a wider social and cultural context. Continue Reading

Toward the end of the 19^th century, Jack the Ripper became famous for horribly slashing the faces of his many victims. Many American and European murderers have often done the same. When the infamous Nazi Julius Streicher did the same thing to photos of Jewish faces, the world was shocked by his callous disregard for the humanity of his victims. But what else would you expect from a Nazi?

Recently, the human face has come under attack in Israel and in the United States. No, these faces were not attacked by Palestinian terrorists; no, not by murderers, and nor were these faces actually defaced, but they were certainly symbolically removed by Orthodox Haredi/Hassidic Jews, who find the woman’s face pornographic.

Are these rabbis eventually going to promote burkas too?

More and more Haredi Jews are defacing women’s pictures appearing on billboard advertisements, in newspapers and magazines. Evidently, the laws against nudity now apply to the human face—but only a woman’s face.

How strange!

Some Israeli feminists interpret this gesture to mean that woman’s face should not be seen, nor should their voices be heard—in any sphere of modern life, and especially with respect to politics! While this perception is true, there is another aspect to this behavior they are not taking into consideration. Haredi rabbis are doing everything in their power to suppress all visual expressions of the feminine. Gender discrimination has spiked up in all areas of Jewish life in Israel.

When you think about it, so much of our personal identity is very much tied up with our faces. To be without a face, or to be treated as though one has no face—condemns the victim to the most marginal kind of existence. The deliberate effort to deface these pictures of women is a yet another subtle form of murder.

Many years ago, I recall visiting a young woman whose face was destroyed as a result of an explosion that took place in a bar, while she was trying to serve a customer a hot beverage. The loss of her beauty shook her to the core of her being. The inner and outer worlds of the individual are interrelated.

Judaism has much to say about the integrity of the human face. One of the most important Jewish thinkers of the 20^th century was the Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), who perhaps more so than anyone else (with the possible exception of Martin Buber), developed an important piece of his ethical philosophy based on the spiritual and ethical significance of the human face.

According to Levinas, the human face always “commands” a moral response. Even if the other person acts in a manner that is less than desirable, nevertheless I (as an individual) am commanded to still treat the Other with human dignity because that is how I would want to be treated as well.

• The face speaks. It speaks, it is in this that it renders possible and begins all discourse…. The first word of the face is the “Thou shalt not kill.” It is an order. There is a commandment in the appearance of the face, as if a master spoke to me. [1]

The human face—regardless how disfigured it may be—commands that we respect the uniqueness of the human person; this respect for the Other transcends one’s physical attributes. Whether a person looks like Ms. America or Quasimodo, whether a person is a king or a beggar, if we truly believe that God made us in the Divine Image, then, it is only apropos we show our respect toward the Creator by acting respectfully toward all people. Granted, this may not always be easy; in fact, it may be quite difficult but as Levinas argues, there is an asymmetrical aspect to ethics and morality. Just because one person acts rudely doesn’t entitle the recipient to act in kind.

Respecting the human face requires that I operate from a higher sense of values—even if it is not easy or distressing to deal with a difficult person. For Levinas, the human face commands, but does so without words; the human face silently demands that its dignity be respected. The face speaks often without words. I am amazed at how stroke victims (like my father and others I have known) can still express their feelings and sentiments without words ever being said.

Levinas notes further,

• There is first the very uprightness of the face, its upright exposure, without defense. The skin of the face is that which stays most naked, most destitute. It is the most naked, though with a decent nudity…. The face is meaning all by itself…it leads you beyond.[2]

Whenever problem solving, face-to-face encounters have a far better chance of succeeding in ways that email, or telephone conversations can never hope to achieve. Why? Because when two faces encounter one another, there is always the risk of vulnerability. The face exposes our inherent weakness, defenselessness, and insecurities—our mortality. When a poor man asks someone for help, the human face immediately silently says, “Care about me; see who I am; respond to me; do not leave me here in my aloneness and weakness.” Levinas adds:

• The Other manifests itself by the absolute resistance of its defenseless eyes. . . . [i.e., “The other person manifests himself by the absolute resistance of his defenseless eyes.”] . . . The infinite in the face . . . brings into question my freedom . . .[3]

In a sense the Ultra-Orthodox do rightfully sense something nude about the human face, but all of our faces risk exposure and the possibility of pain when someone denies our inherent God-given uniqueness and identities. By denying the human face of women or gentiles, as some New York Hassidic and their followers are doing, they are denying the mirror that reflects their own humanity in the process. To deny any human being a face, comes perilously close to the kind of Nazi-esque behavior that all decent human beings ought to find repulsive.

• As in water, one face reflects another, so too does the heart of man reflects another.—Proverbs 27:19 Continue Reading