Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Back in 1970, I remember Beit Shemesh as a little village, one that barely had people. Today, it is a city of 80,000 people—but this is one small city where its Orthodox citizens are imploding.

The time: Any day of the week you choose . . .

The place: The local elementary school in Beth Shemesh.

The scene: Haredi Jews threaten young 8-12 year old Jewish girls with violence.

No, this is not Cracow, 1943. No, the anti-Semites are not the ones threatening Jews—Jews are threatening Jews.

The elementary school happens to be an Orthodox school for girls. The children are modestly dressed in accordance with Jewish law. Yet, the Haredi (better known as “Ultra-Orthodox” Jews) are screaming at the girls, “Prostitutes,” “whores,” and so on. The police provided an escort so that none of the girls would be attacked by the pious Haredim.

Why are the Haredim so upset? Well, to put it simply: they hate women. This is the same group that wants women to sit at the back of the bus, or avoid walking on the Haredi streets. Although their neighbors are Orthodox Zionists, they are not “kosher,” in the eyes of the Haredim. By the way, this is the same group of people who are known for spitting at the Greek Orthodox priests in Jerusalem. By the way, they also spit on women whenever they try praying at the Western Wall.

According to one article, “The campaign [ of normal people fighting back] is being driven by a small group, say parents and activists who label their Haredi opponents kanaim – loosely translated as extremist, fanatic, zealot, fundamentalist. What they do is described as “terrorism”. ‘They [the Haredi] instil fear, they use terror tactics,’ Michal Glatt, the mother of a 10-year-old pupil, says. ‘Screaming at little girls? What other word is there but terrorism?’”

Yet, Haredi terrorism also has a deviant side that the news media fails to bring out in their coverage: When a community activist named Rabbi Dov Lipman asked one protester why they were focusing on the way small girls dress, he was told “even an eight-year-old draws my eyes”.

Yeah, there’s a name for this kind of man . . .

In their warped minds, the Haredim do not see anything wrong with their behavior.

Yet, there is also a political agenda at here: By making life miserable for their religious neighbors, the Haredim are hoping to take over the city because normal people do not want to see their precious children get hurt.

Frankly, I do not understand why the Israeli government does not arrest the culprits and thrown them in jail for a couple of years. Spitting at a Greek Orthodox or non-Haredi Jew ought to be considered assault and battery. The rule ought to apply to spitting a young girls and women of all ages who refuse to look and talk like Haredim. Continue Reading

4:4 וְהֶבֶל הֵבִיא גַם־הוּא מִבְּכֹרוֹת צֹאנוֹ וּמֵחֶלְבֵהֶן - and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions— Robert Alter writes that the biblical narrator uses several techniques to convey meaning, e.g., statements by the anonymous narrator, by God, by heroes or heroines, by verbal clues, by juxtaposition of material, by characterization, and by effects of actions.^[1]

In contrast to the Scripture’s silence with regard to Cain’s sacrifice, the biblical narrator lavishes considerable detail on the quality of Abel’s offering. First of all, he offers his “firstlings,” which the Torah would later view comes from the best of one’s flock.^[2] Second, he offered the animals’ fattest parts, i.e., he sacrificed his choicest animals.^[3] In other words, Abel didn’t just offer the firstborn of his flock; he also offered even the very best of his flock—even if the animals weren’t necessarily the firstborn. Third, the verse intimates a clever pun in the words: וְהֶבֶל הֵבִיא גַם־הוּא (wühe’bel hëbî´ gam-hû´) — “he also brought himself.” A literal translation of the text indicates that Abel realizes that the true sacrifice reflects the inner person and the heart of the person offering it. Philo of Alexandria adds some of the most profound comments on the nature of sacrifice that touches on the true meaning of worship:

• God does not necessarily derive pleasure even if someone brings hecatombs to his altar. God possesses all things and does not require anything. Instead, he delights in minds which love God, and in men who practice holiness, from whom he gladly receives cakes and barley, and the cheapest things, as if they were the most valuable in preference to such which are most costly. Even when they bring nothing else, they still bring themselves … by doing so, they are offering the most excellent of all sacrifices that honoring God, as their Benefactor and Savior with hymns and thanksgivings. Some honor God by the organs of voice, while others honor God without the agency of the tongue or mouth. These worshipers make their exclamations and invocations with their soul alone. They realize that the ear of the Deity hears them.[4]

Various Hasidic writers homiletically note that Cain’s offering is motivated by his ego: Cain feels convinced that his sacrifice would be gladly accepted because it was he who was doing the offering. In contrast, Abel felt grateful for God’s many blessings, and that everything that he had amassed was because of God’s generosity. Without fanfare and with a genuine spirit of humility, Abel saw his offering as an opportunity to express his personal gratitude to God. To his credit, Abel succeeds in detaching his ego from the act of sacrifice, whereas Cain does not. Kahil Gibran expresses an identical thought: “You give but little when you give of your possessions; it is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”

Maimonides takes a different approach and views Abel’s sacrifice as a paradigm for all kinds of charitable giving. Every sacrifice must be given as an act of love and devotion; indeed, the absence of these qualities invalidates and cheapens the religious experience. Without the cultivation of the giving spirit, no virtue is possible. Although this is not a strict requirement in the legalistic sense, nevertheless anyone aspiring to become closer to God must go beyond mere perfunctory worship. Abel’s sacrifice functions as a paradigm for all types of voluntary charitable giving:

• Every sacrifice must be given as an act of love and devotion; indeed, the absence of these qualities invalidates and cheapens the religious experience. Without the cultivation of the giving spirit, no virtue is possible. Although this is not a strict requirement in the legalistic sense, nevertheless the one who is truly concerned about becoming close to God must go beyond mere perfunctory worship.

• Anyone wishing to become personally worthy of merit should overcome the urge toward selfishness and make it a point to offer one’s best and finest, so that his offering will be most exemplary. The Torah says: “and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions” (Gen. 4:4). The same rule ought to apply to every conceivable offering. Give your offering only from the finest and best. The house of prayer that you build must be nicer than your personal dwelling. The same principle ought to apply to other areas of your ethical life. Feed the poor with only the finest foods that are on your table. When clothing the naked, give him from the very finest of your wardrobes. Always give from the very best of all your possessions, for the Torah states, “All fat belongs to the Lord” (Lev. 3:16).[5]

For Maimonides, the main issue raised in the story of Cain and Abel story is not so much about the quality of the sacrifice; it is also about the personal dimension each person brings with the offering. Cain and Abel represent the difference between selfless worship and selfish worship. Cain’s sacrifice reveals how even spiritual worship can degenerate into an act that is self-serving and perfunctory. Toward the end of Maimonides’ life, he focuses on the importance of love in sacrifice. Cain’s sacrifice fails because he is miserly in his giving; he withholds his best from God. He further elaborates: Continue Reading