Category: Bible

Rachel’s Inward Struggle

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Valentine Blog Hop - Sharon Lathan, Novelist              

Introduction: Rachel could not stand that God blessed Leah and not her with children. It never occurred to Rachel that God took pity on Leah because she had to endure her husband’s rejection, not to mention her sister’s continuous wrath and contempt.  Because of her vanity, Rachel could not stand sharing center stage with Leah, a woman she regarded inferior to herself.  With the arrival of four children,  Leah grew in stature and in respect. Rachel might have taken her childlessness as a heavenly cue to start developing her inner spiritual life, but she was stubborn and manipulative like Jacob. Rachel began to raise the ante in a high-stakes game of upmanship that would only result in fracturing the family more than it already was. Though there were many errors in judgment in the sister’s competition with one another, the paradox is that God brought good out of their pettiness and jealousy. Despite the players’ motivations, the blessing God promised Abraham that his offspring would increase and multiply became realized.

30:1. When Rachel saw that she bore Jacob no children, she envied her sister. —  In a society that defined a woman’s worth by her ability to bear children, the ancients considered the barren woman a social disgrace to the husband, for people often considered the barren wife as a concubine instead of the mistress of her husband’s house. Rachel’s infertility probably caused her to withdraw from her friends, family, and even husband—thus separating herself from a network of significant people who could provide valuable healing and emotional support.

 . . . and she said to Jacob, “Give me children, or I shall die!” – Did Rachel express a death wish? Could Rachel have been threatening suicide? When a person suffering from severe depression gives his significant other a verbal clue, the message must be taken seriously. Most suicidal persons do talk about suicide before acting. Her threat was in reality, a desperate plea for help. Rachel accused Jacob of being blasé toward her pain and distress. She felt that if her husband really loved her, he would make more of an effort to intercede on her behalf, and at the very least, try to buoy her spirit. Instead of support, all she received was criticism and shame.

There is something paradoxical about Rachel’s words here: she feels she will die if she has no children, but ultimately, she will die because she will eventually give birth to Benjamin.

n Alternatively: The Tanakh describes several women as, “barren.” The list includes Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah.  It is significant that Rebekah, Rachel’s mother-in-law, remained barren for twenty years. Yet, she did not let her barrenness diminish her self-esteem or spiritual relation with God. Circumstantially, Rachel, and Hannah shared much in common. Like Rachel, Hannah had too had to co-exist with a competitive co-wife who was very proud to show her children off, but only at the emotional expense of Hannah. Unlike Rachel, Hannah learned to channel her pain directly to God through prayer and faith. Hannah was as submissive as Rachel was defiant. Earlier, the biblical narrator described Rachel’s outer beauty; she lacked an interior dimension. As a result, Rachel looked turned to only external remedies for her sad situation.  She feels alienated not only from her sister Leah but also from God. She did not realize that God’s blessing might prove elusive until she eventually learned to step outside the walls of self-pity that imprisoned her.

30:2. Jacob became very angry with Rachel . . . — Jacob was upset at Rachel for being so despondent. As much as Jacob loved Rachel, he couldn’t just watch her act so smugly toward her sister who reverently acknowledged God’s gifts. Rachel acted like one who was completely oblivious to the workings of Providence. She viewed her life as if everything were a product of chance.

Jacob’s Unsympathetic Response to Rachel

“Am I in the place of God, who has withheld from you the fruit of the womb?” — Unlike Abraham (Gen. 16:5), Jacob felt little sympathy for his anxious wife. The medieval Jewish commentaries raise an essential question: Did Jacob pray for his wife, Rachel? Unlike his father, Isaac, Jacob never offered a sacrifice on behalf of his beloved (See notes to Gen. 25:21). The biblical narrator remained silent on this issue, revealing something.  This led Rashi to argue that Jacob did not pray for her. He did not have to, for he already had children:

You say that I should do as my father did. But the fact is, the conditions are different. My father had no children at all, I, however, have children; God has withheld children from you and not from me.[1]

The Midrashic literature discusses Jacob’s cavalier response, the Midrash wondered:  How could Jacob speak to a woman tortured by childlessness? The insensitivity Jacob showed would someday come to haunt him through his children.[2] Ramban finds the Midrashic explanation too difficult to accept. For him, it was inconceivable that Jacob would not pray for his wife since it is the way of the righteous to pray for even unfamiliar women.

Ibn Ezra and Keter Torah adopt a similar approach. It seems more likely that Jacob did pray on behalf of his wife, but it was to no avail, for the proper time did not yet arrive. Perhaps Rachel felt that Jacob did not pray hard enough! Perhaps Jacob felt that he did not have to overextend himself on her behalf since he had children.  Philo argues that Rachel was guilty because she attributed god-like power to her husband instead of God.[3] Rachel failed to recognize God alone as the ultimate Source of life and not man.[4]

Some say Jacob wanted Rachel to take some responsibility for her own condition. Perhaps if she prayed to God as her sister did, God would answer her too.  Jacob got angry at Rachel not putting her faith and trust in God. This was clearly a situation where only her faith in God could help her. All human attempts to manipulate God’s blessing through mechanical means would not help Rachel. Once Rachel began to turn inwardly to God as her Source, her childless situation eventually changed for the better.

[1] Gen Rabba 71.

[2] The Midrashic literature criticizes Jacob’s lack of empathy, “Is this how you comfort a grief-stricken heart? As you live, someday when your children will stand before the son of Rachel, and he will use the same words thou hast but now used, saying, ‘Am I in the place of the Lord ?’“ Jerusalem Targum Gen. 30. 1-2, Tanhuma (Buber) I, 156, and BR 71. 6.

[3] Allegorical Interpretations, 3:182.

[4] There is a statement in the Talmud that also bears this truth out: R. Johanan said: Three keys the Holy Blessed One has retained in His own hands and not entrusted to the hand of any messenger, namely, the key of rain, the key of childbirth, and the key of the revival of the dead. (Ta’anit 2b)

Young Martin Buber’s Epiphany

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

As professional clergy, we tend to think robotically and uncritically about our faith. In some ways, atheists speak like biblical prophets; they challenge us to ask and demand we articulate what we ought to believe in in clear terms. I enjoy reading books and articles written by atheists. Whereas many theistic people like myself are willing to take a leap of faith, I have found atheists also take a leap of faith—they assume there is no God, nor is there an objective meaning or purpose to the universe. They assume we are living in the realm of the absurd and that we must live heroically and accept the fact that life has no intrinsic meaning (Camus, Sartre).

As a young teenager learning about Jewish philosophy, I wanted to answer my agnostic friends’ questions and convince them why they ought to believe in God. But I have learned over the decades that most folks are not merely interested in having a theological debate; they are searching for an spiritually deep and relevant answer.

Questions about God’s Reality or Presence are real and existential in nature for those who have suffered through the coronavirus. Glib theological answers will not satisfy a searching soul. People are looking for something more. The great 20th century Jewish philosopher Martin Buber recalls that shortly before World War I, a young man came to see after he had experienced a morning of mystical ecstasy. Buber was friendly and attentive; he answered his youthful visitor. However, in human communication, sometimes it is not always the question that is expressed that matters, but rather it is the silent question that a person cannot express, or does not know how to articulate.

For this reason, Buber realized that he was not entirely “present” to the young man in spirit, who died in battle shortly after.   When he heard about the news, Buber felt dissatisfied with how he interacted with the man, who came to him for spiritual guidance.[i] Buber learned that being emotionally present to someone seeking guidance is what he failed to do. The presence of a concerned and listening heart—not discursive philosophical repartee, is what the young man really needed. Buber’s realization soon led to the formulation of his most significant spiritual work, “I and Thou.”

For ministers of all faiths, the story about Martin Buber offers a valuable lesson about the power of listening. Not every question people ask about God is necessarily intellectual in nature. When people feel as though they have reached the end of their earthly journey, they need an answer that is pastoral and healing in spirit.

There is a charming Sufi tale that illustrates this point. “Once there was a man whose marriage was in trouble sought his advice, the Sufi Master said, “You must learn to listen to your wife.” The man took this advice to heart and returned after a month to say he had learned to listen to every word his wife was saying.

Said the Master with a smile, “Now go home and listen to every word she isn’t saying.”

In the art of communication, we must learn to listen to the unarticulated need and question.

[i] Martin Buber and Maurice Friedman (ed.), Martin Buber and the Human Sciences (Albany, NY:  State University of New York Press, 1996), p. 8.

The Holiness of Atheism

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935) was an Orthodox rabbi, the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine. He was also a mystic and scholar; his receptivity to the sciences helped him articulate a philosophy of Judaism that proved compelling. When his followers asked him about atheism, he refused to consider it as a depraved cultural force. Even atheism possesses a spark of holiness because it challenges the religious status quo to purge itself of its dross. Atheism can serve to help people abandon ideas about God that are unhealthy, “Atheism has a temporary legitimacy, for it is needed to purge away the aberrations that attached themselves to religious faith because of a deficiency in perception and in the divine service.” He adds further:

Atheism arises as a pained outcry to liberate man from this narrow and alien pit, to raise him from the darkness . . . Atheism has a temporary legitimacy, for it is needed to purge away the aberrations that attached themselves to religious faith because of a deficiency in perception and in the divine service. This is its sole function in existence—to remove the particular images from the speculations concerning Him who is the essence of all life and the source of all thought . . . [Its purpose is to] uproot the dross that separates man from the truly divine light, and in the ruins wrought by atheism will the higher knowledge of God erect her Temple. To cleanse the air of the arrogant and evil aberration of focusing thought on the divine essence—a preoccupation that leads to idolatry—a thoroughgoing atheism arises, in itself no better than the former but opposed to it in absolute terms . . .

The violence of atheism will cleanse away the dross that accumulated in the lower levels of religious faith, and thereby will the heavens be cleared and the shining light of the higher faith will become visible, which is the song of the world and the truth of the world. Whoever recognizes the essence of atheism from this perspective embraces the positive element in it and traces it back to its origin in holiness. He glimpses the awesome splendor in the ice-like formations upon the celestial horizon (Cf. Ezekiel 1:22).[i]

According to Hasidic tradition, R. Jacob Isaac of Pzhysha, known as the “Holy Jew” once taught his disciples that there is nothing on earth without its good aspect; there are “holy sparks” of divinity in everything waiting to be revealed. A clever student asks, “What good is there in atheism?” He answered, “When it comes to man’s social duties and obligations, he should behave as if he were an atheist, assuming God does not exist to help the poor and the needy, so that if he did not help them, they would remain impoverished. “Faith is a virtue when applied to one’s own life. It is wrong to have it on behalf of others, there is yet something of value in Atheism, for even the believer has to be a small doubter when called upon to alleviate human suffering.” [xviii]

For those who question or struggle with faith, Maimonides has long taught that we must first determine what God is not before we can know what God is. Modern theologians call this the via negativa, the path of negation. By emancipating ourselves of God’s childish perceptions that we have inherited. Atheism challenges believers to let go of their immature perceptions. In the words of Hamlet,

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Hamlet (1.5.167-8)

In the end, what matters is that people of all backgrounds and creeds work together—theists, agnostic, and atheists- can work toward the common good.

[i] A. I. Kook, B. Z. Bokser, (Trans.) Abraham Isaac Kook~: The Lights of Penitence, The Moral Principles, Lights of Holiness, Essays, Letters, and Poems. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978), pp. 264-265.

Making Sense of Anthropomorphism — A Bear Face on Mars?

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

An orbiter view of a Mars surface formation in black and white. There's a round circular line, two eye-like divots and a raised portion that looks like a snout. The whole thing resembles a bear's face.Face On Mars Photograph by Science Source | Fine Art America

Bear Face on Mars?

Does Nature have a sense of humor?

NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter snapped a view of Mars that will likely trigger your pareidolia instincts. Pareidolia is the human tendency to see familiar objects in random shapes. In this case, you’re totally looking at a bear. The Observatory at the University of Arizona took this picture, just the other day.

The “face,” captured by MRO in December, is bigger than your average bear. A version of the image with a scale shows it stretches roughly 2,000 meters (6,560 feet) across.

Anthropologists, psychologists, and theologians refer to this as ” pareidolia” Defined: Pareidolia the perception of apparently significant patterns or recognizable images, especially faces, in random or accidental arrangements of shapes and lines. Some people see Jesus’s face smiling at them from the sky, others might see Mohammed or Buddha.  Seeing the famous man in the moon or the canals on Mars are classic examples from astronomy. The ability to experience pareidolia is more developed in some people and less in others.

For a sweeping critique of how anthropomorphism affected science and philosophy from ancient to modern times, the anthropologist Stewart Elliot Guthrie’s book, Faces in the Clouds stands out as an exceptional work. He theorizes that anthropomorphisms represent a perceptual strategy of how humanity perceives itself in an uncertain world. If, for instance, we see a dark shape in the forest, it is better to assume it is a bear and not a boulder. Guthrie’s innovative idea is patterned after the famous wager of Pascal.[1] If what we are observing truly resembles human behavior, then our use of anthropomorphic language is correct. If we are wrong, what did we lose by employing anthropomorphism? In a world where scientific analysis fails or is severely limited, human beings consciously and unconsciously gravitate toward imagining the universe in the likeness of themselves.

Historically, several cultures worldwide developed myths regarding the mysterious “man on the moon” images before the space probe was launched.  On July 25, 1976, the Viking 1 probe took some unusual photographs of the Cydonian region of Mars, which presented land formations resembling human faces, and hence came to be known as the “Face of Mars.” Scientists soon dismissed this interpretation and said that the image was a “trick of light and shadow.” The human mind always projects images of its own likeness unto the universe.  For Guthrie, the same principle applies no less concerning religion. For him, religion is the embodiment of anthropomorphism.

Guthrie makes a thought-provoking point. Whenever people try to explain abstract processes they do not understand, the tendency is to use metaphorical language, for it helps people connect with subtle and not easily defined ideas. [2]  According to Guthrie, the various branches of science, cognitive sciences, ancient and modern philosophy, and the literary and visual arts abound with anthropomorphism, even though secular scientists and philosophers often criticize it.

Guthrie’s observation is on target. Human speech uses the metaphor for even inanimate objects or when describing a force of nature as if it the object or effect being described possesses human-like qualities or actions. Thus, we metaphorically speak of a storm as “vicious” or “threatening,” or “the wind howls throughout the night.” Even in scientific terms, physicians and biologists frequently refer to white blood cells as “fighting off” and “invading” microorganisms, or the “selfish gene,” or “the blind watchmaker” (to borrow a phrase from Richard Dawkins’s popular book). Analogical language is vital for understanding the religious expression and is no less essential for discerning scientific truths about reality.

Scientists illustrate the most abstract mathematical truths through the medium of analogies. Models of science contribute to a more in-depth knowledge of already existing theories. Verbal representations provide a mental picture of an obtuse concept that facilitates a quicker and clearer understanding that is superior to the presentation of mere abstract equations.  For example, it is impossible to explain the nature of time when describing the nature of time; the scientist and poet alike illustrate time through metaphor. Thus, we speak of time as “flowing like a river” or as “an arrow shooting toward infinity.”

When speaking about non-spatial reality or scientific abstractions such as Quantum physics, the scientist must utilize metaphor to convey the idea that he or she wishes to express. Linguists have long recognized that it is virtually impossible to talk about time without the use of metaphor. Without metaphor, the human mind would have an extraordinarily difficult time conceptualizing abstract images that are too difficult to describe in literal terms. More importantly, metaphoric language reveals underlying conceptual mappings and psychological structure of how ordinary people imagine knowledge’s ambiguous, abstract domains through their embodied experiences of the world. Myrmecologists study the lives of ants and use anthropomorphism in naming ants as queen, worker, soldier, parasite, and slave. They define ant communities in terms of classes and castes, thus making ant behavior seem incredibly human.

Ancient poets and storytellers of the Bible recognized a similar truth when attempting to describe the greatest abstraction the human mind has ever entertained—God. Thus, both Jewish and Christian theological traditions stress that the role of metaphor is not purely a decorative embellishment of human language but is an essential method by which people conceptualize the world around them and their own activities. When studying the metaphors of a classical work such as the Bible, grasping the spirit of the text requires that one approach the book and its unique metaphors in a culturally sensitive, ethical, and heart-centered way. Metaphor plays a significant role in developing our social, cultural, theological, and psychological reality. Perhaps more decisively, metaphor can reshape the imagination and the thought process. It allows us, the readers, to transcend the realm of the ordinary.

Therefore, uses of metaphorical and anthropomorphic language are not concessions to the popular imagination, as some philosophers might have us believe. Nor are they deployed purely for their psychological impact upon the reader or listening audience. The prophetic imagination never uses the noetic language of logic or prose, but instead employs the rhetoric of poetry and hyperbole. We could even say that prophetic speech would be very ineffective without it. Sensuous and symbolic, prophecy always appeals to the receiver’s imagination[3] and life experiences.[4] The prophet’s oratory skills gripped his listeners’ attention. When God’s Word inspired him, he felt instantly energized with a heightened awareness and ability to articulate dramatic speech. The Protestant theologian Walter Brueggemann adds an insight about the relationship between prophecy and poetry that dovetails with Saadia’s earlier remarks:

By prose, I refer to a world that is organized in settled formulae so that even pastoral prayers and love letters sound like memos. By poetry, I do not mean rhyme, rhythm, or meter, but language that moves like Bob Gibson’s fastball that jumps at the right moment; that breaks old worlds with surprise, abrasion, and pace.[5]

Sometimes, the prophet’s personal life becomes the very image and the metaphor of God’s message to the people. For example, God commanded the prophet Hosea to marry a whore (Hosea 1:2-9). Similarly, the story of Jonah illustrates how the life of a stubborn prophet reflects the persistent nature of the people he represents. The Book of Jonah is replete with imagery and metaphors depicting the paradoxical nature of God’s own “stubborn” love and forgiveness. In a pedagogical sense, the prophet became a living embodiment of God’s Word, passionately revealing God’s “human-like” personality and character to the world.

The early Italian philosopher Giambattista Vico (1668-1744) believed metaphors and allegories were not merely calculated forms of language or a product of human convention. The metaphor was first a product of the mind—and not language. Metaphor allows people to make associations that create cognition. Vico was one of the first pre-modern thinkers to speak about a poetic logic that creates perceptual models that make even inanimate things come alive. A metaphor is “fable-making,” he said, viewing each metaphor as a fable (or analogy) in brief.

Concerning metaphor, in particular, Vico also thought that metaphor can animate nature, “giving sense and passion to insensate things… that in all languages, the greater part of the expressions relating to inanimate things are formed by metaphor from the human body and its parts and from human senses and passions.” Thus, in metaphor and imagery, we coexist with the world surrounding us, which we view as a soulful extension of ourselves. The use of metaphor makes it possible for us to cultivate and expand the power of the human imagination that is essential for spiritual life.

The German philosopher Martin Heidegger (whose Nazi past we shall overlook for the present) made brilliant observations about human language’s nature and its relationship to metaphor and poetry.

It is language that tells us about the nature of a thing, provided that we respect language’s own nature. In the meantime, to be sure, there rages round the earth an unbridled yet clever talking, writing, and broadcasting of spoken words. Man acts as though he were the shaper and master of language, while in fact language remains the master of man. Perhaps it is before all else man subverts this relation of dominance that drives his nature into alienation. That we retain a concern for care in speaking is all to the good, but it is of no help to us as long as a language still serves us even then only as a means of expression. Among all the appeals that we human beings, on our part, can help to be voiced, language is the highest and everywhere the first.[6] (Emphasis added.)

The poet perceives reality very differently from the thinker. The rationalist may be an excellent wordsmith and be capable of expressing a clear and lucid thought. However, the poet is governed by a different principle; his heart speaks volumes that can be scarcely expressed by words alone. Yet, when we read the poet’s words, the poet affects us far differently than

[1] According to Pascal, “If God exists, the religious believer can look forward to ‘an infinity of happy life’; if there is no God, then nothing has been sacrificed by becoming a believer (“What have you got to lose?” asks Pascal). In simple terms, Pascal stressed that it is better to live a life of faith that gives ultimate meaning than to choose living a life that has no ultimate meaning.

[2] Stuart Elliot Guthrie, Faces in the Clouds—A New Theory of Religion (New York: Oxford University Press; Oxford, 1993), ch. 6.

[3] Even Maimonides admits the process of revelation always contains anthropomorphic imagery, without which God’s message to the prophet could never be known (Maimonides, MT Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah 1:9).

[4] An interesting parallel may also be drawn from Hinduism. Lord Krishna said in the Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 12, Verse 5, that it is much more difficult to focus on God as the unmanifested than God with form, i.e., using anthropomorphic icons (murtis), due to human beings’ need to perceive via the senses.

[5] Walter Brueggemann, Finally Comes the Poet (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 3.

[6] Martin Heidegger and Albert Hofstadter (trans.), Poetry, Language, Thought (New York: Harper and Row Perennial Classics, 1971, rep. 2001), 144.

New Review on Rabbi Samuel’s many insights into Maimonides Hidden Torah Commentary

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

November 3, 2019 / L

Book Review:Maimonides Hidden Torah Commentaries: Genesis: 22-50by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel.

By Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin

Rabbi Israel Drazin

BOCA RATON, Florida — This is the wonderful second volume on Genesis by the very wise scholar Rabbi Michael Samuel. It is part of his series of easy-to-read books that he is writing on Maimonides. This is a second volume on Genesis because Rabbi Samuel has much to reveal to us about the first of the Five Books of Moses. This volume and the others is divided by parasha, the traditional division of 54 weekly portions that are read during synagogue services and which rabbis in the Talmud encouraged Jews to read and study weekly.

Rabbi Samuel notes that the teachings of Maimonides are embedded and scattered throughout his philosophical, legal, and even medical and other writings. He collected and distilled the teachings from the various sources and offers them in a clear organized fashion.

His work is comprehensive, full of information, and eye-opening. The writings on each parasha is divided by chapters; each of which is subdivided by subjects that Rabbi Samuel addresses in clear detail. For example, in Genesis chapter 1, he examines 22 subjects, such as the meaning of Elohim, the purpose of creation, the reason for marriages, God does not decree moral behavior, the nature of biblical metaphors, exempting women from some biblical commands, and more.

Similarly, chapter 22, which contains the well-known story of Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son Isaac, called the Akedah in Hebrew, contains 11 subdivisions. Among them are the nature of divine trials, Isaac’s age at the time of the near sacrifice, the objective of God’s commandments, Maimonides vs. Gersonides on divine knowledge of human activities before they occur, and did the Akedah actually happen or was it a vision.

In chapter 4, to site another example, among much else, he offers views on the origin of idol worship by such people as Thomas Aquinas, Joseph B. Soloveitchik, David Hartman, and others. In chapter 9, he includes a discussion on the Seven Noahide Commandments. In chapter 15, there is Maimonides’ position on divine determinism. In chapter 19, what is an angel. In chapter 23, Maimonides’ view on visiting graves. In chapter 32, the issue, among much more, is can a human wrestle with an angel?

In other chapters, he discusses Maimonides’ teachings on subjects such as the origin of the annual Torah reading cycle, the difference between “believing in God” and “knowing God” and how can one know God, the thirteen principles that Maimonides wrote, why one can violate the sabbath to save a life, and much more.
If these many discussions were all that Rabbi Samuel offered his readers, this would have been a valuable book, but there is much more.

Rabbi Samuel begins this wide-ranging and far reaching book with a prequel which contains significant facts about the great sage’s life and his books – philosophy, legal, medical, responses, letters – and the criticism by Ra’avad, ibn Daud, and others. He tells, for example, the fact that Maimonides was almost executed by Muslims for acting as a Muslim to save his life while he and his family lived in Morocco but returned to being openly Jewish when he arrived in safety in Egypt.

The book compares Maimonides to Saadiah Gaon, to Ramban (Nachmanides), Abraham ibn Ezra, and many others. It gives Maimonides’ views on many other subjects, including aggadic language and midrash generally. It tells about the treatment of the biblical text by the Greek translation called the Septuagint. It is filled with the keen views of Maimonides’s son Abraham. It discusses subjects such as omens, visions vs. dreams, and whether Abraham ibn Ezra is correct when he maintains that some parts of the Five Books of Moses were added after his death.

The book also has many excurses. There are those on Targum Onkelos, the Shekhinah, the differences between Maimonides and famous Bible commentators such as Rashi, Rashbam, Abraham ibn Ezra, Saadiah Gaon, Nachmanides, Hasdai Crescas, and many others, Jews and non-Jews.

There is no doubt but that readers of Rabbi Samuel’s book will enjoy what they read and learn much.

*
Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin is a retired U.S. Army brigadier general and the author of more than 50 books.

The Ethical Problem of the Kapparot Ritual

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

What is Kapparot?

Yom Kippur has its own unique customs and traditions, and one of the most historically controversial customs involves taking a chicken and swinging it around one’s head. When I was a Hasidic youth, I recall getting up early in the morning before dawn to reenact the tradition better known as “Shlugging Kaparos,” or “Kapparot.”

According to the Artscroll Machzor for Yom Kippur, scriptural verses from   Isaiah 11:9, Psalms 107:10, 14, and 17-21, and Job 33:23-24 are recited. Then a rooster (for a man) or a hen (for a woman) is held above the person’s head and the participant swings the bird  in a circle three times, while the following is spoken: “This is my exchange, my substitute, my atonement; this rooster (or hen) shall go to its death, but I shall go to a good, long life, and to peace.” The chicken is then slaughtered and may or may not be given to the poor for food.

If the woman is pregnant, then she takes two hens and a rooster instead (one for her and the other for her unborn child, depending upon the gender—thus equaling three altogether).[1] I always found this aspect of the ritual puzzling, especially since who could be more innocent than a fetus? After all, Jews aren’t supposed to believe in Original Sin! In terms of the color, it became customary to use a white chicken, to recall the verse ‎ אִם־יִהְיוּ חֲטָאֵיכֶם כַּשָּׁנִים כַּשֶּׁלֶג יַלְבִּינוּ אִם־יַאְדִּימוּ כַתּוֹלָע כַּצֶּמֶר יִהְיוּ“Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; Though they be red like crimson, they may become white as wool” (Isa. 1:18). Curiously, one should not use a black chicken, as black is the color that represents divine severity and discipline. Nor should one use a blemished chicken.

The Talmud did not mention such a ritual; it was discussed only in the 9th century. One reason why the early sages did not mention it is because the rabbis were very cautious to avoid enacting ritual sacrifices for atonement—especially since the Temple had long been destroyed.

A scriptural allusion to Kapparot derived from the word גֶּבֶר “gever,” which may mean either “man” or “cock,”[2] and the medievalists supposed that a rooster or hen could serve as an instrument of atonement.

History of Kapparot

Ever since biblical times, the Torah used animal sacrifices as a surrogate for the sinful individual wishing to seek atonement.

Most of our readers might be surprised to know that some of the most significant medieval rabbinical scholars regarded the Kapparot as a heathen superstition.[3] Rashbam objected to the ritual in Barcelona, which included killing one chicken for each child in the house and then hanging the chicken heads on the doorpost along with garlic (it keeps away vampires I am told.)

Many years ago, a former witch in my community returned to her Jewish roots and commented how the Kapparot rituals resembled customs practiced by witches. She was correct!  The Santeria, an Afro-American religion of Yoruba origin that developed in Cuba among West African descendants. Often chickens are sacrificed to ward off illnesses believed to be caused by evil spirits, or for divination.[4]

The waving of the chickens in a circle three times also constituted a “magic circle” (a.k.a. a mandala in the Eastern religious traditions) where spiritual forces are evoked to protect a person from evil. This idea is commonplace in almost all religious communities around the world. Spiritual forces can thus be evoked without danger.

Modern Objections to Kapparot

One of my favorite criticisms against Kapparot derives from R. Shlomo Goren, who was arguably one of the greatest Chief Rabbis of Israel in recent memory. Former Israeli Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren notes that “Kapparot is not consistent with Jewish teachings and law. Repentance and charity can be better accomplished by using money instead of a slaughtered chicken”

Humanitarian considerations is another important reason to discontinue Kapparot. “Anyone who walks through the markets can see that the manner in which the chickens are held before the Kapparot is insufferable. There is no veterinary supervision and no concern for the feelings of these poor creatures.” -Rabbi Gilad Kariv.[5]

Rabbinical tradition basing itself on the ethos of the Torah stressed we must do everything in our power to prevent tsar’ ba’ale hayyim—cruelty toward animals. Between 2005 and 2006, the SPCA in New York City confiscated hundreds of starving chickens who were abandoned in crates after the ritual was finished; these creatures were crammed in cages while sitting in their own excrement. It is hard to imagine how any pious Jew could act so indifferently toward these forlorn creatures of God.

But in 2006 in Los Angelos, the birds had their vocal cords removed so none of the participants would feel repulsed by their screams of pain.  

Although it is frequently claimed these slaughtered chickens are given to charity, the reality is that there is never refrigeration equipment at a Kapparot event. This meat is probably not edible, or shouldn’t be eaten and would never meet the rigorous requirements of the federal Poultry Products Inspection Acts for human consumption. But this much we know for sure. Helpers for the ritual slaughterers could be seen tossing the birds, covered in blood and often dusted with feces from their time in stacked crates, into trash bags and cans after their throats were slit.

It is important to note that the Ninth Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals in Pasadena heard an argument on behalf of United Poultry Concerns in a case against Chabad of Irvine for unfair business practices in charging a fee to illegally kill and dispose of chickens for Kapparot. Unfortunately, “the district court ruled it was not a business practice.  However, the decision is being appealed.  The district court expressed no opinion on the underlying legality/illegality of the manner in which the chickens are killed and disposed.”[6]

The winds of change do occur—howbeit slowly—among the Orthodox.

As R. Shlomo Brody suggested that there is a new sensibility is becoming the new standard for our ethical behavior concerning animals:

  • “On the eve of this holy day,” said the late Rabbi Hayim David HaLevi, “why should we display unnecessary cruelty to these animals and mercilessly kill them before requesting from God mercy upon us?” The mass killing of animals, he added, contradicts a different medieval custom, almost entirely forgotten today, of refraining from all slaughter before the New Year as an act of increased mercy on God’s creatures. In this spirit, and given increased accusations of mishandling of the chickens, prominent figures like Rabbis Shlomo Aviner and David Stav have urged Jews to err on the side of treating animals kindly and use money instead. Traditionalism should, of course, have its place, but on the eve of Yom Kippur, we shouldn’t turn a request for mercy into an act of cruelty.[7]

I will conclude with a brief anecdote from the Hassidic community—an appropriate reference for todays’ Hasidic Jews to remember and ever be mindful of observing.  I came across an article written by a colleague, Rabbi Everett Gendler, who wrote:

  • Rabbi Zusya used to travel around the countryside collecting money to ransom prisoners. One night he came to an inn in which there was a large cage with all kinds of birds in it. Zusya saw that the creatures wanted to fly free through the spaces of the world. He burned with pity for them and said to himself, “Here you are, Zusya, walking your feet off to ransom prisoners, but what greater ransoming of prisoners can there be than to free these birds from their prison?” Then he opened the cage and the birds flew out to freedom.[8]

Although the Chabad website claims the practice of Kapparot also serves a humanitarian purpose, “In fact, the Code of Jewish Law suggests that we take the innards and liver of the Kapparot chickens and place them in an area where birds can feed off them. “It is proper to show mercy to the creatures on this day, so that in Heaven they should have mercy upon us [too].”[9] In actuality, as mentioned earlier, in Brooklyn as well as in Los Angelos, and other places, the slaughtered birds are discarded as garbage. There is nothing even remotely kind about this kind of cynical behavior.[10]

If you’re going to slaughter a chicken, biblical law requires that one at least eat the chicken. To do otherwise is violation of the negative commandment of bal tashchit—do not destroy or waste—has long been considered central to a Jewish environmental ethic (Deut. 20:19–20)

The Chabad movement and other Hasidic communities ought to atone for its callous disregard for these birds.

[1] OH 605:4.

[2] Cf. BT Shabbat 67b. This usage is much rarer and does not occur in Biblical Hebrew.

[3] Rabbi Yosef Caro (1488 – 1575) in his Shulchan Aruch, OH 605:1. Other notable detractors include Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman 1194–1270; Rabbi Shlomo Ben Aderet (Rashba, 1235–1310) in Teshuvot HaRashba 1:395. ). Comp. in OH, Hilkhot Erev Yom Kippur 1.

[4]Lionel and Patricia Fanthorpe, Mysteries and Secrets of Voodoo, Santeria, and Obeah (Toronto: Dundurn Press, 2008), p. 203.

[5] Quoted in ynetnews.com 09/28/2006

[6] https://edboks.com/2018/11/kapparot-9th-circuit-argument-tuesday/

[7] https://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/185741/a-brief-history-of-a-fowl-custom

[8] Rabbi Everett Gendler, The Life of His Beast.

[9] Tur Shulchan Aruch & Shulchan Aruch OH Rama 605. Tashbatz. Bayit Chadash. Turei Zahav 104. OH 605:6.

[10] https://gothamist.com/news/are-thousands-of-ritually-slaughtered-chickens-being-turned-into-biodiesel

NY Times Defiles the Memory of 9-11

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

CHULA VISTA, California –George Santayana once said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

This statement has proven true time and time again. Such common-sense wisdom ought to be obvious to any student of history. How many revolutions have we seen in the past two hundred years where popular revolts end up with individuals seizing absolute power as we witnessed with Napoleon, Stalin, and Mao? Yes, despite our superior intellects, human beings have yet to show the wisdom to evolve to the next level of human consciousness.

The inner primitive which I call the “atavist” is always lurking in the shadows of our soul; but to evolve, we must, as the Psalmist would put it, “obtain a heart of wisdom” (Ps. 90:12)

Therefore, it is with great surprise—as we recall the attacks upon our nation on September 11, 2001— that The New York Times wrote:

18 Years have passed since airplanes took aim and brought down the World Trade Center. Today, families will once again gather and grieve at the site where more than 2000 people died.

Notice the politically correct nomenclature the writer chose, “airplanes took aim,” and not Jihadi terrorists.

Imagine if the NY Times had covered Pearl Harbor attack much in the same way, “On December 7, 1941, airplanes took aim and seriously damaged the United States naval base at Pearl Harbor.”

The Times deliberately left conspicuous facts out of their story; the writer also deliberately reduced the number of people that were murdered. Seldom have I seen such outrage from the vox populi, as I did with this tweet.

Finally, they relented; the Times deleted the tweet and rewrote the article. The new text read, “Eighteen years have passed since terrorists commandeered airplanes to take aim at the World Trade Center and bring them down.”

The manipulative motive behind this correction that omitted the words, “Islamists” or even “al Qaeda.”  And on the Op Ed page, all the editor could focus upon is the effects of Islamophobia on American Muslims post-9/11.

Jewish readers need to ask themselves the obvious question: Why is the Times being so coy and deceptive?

In his famous book, 1984, George Orwell coined the phrase “memory hole.” Defined: the memory hole was a small incinerator chute used for censoring, through destroying, any information that Big Brother considered necessary to censor. In 1984, Orwell depicted legions of bureaucrats, who was led by the “Minister of Truth,” whose task was to erase actual historical records; alter its documents, newspapers, books, and so on. The “Memory Hole” also helped to eradicate any trace of a person or event’s actual existence.

Orwell reminded us of an ancient device used by historians since antiquity. By the changing the narrative, one can control history.

Radical Islamic apologists are skilled at this artifice. Changing the narrative is what the Islamic fanatics of ISIS have done in destroying ancient artifacts and remnants. Among casualties of history that ISIS destroyed, the ancient city-state of Palmyra was destroyed; it had remained an important tourist site in Syria for over millennia. ISIS destroyed the 1,900-year-old Temple of Baalshamin with explosives. ISIS sacked artifacts from another famous city, selling priceless Roman mosaics for tens of millions of dollars to fund their operations. In 2001, the Taliban dynamited the Buddhas of Bamyan which were two large monumental statues.

A rich Roman-era trading city, Apamea has been badly looted since the beginning of Syria’s civil war, before ISIS appeared. Satellite imagery shows dozens of pits dug across the site; previously unknown Roman mosaics have reportedly been excavated and removed for sale. ISIS is said to take a cut from sales of ancient artifacts, making tens of millions of dollars to fund their operations.

Concerning the NY Times, the “memory hole” is no less evident in the infamous discourse when Ilhan Omar nonchalantly said, “‘some people did something.” And in one gathering, she expressed sympathy for radical Islamists and made a special request to a Minnesota judge that he  rule “compassionately” towards nine men who were planning to join ISIS.

It is astounding how we have soon forgotten the real truth that happened on that terrible day. As Americans, we should feel a collective sense of outrage for the deliberate attempt of those who wish to destroy one of the darkest chapters of American history in the name of “political correctness.”

*
Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom.  He may be contacted via michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.com

Return of the Morlocks

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

One of the most brilliant science fiction writers of all time was H. G. Wells (1866-1947). His insights into human nature might possibly qualify him as a modern-day prophet. In one of the most exciting stories he wrote, “The Time Machine,” a story that has been adapted for several movies.

The protagonist travels into the distant future to a post-apocalyptical era where the remnants of humanity have evolved into two distinctive groups: the Eloi and the Morlocks. The Eloi are docile people who comprise small, elegant, childlike adults. They live in small communities within deteriorating buildings; they subsist on a fruit-based diet. This people seem peaceful and have no ambition or desire to learn. Yet, there is something wrong about the Eloi. Members of the Eloi disappear at night. What he discovers is that the Morlocks have been hunting them at night, using them as a food source.

I am referring to this story for a specific reason. It seems as though H.G. Wells’ vision of the Morlocks may not be a thing of fiction—it could become a reality for today, and possibly the future.

A behavioral scientist from Sweden thinks cannibalism of corpses will become necessary because of the effects of climate change. The name of this person is Magnus Söderlund, and he is associated with the prestigious Stockholm School of Economics. In his dystopian vision of the future, he proposed that in order to truly take on the effects of climate change, we must “awake the idea” that eating human flesh should be discussed as an option in the future.

But wait, his justification gets increasingly gross. Söderlund realizes that present-day society would find the idea of consuming flesh “repugnant.” Historically, existing “conservative” taboos against eating human flesh date back to some of the most primal periods of human history. But Söderlund thinks that to combat climate change, people could eventually learn to get over their hang-up about eating human flesh–provided they do so incrementally. Moreover, he thinks human beings can be “tricked” into “making the right decisions.” [1]

This begs the question: Who gets to determine whose life is carnally expendable? The poor and under-trodden? Will it be the lower class? What about the members of the upper echelons of society? What about the rich and powerful?  Söderlund has no answer to these questions.

In a society that places zero moral value on life in the womb, perhaps proposals from men like  Söderlund is something that was bound to happen sooner or later.

It reminds me of the story about the missionary who brought Christ to a community of cannibals. When honored at a dinner, they asked him, “How did you succeed in such an amazing feat?” The missionary sheepishly replied, “You see, before I arrived, the cannibals used to eat with their hands. But after I told them about the power of Christ, the cannibals learned to eat their prey with forks and knives.”

Once Mahatma Gandhi was asked, “What do you think of Western civilization?” “I think it would be a good idea,” he replied. …”

Today’s Western Civilization and its fanatical scientists have a lot to learn about the true meaning of “civilization.”

As I wondered about this insane idea deliberated by this Swedish scientist, I found myself recalling the words of Haim Ginott, an Israeli educational psychologist Haim Ginott writes about a letter that teachers would receive from their principal each year:

  • I am a survivor of a concentration camp. My eyes saw what no person should witness: gas chambers built by learned engineers. Children poisoned by educated physicians. Infants killed by trained nurses. Women and babies shot by high school and college graduates. So, I am suspicious of education. My request is this:  Help your children become human. Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths or educated Eichmanns. Reading, writing, and arithmetic are important only if they serve to make our children more human.

What bothers me the most is that the climate-change alarmists have developed a self-righteous morphed into a religious-like cult. Anyone who questions the veracity of its claims is considered heretical. It is not surprising that some people think we ought to promote zero population growth. The most populous areas of people are in Asia and Africa. I often wonder what some deluded people will propose next to depopulate the human race to a size that poses little threat to the environment.

Was H. G. Wells, correct?

Time will tell.

====

NOTES: [1] https://bigthink.com/surprising-science/swedish-scientist-eating-humans-climate-change?rebelltitem=2#rebelltitem2

The Ramban vs. Maimonides in theological debate

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

August 23, 2019 / Leave a Comment

Nachmanides: An Unusual Thinker by Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin, Geffen Publishing House (c) 2018, ISBN 9789652-298874.

By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

CHULA VISTA, California — One of the most interesting books I have read in years is Rabbi Israel Drazin’s excellent primer on the Ramban, entitled, Nachmanides An Unusual Thinker about a brilliant rabbinic scholar of the 13th century. He was born in Gerona in Northern Spain in 1194 and he was a man who had many remarkable experiences. And while he is best known for his biblical commentaries on the Pentateuch and other biblical books, Ramban is no less famous for his debate with the apostate Jew Pablo Christiani, which took place in 1263 in Barcelona before King James 1.

As Rabbi Drazin pointed out, Christiani attempted to prove to the community that the Sages “foreshadowed the birth and mission of Jesus.” And surprisingly, Nachmanides downplayed the significance of the midrashic texts, pointing out that these writings were only legends and should not be taken seriously. In rabbinical school, we studied this debate.

 Rabbi Drazin noted:

Maimonides was a rationalist and his philosophy was expressed systematically and explicitly, open to thinkers in every generation, whereas the majority of Ramban’s basic ideas are rooted in the metalogical realm of the Kabbalah. Their manner of expression is the allusion, which only a select few were able to fathom throughout the generations.

What I liked about his book is how the author delineated many of the key conceptual differences that best characterize Ramban’s approach and how it contrasted with Maimonides. Think of it as the mystic vs. the rationalist. Being that Ramban was a mystic, his viewpoint tends toward a greater belief in supernatural events that are recorded in the Tanakh.

The author noted:

As a mystic, Nachmanides was the first person to introduce the idea that the Torah contains mystical notions, and the first to offer a mystical interpretation of the Bible. He was also the first to state that the Aramaic translation of the Pentateuch, Targum Onkelos, contains imaginative aggadic material and mysticism. It was as if he were arguing that if the Torah is true, and mysticism is true, and Targum Onkelos is true, then it follows that the Torah and Targum Onkelos must contain mysticism.

It is ironic that both Nachmanides and Maimonides share a common attribute in their exegetical styles: each one reads their personal Judaic philosophy into the biblical text. Unlike Maimonides, whose ideas fused elements of Greek and Muslim philosophy into his theological worldview, Ramban drew much of his inspiration from the area of Jewish tradition known as the Kabbalah—and this sphere of Jewish learning was one that Maimonides examined with the utmost of his intellectual criticism. According to Ramban, the midrashic hermeneutic constitutes the simple and literal sense of Scriptures, the entire Tanakh makes up the Name of God. Supernaturalism is the peshat of the Torah according to him. Nachmanides promotes the Torah as a mystical text— and this view has left a lasting impression on all subsequent Judaic mystics down to the present era.

As one of Maimonides’ foremost critics, Nachmanides challenged many of Maimonides’ philosophical expositions of how he interpreted familiar biblical narratives and laws. Being that Ramban was a mystic, he interpreted supernatural events as they were recorded in the Tanakh. He had no interest in Maimonidean rationalism.

Let us consider the following examples:

Unlike Maimonides’s parabolic approach to the Book of Genesis, Ramban takes the opposite position in keeping with his understanding of the peshat. For him, when the Torah speaks about an actual Garden of Eden and that Adam’s disobedience was a historical event that occurs in real time; Eden occupies an actual place in the ancient Near East. According to Maimonides—the story possesses a distinctively allegorical meaning. But for Ramban, the Edenic serpent was more than just a mythical character or a psychological symbol—it walks, and it talks too!

As R. Drazin observed:

“Nachmanides used the commentaries of Rashi and Abraham ibn Ezra, and less frequently Maimonides as a springboard with which to contrast his own original mystical biblical interpretation. He disagrees with these sages, often with strong disparaging words. He also cites the Aramaic translation of the Pentateuch, Targum Onkelos, but always with admiration, deference, and respect. Yet, although he mentions Onkelos 230 times in his commentary to the Pentateuch, generally to support” his point of view.

 There are many interesting selections the author mentions. For example, he raises the questions:

·         Do Animals Sin? Similarly, Genesis 6:12 states, “all flesh corrupted their ways.” Rashi argues that “all flesh” means that animals and birds also sinned. Nachmanides recognizes that animals do not sin and states that “all flesh” denotes “all people.”

·         Why State Both “Created” and “Made”? Genesis 2:3 seems to have a duplication, “which God created, had made.” Ibn Ezra states that “had made” means that God gave the items the power to reproduce. Rashi opines that it suggests that God did double work on the sixth day. Nachmanides understands “had made” as suggesting, “that which He had made out of nothing.”

Similarly, later on in the Pentateuch, when Balaam’s donkey speaks, the story means exactly what it says. Once again, for Maimonides, he argued that in psychological terms, Balaam’s donkey can only be understood as a prophetic event; the Torah narrated a biblical character’s visionary experience. The theme of prophecy continues to be a bone of contention with Ramban, who differed with Maimonides’ view that the story about the three strangers who visit Abraham also occurred in a vision. Ramban, argues to the contrary, citing the detail given in the narrative occurs in real time. Abraham entertains real guests, not figments of his imagination. Beyond that, Ramban regarded all the midrashic stories mentioned in rabbinic tradition as having occurred.

Ramban also did not believe in the existence of “natural law” and that God is literally micromanaging all of His Creation, tweaking it from time to time. “God is constantly and directly involved in every human act and thought and frequently interferes and even controls them. He calls these divine manipulations ‘hidden miracles.’” This concept is fascinating, but Maimonides differed, arguing that God’s Providence over nature does not extend to a leaf falling from a tree, or whether every minor event operates with a special imperative from God.

 Along the same line of thought, Ramban believed demons are the product of sorcery, and possess bodies composed of air and fire,[1] which enable them to take flight.[2] are familiar with future events because they communicate with the angels in charge of the stars.[3] More seriously, Ramban takes indirect aim at Maimonides by asserting anyone who does not believe in demonic beings suffers from a heretical attitude toward the world. According to Ramban, if you believe in miracles, then you ought to believe demonic beings exist as well. Elsewhere, Ramban writes:

It is from this standpoint that you can come to realize the ruthlessness and stubbornness of the principal Greek Philosopher Aristotle—may his name be erased from memory—who denies the truth of many things which we have seen and has been publicized throughout the world. In Mosaic times, these truths were known to all for the wisdom of that generation pertained to spiritual matters, e.g., entities involving the demonic and sorcery. However, when the Greeks arose, Aristotle believed only in what the physical sciences could confirm. In his effort to establish the scientific disciplines, he denied the realm of the spiritual. Aristotle denied the existence of demons and all magical acts. For him, the world operated solely by natural law. But it is well-known and shown that this is not the case at all. [4]

Maimonides considered such a perspective to be superstitious nonsense, and never does he endorse such a belief in demonology throughout all his writings, which are considerable.

The reader will find the material presented in this book fascinating. Nachmanides may not be necessarily correct in all of his claims, but as an expounder of the peshat (plain meaning of the text), readers will feel challenged to debate his position with other great ideas expressed by Rashi, Ibn Ezra, and other famous Judaic luminaries.

I really enjoyed reading Nachmanides: An Unusual Thinker, and I know you will too.

 This book merits a 5 star rating from this reviewer.

NOTES:

[1] Ramban’s Commentary to Leviticus 17:7. Ramban’s description of demons is almost identical with the Muslim belief in Jinn (الجن‎, al-jinn) who are shape-shifting spirits composed of fire and air.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ramban’s Commentary to Leviticus 17:7.

[4] Charles B. Chavel, Kitvei Ramban, “Derashat Torat Hashem Temimah,” vol. I, pp. 147, 149)

*
Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista.  He may be contacted via michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.comPosted in: Books & Poetry, Jewish Religion, Rabbi Israel Drazin, Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Afterthoughts of the Chabad Poway Shooting

Posted on by Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel
I’m in trouble!

Sometimes, wisdom tales of the past have a way of speaking to us in the present. And although we often think of ourselves a product of the present, in reality, our personal narrative is inextricably connected to those who have preceded us from the past. This especially true when observing Jewish history. By the same token, future generations of Jews will be profoundly affected by the choices we make as Jews today.

Toward the end of the second century C.E., the great Talmudic sage, Rabbi Akiba, lived under the harsh yoke of Roman oppression. Notwithstanding the dangers Jews faced, he boldly defied the Roman ban on studying and publicly teaching Torah.  He once used the following parable about a fox to explain why he did so:

A hungry fox once trotted alongside a river teeming with fish. As the fish darted back and forth, the fox came up with a subterfuge to win the fishes’ attention. The fox exclaimed, “What’s going on?” he called to the fish. “The fisherman is coming with his nets!” came a garbled reply. “I’ve got an idea!” the crafty fox hollered. “Leap out of the water and join me on the riverbank. There are no nets here.”  “You’re not so bright, are you?” came the scornful reply.  “If we remain here, we may or may not get caught.  But if we leave the water, we will die!” Rabbi Akiba said, “The Romans may or may not take my life, but I cannot abandon the Torah, much like a fish cannot give up living in the water.”

But doing nothing is no longer an option.

Verily, every battle against the reality of evil is not limited to just the physical plane we occupy. There is also a spiritual battle that we must engage in. Specifically, if we allow our enemies to frighten us from attending the synagogue, then we have given them a victory they do not deserve. Judaism cannot survive, much less thrive, in such a fearful environment. The first-century Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria offers us this tidbit of advice, “Cowardice a disease. It poses a far graver threat since it affects not only the body but also destroys the faculties of the soul, unless God heals the person of this condition, for with God all things are possible to Him.”

As I thought about the misery, we have seen this past year, where many Jews have suffered for the crime of being Jewish, it is important to keep in mind this recent shooting occurred in the week of Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Memorial Day. And although the face of anti-Semites has changed, their dark character reveals that much of the “civilized” world has not learned any wisdom from one of the darkest periods of human and Jewish history. Even here in the United States, according to the Pew Reports, a third of the American population is not sure whether the Holocaust ever occurred. We have also witnessed a resurgence of hatred in Poland, Germany, the Ukraine, in Russia.[1]

From a theological perspective, the legion of attacks against the Jews raises a question that I am certain many of us have wondered about:  What does it mean to be God’s “Chosen People”? My grandfather, Moshe Samuel, on the way to the crematoria said to my father, “God, if we are Your “Chosen People, then why don’t you choose somebody else for a change?” In moments of great evil, even the most pious can sometimes experience doubt about their faith. Sholem Aleichem also had Tevye express this same question in Fiddler on the Roof.

I believe that as Jews we have a moral purpose to teach the nations of the world about ethical monotheism—i.e., the belief that we must treat each person with the dignity that each person deserves. But Judaism is also more than just a religion of ethics—even if its ethical monotheism. It is a spiritual way of life that summons us to live with dignity, inspires us to sanctify the most ordinary of relationships—toward each other, toward our environment, toward the world; our faith summons us to be hopeful, and courageous when it comes to sticking together during rough times.

This time of the year, let us honor Lori Gilbert-Kaye’s courageous sacrifice by keeping strong the synagogue institution she so deeply loved. Our condolences go out to and her family, to Rabbi Goldstein, and to all those who were directly affected by the attack.

As Jews we have walked this way before in our history. As of this moment, remember each of us is making Jewish history.

What will our legacy be as the future generations of Jews read about our experiences and how we reacted? Will we be remembered for the strength we exuded in standing together as previous generations have done?

The answer is up to each and every one of you.

I encourage each Jewish person to make this Shabbat a Shabbat where we celebrate our Judaism—even as we travel through the Valley of Darkness, knowing full well, that God is with us.