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Sunday, 8 December 2024

496) Kabbalah: To print or not to print the ‘lost’ mystical tradition

 

The first printed edition, the "editio princeps", of the Zohar published in Mantua, Italy in 1558.


Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Avraham Oriah Kelman[1] examines the little-known crisis in Kabbalistic transmission that became evident between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries. 

The earlier Sefaradic Kabbalistic tradition, which had peaked in Spain in the thirteenth century (with the Zohar first published around 1290) had now spread to central Europe. The expulsion from Spain in 1492 can be seen as precipitating this spread of Kabbalistic influence to Europe. This was coupled with the simultaneous spread of Kabbalah from the various mystical schools of Safed, including Lurianic Kabbalah from the Ari Zal (1534-1572). By the sixteenth century, Central European Ashkenazi Jewry was well-exposed to, and keenly influenced by, Kabbalah from both its eastern and western co-religionists. But Kabbalah, although now widely disseminated and popularised, was in an internal state of crisis. This created a tension between the leadership of the mystical movement and those who were publishing mystical works, and it is to that tension and theological strain that we shall now turn. 

The unbroken mystical chain breaks down around the thirteenth century

The Kabbalists maintain that there was an unbroken chain of mystical tradition dating all the way back to Sinai. The very term “Kabbalah” denotes a received tradition which was generally handed down orally from master to student. Although Kabbalah had spread to Ashkenaz from its eastern and western flanks around the sixteenth century,  according to Kelman (2014:252), three centuries earlier, from around the thirteenth century, the direct mystical chain of transmission had already broken down. This was when multiple mystical schools of Kabbalah with conflicting traditions, began to emerge in written form, in Spain: 

“In this process [during the thirteenth century], oral traditions declined, and kabbalah transformed from a tradition passed by word-of-mouth (or a tradition combining orality with textuality) to knowledge absorbed primarily from texts or revealed in spiritual experiences to a few gifted mystics” (Kelman 2024:252). 

We know that the line of oral transmission of Kabbalah had broken down by the thirteenth century because a characteristic of the new thirteenth-century emergent written genre of Kabbalah was the common expression of lament for the previous era that had boasted what was conceptualised as an unbroken mystical tradition up to that point. Kabbalah was then considered to have been in a state of crisis due to its lost line of oral transmission of the mystical teachings. This crisis over lost mystical traditions was not a secret but something frequently acknowledged and spoken about. The later expulsions from Spain in 1492 only cemented the lamenting over lost traditions. 

But with this conceived loss of authentic ancient traditions, came a new era of intense preservation and reconstruction of whatever was left of the old traditions. These were committed to writing and later to printing, after the invention of the printing press in 1440. Now any reader could study Kabbalah, even without a teacher and without belonging to an accredited mystical group. This created a concerning state of tension, as mentioned, and it resulted in different responses in attempts at alleviating the crisis of a perceived loss of authentic Kabbalistic oral traditions passed down to small elitist and closed mystical circles. 

Various responses to the crisis of lost authentic Kabbalistic traditions

The printing and dissemination of Kabbalistic literature at this time sparked huge controversy between rabbis and printers. The storm raised questions like: 

“What is the relationship between books, traditions, and esoteric knowledge? How is one to verify the authenticity of knowledge that [is] supposed to be esoteric? And is it possible to maintain hidden mystical traditions in the age of printed books?” (Kelman 2024:255). 

We shall now turn to some responses to the crisis of lost mystical traditions and the questions it raised: 

1) Not permissible to print Kabbalah

During the late sixteenth century, in the midst of the explosion of printed Kabbalistic works, there were debates over whether it was even permitted to print Kabbalistic literature. Some argued forcefully that it was not permitted to print and publish books of a Kabbalistic nature, specifically because they acknowledged that mystical traditions had been lost and that there were no longer teachers who could offer guidance on these matters. The proponents of this school maintained that one may only be taught Kabbalah by teachers who themselves were taught orally by their teachers. This is known as: “מפי סופרים ולא מפי ספרים איש מפי איש, From scholars and not from books [and] orally from one to another.” On this view, the popular printed texts violated this important principle. 

2) Counter-argument that printing cannot do harm

The counter-argument to the abovementioned claim that printing violates the line of Kabbalistic transmission, is simply that printing while indeed is not the preferred method of mystical transmission can do no harm. It might not be the best method, but at least partial Kabbalistic concepts can still be transferred to students keen to study this wisdom. 

R. Moshe Basola (1480-1560) adopted such an approach. Writing in the Introduction to the Mantua edition of the Tikkunei haZohar, he alludes to this by stating that, anyway, the printed version is only meant to be a partial encounter with the actual deep and sublime mystical concepts: 

“[I]n truth, when the Zohar speaks about the Divine and about emanation, it does so in an opaque language that is comprehensible only to an individual who is wise and knowledgeable in the ways of kabbalah“ (Moshe Basola, Introduction to the 1558 Mantua edition of Tikkunei haZohar). 

This way, the Zohar is immune to, and can never be damaged by, textual and printed representations; and in any case, it speaks in “opaque language.” In other words, the great Kabbalists were always aware of the dangers of the written medium, but built in protection to the Zoharic concepts by their specialised literary methodology and techniques. These coded safeguards would prevail even when confronted by unworthy readers. 

3) Kabbalah through revelation

While essentially acknowledging that the traditions had been lost, others argued that they could be regained through a form of mystical revelation to certain mystically privileged or charismatic individuals. 

4) No option other than publishing

a) Another response was the pragmatic acknowledgement that Kabbalistic knowledge had indeed been irretrievably lost to us but specifically since this is the case, the least they can do is to print and publish Kabbalistic texts so that something will remain of this lost tradition. This sentiment was well-expressed by R. Moshe ben Abraham Provençal:

 

“In this era … because of our many sins, the oral transmission of kabbalah, a person from a person (ish mi-pi ish), has ceased. These days, we are studying only a little from scholars (sofrim), and mostly from books, and from their mouths we live” (Moshe ben Abraham Provençal, Introduction to the 1558 Mantua edition of Tikkunei haZohar). 

On this view, Kabbalah should be printed, published, preserved and disseminated to make it available to whoever wishes to pursue this area of study. 

b) Another expression of a similar sentiment is made by R. Emmanuel of Benevento who edited the Kabbalistic work, Maarechet haElokut. In the Introduction, he wrote: 

“One might argue that, since this wisdom is called kabbalah [transmission], a man should learn these matters orally from a teacher (mi-peh el peh). But who is this person, and who is his father, who will walk in the orchard of apples [an expression for acquiring mystical wisdom] toward us and say: ‘I am a child of the sages, I am well-versed in this wisdom’, such that we might rely on his dreams and words … and that we can know that it is truly God’s Torah in his mouth…” (R. Emmanuel of Benevento, Introduction to the 1558 Mantua edition of Maarechet haElokut). 

Unlike Provençal, who claimed that the mystical wisdom had been irretrievably lost, Benevento allows the possibility for these traditions to still exist somewhere, in theory, except that it is not possible to recognise them and confirm their authenticity. The best we can do under the circumstances is to rely on the canonical Kabbalah as printed in our editions of the Zohar: 

“Benevento cultivates here a certain relationship between books and oral tradition, one that is perhaps easier to advocate in a world of printed kabbalistic books: we should no longer verify the authenticity of texts and their interpretations by consulting living kabbalists…. [F]or Benevento, printed books, not living scholars, should be regarded as the authoritative sources of kabbalah” (Kelman 2024:258). 

5) The radical approach of R. Chaim Vital (1542-1620)

R. Chaim Vital had a radical approach which, on the one hand, declared that no Kabbalistic works should be consulted if they were produced after Nachmanides (Ramban, 1194-1270). The last authentic Kabbalist was therefore Nachmanides. (This raises all sorts of interesting questions because, whoever the author of the Zohar was, the Zohar was only first published in around 1290, which was twenty years after Nachmanides’ passing.) On the other hand, R. Chaim Vital ascribed revelationary status to his teacher, R. Yitzchak Luria (Arizal, 1534-1572), who he described as divinely ordained as the new authentic Kabbalistic master for future generations. This ‘new’ Kabbalah was not handed down through the classical mode of transmission, but rather through (the claim of) Revelation from G-d above. 

R. Chaim Vital, thus, effectively sidesteps the notion of lost transmission and introduces charismatic Revelation as the new means of attaining Kabbalistic knowledge. 

6) The unique approach of R. Moshe Isserles (1530-1572)

R. Isserles of Cracow adopted a unique response to the crises of the lost mystical tradition. He unquestionably agreed that the interpretive traditions of Kabbalah had been lost, but instead of giving up on them, he maintained that a new approach had to be developed under the circumstances. 

R. Moshe Isserles, also known as the Ramah, witnessed the expansion of Kabbalah in the printed medium but raised his concerns about it. R. Isserless lived at the same time as the Arizal, but he still felt that without a Kabbalistic master instructing on a one-on-one basis, lay readers, by simply reading the printed word, could err in their understanding of Kabbalah. He also did not subscribe to charismatic or revelatory means of Kabbalistic transmission where lost traditions are said to be revealed through supernatural means to worthy people. 

R. Isserles himself admitted that he too did not have access to the oral mystical tradition and that he also had to rely on the many Kabbalistic books that proliferated at that time. R. Isserles developed an approach to deal with this crisis of the lost authentic mystical traditions. 

To understand his approach, we need to first distinguish between two important terms, esoteric and exoteric. Esoteric is where a form of knowledge is private, exclusive and obscure. Exoteric is the exact opposite, where a form of knowledge is accessible, understandable, common, and available to general society. 

R. Isserles insisted that for Kabbalah which is a form of esoteric knowledge to survive into the future, it must adopt some aspects of common and human rationality as well. For R. Isserles, the face of future Kabbalah was one of compromise and synthesis incorporating both esoteric and exoteric knowledge. A full grasp of traditional Kabbalah was simply no longer possible as the traditions were no longer accessible. Because of this compromise between esoteric (hidden) and exoteric (revealed) forms of knowledge, we can understand why some did not technically classify R. Isserles as a Kabbalist in the truest sense of the term; and he certainly was not a revelatory or charismatic Kabbalist either. 

R. Isserles’ synthesis between esoteric Kabbalah and exoteric Philosophy

One of the pitfalls of learning Kabbalah from books instead of from real teachers was that misguided readings may result. R. Yosef Ahkenazi, known as the Tanna of Safed, was accused by a member of R. Isserles’ circle (either Abraham Horowitz or Yisrael ben Shalom Shachna) of developing anthropomorphic characterisations of G-d (where G-d takes on human attributes). Reading Kabbalah alone without oral explanations often ends up unnuanced and leads to literal interpretations. 

Those in Isserles’ circle maintained that if R. Yosef Ahkenazi had been exposed to a line of oral transmission of Kabbalistic ideas and not just read books, he would have understood that anthropomorphisms are not meant to be interpreted literally and they may, instead, have had some philosophical nuances. Kabbalah can tend to get quite technically graphic with its numerous and detailed anthropomorphisms which could be mitigated by a more philosophical interpretation. 

R. Isserles and his circle, therefore, believed that since they lived at a time when the authentic mystical traditions had been lost, the only alternative was to adopt a significant component of philosophical interpretation (in the Maimonidean and rationalist sense) to supplement the printed texts. Adopting Philosophy as a key interpretive tool and applying it to difficult Kabbalistic written texts, would prevent the student from being led astray by the literal readings of those printed texts. 

To this end, R. Isserles dedicated a lengthy section of his Torat haOlah to reconciling Kabbalah with Philosophy: 

“This generation has declined such that…I have never in my life seen a master kabbalist (‘ish mekubal) who knows this matter clearly from the genuine tradition (ha-kabalah ha-‘amitit). Indeed, many of the common people rush to learn about kabbalah because it is seductive, especially from those authors of recent generations who revealed its secrets explicitly in their books… Never mind that their words cannot be truly understood since we have no kabbalist who received this tradition from a master kabbalist! (she’ein mekubal mi-pi mekubal). Not only do those with book-learning look into them, but even ordinary householders who don’t know their right hand from their left, who are in the dark when it comes to explaining the weekly Torah portion with Rashi, are jumping on the bandwagon to learn kabbalah. The end result is that this generation, orphaned in sin, is in such decline that a coin clattering in a jug makes the biggest noise—whoever knows a little bit shows off and preaches in public, but someday will have to give an accounting” (R. Moshe Isserles, Torat haOlah, 1570:72b). 

R. Isserles was most concerned about how laymen and even rabbis were interpreting the rich anthropomorphisms in Kabbalistic literature in a literal manner. To him, this seemed to contradict the extreme anti-anthropomorphic writings of Maimonides in his Guide For the Perplexed. This made it very difficult for R. Isserles to maintain the literal readings of concepts like the Ten Sefirot (or Spheres) which constitute the ‘body’ of G-d. It is no accident that R. Moshe Isserles is referred to as the “Maimonides (Moshe ben Maimon) of Poland.”  Inscribed on R. Isserles’ gravestone is the epitaph: "From Moses [Maimonides] to Moses [Isserles] there was none like Moses." 

“Not only was Isserles well versed in Talmud, he also studied Kabbalah and Jewish mystical writings, as well as history, astronomy and Greek philosophy. Isserles is considered one of the forerunners of the Jewish enlightenment” (Jewish Virtual Library, entry on Moses ben Israel Isserles). 

R. Isserles said that he studied Aristotle through the writings of Maimonides’ Guide For the Perplexed which he studied on Shabbat.  He also follows Maimonides in a belief in the active intelligence, and does not regard angels not as actual beings, but rather the powers of nature are called "angels" (or messengers) because these forces of nature act as intermediaries between the First Cause and the thing caused or created. R. Isserles maintained that it was better to occupy oneself with Maimonidean Philosophy than to err through Kabbalah (Isserles, Responsa, No. 7). Although he studied Kabbalah, he rejected the Kabbalists when their opinions did not agree with Philosophy, and he ruled against the Zohar in Halachic matters.[2]  

It is interesting to note that Kelman comes to a similar conclusion as does the following encyclopaedic entry: 

“In general, Isserles endeavored to prove that the teaching of true cabalists is the same as that of the philosophers, the only difference being in the language employed” (The 1901 Jewish  Encyclopedia, entry on Isserles, Moses ben Israel (Rema). 

R. Isserles was later to pay a price for his synthesis of Kabbalah and Philosophy when the seventeenth-century R. Shmuel Ashkenazi attacked him in his writings on Novlot Chochmah. R. Ashkenazi criticises R. Isserles for his mixing of spiritual and physical interpretations and claims he: 

“covered them with filthy and material clothing and darkened their light” (R. Yosef Shlomo Delmedigo, Novlot Chochmah, Hanau 1639:129a-b). 

R. Isserles and his synthesis of Kabbalah and Philosophy would have also upset the Medieval rationalist philosophers as well because he locates the divine presence too acutely within the physical realm. To the rationalist philosophers, G-d was always somewhat removed and not integral to physicality. Thus, R. Isserles’ methodology of synthesis between Kabbalah and Philosophy upset both traditional Kabbalists and traditional Philosophers at the same time. However, for him, this was the only way to deal with a mystical oral tradition that had dissipated over time, and to prevent literal readings and anthropomorphic interpretations. 

R. Isserles felt that he needed to create this novel synthesis between Kabbalah and Philosophy to prevent the literal leanings by readers of published Kabbalistic texts. He believed they had gone astray in their sole reliance on printed Kabbalah, unmitigated by authentic teachers with their ancient interpretive, nuanced and definitive wisdom. 

“Isserles’ theology is one of a humble mysticism, that is aware of its own epistemological limits, but does not give up on the metaphysical tensity and vibrancy of the mystical texts he interprets” (Kelman 2024:270). 

By blending esoteric thought with exoteric thought, R. Isserles unseated both the esoterics and exoterics, Kabbalists and rationalist philosophers. However, he believed there were no better options in an age that witnessed the explosion of Kabbalistic publications and the simultaneous demise of stable Kabbalistic interpretive solutions. 

Analysis

We have noted that R. Isserles offered but one of many different responses to the devastating crisis of a lost mystical tradition. This loss was masked and shielded by a proliferation of printed Kabbalistic works that gave the appearance that all was well. However, the popularisation of Kabbalah disguised and papered over fundamental theological fault lines because it was generally acknowledged that the authentic mystical transmission had indeed been lost. By contributing to a popular and intense interest in mysticism, the writers, printers and distributors of Kabbalistic works had established a paradoxical culture that on the one hand had lost its roots, yet somehow still managed to perpetuate its growth.



[1] Kelman, A.O, 2024, ‘Tradition of Crisis: Kabbalistic Transmission in Early Modern Kraków’, Aschkenas 34, vol. 2, 251–270.

Sunday, 1 December 2024

495) Benjamin Franklin as a ‘Founding Father’ of the Musar Movement

 

The 1844 edition of Cheshbon haNefesh by R. Menachem Mendel Lefin of Satanów (first published anonymously in 1808).



Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Shai Afsai[1] examines how Benjamin Franklin (1706–1790), Founding Father of the United States and drafter and signer of the Declaration of Independence, made an unexpected, under-reported, yet significant contribution to the ethical philosophy of R. Menachem Mendel Lefin of Satanów (1749–1826). 

These ethical principles were then later adopted by the Lithuanian Musar movement under R. Yisrael Lipkin Salanter (1810–1883). 

“Leading members of the Lithuanian Musar movement loved Rabbi Menahem Mendel Lefin of Satanów’s method of character refinement” (Afsai 2019:55). 

However, neither R. Lefin nor R. Salanter made any indications that these ethical contributions originated with Benjamin Franklin. Nevertheless, these methods of character refinement were included in R. Lefin’s work, Cheshbon haNefesh, which became a key source for R. Yisrael Salanter’s Musar movement which was intended to be an alternative to Chassidism.  

Sunday, 24 November 2024

494) Inverted hierarchies: Humans making G-d more moral

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Dov Weiss[1] examines how late Palestinian Midrashim, particularly the Tanchuma Yelamedeinu (fourth to ninth centuries CE), depict humans challenging G-d over morally problematic issues expressed in the Torah. In these cases, biblical figures are audaciously portrayed as both teaching and counselling G-d, as it were, convincing Him to adopt a more moral and ethical approach. The Midrashic work, Tanchuma Yelamedeinu exhibits about fifty examples of humans making G-d ‘more moral.’ 

Sunday, 10 November 2024

493) Carrying on Shabbat: From Jeremiah to the Mishna

Jerusalem began trading on the silk route from around 200 BCE

Introduction

This article ꟷ based extensively on the research by Professor Alex P. Jassen[1] ꟷ examines how four pre-Mishnaic texts show evidence of the origin and expansion of the prohibition against carrying on Shabbat. The specific textual prohibition against carrying on Shabbat first begins with Yirmiyahu’s (Jeremiah’s) prohibition against carrying a ‘load’ (מַשָּׂא֙, massa), for trade and commercial purposes, and only in Jerusalem. It then underwent a process of expansion during Second Temple times as it passed through the four texts of Nechemiah (Nehemiah), the Book of Jubilees, the Dead Sea Scrolls and finally became the Mishna’s general Halachic prohibition, as we know it today, against carrying ‘anything’ to or from ‘any’ domain. We shall trace and map this textual progression. Our focus is on the textual trail, as the oral tradition (which we briefly discuss at the conclusion) is not possible to track in the same way. 

Sunday, 3 November 2024

492) Are Halachic rulings (Piskei Halacha) open to critical analysis or do they represent Divine Will?


    The varying faces of Piskei Halacha:

A Psak Din from R. Henkin 1934 regarding an inheritance


A Psak Din signed by 250 rabbis declaring the Lubavitcher Rebbe the Messiah


Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Adiel Schremer[1] takes an in-depth and forthright look at the sometimes mysterious process of Halachic decision-making as practised by the Posek (Halachic judge or decisor). The Torah teaches that if any matter of law shall arise in the future that is too difficult for people to determine by themselves, then they must approach the “judge who shall be in those days” (Deut. 17:8-11) for adjudication:

וּבָאתָ֗ אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִים֙ הַלְוִיִּ֔ם וְאֶ֨ל־הַשֹּׁפֵ֔ט אֲשֶׁ֥ר יִהְיֶ֖ה בַּיָּמִ֣ים הָהֵ֑ם וְדָרַשְׁתָּ֙ וְהִגִּ֣ידוּ לְךָ֔ אֵ֖ת דְּבַ֥ר הַמִּשְׁפָּֽט

However, the Torah is silent on exactly how the judge is to go about deciding the law: 

“Scripture offers no answer, and surprisingly it is neither discussed by later classical Jewish tradition, nor addressed by modern students of Jewish law” (Schremer 2010:5). 

In practice, we all know that the simple answer is to ‘ask a rabbi,’ or, under more pressing circumstances, to ‘ask a Posek’ (an authoritative Halachic decisor). The question, though, in light of the silence on the matter, is what specific process or methodology (if any) does the Posek (have to) follow?  Various interest groups sometimes propose direct or indirect 'guidelines,' but, as we shall see, that only contributes to the problem.

Sunday, 27 October 2024

491) A source trail defending the Baal haTanya’s definition of the soul as ‘a part of G-d’

 

Signature of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in a copy of the Tanya in 1979

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Rabbi Dr Louis Jacobs (1920-2006)[1] traces possible sources that the author of the Tanya, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, also known as the Baal haTanya (1745-1812), may have used, to formulate what is sometimes described as his ‘controversial’ definition of a soul being an actual ‘part’ of G-d.  

The notion of an infinite and monotheistic G-d who incarnates Himself in humans is often regarded as anathema to Jewish theology which seems firmly against the idea that G-d embodies Himself within mortal beings. Yet, as we shall see, there is an array of earlier mystical sources that the Baal haTanya could, and may, have used to develop his famous statement that the [second or Godly] soul is חלק אלו-ה ממעל ממש, truly a part of G-d above (Tanya, Ch. 2).[2] 

Sunday, 13 October 2024

490) How the rabbis used interpretive tools like Kal vaChomer to assert their independence and unseat the Second Temple sects

Introduction

This article – based extensively on the research by Rabbi Professor Richard Hidary[1] continues on the previous article’s theme of Sadducees (Priests) and Pharisees (Rabbis). It examines what can only be described as one of the most dramatic internal revolutions within Jewish thought, as the priestly class of Kohanim (צָדוֹקִים/Tzadokim/Sadducees) gave way to the developing class of Rabbis (פְּרוּשִׁם/Perushim/Pharisees). The priestly Sadducees dominated the approximately one thousand years of the First and Second Temple eras as they managed the Temple and administered the sacrifices. 

Sunday, 29 September 2024

489) Pharisees and Sadducees: The politics of Sages and Priests

Pesher Nachum from Qumran 13
Introduction

This article – based extensively on the research by Professor Eyal Regev[1] − examines the theological differences between the Sadducees (צָדוֹקִים - Tzadokim) and Pharisees (פְּרוּשִׁם - Perushim). It identifies the differences between the early class of Jewish priests, known as the Sadducees, and an emerging rabbinic class, known as the Pharisees. It focuses on the moment when rabbinic Judaism, as we understand it, became the more dominant force in the future development of Jewish history, as the nascent rabbinic sages (Pharisees) began to displace the established Temple priests (Sadducees). 

Sunday, 22 September 2024

488) Gershom Scholem’s messianic claim


 

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Boaz Huss[1] and Professor Michael Brenner[2] explores aspects of the life story and personal thought of Gershom (Gerhard) Scholem (1897-1982), the first researcher and professor of Jewish mysticism. 

Meeting with the kabbalists of Jerusalem

In 1915, while still in Berlin, a young Scholem had already met and become friends with Walter Benjamin. Benjamin was later to kill himself by an overdose of morphine tablets in 1940 rather than surrender to the Nazis. Scholem dedicated his famous work, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, to his friend Walter Benjamin. 

Sunday, 8 September 2024

487) Self-promotion or natural authority? The case of Chavot Yair.

 


Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Jay Berkovitz[1] examines the charismatic image and commanding authority of the Halachic decisor, known as the Posek, whose task is to determine Jewish religious law. In this case, the rabbinic authority, R. Yair Chaim Bacharach (1638–1702) is used as an exemplar of the rise of the modern Posek.  He is known as the Chavot Yair after the title of his Responsa by that name, and he was active around the city of Worms in Germany. Responsa is sometimes called Sheilot uTeshovt (questions and answers) or Shut literature). The Chavot Yair was known for his innovation in law and independence of thought. 

Sunday, 1 September 2024

486) An ancient (pre)text of Deuteronomy?

 

A cartoon in Punch magazine, 1883, showing Moses Wilhelm Shapira being apprehended by Christian David Ginzburg outside the British Museum, for allegedly forging an ancient textual find.

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Idan Dershowitz[1] examines a work that for many years was regarded as a forgery, but, arguably, turned out to be one of the most significant textual finds of the nineteenth century. 

Part 1 describes the human-interest story of the original owner of the text, Moses Wilhelm Shapira and his eventual suicide after being accused of being the forger of the text. 

Part 2 advocates for the authenticity of the text, and discusses some of the consequences of this find which Dershowitz considers to be “a text that could change everything” (Dershowitz 2021:vi). Because the text resembled sections of the Book of Deuteronomy which deals with Moses’ farewell speech, Dershowitz has called the Shapira texts the ‘Valediction of Moses.’ 

Sunday, 25 August 2024

485) Is a Halachic environmental discourse even possible?

 


Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Rabbi Professor Kotel Dadon[1] examines some Torah and rabbinic sources that indicate the existence of, and potential for, further Jewish ecological discourse. It then (ambitiously) attempts to seek ways to bring this debate into the four cubits of Halacha (religious law). 

Dadon begins by nailing his colours to the mast in terms of his position on climate change and environmental issues: 

“Climate change and the resulting environmental disasters are among the greatest moral and existential crises of our time” (Dadon 2023:131). 

The general environmental discourse today revolves around two conflicting approaches regarding the role humans play in the world. These are the anthropocentric and biocentic approaches.

Sunday, 18 August 2024

484) Babylonian Talmudic notion of 'Temporary Marriage'

Rabbi Professor Yaakov Elman 1943-2018

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Rabbi Professor Yaakov Elman[1] examines the recorded Talmudic notion of ‘temporary marriage’ as practised by the Amoraic (Gemara) sages, Rav (d. 247 CE) and R. Nachman (d. 320 CE). In a series of five previous articles, we have dealt with Elman’s groundbreaking studies on surprising but extensive Babylonian influences on the Babylonian Talmud. In this article, we try to understand how a Babylonian (=Iranian, Persian or Sasanian to be more accurate) practice of ‘temporary marriage’ was able to penetrate the conservative Talmudic circles around the third and fourth centuries CE. 

Sunday, 11 August 2024

483) What Are We Supposed To Be Doing on Tisha B'Av?


Another guest post by Rabbi Boruch Clinton

We all know the things we can’t do on Tisha B’Av. But just not doing stuff can’t be the whole story. The real point, I suppose, is the mourning. But how does that happen?

The poskim (אורח חיים תקנ”ד) point to a custom to avoid labor (מלאכה) and business (בפרקמטיה). That, no doubt, is to keep us from being distracted from the mourning. We’re also expected to refrain from learning most Torah sources as it’s assumed those will give us joy.

The tefilos and kinnos are certainly there to help us focus on this specific flavor of mourning. But tefilos don’t take that much time, and the kinnos - even when properly understood - are relatively modern: it’s unlikely that any of them is older than 1,000 years, and it’s only very recently that we began reciting the “whole book” regardless of our individual family traditions. So how did our ancestors from previous centuries actually fill the day?

Sunday, 4 August 2024

482) Rav Kook through statistical analysis

R. Avraham Yitzchak haKohen Kook 1865-1935.

Introduction

This article based extensively on the research by Professor Isaac Hershkowitz[1] − statistically compares the early writings of Rav Kook to his later writings. R. Avraham Yitzchak Kook (1865-1935) was the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine and one of the founders of religious Zionism. Rav Kook created an enormous corpus of literature and new material continues to emerge. It is difficult, therefore, to describe Rav Kook unless all of his writings are taken into consideration. He is variously depicted by scholars in attempts to ascertain his “overarching system” of thought, but according to Hershkowitz, it seems his approach may have undergone an evolutionary process instead of remaining a homogenous system of thought. This position can be supported by a groundbreaking study of statistical data that Hershkowitz has conducted indicating “the development and evolution of Kook’s position over the course of his life” (Hershkowitz 2023:2, footnote 3). 

Sunday, 28 July 2024

481) Religion and (or) Social Justice: A Jewish Perspective

Loius Rabinowitz (1906-1984): Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregation of Johannesburg and the Federation of Synagogues of Transvaal and the Orange Free State


 A conference presentation:

Abstract

This paper suggests possible approaches to religion and social justice and social cohesion. It adopts a dialectical rather than a didactical methodology and examines tensions between insular religion and social outreach towards the ‘other.’ This outreach would include the marginalised classes and different factions within one’s own religion, as well as the ‘other’ who is not of the same religion. Regarding outreach towards the 'other' of another religion, this writer makes two pragmatic assumptions: 1) all religions can act either as incubators for cross-cultural and inter-religious coexistence (without fear of assimilation), or as promotors of exclusionism; and 2) the theological seeds nurturing both these outcomes lie dormant inside every religion. At some stage, therefore, a choice has to be made either to reach 'in' or to reach 'out.' To illustrate the vast spectrum of theological choices available within Judaism, I have tried to locate two polar opposite data points. I searched for the most fundamentalist, extreme and exclusionist statement about the ‘other’ that I could find within Jewish teachings − and then contrasted that with the most radical inclusive teaching that I was able to locate. I intentionally searched for the two most daring, disturbing and extreme ends of the spectrum. What emerged was a sufficient range of surprisingly flexible material between those two extremes to allow either for a choice of religion exclusive of social justice or inclusive of social justice and outreach to the 'other.' I suggest that all religions have similar spectrums, and that recognition and acknowledgement of these spectrums - and the subsequent awareness by the different faith groups of the available legitimate theological choices within their religions - could assist in religious tolerance and peaceful coexistence.

A       Introduction

No discussion on Jews and social justice, or anything else for that matter, can ever be considered a conclusive conversation. Jews today broadly range from somewhere between ultra-Orthodox, Orthodox, Modern Orthodox, Religious Zionists, Anti-Zionists, Chassidim, Mitnagdim, Sefaradim, Ashkenazim, Yemenites, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionists, Atheists and Jews who operate outside any of these designated structures. Even in the golden age of Talmudic Judaism, on just about every single issue, there was more focus on discussion and debate than on consensus. This makes it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to formulate the official ‘Jewish perspective’ on anything. Hence the subtitle of this article, ‘A’ Jewish Perspective. This article is written from the perspective of an Orthodox rabbi.

No discussion on Jews and social justice should omit the glaring reality that, as a noticeable rule, the further removed the group is from the right of the religious spectrum, the more it tends to be active in matters of social justice.

“There are a large number of non-religious Jewish organizations engaged in philanthropic, political and social action that have…taken stands on contemporary issues” (Biale 1989:70).

There are exceptions and things are changing and we see this, particularly in the allied field of first responders, for example, which has significantly drawn from the right of the religious spectrum. 

B       Rabbis and social justice

From a South African perspective, great strides were made under the previous Chief Rabbi Cyril Harris in the area of social justice as the country moved away from the period of apartheid. I had the privilege of working with him on many of his outreach projects and acted as his emissary on a number of occasions.

Cyril Harris wasn’t the first orthodox rabbi to do so. Going back to the 1950s Chief Rabbi Louis I. Rabinowitz had also been a great advocate of social justice. He wrote:

“The Jew, rendered fearful by the sense of insecurity, which comes from being a vulnerable minority in all countries, has been afraid boldly to proclaim that such and such an act is contrary to the ethical principles of his faith. The layman … rejects the implications of these [classical Jewish] teachings, and accuses the rabbi of indulging in ‘politics’ and/or expressing thoughts which may not be palatable to the government in power. I am sure that the reader will be wryly amused to hear that a member of my congregation wrote a letter to the Council asking them to forbid me from speaking on the native question, but to confine myself to Jewish ethics” (Louis Rabinowitz 1955:198).

The first rabbinic position I served in, around the 1990’s, was in a large community synagogue where I was quite vocal about social injustice. The board asked me to rather just speak about Pirkei Avot, a basic work on Jewish ethics. 

C       Forthrightness as a point of departure

It is easy to be an ambassador of any religion. Each religion has its store of salient and attractive gems of universalistic teachings that convey peace, tolerance and harmony. What we don’t hear about until a deeper and concerted enquiry into the core classical texts is undertaken are those primary sources that remain hidden within the pages of the old tomes which present a somewhat different or nuanced perspective towards the rest of humanity.

Judaism is no different. It has its share of statements concerning the ‘other’ that would shock most modern minds, including Jews themselves. Take the second-century sage of the Roman Judaea period, R. Shimon bar Yochai. If you google him, you will find an abundance of wonderful sayings associating him with joy and celebrating him with dancing and bonfires. But he was the same person who bluntly claimed that even the best of the non-Jews should be killed![1] Now, if one would stop at this point, it would paint a rather dangerous and negative picture of Judaism, limiting the scope (let alone possibility) of Jews engaging with Gentiles.

On the other hand, we find very different teachings emerging from Shmuel Yarchina’a,[2] the head of the Talmudic academy of Nehardea in Babylonia, and known for a softer approach to Halacha (Jewish law).[3] He certainly did not promote killing anyone, even allegorically. He taught that a Jew was not allowed to deceive anyone, be they Jew or Gentile,[4] and that  Before the throne of the Creator, there is no difference between Jews and non-Jews.”[5]

Working with these two sample texts representing very different approaches to the ‘other,’ it is tempting to try and reconcile them. One could say that R. Shimon bar Yochai, living in Roman Judaea, who had witnessed the Romans torture and execute his teacher, R. Akiva, was filled with bitterness and resentment towards the Romans. So much so that he uttered his disturbing statement at a time of great anguish. This is in contrast to Shmuel Yarchina’a who lived in Babylonia where Jews had lived (and would continue to live for almost a thousand years) in peaceful coexistence with Babylonians who were not viewed as the enemy.

This study does not seek to reconcile such expressions but adopts a more forthright and less apologetic methodology. It certainly is possible to reconcile R. Shimon bar Yochai and Shmuel Yarchina’a, and considering the historical context, that may be an appropriate response. However, there are many other textual examples one might bring that express similar ethical contrasts where the historical contexts are identical. I, therefore, propose that the point of departure should be a forthright acknowledgement and admission that theological and religious texts, by their very nature and within the same religion, are often in tension with each other. Being cognisant of these tensions does not mean one is disloyal to one’s religion. Rather it is an indication that sufficient religious texts have been fairly consulted and that the student is subsequently in a greater position of strength and truth. 

D       Recognising a theological evolution of ideas

No matter how rooted a religious teaching may be in its classical texts, there is often evidence of an evolutionary process and some development of ideas. In Judaism, there are various rabbinic eras spanning the last two thousand years, including the periods of the Tannaim (10-210CE), Amoraim (210-500), Savoraim (500-650), Gaonim (650-1038), Rishonim (1038-1500) and Acharonim (1500-present). Each period was built upon the foundations laid out by the previous age, but the transmission was never static.

In the field of what today is referred to as social justice, we notice a distinct trend away from exclusiveness towards inclusiveness. This does not mean that the trend is reflected in practice by all the adherents, but at least it is visible in the textual strata developing over the different periods. There is no doubt, however, that the earlier texts often displayed a more open aversion towards the ‘other.’

“Much of the anti-gentile sentiment and legislation in rabbinic Judaism was influenced by the Bible’s aversion to idolatry” (Schwarz n.d.: 24).

The Torah tells of Abraham’s rejection of the idolatrous ways of his family and his culture, and idolatry is identified as a major concern during the biblical period. Later, during the Talmudic times (which comprised the Tannaic and Amoraic periods), biblical idolatry was equated to incest and murder and all three became cardinal sins for which Jews must lay down their lives if these three sins could not be avoided.

The problem with this equivalence was that all non-Jews (except Muslims) became associated with idolatry, no matter what their religion was. And because the injunction against idolatry was so severe, rabbinic teachings began to emerge equating the practice of idolatry to the denial of the entire Torah.[6] Some Jews, therefore, felt it incumbent upon themselves to treat non-Jews with less dignity. As a result, we find rulings permitting Jews to keep lost items of Gentiles without having to return them.[7]

“Yet by the middle ages, prominent rabbis issued decisive rulings to correct any impression given by earlier rulings that gentiles could be treated unfairly” (Schwarz nd.:24).

Around this time, R. Menachem Meiri (1249-1316), under the influence of the rationalist thinker R. Moses Maimonides (1138-1204), espouses probably the most radically liberal view on Christianity and Islam that is to be found in all of rabbinic literature.  He posits that the notion of idolatry has absolutely disappeared from society (barring what he refers to as some fringes or ‘extremities’ of civilisation). Idolatry, in his view, has essentially become extinct and replaced by more developed religions. 

“As such, long standing restrictions on commerce and social relations between Jews and gentiles were eliminated” (Schwarz n.d.:25).

This was a watershed moment for Jews and social justice but for some, it was too much and theories abounded that Jesuits had corrupted the Meiri texts to make them favourable towards Christianity. In any event, the Meiri texts somehow got ‘lost’ to history and some were allegedly only discovered a century or so ago. Because of the disappearance of the Meiri texts from the continuous line of the mainstream body of Jewish religious texts (known as the Mesorah), many rabbis were reluctant to rely on the ‘newly discovered’ texts especially since they contained such radically progressive ideas about other religions. R. Haym Soloveitchik, however, shows that many of R. Meiri’s ideas were indeed available and not ‘lost’:

“Rather, Meiri’s works had previously fallen stillborn from the press. Sensing its alien character, most scholars simply ignored them...” (Soloveitchik 1994:120-1).

Accordingly, many of R. Meiri’s writings had always existed but were ‘ignored’ because of their ‘alien character’![8] This illustrates just how difficult it sometimes is to integrate concepts of social justice into traditional religious systems, and how easy it is to ‘lose’ attempts at social change when they do emerge.

Historically, Jews had often been marginalised by the cultures and societies in which they found themselves, but by the 19th century, European Jews were (temporarily) treated more fairly. In Germany, R. Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, a leader of neo-Orthodoxy, taught that Jews needed to conduct themselves with exemplary social awareness. He taught that Jews treating non-Jews unjustly was worse than Jews treating Jews unjustly because the reputation of the entire nation was at stake (Schwarz n.d.:25).

We have seen that although some earlier Talmudic texts were rooted in the biblical notion of Gentiles being equated to idolaters, there was a subsequent evolution of theological thought by rabbis like Maimonides, Meiri, Hirsch and others towards social justice often in the face of persecution and pogroms.

“The differences between social justice in the Hebrew Bible and social justice in rabbinic literature are the result of innumerable changes that Judaism underwent in the intervening centuries (Novick 2019:546).

Nevertheless, many of these more socially aware rabbis were marginalised and said to not represent the essence of Judaic thought but still, a process and evolution had begun. 

E       The two mandates of justice and holiness

Two paradoxical mandates appear to emerge from the Torah. Abraham is told to perform “justice and righteousness,”[9] while Moses is told that his people are to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.[10] Justice has a wider social connotation while holiness relates to an internal religious structure. These two mandates have always been in tension with each other as it is difficult to strike a balance and create harmony between these ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ manifestations. Furthermore, “This paradox is common to virtually all religions (Schwarz n.d.:18). Religions probably face their greatest challenge in how they acknowledge this paradox and deal with it to try to resolve these innate tensions. 

F       How much power and aid to give to the poor

Another difficult question that religion needs to grapple with is its relationship to the poor (let alone the question of which poor – ‘our’ poor or ‘their’ poor?). This poor class is also often considered an 'other.' How does religion accurately define a ‘poor’ class of people, and how does it suggest that we treat them without humiliating them?

One notices that the rabbinic view was certainly to encourage charity (tzedaka) but it had no programme to try to alleviate poverty:

“[T]he numerous measures for support of the poor in rabbinic literature, and the institution of charity in particular, reflect a conservative rather than a transformative impulse. That is, they aim to maintain the poor, not to eliminate poverty” (Novick 2019:543).

For this reason, we see that the biblical injunction requires a poor person to be given “enough [to meet] what he lacks.”[11] This is interpreted by the classical rabbis as not to remove poverty from poor individuals but simply to sustain them. On the other hand, individuals who had wealth but lost it are required to receive more lavish assistance according to the standards they were used to. This implies that the rabbis were more concerned with maintaining the boundaries of society rather than trying to perfect society:

“[N]o attempt was made to eliminate poverty as such or to share political power with the poor…law and tradition sought to control and limit the most glaring inequities of this reality, but they did not prescribe systemic transformations” (Biale 1989:68).

The same idea is expressed in the Babylonian Talmud which interprets the biblical verse “There shall be no needy among you[12] not to suggest a utopian ideal society where there is no longer poverty but more pragmatically as a cautioning against giving away too much of one’s wealth to the poor, thereby rendering oneself poor in the process (Novick 2019:543). Thus, the classical rabbinic world sought to maintain a functioning and just society without attempting to create an ideal utopia by alleviating poverty. 

G       Rabbinic views on redistribution of wealth

Modern societies debate the question of whether to construct their contemporary systems of social welfare based on kind-hearted charity or legal justice. In other words, is welfare a right or a privilege? From a rabbinic perspective, there is no debate because the Hebrew word for charity (tzedakah) is by definition related to tzedek, which means justice.

“Assistance to the poor is not a discretionary matter; it is obligatory and falls in the realm of justice” (Biale 1989:68).

The Talmud teaches that:

“Even a poor person who is sustained from charity must also perform charity” (Babylonian Talmud, Gitin 7b).

Maimonides describes charity not so much as an act of kindness but as the repayment of a debt to society, almost as an obligatory Jewish tax. He may have been reflecting the view expressed in the Talmud which describes a poor man who insisted that he would only eat fattened fowl and aged wine. When he was challenged for his audacity and nerve for being a burden on the community, he simply responded "Do I eat what is theirs? I eat what is God's."[13] In a sense, charity (tzedaka) is a form of ‘voluntary’ (although it does carry a religious obligation), non-threatening and non-violent economic ‘redistribution’ of ‘universal’ wealth, without passing through the tendentious minefields of social politics:

“it is…a form of redistribution of the wealth that is originally God's” (Biale 1989:68).

Rabbinic charity may have been a form of redistribution of wealth but, as mentioned, it never proposed a plan to alleviate poverty entirely. It did, however, establish well-formulated and structured societal mechanisms to mediate poverty. While accepting that poverty may always remain part of the human condition, rabbinic Judaism taught that the highest form of charity was not a monetary donation but:

“a loan, or the forming of a partnership with the poor person for the transaction of some business enterprise, or assistance in obtaining some employment, so that the poor will not be forced to seek charity from his fellows." (Moses Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Matanot Aniyin 10: 7).

Biale (1989:68) explains that for centuries, one of the “central activities” of Jewish communities was philanthropy. Anyone who had lived in a community for more than thirty days had to contribute to the community fund. Those who refused to contribute could have their property expropriated by the Jewish courts. The communal structures discouraged public begging and created what in essence was an official poor stratum of society by requiring the poor to register as recipients of communal funding. This way the poor were subtlety designated as an 'other' within the larger group. 

H     Full circle

Let us get back to the 'other' from another religion. We began this study with a radical Talmudic statement from the second-century R. Shimon bar Yochai that even the best of the non-Jews should be killed. We shall conclude with an equally radical statement, this time taken from the early and yet-to-be-censored versions of the mystical work known as the Zohar.

Yehuda Liebes’ research has drawn attention to a little-known statement that has been censored from the Zohar and only found in earlier manuscripts. It deals with the Torah’s unusual description of Moses’ burial (presumably by God) and his burial place, the location of which no one knows “until this day.”[14] Liebes (2016:613) points out that the text states that Moses was buried together with Jesus and Mohammad (שקבורת משה היא עים ישו ומוחמד).[15] However one understands this Zoharic conceptualisation, the fact remains that a text exists portraying the three leaders of the Abrahamic faiths being buried together which represents some form of inclusivity and coexistence. 

I       Conclusion

We have now come full circle. We have located the two radical texts at opposite and extreme ends of the spectrum. The first advocates the annihilation of the ‘other’ while the second describes the ‘others’ in a state of rest with each ‘other.’ We have thus identified the scope and range of the blank canvas we have, to choose either a theology of inclusivity or exclusivity. We are not compelled or restricted one way or the other.

This study has used the contemporary, politicised and loaded term ‘social justice,’ loosely, to describe all and any attempts at religious coexistence, without in any way calling for assimilation, or compromise of any religion’s core traditions, principles and values. It has used Judaism as an exemplar − but all religions have similar spectrums − and it argues that it is not the religion but the religious individual who must choose which of the existing seeds, within that vast and diverse theological spectrum, to sow and nurture.

This writer encourages other religious leaders to locate and make known similar spectrums found within their respective theologies, to emphasise that the choice is not limited to religion or social justice it can include religion and social justice. Faithfulness to religion can sometimes demand faithlessness to humankind if that is what the faithful are seeking. It can also demand faithfulness to humanity. It depends on the choices made from within the spectrum. 


Bibliography

Biale, D., 1989, ‘Jewish Statements on Economic Justice’, A Cry For Justice: The Churches and Synagogues Speak. Edited by Robert McAfee Brown and Sydney Thomson Brown, Paulist Press, New York, 64-77.

Haym Soloveitchik, H., 1994, ‘Rapture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy’, Tradition 28, no. 4, 120-121, n. 54.

Liebes, Y., 2016, ‘Todato haAtzmit shel haGaon miVilna viyechiso el haShabtau [The Thought of the Vilna Gaon and his attitude towards Sabbatianism]’ (Hebrew), in Chalamish le Maayano Mayim, Kovetz Mechakrim, 603-622.

Marc Saperstein, M., 2015, ‘“Rabbis, Stay Out of Politics”: Social Justice Preaching and Its Opponents, 1848–2014’, Jewish Culture and History, vol. 16, no. 2, 127-141

Novick, T., 2019, ‘Social Justice in Rabbinic Judaism’, Oxford Handbook of Biblical Law.

Rabinowitz, L.I., 1955, Sparks from the Anvil: Sermons for Sabbaths, Holy Days, and Festivals, Bloch Publishing, New York, 198.



[1] Jerusalem Talmud, Kidushin 66b.

[2] Shmuel was called Yarchina’a because he was an expert astronomer and specialised in calculations of the new moon (yareach).

[3] Shmuel was known to be lenient in his interpretation of the Law for others but was stricter in his interpretation for himself (Babylonian Talmud, Moed Katan 24a,26b). He permitted a fire to be kindled on the Sabbath for a woman in childbirth or for someone who was ill (Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 79b). 

[4] Babylonian Talmud, Chulin 94a.

[5] Jerusalem Talmud, Rosh HaShanah 57a. 

[6] Sifre Deuteronomy 54.

[7] Babylonian Talmud, Baba Kama 38a. 

[8] Other scholars reiterate the notion that some Meiri texts always existed, but offer a different explanation for their obscurity. They suggest that the reason why they were not often published was simply ‘on account of their exceptional length’ (Virtual Judaica, Hiddushei ha-rav ha-Meiri).

[9] Genesis 18:19.

[10] Exodus 19:6.

[11] Deuteronomy 15:8.

[12] Deuteronomy 15:4.

[13] Babylonian Talmud, Ketuvot 67b. 

[14] Deuteronomy 34:6

[15] According to Raya Mehemna:

דאתמר בי, (ישעיה נג ט) ויתן את רשעים קברו, בתר דקבורה דא בגין אבא ואימא, דאינון בגלותא עם ישראל, אתקיים בי קרא, ולא יטמא... דהא קודשא בריך הוא ושכינתיה בגלותא, דאיהי קבורה לון, ואנא קבור בינייהו

Compare this to Zohar III 126a (Raya Mehemna):

זוהר ח"ג קכו ע"א (רעיא מהימנא): דאתמר עלי (ישעיה נג ט) ויתן את רשעים קברו, ולא אשתמודען בי, ואני חשיב בעינייהו בין ערב רב רשיעייא, ככלב מת דסרח בינייהו

I thank Professor Liebes for sharing these sources with me.