October 14, 2014

Karaites

Who are the Karaites, and do they keep Simchat Torah?

I have several times in the past come across Jews, invariably thoughtful and charming, who have told me that they are so fed up with the excesses of rabbinic Judaism that they have decided to become Karaites. Only this week a delightful young Israeli woman living in New York told me in synagogue that she was so fed up with extra days of festivals and other rabbinic added strictness that she too was a Karaite and so only kept one day of festivals.

Which set me wondering why my little Persian community in New York, most of who do not bother with second days, did not themselves adopt the Karaite variation? All the more since many of the early founders came from Persia. But the fact is that, if you look more carefully into it, becoming a Karaite is not really to be recommended, and if it might solve one set of problems it would create a heck of a lot of other ones.

The Karaites take their name from the word for “text” which indicates that they only accept the text of the Torah. They reject post-Torah rabbinic interpretations, additions, and customs, and those theological ideas such as Resurrection and Life After Death that are not explicit in the Torah. What makes them popular with Reform communities is that that accepted patrilineal descent as the definition of Jewish identity and they are even less happy about conversion than the London Beth Din.

Some scholars trace them back to the Sadducees, who themselves held such opinions, others to the Dead Sea Sects. They were dormant or marginal after the destruction of the Temple; but later and under the dynamic leadership of Anan Ben David (715-795), who some say really founded them, they flourished to such an extent that at one moment in the ninth century they nearly became the dominant sect in Judaism in Persia and Babylonia. Salo Baron thought they accounted for 40% of the Iraqi Jewish population.

It was thanks mainly to the great Saadiah Gaon (d. 942), who campaigned energetically and relentlessly against them, that they receded and declined to the very small sect that they are today. Currently some 30,000 live in Israel and about 4,000 in the USA. Despite their differences, Sephardi rabbis such as Rav David-Chaim Chelouche and the late Rav Ovadia Yosef have always maintained that they count as Jews and do not need conversions to “return to the fold”. The Ashkenazi rabbinate, surprise, surprise, is not so open.

The Karaite calendar differs from the accepted Jewish calendar. It follows the literal reading of the Torah text for festivals lasting only one day. But I don’t understand why they celebrate Simchat Torah, which is not mentioned in the Torah as such. They do not include Chanukah, as a post-Biblical festival, but do keep Purim.

But before you go out and sign up, let me tell you the downside. Not accepting rabbinic innovation does have its drawbacks. Karaites do not allow lights and fire in their homes on Shabbat, although I am told reformist ideas on this issue now divide them into the “lighters” and “the darkeners”. Still, no sex on Shabbat--that’s a real downer, as are far stricter rules on family purity which really put women in a state of Purdah. And the laws of marriage are so strict that any blood relative however distant is forbidden. You really are hurting your chances of getting married! That more than anything else probably explains why there are so few today.

It’s true they don't interpret the Torah texts about Tefillin and Mezuzot as requiring literal objects--they see them merely as symbolic--but they are very keen on Tzitzit, especially the blue thread. They do not take the four kinds of plants we wave on Sukot, because they understand the Torah references to mean that they were to be used only in building a Sukah. And because their laws of how to slaughter animals are different and stricter than Orthodox shechitah, this means that a good Karaite will not eat normal kosher meat. In addition if one cares about marrying “in” then the pool of possible partners is ridiculously small. If you are interested in learning more, they have websites such as www.karaite.org or http://www.karaite-korner.org. The fact that they have several that conflict must prove they really are regular Jews!

On balance, I conclude, it makes more sense from a social point of view to stay technically within the dominant expression of Jewish religious life. After all, we are small enough as it is compared to the major religions of the world and riven enough by denominational conflict as it is without confining oneself to an even narrower religious network. But then we have never played the numbers games. Still to claim adherence to an apparently more lenient way of life based simply on convenience, and usually ignorance, just does not cut it from the point of view of integrity or logic. If you don’t want to keep something, fess up to it. Don’t seek justification elsewhere.

If Karaites see themselves as part of the Jewish people then the variations in their beliefs and practices are no different than those of most Conservative and Reform Jews today. But if someone simply wants a justification for only keeping one day of Rosh Hashanah and the other festivals, there are, believe me, easier ways to go about it. Meanwhile we can all enjoy Simchat Torah together!

October 07, 2014

Water

Whatever is said about the festival of Sukot, the fact is that water is the most significant subtext. All plants need water, as do humans and all other living things. But the four “kinds of plants” we take and wave are all associated specifically water, whether natural rainfall, irrigation, or oases. Sitting in the Sukah is our farewell to the dry season, at least in areas where for thousands of years Jews mainly lived. The important post-Biblical traditions of “Nisuch Hamayim” pouring water over the altar as part of the prayers for rain, and the massive public celebrations of “Simchat Beit HaShoeva” the rejoicing over the well house in Jerusalem, prove the point that water is at the core of this festival.

Water also plays an essential part as the means of purification, both physical and spiritual. As with all the ancient “elements” it bridges the gap between the physical and the spiritual, the mundane and the sacred.

Water of course is not the only theme to the festival. Sukot was also the major communal reunion of the Jewish people. On the second day everyone gathered to hear the Torah (or parts of it) read in public. It was a huge public exercise in mass education that included women and children as well as men. Then Simchat Torah emerged as the happiest festival of the year, to record the conclusion of the annual cycle of reading the Torah in synagogues. Still the festival ends with new prayers for the rainy season, which were in part held off until the pilgrims from Babylon and the West could get home before the deluge made roads impassable.

During the early years of my life, no one seemed to make too much out of the issue of water and rain in general; no concerns then about climate change. The prayers for rain in the synagogue were regarded as a hangover from our agrarian past, something relevant only to the Land of Israel, not wet Manchester. But now the rising temperatures, the shortage of water, and the political tensions over its availability, have all brought the issue of water and rain to the forefront. It’s as if Moses and the rabbis of the past really could look into the future. Now nothing is more important on earth.

The Greek philosopher Thales thought that everything was derived from water, one way or another. He lost out to the popular theory that it was a combination of water, air, fire, and earth. That theory lasted until modern times. Even Maimonides believed it. In Medieval times water was so dangerously contaminated that people drank beer and wine instead. No wonder they called it the Dark Ages. We do not seek such simplistic solutions nowadays, but we do know how important drinkable water is, indeed almost any water is important to irrigate crops and facilitate industry.

In the rich world everyone is aware of the need for hydration. We spend vast sums on bottled water that is rarely superior to ordinary tap water. But in most of the world pure, potable (why the heck use that foreign word instead of simply “drinkable”?) tap water is still a rarity.

The facts are disturbing. I am no fan of the UN, but it does occasionally produce something of value. The UN World Water Development Report (WWDR, 2003) from the World Water Assessment Program indicates that in the next 20 years the quantity of water available to everyone is predicted to decrease by 30%. Forty percent of the world's inhabitants currently have insufficient fresh water for minimal hygiene. In 2000, more than 2.2 million people died from waterborne diseases related to the consumption of contaminated water or from drought. I might add the sad statistic that in the Industrial west 40% of the water is wasted each year through decaying infrastructure, leaking pipes, and poor management.

Increasingly, conflicts around the world relate to water. We are replaying Abraham’s conflicts with the Philistines over wells. We know the problems in the Middle East over the feeding rivers into the Jordan, the diminishing aquifers in the Judean hills, and the shrinking Dead Sea. This while swimming pools expand alongside villages where the wells have dried up. At least Israel is now investing so much in desalination that it could well satisfy most of its water needs this way within the next few years. Neither does Israel get credit (because it’s not political enough) for how much Israeli universities are investing in joint projects with Palestinians to deal with the water problem. But as we see millions of refugees trek across deserts to safety, the importance of water and its availability is growing by the day. It's a sad state of affairs that too many states spend more on arms than they do on ensuring safe, accessible, drinkable water for their citizens.

So when we celebrate Sukot, we are indeed celebrating water and how lucky we are to have it. Literally, LeChayim, for life. And for those in the know, the alcohol comes a week later.

October 02, 2014

Heidegger

As we meditate this year on the resurrection of anti-Semitism and its new acceptability, let us not forget the role academia, supposedly objective and sane, plays in perpetuating it. Anyone familiar with university politics knows full well the hypocrisy of ideologies, be they Marxist or fascist (even Zionist and anti-Zionist) that can impose themselves on staff and students.

Of all the well-known Western philosophers, Martin Heidegger must be the most morally despicable. I have no expertise in physiognomy, but just looking at his portraits as a young professor I see a weasel-like malignance and arrogance. Having deflowered his brilliant but flawed Jewish student, Hannah Arendt, he set about systematically blaming Jews for every failing of modern societies to the point where he joined the Nazi party and paid his dues right up until the very end of the war. He admired Hitler, and to his dying day he not only refused to repudiate him but also thought that Nazism was the right way for Germany to go, even if the specific manifestation that lost the war was in his opinion a deviation.

He enthusiastically sacked Jews from their positions in the University of Freiburg when he was appointed chancellor in 1933. He approved the racist Nuremberg laws Hitler introduced and never once responded to requests from other academics to condemn Hitler’s policy of exterminating innocent Jews. If ever there was proof that philosophy has little to do with morality, Heidegger must be the perfect example.

I will not bore those of you familiar with his philosophy or those who have little patience with casuistry by rehearsing his work. But I will focus on several aspects just to make my point. Heidegger had little patience for Kant’s concept of moral obligation. Neither did he much like Nietzsche, who wrote about the super- or übermensch, above the common and petty restrictions of ordinary mortals. Fascist dictators tended to love Nietzsche because they used his idea of the exceptional superman (above the norm and above the law). This was at the root of Nazi ideology, if you could call it that. Heidegger refined and expanded on Nietzsche to argue for the absurd notion of an “uber folk”, a super people. Yes, in other words, the Nazis.

He initially based his thought on one of my favorites Husserl (born Jewish 1859-1938). It was Husserl who first developed the idea of phenomenalism, that we humans exist as beings whose primary responsibility is to live our lives through our own experiences. Some, like Sartre, took this to be a charter for unrestrained freedom to act as one wished. Heidegger modified it in his early work “Being and Time” (1927) to discuss the nature of “being” as existing in a bubble of one’s own lunacy. This bubble of his consists of submitting oneself to the idea of one’s people, in his case the Aryan super race that would purge the world of the decadent malevolent influence of the despised Jews. Them he blamed, as if they all acted and thought in a similar way; they alone were responsible for everything evil in the world, from Marxism to Capitalism, from collectivism to individuality. They were rootless cosmopolitans, an epithet he shared with the Marxism he so despised and feared. As with all prejudiced people, he hated and feared a myth rather than a reality. Judaism was guilty of introducing monotheism, universalism, everything that challenged his idea of a folk rooted in land and blood. They were not willing to fight but incited others to take up arms. I wonder where he would stand today as Jews fight for the right to be accepted as a folk and to live on their own land that they defend with their blood.

But I would no more expect Heidegger to understand this than I would any anti-Semite. One can understand why so many philosophers feel such an affinity to his sick thought process. His apologists claim that his anti-Semitism is a blip. The overwhelming majority of contemporary philosophers have excused him or ignore his moral failure. Even Hannah Arendt was so enamored of him (or perhaps trying to excuse herself) that she herself assisted in his rehabilitation. But in recent years his detailed notebooks from the years 1931 to 1941 have been published under the title of “Black Notebooks”. They are replete with his disgusting prejudice, invective, and hatred. Among them he said that Nazism’s persecution of the Jews was justified as self-defense against Jewry’s unique predisposition towards planned criminality.

The Talmud says that “hatred distorts the balance of one’s mind”; so too does love. Heidegger is revealed as an evil, hateful man. The Talmud tells us that in the period from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kipur all of humanity passes before the Almighty to be judged. We are all God’s creatures, regardless of our origins or race. We have an obligation to try our best to care for, to help, and to improve the world we live in. Even if around us our enemies swarm, we should not lose sight of our task in improving humanity. I hope Heidegger is being dealt with wherever he is. But for us he is a lesson that irrational hatred remains a pernicious disease that can strike anywhere, and like any disease it requires a prophylactic.

September 18, 2014

Who, me?

Another year has gone by.

When I was young there was a popular folk, student song that referred to a Kentucky coal miner during the Depression. The refrain went “You load sixteen tons, and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don't you call me, ‘cause I cant go. I owe my soul to the company store.” I guess it was a “those days” version of rap. But the fact is that for many of us it is a very appropriate chorus this time of the year. Another year older and what have we got?

You might accuse me of being unduly cynical and world-weary. But I remember in my first, let’s call it “little” yeshivah, youngsters who prayed and cried and shook and swayed with the utmost fervor over the Holy Days, or more accurately the Days of Awe. Looking at them you might have thought they carried the weight of the world on their little prepubescent shoulders and were actual saints in pious fear of Heaven. But the moment the Gates were closed and we leapt from awe to joy, they were just as mean and nasty as they were before. Later when I saw this all repeated at the “big” yeshivahs I attended, I realized the little ones were just aping the big ones, who were aping their parents, who had aped theirs.

I know I should not generalize. There are wonderful, genuine saints around, albeit few and far between, and usually anonymous because those who crave attention are rarely saints. But over the years, regardless of community or synagogue or ethnicity or degree of religiosity, all the good intentions seem to fly out the window. After the awesome days of introspection and determination to improve almost everyone returns to old habits, learned patterns of behavior, and characteristics. That's human nature. Human nature is made up of different elements and drives. Some are better, some worse. The whole of our lives are lived shuttling and rebounding between the two extremes. I don't say a person cannot change. But only a minority does. It’s rare. That's why successful relationships depend on accepting the other as she or he is, in working with the material rather than expecting that one will change the other.

In theory this is the same for the big, wide world outside. Last year this time I had a sort of fear list that revolved around Iran getting the bomb and drop it on Israel. But I did not imagine Russian imperialism, another war in Gaza, that anti-Semitism would rise up again around the world, that religious fanatics would spread and impose their sick and evil mental diseases on others, that nationalism would increase, that sicknesses and epidemics would explode around the world. Hundreds of thousands of refugees, mainly Muslim, risked death to reach Europe. Hondurans fled to America. Economies struggled. All bad stuff. But world poverty receded, world health improved, and some countries and religions actually did learn to get on better with others and not find scapegoats to cover their abysmal failures.

I live in two worlds: a Jewish world and a secular one. In my Jewish world the rabbinical pursuit of power continued, the idiotic attempts to impose excessive religious standards increased in the Diaspora and in Israel. In Israel politics continued to weave its corrupt web from the top down. Society is split and divided. Offering and taking bribes or going to jail seems to be the new norm. But there is another side. The increase in the number of ethically animated schools and yeshivot, the increase in charitable work and giving to offset the reduction in government handouts, the persevering attempts to reach out to the other side. The continuing growth of scholarship, research, and achievement, despite the military burden. All these things are heartening and bode well for the future. And Israel, for all its complexities, contradictions, absurdities, and frustrations is growing stronger and better and more successful. But yes, we Jews always want more and better.

In the USA, this year has brought the continuing failure to reform taxation, immigration, and financial regulation, political gerrymandering, and incredible government waste and incompetence. If you think Israeli politics is corrupt, try looking at the American system, where big money can now give as much as it wants to politicians through crazy but legal mechanisms. And there were race riots in Ferguson. If the USA, after hundreds of years and with untold wealth, hasn't dealt with its social and communal issues, why are we surprised that Israel is not doing a good enough job with its Jewish and Arab minorities? As for Great Britain, the United Kingdom, despite the Queen, it is neither great nor united. And France is the sick man of Europe. So wherever you look you can see massive problems that are neither being dealt with nor solved.

But yes, we Jews like to navel gaze and wonder what’s wrong and be self-critical. In truth we must. That is part of our tradition, and that is what the coming “Days of Awe” institutionalize. We are puny things, we humans. We have no idea what this year or any year will bring. Or when any one of us might be struck down by a bullet or disease. The currents of history ebb and flow around us as we speak and we cannot know what will happen until it has happened.

We should not despair. Even if we cannot change society, the world, or even our partners, we must at least try to change ourselves in however small a way, because something is always better than nothing. So please don't look at your neighbor in the synagogue and think what a corrupt, nasty hypocrite he or she is. He or she may well be. But your task is to make sure everyone else doesn’t think the same about you! Don't focus on the negative things, the bad people, and the deformed ideas. Just think of the good and how fortunate we are that, in some measure, our destiny is in our hands too.

As the Talmud says, “The universe runs according to its own rules.” But we humans can run a long way according to ours.

Shanah Tovah.

September 11, 2014

Repentance

When I was a child in England, I often used to see men and women standing at street corners holding placards saying such things as “The End of the World in Nigh--Repent before it is loo late” or some variation on that theme. It struck me as silly. Even in the era of the atomic threat I had much more important things to worry about, such as the next soccer game. And repent? What exactly had I done that was so terrible? A few little lies to my parents? “No, I did not eat that chocolate.”

Every Shabbat afternoon my father made us learn one brief quote from Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers, and that was where I came across “Repent one day before you die.” It seemed our religion took the idea seriously after all. So what did it mean?

The Hebrew word “Teshuvah” is used in the Torah with regard to God and Israel in the context of “returning” to each other after Israel betrayed its covenant and suffers exile. It is not used as we do today to mean personal repentance. That doesn’t mean there is no such concept in the Torah, but it is implicit rather than explicit (now there’s a linguistic distinction too many people are ignorant of nowadays).

The sacrificial system talks about sin offerings and the need to confess one’s errors before seeking forgiveness and atonement. Kapara, atonement, has the same root as the name of Yom Kipur. The Torah requires a process of confession, Vidui. Unlike the Catholic concept, it does not require confessing to a priest or other person, but directly to God. And in true Freudian terms, it requires one to give full expression to what it is one has done wrong. That completed and any restitution effected, forgiveness is effected. There is some debate then as to why one also needs a Yom Kipur, be it for individuals, serious crimes, or the community. Maimonides adds a rider: Only when one finds oneself in exactly the same position as one was when one did wrong and with the capacity to do it again, but this time one desists, can one then be said to have completely wiped away the misdemeanor.

But there is no actual, specific command in the Torah to repent, do Teshuvah, in the obligatory sense. I believe this has a lot to do with the “psychology” of sin in early Judaism, before we were influenced by Greek and then by Christian and Muslim theologies.

The three main Biblical words for sin are instructive. “Cheyt” derives from “missing the mark or the target”. “Aveyra” come from the word to pass off the straight and narrow. “Avon” means to be deficient in some way. All of them imply an error of judgment that can easily be rectified by adding a quality to our armory, by standing in a better or more appropriate position, or by acting more skillfully or wisely. It is no wonder that the Talmud (Sotah 3a) says, “A person only sins when he is possessed of stupidity.”

There is no hint here of a “state of sin”, so beloved of hellfire and brimstone preachers. No heavy, awesome weight that can be debilitating and psychologically damaging. Just recognition that people make mistakes that can usually, and often easily, be rectified.

The idea of “fearing sin” plays an important part in rabbinic literature. But is this anything more than simply an instruction to always be aware, on the lookout, and sensitive to possible mistakes?

Judaism does not have a concept of “Original Sin”. It is usually much more relaxed about such issues (except for the extreme Mussar self-denialists). Certainly not in the Christian sense of believing that humanity is born naturally evil and can only be redeemed by faith (specifically in Christian dogma).

We do have the idea that Adam’s (emblematic) sin in the Garden of Eden changed the course of human history. This is often referred to in the Talmud. However, I understand this only to mean that the recurring tendency to make the wrong decisions, to undo all the good that others achieve, to bring selfishness in to dethrone altruism, are features of human beings in general that make this world a less pleasant place to live in.

In theory the most evil jihadi throat-slitter has the capacity to change and to repent. Perhaps that is what we should all be praying for over Rosh Hashana, instead of weighing ourselves down with our own relatively minor mistakes, which we can decide to do every morning when we pray and meditate on our actions. Instead of that, when we come to a public festival like Rosh Hashana, as the Talmud says, “All God’s creatures pass before Him.” So let us pray for all the sad human beings, all the evil people in this world who are involved destruction, and hope they might see the light. Gosh, I love optimism!

September 04, 2014

Da’at Torah

You cannot understand Orthodox Judaism today without coming to grips with the concept of Da’at Torah. Da’at Torah literally means a “Torah Opinion”, and it was originally used to refer to a legal opinion that fell within the framework of Jewish law. Much, much later it came to mean the only authentic religious position in Judaism. Later still it mutated into that position officially endorsed by “the Council of Great Rabbis” without of course specifying who those rabbis might be. Since nowadays there is so much disagreement as to who actually is a Great Rabbi, it now means “whatever position MY ‘Great Rabbi’ endorses”. So we have been treated to a series of examples where one “Great Rabbi” says, “Vote for this party,” and another “Great Rabbi says, “Vote for that party.” For those in the middle or following a third “Great Rabbi”, this is rather confusing.

Da’at Torah is an ideology that emerged towards the end of the nineteenth century in response to the challenge of assimilation, Reform, and Zionism. It is as near as you can get to the Catholic dogma of Papal Infallibility (itself a nineteenth century response to challenge). Over the past century it has been constantly modified and tweaked to the point where it has become the defining distinction between Ultra/Charedi and every other brand of Orthodoxy. For those of you interested in understanding more, I refer you to a brilliant analysis by Benjamin Brown of the Hebrew University. It is serious reading.

Da’at Torah is an interesting expression of an idea that is more political than religious. Of course there has always been a tradition of following religious authority. You can find its origin in the Bible, in Deuteronomy 17:8-10: “If there is something you do not understand in Jewish law, a disagreement between people or a conflict within your gates…you shall take it to the priests or the judges whoever is the authority at that time, and you shall do as they tell you in accordance with Jewish Law,” etc. Throughout the Talmudic period there were mechanisms of authority, processes of decision making. These have continued to this day through the medium of responsa, published learned legal opinions. Such mechanisms have always allowed for differing opinions, as there have always been on matters of politics, civilization, and personal choices.

Post-Talmudic Judaism has developed into different traditions based in locations, influenced by host nations and intellectual trends, sometimes mystical and sometimes rational. Nevertheless, the constitutional integrity and continuity of the halachic process has been what has kept the common core and link between these different religious communities and sects, as one sees most vividly in Israel today.

The author of the handbook of Jewish Law, the “Shulchan Aruch”, said in his introduction that the purpose of his book was to enable the average Jew to know what to do and only have to resort to a rabbi where he did not have the information. The dogma that one had to go to a rabbi or a kabbalist to answer all and every matter of one’s personal life is a recent development that owes as much to the Chasidic concept of the rebbe as the tzaddik (the saintly man with a hotline to Heaven) as it has to do with traditional or Talmudic sources.

Of course some people are on a higher spiritual level, some more knowledgeable, and some more talented in understanding human nature. But that is not the same as saying one is obliged to go to a rabbi for every issue and that one is bound to adhere to his advice.

This dependence on rabbinic authority was tested during the run up to the Holocaust, when many Eastern European Great Rabbis told their followers to stay put rather than to flee into the jaws of American materialists or Zionist heretics. Yet many rabbis who told others to stay, got out, themselves, and were worshipped nevertheless. Which only goes to show that devotion has nothing to do with logic or history, but is an act of faith. No evidence can ever dissuade someone who chooses to believe. That is both the strength and the weakness of faith.

In a world where money and power are dependent on votes, leaders of religious communities, like political parties, know they must keep the faithful loyal so that they can produce a voting bloc at election time. This is why politicians in Israel and the USA go out of their way to court “Great Rabbis”; they want their votes. So the concept of inerrancy becomes a mechanism of control and political power. That is why the rabbis I respect most are precisely those who refuse to use such power, morally, fiscally, or politically.

Once such a phenomenon characterized Chasidic courts and kabbalist miracle workers. But now even the Lithuanian Yeshivish community mimics the Chasidim because they have realized the cost-benefit factor. It is a sad moment for Judaism as a spiritual tradition, as opposed to a social one.

As Prof. Brown illustrates, this ideology is beginning to fray. The Council of Sages is no longer effective. More and more followers are refuse to abide by such features of Da’at Torah as refusing secular education, refusing to serve in the Israeli army, and banning the internet and smartphones. Much of what Da’at Torah objects to may be justified. Secular culture is increasingly destructive, corrosive, and morally ambiguous. But the answer is not to imitate Catholicism, for as we know it hasn’t succeeded. The answer is to follow the great tradition of “Both can be the words of God” (TB Eruvin 13b). There can be differing conclusions within the parameters of Jewish law.

The Great and the Good have the expertise and scholarship. I believe such expertise and scholarship should be respected and deferred to. But nowadays “Great Rabbis” have such carapaces of assistants, secretaries, bodyguards, gatekeepers, and fixers that it is impossible to know what actual message gets through to them and what they actually said in response. It’s like Chinese Whispers both ways.

Thanks to the internet and computer technology with massive databases, we can all get access to the facts with a basic yeshiva education. It’s how one uses those facts that should define a Great Rabbi, rather than simply regurgitating the information. In an ideal world, that is what should define Da’at Torah.

Da’at Torah has developed into a positive theological political ideology. Ironically it is almost identical to Ayatollah Khomeini’s way of thinking. Benjamin Brown’s paper is a major achievement in giving the concept of Da’at Torah a historical and political context and showing why it is in danger of undermining itself.

August 28, 2014

Prejudice

I am prejudiced. No doubt about that. My level of prejudice, of course, varies according to the criteria. I am prejudiced in general against all loud-mouthed aggressive human beings. But that is very different to my prejudice against anyone expresses anti-Jewish sentiments. I am prejudiced against people of any color or faith who do not obey the law of the land. I am prejudiced against fanatics and anyone who wants to impose his religion or views on others. To repeat a cliché I am intolerant of intolerance.

Even so, I try very hard to overcome such prejudices when I meet someone, regardless of appearance or loyalty, because I know that one should not judge a book by its cover, a man by his dress (though Shakespeare’s Polonius thinks I should) or a woman by her plastic surgeon. Above all I do not believe in being rude or unkind, and certainly not offensive or aggressive towards people I disagree with and may be prejudiced against. Despite my recognizing certain prejudices, I work hard to ensure they do not affect the way I interact with others until more information either confirms or removes the preconceived mindset. If my prejudice turns out to be valid, then I just walk away.

Prejudice usually means something more than just feeling one wants to avoid certain people. Prejudice has come to involve not just hate-crimes and abuse, but preventing people getting jobs, renting homes, or even entering certain places. In free western countries the law bans such prejudicial actions and behavior. In some countries the law reinforces them. Laws of course cannot control people’s thoughts or choices of company or where they choose to buy a house. Equally so, prejudice does not depend on where we live. Some of the most tolerant human beings I have met live in closed societies and some of the most intolerant live in open ones.

We can think nasty thoughts about others, but in general the law of the land forbids translating such thoughts into actions. Sadly enforcement is weak, almost everywhere. One should not be able to intimidate those one disagrees with though in practice this happens all the time in the so called free Western World and even in Universities supposedly paragons of open intellectual debate.

The current crisis in Ferguson, Missouri where an unarmed black man (regardless of whether he was a saint or a sinner) was shot dead by white police, illustrates the overlap between prejudice with cause and prejudice without (though I might add that I believe just as much a problem is a society where guns are so tolerated and encouraged). Prejudice against blacks simply because of skin pigmentation is as ridiculous as prejudice against someone because he is ugly or her hair is red. On the other hand, prejudice against people who seem threatening or dangerous is just a protective mechanism. It might just be self-defense.

One of our biggest problems now is a tendency to feel that most if not all Muslims are ill-disposed towards Jews. Even if in the past many Jews had good experiences with their Muslim neighbors. But look at how much hatred and murder there is between Sunni and Shia! Singling out Israel say the apologists is just because of Israel’s actions. But if the issue were just the dead, one would expect equal anger at Muslims killing Muslims. Is it because Israel is seen as a competing culture in the culture wars? Perhaps it is linked to the fact that until relatively recently Muslims were one of the most powerful groups, and they lived almost exclusively under Muslim rulers. Now they see the Imperial West as humiliating them, and Israel is identified with the imperialists (regardless of the fact that most Israelis originated in Muslim lands and identify with Arab culture).

If Muslim anti-Semitism is the major single cause of anti -Semitism around the world, fascism is not dead either. The Jobbik party in Hungary is violently anti-Semitic. So are skinheads in Germany. As is the left--how strange that it identifies with a fundamentalist, anti-humanist, anti-feminist, and anti-egalitarian brand of religion. But then it was a principle in Marxism that you could ally yourself with anyone if it helped your cause.

I grew up in a Britain, where anti-Semitism was common. It was lurking beneath the surface, but it was never as overt, as public or as threatening as it is now. But now even in New York we have seen thugs carrying Palestinian flags attacking Jews. So when I see a skinhead, or when I see a Muslim, should I not now assume the worst until I know differently? Should I not run for cover or cross over to the other side of the street? Or should I rather give humans the benefit of the doubt? And is that really prejudice?

Some of my Muslim correspondents can no longer speak to me civilly. But others still do rationally. Some have confessed that other Muslims, such as ISIS or Assad, are a far bigger danger than Israel, but they are reluctant to stand up against overwhelming public opinion. I know Muslims who do not hate me. But I am really worried that I am being dragged down into a cesspit of prejudice.

The Jewish answer is that although I must defend myself, I should try to judge each individual on his or her own merit. After all, on Rosh Hashanah we quote the Mishna that says that the Almighty evaluates every human being. Not all are found guilty! The Torah tells us to treat the stranger as one of us, even though the environment in which this was said was one of pagan hostility and a clash of cultures. But it is true this only applied where the stranger was willing to accept us and our moral code, not when he wanted to kill us or impose his laws instead.

A similar ambiguity occurs within the Jewish world. We have our full range of those for Judaism and Jews and those against or disaffected. Large numbers of young Jews with no firsthand experience of intolerance, expulsion, or insecurity, or of religious commitment, no longer see the need for a Jewish state or its right to defend itself. And I am very worried by the increasing prejudice I hear and see manifest in our own ranks against Muslims and Christians. “The goyim all hate us.” Any Jew who expresses reservations about Israel is “self-hating”.

Prejudice towards “the other” seems almost to be an evolutionary natural state. The whole point of religious morality is to combat “naturalism”, the animal aspect of our nature, and to try one’s best to elevate the better. If others cannot, we must still try. We are all prejudiced in different ways. We must not let it dictate to us.

There are good people everywhere, and there are thinking, considerate humans even amongst those who we assume are our enemies. We must seek them out and try to make common cause with them, however few, frightened, or battered they may be.