Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

In Jewish legal tradition, better known as “Halachah,” teaches that silence is “tantamount to admission.” The moral implications ought to be clear enough for anyone to readily grasp. When somebody is attempting to do something wrong and illegal, one cannot dissociate oneself from the situation and act as if one has no moral obligations.

Jewish ethics takes a rather binary approach to moral dilemmas: You are either part of the solution, or else you are part of the problem. The Talmud develops this principle in a variety of different places. For example:

• From where do we know if a man sees his neighbor drowning, mauled by beasts, or attacked by robbers, he is required to save him? From the verse, “You shall not stand by idly when your neighbor’s life is at stake. I am the LORD” (Lev. 19:16).[1]

There is another Talmudic passage that makes a similar point:

• What is a foolish hasid like? — This refers to anyone who sees a woman is drowning in the river, and he says, “It is improper for me to look upon her and rescue her.”[2]

Why are these passages relevant?

Most of our readers are already well aware about the eight year old girl, Na’ama Margolis’s ordeal in Beth Shemesh, where she has been spat at, physically threatened, and insulted. The silence of many of the Haredi rabbis is alarming.

The Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas reminds us that the human face demands an ethical response. We cannot ignore the Voice of God that insists that we act ethically toward our brothers and sisters. “[T]he Other manifests itself by the absolute resistance of its defenseless eyes. . . . The Infinite is present in the face . . .”

Some leaders, like Rabbi Avarahan Yosef, the Chief Rabbi of Holon, and the Israeli Chief Rabbis Shlomo Amar and Yona Metzger have condemned the behavior in strong terms, “The Haredi public has no right to impose its opinion on the rest of the population . . . This isn’t the Haredi land,” the chief rabbi said in an interview to Kol Barama Radio. “We have no authority to impose our opinion on others. This is a public place.” While the Avarahan Yosef’s comments are certainly welcome, why isn’t his father, Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef—spiritual leader of Shas—not speaking out?

We want to know . . .

Some Haredi rabbis are acting commendably. However, my problem is not with the Israeli Chief Rabbinate. My problem is with the majority of Haredi leaders who choose to say nothing about this reprehensible behavior. One of the leading stalwarts of the Haredi community who commands the respect of the entire Haredi public is Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv; his voice has been surprisingly quiet. When it comes to the issue of Shabbat elevators or the kashrut of a cemetery and its possible “desecration,” Rabbi Elyashiv’s voice can always be heard.

This rabbi is not shy of cameras. You can count on it.

By the same token the Hassidic leaders of several of the sects also have said nothing about this travesty. We cannot turn a blind eye to the religious extremists in Beit Shemesh.

Beyond that, it seems that the American Haredi community doesn’t seem to have much to say either. Websites such as Yated.com and hamodia.com, or the Jewish Press would rather comment about North Korea’s Kim Jong-il’s death than the violence that is taking place in Beth Shemesh. How could this not be news?

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For Jewish Values Online:

Question:I am taking a college course on Politics and Religion. Why don’t Jews, like Mormons and Jehovah Witnesses and other faiths go out and spread the word?

Answer: Your question is an excellent one. People often ask me, “Why doesn’t Judaism openly try to spread its message of faith to the non-Jewish world like other faiths? Why does Judaism discourage new perspective converts?”

Historically, there was a time when Judaism went out of its way to encourage proselytes. Prior to the Temple’s destruction and even for about a century afterwards, Judaism really did its best to spread the message of Judaism as the religion of philosophical and ethical monotheism. The city of Alexandria purposely tried to make Judaism more meaningful by translating the Bible into Greek. This proved to be a great success and many people from all nationalities and ethnic groups started to study and embrace Judaism as a viable spiritual path. After the destruction of the Temple, most of the attitudes toward the non-Jews continued to be somewhat positive, although not uniformly. Many of the Sages of the first and second century came from families of proselytes. Their family names bear witness to this development, e.g., Antigonous, Alexander, Ben Bag-bag, or Onkelos–and numerous others bears witness to how deeply accepted proselytes were for a time of our history. Here is one of my favorite stories:

• “And the Levite . . . and the proselyte shall come” (Deut. 14:29). Moses spoke up to the Holy One, “Do You really consider a proselyte as important to You as a Levite?!” God replied, “He is even more important to Me, since he became a proselyte for My sake. A parable of a stag that grew up in the wilderness and on his own joined the flock. The shepherd not only gave him food and drink, but loved him more than any of the other animals in his flock. Someone asked the shepherd, “How is it that you love the stag more than any other in the flock?” He replied: I had to perform many kinds of labor for my flock until they grew up: I took them out in the morning and brought them back in the evening. But this one, who grew up in the wilderness and forests, came into my flock—all on his own! Should I not love him very much?” Likewise the Holy One said, “Much did I have to labor for Israel: I brought them out of Egypt, lit the way for them, sent down manna for them, swept in quail for them, made the well gush up for them, and encompassed them with clouds of glory before they were willing to accept My Torah. But this one came on his own volition. I consider him to be not only the equal of an Israelite, and even as equal to a Levite!” [1]

However, the changes began to unravel with Emperor Constantine I, and especially later on when Emperor Constantine II assumed control of the Roman Empire, for it was under his reign Jewish proselytizing became a crime punishable by death.[2] Some historians claim he was worried that the Jews might possibly force a slave or a Christian spouse to convert, but the animus he felt toward the Jews was aimed at marginalizing them as a potential competitor. Instant liberation was granted to any Jewish or Muslim slave who declared his intention to become Christian. Similar policies were adopted by subsequent Christian emperors who later prescribed the death penalty for any Jew attempting to proselytize a Christian. Similar decrees were also made in the Muslim communities, where the penalty of proselytizing was-and still is (in several contemporary Muslim states)-death. Conversion from Islam to Christianity is considered apostasy (kefirah)—a religious crime that is punishable by death.

Throughout this period of time, the rabbis were concerned with the survival of Judaism; anyone coming to them who expressed a desire to convert was understandably viewed with suspicion. What else would anyone expect from a traumatized people who have experienced terrible persecutions? Had these changes not occurred, who knows how large the Jewish people might have been?

On the other hand, the greatness of a people is not contingent upon its numbers. The Jewish people—despite their size—has produced in our day more Nobel Prize winners, 25% of the total winners.[3]

That’s nothing to sneeze at!

Over the last few decades, Rabbi Alexander Schindler, president of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, proposed in 1991 that Reform Judaism actively seek converts among non-Jews. In 1996, Rabbi Harold Schulweis, a prominent Conservative leader posted an advertisement in the LA Times welcoming all non-Jews to come and discover Judaism. This is a change for the better.

One last note, more and more rabbis, like myself, are doing whatever we can to encourage anyone who is interested in converting to Judaism. The time has finally arrived for us to re-embrace the Alexandrian tradition that won the hearts of many spiritual seekers of the 1st century and beyond. Our world today reflects more the kind of cultural pluralism that epitomized the great city of Alexandria. It’s time we learn to welcome the spiritual pilgrim that comes our way.

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According to an apocryphal legend,^[1] Egyptian King Ptolemy Philadelphus (who ruled 285-246 B.C.E.) sent a delegation to a high priest named Eleazar in Jerusalem, who organized a group of 72 scribes to write a new translation of the Bible for the city of Alexandria.^[2] These men purportedly translated the Hebrew Pentateuch into Greek in only seventy-two days.

A Jewish philosopher named Aristeas, records how the scribes felt inspired and arrived at a synchronous translation. Philo of Alexandria also claims that each of the translators, working under divine inspiration, arrived at identical phraseology as though dictated by an invisible prompter (Moses, 302).

Historians know that this apocryphal tale does not represent the composition of the Septuagint that we have today. Rather, it was composed over a sustained period of time from approximately the middle of 2^nd B.C.E. to the 1^st century C.E. In any event, the name “Septuagint,” actually derives from the Latin septuāgintā, “seventy” (from the traditional number of its translators) : septem, seven; see sept in Indo-European roots + -gintā, ten times; see dek in Indo-European roots]. [3]

Sleuthing One of the World’s Great Mysteries

Scholars and lay-people often wonder what inspired the first translation of the Bible? Why was the first translation of the Bible written in Greek? What was the motivation of the early translators of the Bible? What did they hope to achieve? The real story behind the Septuagint almost reads like a good detective novel.

Actually, there were many practical reasons why the Alexandrian Jews embarked on this most ambitious literary project. First and foremost, the Septuagint made it easier to educate a generation of Jews who had partially forgotten their ancestral language after having settled in Egypt. Alexandria rapidly became known as the Athens of the Ancient Near East. In fact, by many accounts, Alexandria rivaled Athens in brilliance.

Established by Jewish merchants at the time of Alexander, Alexandria became the world’s first cosmopolitan city–comparable to what Paris now is in Europe. The world’s very first university was built in Alexandria; libraries containing the works of many great Greek thinkers and other famous non-Greek thinkers found a home in a society that was remarkably tolerant of different ethnic groups. Alexandria was proto-modern in a way that was unique.

The Commonalities Between Jewish and Greek Cultures

Obviously, the Greeks and Jews of Alexandria realized that both of their cultures had much in common. Greeks believed they had a chosen vocation to spread Hellenistic culture throughout the world; the Greeks were “chosen” by the gods to achieve this task. The Jews also believed that they have a chosen divine destiny to spread ethical monotheism throughout the world. Obviously, the Greeks were very curious about the Jews and their traditions. A new translation of their works made a lot of sense.

Practical Reasons for Writing the Septuagint

For the Jews who lived in Alexandria, Greek was for these Jews much like what English is today for American Jews, the “lingua franca.” Greek was the language of commerce which made communication in the diplomatic and business world possible. Jewish masses forgot how to speak in Hebrew.

Recognizing that without a translation of the Torah in Greek, the Alexandrian Jewish community would further assimilate, something had to be done. A Greek translation would make the Torah service at the synagogue more meaningful and relevant. With such a translation, the Alexandrian Jews now had a key to understanding their own religious heritage. The Septuagint also served as a guide for everyday instructional usage.

The Unexpected Consequences of the Septuagint’s Translation

There were other compelling reasons for advocating such a translation. Jewish translators hoped that the Septuagint would promote a greater tolerance towards the Alexandrian Jewish community. To some degree, it succeeded; to some degree this plan backfired. While many of the Greeks admired the wisdom portions of the Bible, some readers became alarmed after they read about the exploits of the Jew’s ancestor, Jacob, who deceived both his blind dying father and his older brother. To some degree, the Septuagint might have created anti-Semitism. Enemies of the Jews, like Apion, probably said,”Look at these dishonest Jews! It’s no wonder why they are so deceitful–they get it honestly. Just read their book about their ancestors!”

The Modern Historical Appreciation of the Septuagint

Modern scholars view the Septuagint as a treasure house of information. The Septuagint is historically important because it is the parent text that inspired other translations of the Bible, e.g., Coptic, Ethiopic, Old Latin, Arabic, and Armenian, to name a few. Furthermore, one cannot understand fully the world of the Apocrypha and much of the Pseudepigrapha until one is familiar with the general concerns and content of the Greek Bible. From the perspective of textual criticism, the Septuagint, along with the materials from Qumran, the Samaritan Pentateuch, and to some extent the Targum literature, provide the textual tapestry against which the Masoretic textual (MT) tradition must properly be viewed, weighed and interpreted – especially with questions concerning the MT that are not easily discernible to the reader’s eye.

The Study of Textual Criticism and the Septuagint

The Septuagint differs from the Masoretic Text of the Tanakh in many important ways. Significantly, there are more books in the Septuagint, than there are in the Hebrew Tanakh. The threefold division into the Pentateuch, the Prophets, and the Writings is abandoned. Writers of the Septuagint included other books dealing with the sequence of law, history, wisdom literature, and prophets. Some of the books not included in the Hebrew canon are Greek translations of Hebrew originals (Tobit, 1 Maccabees, and Ecclesiasticus, also known as The Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach), and others are of Greek composition (Wisdom of Solomon; 2, 3, and 4 Maccabees; and others).^[4] Generally speaking, those books that had a Greek translation were deliberately left out of the biblical canon; unfortunately, The Wisdom of Sirach got left out despite its popularity among the Rabbis. The real reason why Sirach got left out is for another study we shall examine at a future time.

The Birth of a Philosophical Biblical Translation

Historically, the Septuagint not only provided the populace with a readable translation of the Torah, it also rewrote numerous passages in a strenuous effort to banish all anthropomorphism, which were inconsistent with the translators’ ideas of the Divine. It set a new tone for how to re-examine and reinterpret biblical language. Instead of reading a text literally, the biblical translators taught their generation how to read the text metaphorically–this was no small achievement.

Centuries later, the Aramaic translation of the Torah that was written by Onkelos, followed the template found in the Septuagint. Many (but not all) of the Sages admired Onkelos’ effort in purging biblical language from the dangers embedded in anthropomorphism. Given the status of Onkelos’ great translation in rabbinical circles, it is safe to assume that many of the early rabbis in the first two centuries had a much more sophisticated grasp of theological subtleties than is commonly presumed.

Yet despite their similarities between these two great translations, there were broad differences separating Onkelos and the Septuagint. Onkelos eschews the use of anthropomorphism because of objective, theological and dogmatic reasons. In contrast, the translators of the Septuagint were more concerned with subjective, philosophical and apologetic reasons. The Greek world was already moving away from the mythic tradition of Homer, the Alexandrian communities were determined to preserve the essence of the Bible and not let it become a philosophical anachronism. To achieve this, they softened the the crudeness of biblical language in order to meet a new contemporary sensibility.

Both the writers of the Septuagint and Onkelos felt that the words of Scripture could be paraphrased, and if need be even modified, so as to eliminate any possible theological misunderstandings in an effort to make the sacred text intelligible. Continue Reading