Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Biblical writers regarded the Divine Word as a cosmic force reverberating throughout the created order. According to Psalms 33:6, the Word of God animates the cosmos: בִּדְבַר יְהוָה שָׁמַיִם נַעֲשׂוּ “By the Word of the LORD the heavens were made.” To the Hebraic (as well as the Semitic) imagination, words are powerful—it is the stuff reality is made of. In Biblical Hebrew, among its various nuances, דָּבַר (dabhar) connotes a “thing” (Exod. 35:1); or a “promise” (Deut. 15:6); and a “decree” (Jer. 51:12) or “affair” or “history” (1 Kgs. 14:12).[1] In each of these examples, דָּבַר connotes something substantive and real. Everything that exists in the world is viewed as a manifestation of the Word of God that animates it.

Primal cultures regarded the word as an instrument of power; in fact the power of the word was considered to be the ultimate weapon—a fact that is especially evident in the pericope about King Balak of Moab and Balaam (Num. 22:6ff). In this narrative Balak hires the soothsayer Balaam of Pethor to curse the Israelites who are approaching his land.

Like other ancients, Balaam believes in the power that suffuses the spoken word to change and alter physical reality. With Balaam’s assistance, Balak believes that he can help him avoid certain defeat, and advise him how to defeat the Israelites (Num. 22:6). Similarly, this theme is also present in the beginning of Genesis 12:2-3, where God verbally blesses Abram with the power to convey a blessing or curse at his discretion. Another illustration occurs when Jacob asks for the name of his mysterious assailant; he refuses to grant Jacob that knowledge—since to know the name of an angelic being or deity is to have mastery over it (Gen. 32:30). The word resonates with power and presence . . .

It is tragic that our appreciation of the spoken word pales in comparison to how the ancients enshrined it in their mythologies and cultures. As a result, the word in contemporary society tends to be devalued. There are many practical reasons for this phenomenon. Since the invention of the printing press, the world has become more literate than at any other time of recorded history. Along with the proliferation of literacy, the word has become increasingly more secularized due to advances made by technology. Cell phones, radio/TV, the Internet, and all other forms of electronic digital media and telecommunication devices have inundated civilization with a continuous stream of words—wherever and whenever—twenty-four hours a day.

Spiritual impact stemming from this inundation of verbiage renders the Divine Word fleeting and banal; this may in part help explain why many people find it difficult to hear the Divine Voice in our daily lives. Amidst our busy schedules, and the pressures of everyday existence, it is essential for us to create the space inside our hearts to search our thoughts and examine our potential for spiritual awakening. Oftentimes our thoughts get tangled with false perceptions and other cognitive distortions. To avoid this state, we must bring silence to the mind and senses. The peacefulness of stillness or silence allows for the possibility of spiritual awakening flowing from the higher regions of consciousness.

To discover the mystery of our being, we must sometimes withdraw (a kind of reverse “tsimtsum”; see Excursus 11) from the outer world and create a space for God to enter and embrace our inner world. This is exactly what the prophet Elijah did, who found God in “the stillness of being” (2 Kgs. 2: 1-2, 6-14). In this sacred space, we can safely listen, wonder, question, and dialogue about our place in the cosmos. Continue Reading

The world of Haredi Judaism never ceases to surprise me.

It used to be that the designation “kosher,” designated food that was fit for consumption. Animals had to be slaughtered in a certain way in order to minimize its pain. Then came the designation "glatt" kosher; all of sudden, keeping "kosher" wasn't good enough. Boycotts against ordinary "kosher hotdogs" became routine; kosher business lost much of their income if they refused to pay the extra fee for having their product "glatt" kosher.

Then came "chalav Yisrael," the milk had to be supervised by a rabbi. Often, the Chalav Yisrael milk went sour much more quickly because of poor refrigeration. I know, my good friend who used to deliver the milk, once confessed to me about the guilty he felt over selling an inferior product to the public. Next came the restrictions governing grains (hadash and yashan), despite the fact that even the most pious rabbis tried to discourage this custom because of the financial hardship this would cause the general community. Today's Pharisees are doing everything to make the lives of their followers all the more scrupulous and "frum." However, I have come to adopt a hermeneutic of suspicion. I distrust religious phoniness.

Now, the rabbis from the “Purity of the Camp” have now decided that all brightly colored baby carriages are now subject to their religious seal of approval.

Kosher baby carriages?

I know what you are probably thinking, "You must be kidding . . ." No, I am being quite serious.

Outsiders tend to think of this behavior as weird and neurotic. Yes, neurosis and religion undoubtedly go hand and hand today, as Freud already observed back in the first part of the 20^th century. However, if you really want to understand the motivation of today's rabbis, Karl Marx might provide you with a more realistic and sensible answer—the Haredi penchant for religious extremism is dictated primarily by economics.

Economics? Of course, what else could it be?

Consider the following: Young Hassidic and Haredi Jews have never been taught by their elders or teachers about the virtues of birth-control and family planning. Such ideas are regarded as esoteric concepts. Many years ago, I remember hearing from my colleagues and teachers, “God will provide . . .” Right. Whether you go to a Chabad or Lakewood community, the response is usually the same.

One friend of my named Yunkle, had five children in five years. One day, he decided to abandon his studies and his children, gave up the Hassidic lifestyle in Brooklyn—to everyone’s shock and amazement. Fortunately for his children, his wife came from a well-to-do home, but in retrospect, I think he collapsed from the economic pressure of having to raise an Ultra-Orthodox family.

My cousin David, who lives in Baltimore, came from a Modern Orthodox home in Brooklyn. He settled with his wife in Baltimore; had two children and he discovered something that so many other Haredi and Orthodox families have long since recognized: Providing your child with a Jewish education is pretty expensive and families frequently go into debt so that they can ensure their children will have a kosher education. The sad truth is: the Conservative and Reform Day schools are not much better. I often wonder why must everything Jewish be so expensive? I bet you probably wonder that too.

By the time these Haredi rabbis realize they must provide for all the children they have sired into this world, they get desperate and look for other means to charge the public so that they might continue living in the style they have gotten used to. Rather than admitting the truth, they couch their new rulings in the garb of self-righteous piety and use peer pressure to force compliance.

To some degree, these rabbis truly enjoy the godlike power to permit and forbid. Like small children, they are (as Freud observed), entranced by the power of the psak din—the Halachic word.

I suspect that behind closed doors, these rabbis are too embarrassed to admit that their animus toward family planning and birth-control is wrongheaded and even foolish. They politely ignore that Joseph himself (in this week’s Torah portion) made sure he had his sons Manasseh and Ephraim before the famine (Gen. 41:5-6, see Rashi's commentary). There are antecedents in Halacha that would encourage people to act more responsibly. Continue Reading