Pneuma and Ruah Compared

Lee Price: Someone mentioned to me an ongoing discussion in the halls of academe about whether/how much the Hebrew "ruach" overlaps the Greek "pneu." Any thoughts? Any sources you'd suggest?

Lenny Levin: My educated guess is -- a lot. Compare the Greek New Testament with the Delitsch Hebrew translation of it -- that would be a good test. Please direct me to a source of the current discussion!

Lee Price: Well, the person who told me the discussion exists is too crabby to risk emailing at the moment, but I'll see him Tuesday and ask then. The difference is what's commending itself to my attention: "ruach" ultimately translated itself into "action" whereas "pneu" translated itself into "spirit."

Yazmin Lebbe May I suggest another source? Please refer to Itzchak Salkinson's Hebrew version of the Brit HaChadaschah.

Lenny Levin: It is my observation that the attempt to conceptualize something completely "non-material" generally starts with the thing in our experience that (though material) most closely approximates the non-materiality that we are trying to allude t...o. This is most commonly air (or wind, or breath -- all different forms of the same thing). The word "spirit" retains its material sense in usages like "respiration", "spirits of ammonia," etc. The Greek "pneuma" and Hebrew "ruah" both originally meant the material substance that we call "air=breath=wind" and by transfer of meaning through metaphor came to mean that which is completely immaterial. Moreover, the expression "ruah adonai" or "ruah elohim" is used in the Bible in a number of contexts -- creation, prophetic inspiration, influx of supernatural strength (as with Samson) -- all of which became imported into the Greek "pneuma" with the translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek. The New Testament usage is clearly based on the Old Testament usage, with additional inflections for which parallels can be found in rabbinic literature. Those who want to build an essential dichotomy between the two are afflicted with an "Us Versus Them" competitive mentality that finds little support in the facts. That's my take, for better or worse.

Lee Price: Et tu Lenny. Crabby, crabby. I gather(though am admittedly too under the gun to check it out) that "pneu" has a distinct derivation stemming from its connection with " logos," and the comparative superiority of (pneu-borne) speech over writing. Doesn't seem to jive with the idea of being book- or written-law centered. Sorry if I offend your liberal humanist sensibilities:)

Lenny Levin: Not at all. Derrida was a brilliant philosopher in part because he was so brilliant in arguing on behalf of outrageous ideas. The American Heritage Dictionary has an appendix with lots of ancient word-stems. It lists "pneu": "To breathe...." (imitative root) Germanic: Fniu. Old English Fneosan, to sneeze. Greek: Pnein, to breathe. Derived words include apnea, dyspnea, pneuma, pneumatic, etc. My tires are pneumatic because they have air in them, not speech. If they spoke, I would take them to the service garage to be checked out. Call me crabby. I can take it!

Lee Price: I think it would be instructive to see how Plato uses "pneu." In the Phaedrus or the Phaedo or one of those dialogues starting with "ph" there's some myth purportedly from Egypt in which speech (logos) is held to be better than writing. ...And if "pneu" is associated there with logos, then it's better than writing, because Plato created the logos and saw that it was good. And then wrote it down, but that's another matter. Whereas, "ruach" has no relation to writing that I know of -- I don't think that relationship is on the Biblical or the rabbinic radar screen. They may indeed both mean "breath" or "air" -- the question is, if the connotations are different does that make them mean different things? Well, yes and no, no and yes. That's about as far as I can go, since Mrs. Cheshvan now has to embark upon shabbat grocery shopping.

Lenny Levin: That can be tested. The Greek original of the Platonic dialogues is available online. Can you find the English passages?

Lee Price: These particular ones are in Phaedrus -- 276a-b seems good since it compares "living speech" to written discourse." But I would be interested to do a search on Perseus to see of pneu and logos ever turn up together with "writing" (I forget what it is in Greek) in Plato. I'll try to do this next Thurs when things have eased a bit... Shabbat shalom!

Lenny Levin: I await the results of your Perseus search. In the mean time, the source in Phaedrus 276a-b is a rich one for our purpose (even though the word "pneuma" in its various forms doesn't occur in it). Socrates is arguing that oral speech is more alive and fruitful of true instruction than a dead letter that can give only what was put into it, not any new spontaneous wisdom. Socrates praises “the sort of discourse that goes together with knowledge, and is written in the soul (psyche) of the learner, that can defend itself, and knows to whom it should speak…” Phaedrus elaborates: “You mean no dead discourse (eidotos logon), but the living speech ([logon] zonta kai empsychon), of which the written discourse (dikaios) may fairly be called a kind of image (eidolon).” To be sure, the word “pneuma” (spirit) does not occur in this passage in any of its forms, but we have two occurrences of “psyche” in proximity to “logos.” Maybe somewhere else you will find “pneuma” and “logos” in similar proximity. What would it prove?

First, I find delightful layers of irony in the fact that Plato (whose medium was writing) is making Socrates (whose medium was exclusively oral speech, for he wrote nothing) praise the virtues of the oral word over the written word (which I am guessing was the chief morsel of insight that Derrida gleaned from this passage). The passage uses the term “logos” evenhandedly to refer to the word in both its oral and written form. What is superior to the oral form of the word is that it is living and breathing — it can adapt itself by changing and modulating to the living event in which it participates, whereas the written word is frozen in its current form. The oral word is “pneumatic”—breathing, if you will, just as it is the product of the breath of the person who utters it. If so, the force of “pneumatic” in such an argument would not mean “pneuma = logos” but “pneuma = breathing / oral” —that is to say, the oral word has a pneumatic quality that the written word lacks. This is a delightful piece of insight but hardly justifies equating the meaning of “pneuma” with “logos.”

Second, as the argument that you cite claims to contrast “pneuma” with “ruah” in this respect, the relevant question would be: does the association of “ruah” with “speech” occur anywhere in the Hebrew canon? This is a loaded question, because though the Bible presents itself to us in “written” form, it is decidedly the product of an oral culture. Not surprisingly, as a lookup of the word “ruah” in a Biblical concordance will reveal, there are several associations of “ruah” with orality, especially with the phenomenon of oral prophecy inspired by God’s ruah. (See for instance Numbers 11:24-29, I Kings 22:23-24). Ruah is associated with life itself (as in Genesis 7:15 and Ezekiel 37:10). There is at least one famous association of “ruah” with a spirit of wisdom (Isaiah 11:2) There are two occurrences of “ruah” in conjunction with “mouth” or “lips.” Psalm 33:6 declares: “By the word (davar) of the Lord the heavens were made, and by the breath of His mouth (u-ve-ruah piv) all their host.” Here you have the juxtaposition of “logos” and “pneuma” in the Septuagint translation of the verse. The other occurrence is in Isaiah 11:4, speaking of the Messianic ruler: “He shall judge the poor with equity and decide with justice for the lowly of the land. He shall strike down a land with the rod (Septuagint: “logos”) of his mouth, and slay the wicked with the breath of his lips (be-ruah sefatav — Septuagint has “en pneumati dia cheileon”). The plain sense here is that the oral judgment that he pronounces dooms the wicked; you might want to use it in support of the conjunction of word and action.

Bottom line: Both word and action proceed from spirit, whether you are speaking in Greek or Hebrew. I don't see any difference between "pneuma" and "ruah" in this regard. In fact, "pneuma" is the standard translation of "ruah" in the Greek Bible, as these instances illustrate.

Why The Settlement Freeze Is So Crucial

Two days ago I posted on Facebook (à propos of a news item on Israel artists boycotting Ariel):

Israeli artists are acting as the conscience of their nation. “When two are holding onto a tallit — this one says, ‘It is all mine,’ the other says ‘It is all mine’ — they shall negotiate a division.” Forbearance regarding the occupied territories is essential to establishing a climate of trust under which negotiations can proceed. Israelis and Palestinians are at a delicate turning point. Every precaution must be taken for them to succeed. This should not be confused with a very different kind of boycott (by anti-Zionist elements) questioning Israel's legitimacy. These artists have Israel's (their own) interests at heart and deserve our support.

I have been asked for a clarification of this post. The rest of this post is an expansion and clarification of my Facebook posting.

When I read that over 100 Israel artists decided they would not perform in Ariel’s cultural center, I immediately felt a sympathetic rapport with them.

Let us consider the context of this declaration. For fully a decade, since the collapse of the Camp David peace talks and the Taba talks, Israelis and the PA have been avoiding peace negotiations (abetted by the neglect of the Americans during the Bush administration). However, before that time—and more recently—when there has been any hope of moving forward on negotiations, a major sticking issue has been that of the Israeli settlements in occupied territories.

Within the past year, Netanyahu reluctantly agreed to a temporary moratorium on settlements, at the urging of President Obama. The temporary moratorium is due to expire late in September, 2010. Abbas demands a renewal of the moratorium as a condition of continuing the peace talks that have resumed today (September 1). But Netanyahu’s right-wing Knesset supporters demand that it not be renewed. The issue is in doubt.

So what are the Israeli artists saying? They are saying that for them, it is more important to give peace negotiations with the Palestinians a chance, than to insist on Israeli settlers’ rights to continue to live and expand in the land that was occupied by Israeli forces in the defensive war of 1967. They are sending a message to Netanyahu: Do not regard the occupied West Bank as belonging to Israel by unilateral declaration, to do with whatever they want! Leave it on the table, so the Palestinians will feel that we are negotiating in good faith, and that the future of the land will be determined by the process of joint negotiation, not by unilateral actions on the Israeli side. Just as Ariel is part of the West Bank in dispute, so are the other settlements. By our refraining from performing in Ariel during this difficult and uncertain period of negotiating, we are saying to you: Keep your hands off those parts of the West Bank where the line of settlement has not yet advanced! Do not keep taking land away from the part of the pie that remains to be distributed. Do not destroy the chances for peace because of the settlers’ insatiable greed.

Underlying this are several other issues:

Who owns the land?

By what right is ownership of the land determined?

What is the big deal about a settlement freeze?

Is there a real chance for peace between Israel and the Palestinians? What will determine the possibility of peace?

First of all, there are different points of view as to who owns the land. Hamas thinks that Moslems own “the land” (including everything between the Jordan and the Mediterranean, including Tel Aviv), by the principle of “dar al-Islam”: whatever land has once been conquered by the Moslem sword, must never again revert to non-Islamic ownership. Fundamentalist Orthodox ultra-Zionists believe that Jews own “the land” (again, including everything between the Jordan and the Mediterranean, including Jericho, Hebron, Nablus, and Jenin) because God promised it to Abraham and his descendants in Genesis, and that promise is irrevocable. Between Hamas and the ultra-Zionists, there can never be the slightest agreement. If either of their positions is taken as normative, then the Middle East is doomed to eternal war and peace is forever impossible.

Jewish law has a principle that is directly applicable to situations such as the one just dscribed: “If two persons are holding onto a tallit—the one says, ‘It is all mine’ and the other says, ‘It is all mine’—they shall divide it [50-50].” [Mishnah Bava Metzi’a 1:1] No Torah proof-text is cited as authoritative backing for this law, so we may count it among those rabbinic laws that are based on reason or common sense. What is the logical reason for such a law? The two parties each have entered a claim to 100% of the disputed article. But the claims are incompatible. It cannot belong all to Party A and all to Party B. If no objective reason can be brought to prefer A’s claim to B’s claim or vice versa, they must be regarded as logically equally probable. This translates into a 50% probability that A is right, and a 50% probability that B is right—and still no criterion for deciding that the one is all right or the other is all right. The just adjudication thus divides the disputed article 50-50, in accord with the 50-50 probability of validity of the respective claims.

The exact terms of partition of the land of Israel/Palestine has been the subject of international negotiations since 1936, when the first partition plan was proposed. It is not my purpose to go into the precise terms of a just partition. The Israelis and Palestinians came close enough at Taba in 2001 and the positions of that conference are in many people’s view the best starting point for further negotiations. In principle, the arrived-at settlement should give scope for each of the two nations—the Israeli and the Palestinian—enough land and control over resources to govern its own destiny.

So what is the big deal about a settlement freeze?

The practice of the maverick settlers who set up new settlements at the blink of an eye goes back to a practice of the Zionist Jews in the late 1930s. It has been called “creating facts.” In the 1930s, the Palestinian-Arab leadership, under Haj Amin Al-Husseini (the chief instigator of the 1929 riots and later an accomplice of Hitler), was pressuring the British to freeze the Jewish presence in Palestine at its then-current level. The Jews were understandably under pressure to maximize the extent of their land-possession as much as possible, so that in the event of partition, they would have enough land for a viable state. They would put up a watch-tower and stockade wall in the course of a day in order to lay claim to a new site and render it defensible, after which they could fill in the rest of the buildings at leisure.

The methods of extending claim to Jewish land are pretty much the same now as in the 1930s. But the circumstances have changed drastically. For one thing, the majority of the land-holding in the 1930s was Arab; today the position is reversed. For another thing, the Arabs in the 1930s never talked or negotiated with the Jews; today, some do and some don’t. Moreover, it is not the British who are custodians of the territories; it is primarily the Israelis themselves.

The biggest factor of difference is tied up with the question: Who owns the land? And there is a difference of opinion here between the settlers and the world community, with the Israelis themselves of divided mind between the two. The settlers who are expanding the settlements believe that of right, all the territories (or at least all of the territories not yet occupied) should belong to the Jewish people. They are staking out the land, tract by tract, on behalf of turning that hypothetical claim into a “fact on the ground,” so that (presumably) once the claim is reinforced by settlement and direct occupation, it will never be revoked but the land will always remain Jewish. That is the whole primary motivation behind the radical portion of the settler movement.

But if negotiations are to take place, and if those negotiations are to be taken seriously, then any land of the West Bank not already put in an exception class by the Taba negotiations (primarily the Etzion Bloc, the Ariel Bloc, and Greater Jerusalem) is on the table, in escrow so to speak, with its ultimate disposition to be determined by the negotiations. Some would go so far as to say, this disputed land presumably belongs to the Palestinians—it was agreed to be part of their domain by the 1949 cease-fire, and everything that has happened since then (the 1967 and 1973 wars, plus the intervening expansion of Jewish settlements) does not change that status. But without going even that far, we should at least stipulate: the status of this land is to be determined by negotiation.

Thus, the settlers, by expanding the settlements at this stage, are taking land with status “to be determined by negotiation” and marking it as “Jewish land.”

That is like moving the goal posts during a time-out.

If the status of the land to be negotiated is being changed while negotiations are pending or in progress, then whoever is doing that (or allowing or condoning it) is not taking the negotiations seriously. That is what is such a big deal. That is why it makes perfect sense for Abbas, Fayyad, and the other PA representatives to make a continued freeze on settlement expansion a precondition for going ahead with the negotiations.

And that is why the Israeli artists are boycotting Ariel, saying they will not perform there as long as the negotiations are a factor, and as long as the Israeli government is acting as if it will let the settlement freeze lapse, thus putting the negotiations (and peace itself) in peril. They are trying to deliver a wakeup call to the Netanyahu government, saying: “If you want your negotiating partners to take you seriously, you are going to have to adopt a ‘hands-off’ policy to the very thing that is being negotiated, until the negotiations have completed their course and its disposition is properly, legitimately decided by both parties in conjunction.”

Is there a real chance that this round of negotiations will lead to peace? I don’t know. It depends on the actions and words of both sides. But I do believe that it is our obligation to do everything that is in our power to give them the best possible chance. And continuing the settlement freeze indefinitely for the course of the negotiations is what common sense dictates, to show good faith with the other side, to demonstrate by our actions that we take the negotiations in all seriousness.

That is what the Israeli artists are trying to say by their boycott. And that is why I agree with them wholeheartedly, and consider them the conscience of Israel today.

Don’t Give the Button-Pushers the Power!

I saw it happen 15 years ago. In September, 1995 Rabin was Prime Minister. The Oslo Accords had been approved. Our family went to spend a year in Israel, elated to be in Israel, but also elated that progress was being made, after decades, to move toward real peaceful relations between the Zionist Jews/Israelis and Palestinian Arabs in the Middle East.

Then the extremists pushed their buttons. In November, Yigal Amir assassinated Prime Minister Rabin. In February, around Purim (anniversary of the monstrous crime of another button-pusher, Baruch Goldstein), Hamas suicide-operatives began blowing up buses in the cities of Israel. Among the first victims were my JTS classmate Matt Eisenfeld and his fiancée Sara Duker. Although our son David and our daughter Rachel—then in 8th grade and 4th grade, respectively, in the Israeli public schools—handed out hamantaschen to the soldiers guarding the bus-stops and brandished posters supporting the election of the Labor candidate Shimon Peres, it did not help. Netanyahu won.

The extremists logic was: They didn’t want peace. They knew if they pushed the buttons of the moderates by dastardly acts inciting fear, enough moderates would drift from the center to throw the center of gravity to the anti-peace forces in both the Jewish and Arab constituencies. Peace would be defeated. The extremists’ agenda would prevail.

The same pattern is repeating itself. Last week, Al Qaida attacked targets in 13 cities in Iraq, on the eve of the American turnover of military control to the Iraqis. Yesterday, Hamas killed four Jewish settlers in the Hebron area, on the eve of the start of peace talks between Israel and the PA.

Hamas has consistently opposed peace. They have consistently refused to recognize the legitimacy of Israel. They have consistently maintained that the only just solution in Israel/Palestine is the dismantlement of the state of Israel and the establishment of an Arab-Palestinian dominated state between the Jordan and the Mediterranean.

Whenever Jews and Arab moderates get together to try to work out a fair peace settlement that gives a legitimate place to Jewish and Palestinian-Arab national aspirations, the minority party Hamas claims veto power. They think that if they wreak enough havoc, proving that nobody can control them and that they can kill Israelis/Zionists with impunity, they will alienate enough moderates from the idea of peace to kill the peace process. So far, they have managed to achieve this—following the example set by Arab extremists since the massacres of 1929.

We must not let them. We must not let a small violent minority veto the peace aspirations of the majority.

The only way we can stop them is to oppose their call to violence with an equally strong call to peace. We must not let them push our buttons. We must not let them trigger our own vengeful instincts, generalizing from the violent few to tar with the same brush the entire group that shares their religious or national identity.

Over 2800 years ago, when the Middle East was already embroiled in the inter-group wars and rivalries that have persisted there (and in most of the human-populated world) ever since, a Jewish prophet named Isaiah had a dream, that the nations would flock to Jerusalem and learn there of God’s Torah, and that when they did so, they would beat their swords into plough-shares and their spears into pruning-hooks, that nation would not lift up sword against nation, and they would not learn war any more.

The conventional wisdom was against Isaiah then. His dream has still not been realized. The same forces that conspired to defer the fulfillment of the dream then are still at work. But the dream still lives. The dream must prevail.

Letter to Cousin Nick

Dear Nick,

You have asked me what I think about Michael Chabon’s NY Times Op Ed piece of June 4, 2010, “Chosen But Not Special.” I liked the piece very much. It raised a lot of pertinent issues. I think I would do justice to it only if I took up each of the issues and gave my reaction to it, point by point.

First, let me address the Facebook byline: “Jews would be wise to abandon the myth of their exceptionalism.” This is a loaded question. If it means Jews should not be treated differently than anyone else because of their presumed difference—whether greater intelligence, greater suffering and entitlement, or the like—this is a truism. Everyone should be treated alike on the basis of their actions. But if it means that Jews are the same as anyone else, and any differences are so trivial as to be negligible, this is false. Everyone is different, and differences matter. Our differences are two-edged. We can welcome them benignly and take the opportunity they offer to enrich our experience, or we can take them invidiously and use them to foment envy and hatred. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks addresses this in his book, The Dignity of Difference. It is our responsibility as human beings to acknowledge the fact of difference and use it for good, not for evil.

Are Jews special? Yes. But it would be wrong to measure different people’s specialness and to try to figure out, is one more special than another? Though we cannot “know” God, we are right to imagine God as a loving parent whose children are all God’s creatures, all people, all living things. In the 18th century, the German Enlightenment philosopher and dramatist Gotthold Lessing expressed this in a parable that he put in the mouth of his hero of his play Nathan the Wise (a character he based on his Jewish friend Moses Mendelssohn): A father had three sons and one precious heirloom ring. He hesitated to give any of his sons preference by giving him the ring exclusively, so he had an expert jeweler make two replicas. Before his death, he took each son into confidence and said, “I am giving you this precious ring because I love you.” At the funeral, the three sons were wearing the three rings and were perplexed. They went to a judge to help determine, which son had the genuine ring? The judge answered: The one who behaves in a loving fashion to his brothers, his ring is the true ring. So we should each regard our specialness in the eyes of God. Our relation with God is unique because each of us is unique. God’s love for one of us cannot be measured as greater or lesser than God’s love for someone else, because that which is unique is not susceptible of measurement or comparison without impugning its uniqueness.

What about Jews and smartness (or wisdom)? I do not want to enter into the questions of comparative measurement of intelligence that Charles Murray and Kevin B. MacDonald (cited by Chabon) discuss. To dwell on such questions serves envy rather than enlightenment. I think it is perfectly fair, however, to say that Jews have traditionally valued wisdom and intellectual achievement, and this is one of the most important positive features and contributions of Jewish culture. The phenomenon of the Bar Mitzvah, which you have portrayed in your cinematic work, is symptomatic of this. It is not every culture that celebrates an adolescent’s coming-of-age by calling on that individual to give a display of intellectual competence. Matthew Arnold was on the right track in his Culture and Anarchy in contrasting Hebraism and Hellenism in terms of their ideals. Hebraism in his view cultivated righteousness, while Hellenism cultivated “sweetness and light” (art and philosophy). The cultures of the world are importantly different in their emphases on the panoply of human ideals as ideals and we should learn what we can from all of them. But in this inventory, it would be correct to say that in the ideals that it strove for, Judaism has valued intellect and wisdom. Whether it has always achieved it, is of course another question.

But is the fiasco of the Mavi Marmara to be chalked up to a lack of smartness? This is where I think that Chabon’s dry, tongue-in-cheek analysis is missing an important dimension. Even his reference to Chelm does not tell us the whole story about that phenomenon (and that may be the right place to start, as there is something very Chelm-like, though tragic, in the missteps of the current Israeli administration). The Jewish tradition does not speak of the “fools of Chelm” but of the “sages of Chelm.” The sages of Chelm were very ingenious in the application of their reason to solve puzzles, but they always came up with the wrong answers because they left out a crucial part of every problem they addressed. Indeed, the tradition of the Chelm stories may be read as a parody of the unworldly yeshiva students, learned in Talmud but ignorant in the ways of the world, who were therefore handicapped in their negotiation of reality. They were smart but not truly wise, for true wisdom must include breadth of experience and openness to viewpoints other than one’s own.

The current Israeli predicament reminds me of a different Talmudic story. Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua were arguing whether a stove made of a particular amalgam of materials was susceptible of ritual impurity. Rabbi Eliezer ruled: “Pure.” Rabbi Joshua ruled: “Impure.”

Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the carob tree is on my side, let the carob tree uproot itself.” The carob tree uprooted itself. Rabbi Joshua retorted, “We do not admit evidence from a carob tree.”

Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the law is on my side, let the brook run backward.” The brook ran backward. Rabbi Joshua retorted, “We do not admit evidence from a brook.”

Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the law is on my side, let a voice from heaven prove it.” A voice from heaven announced: “The law is according to Rabbi Eliezer.” Rabbi Joshua retorted, “It is written: ‘It is not in heaven!’ Since the time that the Torah was given at Sinai, we do not listen to a heavenly voice, but we decide according to the majority.”

The story goes on to say that they ostracized Rabbi Eliezer for his failure to listen to the views of his colleagues.

Now, it is not said of Rabbi Eliezer that he was not smart. Indeed, he had a prodigious memory and remembered all the traditions of the previous generations. I am sure that his argument proving that he was right about the purity of the stove was intellectually impeccable—so solid, in fact, that a heavenly voice agreed with him! But he was not wise, because he did not learn from others. (“Who is wise? He who learns from everyone.”)

The more I think about what is missing from the thinking of the current Israeli leadership, the more it seems to me they are like Rabbi Eliezer. It is not stupidity or lack of smartness that is their problem, but close-mindedness, their lack of interest or responsiveness to viewpoints other than their own.

The rationale they give for their actions is factually and morally well-based every step of the way. Yes, the leaders of Gaza are by their own declaration at war with Israel. Yes, they fire rockets into Israel at every provocation (and no provocation). Yes, if they were given full open access to shipping, they would import weapons. Yes, if they had free ability to import metal and concrete, they could build their own weapons from them. Yes, the passengers on the Mavi Marmara attacked the Israeli commandos first, so when the commandos fired back, it was in self-defense and technically justified. Yes, when the Mavi Marmara was inspected after it arrived in Ashdod, it had weapons and large amounts of cash on board. All of which adds up logically, technically, to the conclusion: Israel acted in justified self-defense.

So why, they ask, are the nations of the world almost unanimously condemning Israel? Don’t they see the validity of their reasoning?

I want to say to them: Read the story of Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua! The validity of internal reasoning is only one part of establishing the truth. The consensus of reasonable people is another equally valid part, and that is the part that is missing.

In particular, a moral law depends on consensus to be operable. If only a lone individual holds to a moral principle, it ceases to be an effective instrument in guiding humanity in their interactions. To act morally is to engage in a responsive dialogue with the people on the other side of the table until you have thrashed out common principles that can be binding both ways. It is to be engaged in reciprocal conduct that affirms the equal validity of both parties.

Admittedly, this is very difficult when the other party has refused, since the 1920s, to acknowledge your validity. But it is the only way. One must continue to talk to whoever will listen, the adversary or a third party, until reciprocity is achieved. One must listen to what they have to say, and keep sharing and listening, building bridges of understanding until a common perspective is achieved that will lead to a common plan of action. If one’s course of action is not achieving the desired results (as in the case of the siege of Gaza, which in three years has not advanced the Gazans toward a different regime, or the region to greater understanding), then it should be re-evaluated and a different course of action tried—in consultation with others, in an attempt to elicit their cooperation. This is what the current Israeli leadership has consistently failed to do, which has led to the current impasse. The “stupidity” (or lack of wisdom) was not what they did in this one latest instance. It was their obstinacy in their self-determined course of action, regardless of negative feedback, that led inevitably to being expressed in one crisis or another.

To declare one’s moral purity in isolation, regardless of the consensus of others, is to court ostracism. Rabbi Eliezer was ostracized for violating the mandate of reciprocity and consensus. The current Israeli leadership is courting ostracism by its willful adherence to its own view of the morality of its actions, in the face of the consensus to the contrary.

This is not stupidity. The policy and its justification are being pursued with the highest intelligence—equal to the famous intelligence of the sages of Chelm. But it is folly of another sort—the absence of wisdom, which must include openness to the views of other reasonable people.

I hope these reflections help you! Thanks for raising the questions.

Your cousin,

Lenny

She Doesn't Live Here Anymore

SHE DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE
By Smadar Shir, Yediot Achronot April 30th 2010

From: SARTABA
[TRANSLATIONS FROM THE HEBREW PRESS]
http://sartaba.org
Translated by Jonathan Adam Silverman

Jessica Fishman no longer lives in Israel. Exactly a week ago she cleared out her rented apartment in central Tel Aviv, put the dog she called Jinji she picked up off the street, in the cage, and together they flew to her parents in Colorado. She has no plans, either on the personal or professional plane, but she needed the warmth of her family to rebuild her identity.

"Seven years ago, I arrived here as a Jewish and Zionist woman," she says teary eyed while packing her suitcases. "Now I am leaving Israel because in the eyes of the Chief Rabbinate I am not a Jewish woman, and when I myself am already not so sure I am so Zionist."

Her seven years in Israel were not a bowl of cherries. But Jessica, age 29, did not break. "To be a new immigrant is to go to war every day. It is a nightmare. It isn't a matter only of concessions and reductions in quality of life and comforts, but getting used to many difficulties including a lonesome life style. Even in the most frustrating times I said to myself that this is my time and the suffering will pay off, because the good follows bad. I volunteered, I studied, I worked, I served two years in the IDF, I met a boy, we were about to get married, I thought I finally was starting my own family. Look the new immigrant's biggest fear is where will we be for the holidays? Who will invite us for meals? And indeed when everything looked like it was falling into place, that seven black years were behind me and I can look ahead ˆ the door slammed in my face."

Suzie Fishman, Jessica's mother, who came to Israel to help her daughter with parting arrangements, shrugs in defeat.

"I ran a kosher home, I sent my two daughters to Jewish schools and I never hid from them the fact that I am a convert," she explains in English. "I always told them: "there are people who were born as Jews and never did anything to enrich the wonderful religion. I did: "I chose, I converted, I immersed myself in a mikvah. Today for the first time in my life, I do not regret this, but I am certainly sorry. I never wanted my conversion to destroy their lives."

Suzie (62), Jessica's mother, grew up in a Christian family in Missouri. "My mother was very religious, and every Sunday she took me to church," the mother recalls. "But in high school I started to move away from religion." In the framework of studies for becoming a registered nurse she met Leslie Fishman, who became a pediatrician. "We dated for two years, and when he received his certification in Minneapolis, MN, he proposed marriage. I knew he was Jewish before then, but between the two of us religion did not play a significant role. Love made me flexible. I need to convert? No problem. This was much harder for my family than for me, in particular my mother. My two parents were prejudiced, and my mother worried she would lose me, which actually happened. She respected my husband but the conversion separated them."

Fishman went through conversion with a reform rabbi in Saint Louis. "I did not know much about the various streams of Judaism, but Leslie explained to me that the orthodox are less progressive than the reforms in their approach to women, and therefore we chose a reform rabbi. I studied kosher laws and holidays and customs. Leslie came from a home in which the Judaism was a cultural and social matter more than religious, and it turned out that I learned things that he never knew. At the end of the process I immersed myself in the mikvah. Most of the reform conversions don't include immersion, but the rabbi explained to me that the mikvah will increase the chances that my conversion will be recognized in Israel, a question which at that time did not concern me at all. I received a certificate that I am a Jewish woman and I chose the Jewish name Shulamit, which is derived from the word shalom = peace."

In their home in St. Paul MN, Suzie was in charge of giving their daughters a Jewish education: Jessica (Tamar) and her younger sister Sheina, who lives today in New York. "We lived ten minutes walk from the conservative synagogue "Beit Yakov" led by Rabbi Morris Allen," Jessica recalls from her childhood. "Every Shabbat we walked to the synagogue, even when it snowed, and after prayers the children split up into classrooms where they learned Bible. My father was on the synagogue's board of directors, and my mother volunteered for Hadassah. She lit candles every Friday night, she built the sukkah on Sukkot and she taught me why we fast on Yom Kippur and why we light candles on Chanuka. For the seder night there was a big celebration, the whole family came to our house, and until today Passover is my most favorite holiday."

When she was three years old, her mother went through a Bat Mitzva ceremony. "For a year she studied and I applauded when she read from the Torah," Jessica recalls, who until sixth grade learned in a Jewish school. Because of her father's work the family moved to a small city in New York, and she remembers herself in the local supermarket, looking for food items on whose packages was written OU, specifying they were kosher. Summer vacations she spent in "Herzl Camp", and at age 14 she went with her parents and sister for a first visit to Israel. "We toured all over and I loved it," she says smiling. "In particular Tel Aviv. Even then I announced to my parents that one day I will return to Israel forever." Two years afterward she came to Israel for six weeks in the framework of the conservative youth movement. "We prayed three times a day, and every meal ended with the prayer after meals. "I was not so devout," she confesses, " but it interested me to see Israel from the point of view of people my age."

While studying communications and business management at Indiana U. she came to Israel again, learned for a half a year at Hebrew U. and at age 22 returned to Israel in the framework of a nine month volunteer project. "I worked in an absorption center in Ashkelon with Ethiopian children and I prepared young Israelis for their high school graduation exams in English. Afterward we moved to Migdal Ha Emek, we set up a chocolate milk house for children, I worked in a village for children at risk in order to contribute as much as possible," she stresses. "In the framework of the volunteer project I met Nachman Shai, who was then IDF Spokesman, I told him who I am, and he promised to help me. Two weeks later I received a phone call, someone asked to speak with Jessica Fishman Daughter of Eliezer. It took me a minute to understand that they meant me," She laughs. "They asked me to enlist in two weeks, I sought to postpone the enlistment until I finish the Hebrew class and finally they told me "Hey you can't choose the date of your enlistment according to what is comfortable for you, this is the army." I flew to my parents for a month and a half, I organized documents, I made Aliyah, and at age 23 I started to serve in IDF Spokesman."

"We were worried about her," her mother comments. "This was during the second intifada, it was dangerous, but we were very proud of her. She fulfilled her Zionism and her Judaism.:"

LOVE DEPENDENT ON THE PAST

For two years Jessica served as an aide in the Unit For Strategy and Initiatives. "Until today I am forbidden from telling too much about what I did there," she relates. "I thought that I would be Israel's spokesperson for the foreign press, but this was only one aspect of work in the unit, which prepared in advance ways of coping with atrocity scenarios. As a lone soldier woman I rented an apartment, I found friends and every day, when I dressed in uniform, I felt my Israeli identity getting stronger. When I was discharged I wanted to make a long trip abroad like everyone after the army. Instead of flying to India I flew to my parents, who had moved to Colorado, I went skiing and I returned home, to Tel Aviv."

She worked in an advertising office, started to study for a master's degree in business management in the interdisciplinary center in Herzliya and for the first time started to read in Hebrew. "They told me to start with books that I did not know in English, so I started with CATCHER IN THE RYE and from there I moved to BAGEL WISDOM. Reading in Hebrew took more time, but there was great satisfaction.

Two years ago she met M, who almost became her husband. "A friend told me about a guy who wanted my advice," she relates, "I assumed this was someone planning Aliyah. The first time I met M I was amazed that he had such good Hebrew. Later I understood that this was an alibi for a date. We fell in love. He is a fun loving guy who works in strategic marketing. We took a biking trip, his family adopted me like a daughter and I felt that finally I found a home. When we started to talk about marriage I told him that my mother was a reform convert, which the orthodox rabbinate in Israel did not accept. This I learned in the army. M said he did not want our children to suffer and asked me to convert. I was opposed. I claimed "Why should I convert? Am I not Jewish? After all I contributed more to the country than many who wear the kipa who refuse to serve in the IDF. These discussions became arguments and soured our relations."
According to her, M's mother used to say: "I love Jessica as if she is my daughter, but your children will suffer, they will not permit them to get married in Israel," And she applied indirect pressure. In the final analysis Jessica phoned her parents and asked them to try to obtain a certificate of validity for her mother's conversion. And then the blow struck.

Rabbi (advocate) Uri Regev, director of Hadush (Freedom, Religion, Equality) stated unequivocally: "Israelis born in Israel who want to get married go to the Religious Council, bring two witnesses who verify they are Jewish and single and the marriage is registered. When new immigrants want to get married, they are sent to Rabbinical court to verify their validity for marriage, and it demands that an orthodox rabbi from the place they live will verify that the party making the request is Jewish and single."

Suzie Fishman relates: "One day we received a phone call from an orthodox Rabbi who asked to know the names of my parents, and I understood that he does not realize I am a convert. So I told him that since the conversion I am called Shulamit daughter of Avraham. At that moment he stopped talking to me. My husband raised the telephone receiver in the next room, and the Rabbi continued talking but only to him. The orthodox Rabbi claimed that Reform conversion isn't valid and that Jessica is not a Jewish woman because the Jewish spirit was not in my womb when she was conceived. I broke out weeping. This was the first time that someone dared state to me that I who chose to be Jewish, am not Jewish."

"My father phoned me immediately after the talk with the rabbi," Jessica continues. "He reported to me about the nuances of the conversation and wept like a child. My father said that he felt he was raped. He wept and said Jessica I am so sorry we have not managed to help you get out of this trap."

In November Jessica said goodbye to her mate (it was no longer pleasant between us. The arguments killed the love") And she decided to leave Israel. "I felt that the country betrayed me, humiliated me and spit in my face."

'ANTISEMITIC BEHAVIOR"

Jessica's story is a sad human saga, strong and powerful, that exemplifies the growing crisis between Israel and Jewish leadership in the US, "says Rabbi (advocate) Uri Regev. According to him the thing that causes the crisis is the proposed law on conversion from MK David Rotam from Israel Beiteinu, chairman of the Knesset constitutional committee. "His proposed law is aimed, as it were, to increase the number of orthodox converts in Israel, but in fact it grants for the first time to the chief rabbinate the authority over conversion in Israel, and it is liable to cause Reform and Conservative converts ˆ who are the decisive majority of converts in the US ˆ not to be recognized as Jews even for the purpose of the Right of Return," Regev cautions.

MK Rotam, who landed in New York this week for a series of meetings with heads of Federations and Jewish communities about the proposed law of conversion, was sorry to hear that Jessica Fishman already left Israel. "She is correct," he said. "Her case is scandalous. It hurts me to hear that a young woman who contributed so much to Israel was forced to leave, and this is exactly what my law seeks to correct."

"How will your law correct the problem Fishman experienced?"


"If my law is passed, instead of going through a long process of conversion Jessica will be able to turn to the Rabbinical Court of the metropolitan rabbinate that we want to establish. The metropolitan rabbinate will examine her knowledge of Judaism, and in the worst case will convert her one more time in a swift way."

But Jessica Fishman does not want to go through another conversion, either long or short. According to her she is Jewish.

"This problem is beyond my law. It relates to the Chief Rabbinate which recognizes only orthodox conversion. Jessica can still get married in Israel with a reform Rabbi. If she fell in love with a young man who is not prepared to get married to a young woman whose mother went through reform conversion, she needs to address her reasoning to the young man with whom she fell in love. Not to me and not to the establishment. If my law is passed, Jessica would be able to register in the couples registry and get married. It is correct that with regard to orthodoxy there will be problems for her children, but she can say: "I am a Jewish woman and my children are Jewish like me, and hope that they will choose to marry Israelis who don't object to reform conversion."

Jessica is leaving and is very angry about it especially toward the rabbinical establishment. "This is not Jewish behavior, this is antisemitic behavior that causes discrimination. Everyone thinks that the proposed new law relates to Russians and foreign workers, and they don't understand the extent to which it is likely to influence people like me, Americans who came to Israel out of Judaism, Zionism and idealism. I came to Israel because I thought it is a country where everyone is Jewish, but this beautiful dream was shattered. It is finished. My case is already lost, but I agreed to tell my story in the hope that it will raise public consciousness about the matter. I intend to build a new life in the United States, and I have no doubt that I will only marry a Jewish man. What will happen when my children want to immigrate to Israel and get married to Jews here? God bless. I can only hope that by then they will solve the problem."

Translation by yonatan silverman zalman_8@013net.net

Chametz and Olam Haba

I heard through the grapevine that a friend of a friend undertook this year's Pesach observance in an ultra-serious frame of mind, determined to be observant of every detail and not let one crumb of chametz get through the cracks. My first reaction was to admire this person's conscientiousness. Would that we go at all our undertakings in that serious, determined frame of mind! How much we would accomplish!

Then I heard of this friend's underlying motivation. If she were not to succeed in having her Pesach totally chametz-free, she might lose her personal immortality, her place in "Olam Ha-Ba" (the "World to Come"). My immediate reaction to this was: Superstition.

But the shared news got me thinking. How could someone have come up with an idea like that in the first place—that the God of the universe would respond to someone's failure to observe this ritual 100% by taking away their immortality [or to put it more bluntly, by killing them]?

How could anyone believe in a God that had those values?

As I thought about it more, it seemed there was a pretty reasonable explanation how this belief could have come about (which does not make the belief itself any more rational). Two factors interacted: the vague but imperious way in which certain commands of the Torah are expressed, and the psychological makeup of the person who is susceptible to certain kinds of appeals.

As to the first, the attentive reader is likely to be impressed by the dramatic way in which the Biblical text emphasizes the importance of certain mitzvot. It says that whoever transgresses X "v-nikhretah ha-nefesh ha-hi me-ameha"—"and that soul shall be cut off from its people."

That language occurs for a small number of mitzvot, among them:

• Doing work on Shabbat
• Not afflicting oneself on Yom Kippur
• Failing to participate in the Paschal sacrifice
• Eating chametz on Pesach
• Violating the incest prohibitions of Leviticus Chapter 18
• Eating the blood or fat of sacrificial animals, that ought to have been God's portion, offered on the altar

These were considered pretty serious violations. Eating pork, by comparison, suffered only the penalty that you became "unclean" (tamei) by doing so.

But in Biblical times people didn't have the evolved view of "olam ha-ba" that the rabbis developed. "Being cut off from your people" meant simply that — ostracism, being cut off from social and communal ties with the folk. We can infer from this the positive side of all these injunctions: identifying oneself with the Israelite people meant that one took these obligations seriously. They were singled out as core obligations that were central to identifying with the people of Israel. Defining these as core obligations was effective—it left an impress that lasted over the millenia. It is instructive that to this day, Yom Kippur and Pesach rank very high in broad-based participation among all kinds of Jews, as borne out by recent sociological surveys.

In post-Biblical times, the Jewish world-view underwent a transformation. "Olam Ha-Ba" (with its dual meaning of Messianic times and personal immortality) became a central belief, whereas in Biblical times it was unkown. Accordingly, the rabbis had to interpret the punishment of "karet" (being "cut off") in terms of the new world-view. According to one view, it meant that one was condemned to childlessness. According to another view, it meant that one got a lesser share of "Olam Ha-Ba"—or in the extreme case, none at all. But this dire fate was mitigated to a large extent by the prevailing doctrines of repentance and working off one's sins through punishment. Eventually, most people (who had not committed ax-murder or genocide) could gain forgiveness for infractions of their sins, even though the Bible specified "karet" as the ultimate penalty. It was presumed that most ordinary people meant well and were sincere in their wanting to repair their relationship with God, and this would be taken into account. A crumb of chametz on Pesach (or even a sandwich consumed in a rebellious moment, and later repented) was not enough, in the Jewish scheme of things, to forfeit one's personal immortality.

This should help put the first factor into its proper perspective. Yes, there are certain statements in the tradition that could lend themselves to be taken as forfeiting one's "Olam Ha-Ba" by violating the afore-mentioned injunctions. But no, it would take a lot more than that to really bring about such a radical personal undoing.

But then there's the second factor—the personal susceptibility of a lot of individuals (not just this one case) to obsessive and even fanatical religious commitment, as a defense against mortal anxiety. The big truth (the elephant in the room) is that we are mortal, and this is out of our control. We don't have any control over what happens to us when we die. If death is annihilation of our selves — or if there is an afterlife, for good or for bad — we don't get to say, either way. The world is the way it is; we are the way we are.

This brute and inconsiderate fact goes against the grain of those of us who like to be in control of everything — of what college we get into, what career we have, keeping in good health, etc. We don't want to admit that something as major as whether we live or die is out of our control. We are all potentially very susceptible to a program that comes our way and tells us with confidence and authority, "Do A, B, and C, and you are guaranteed immortality! Just sign up and do everything that it says in this book."

There is even something plausible in the view that if we single out just those mitzvot for which the Torah threatens "karet" as violation, and observe them scrupulously, that this is the central, most important part of the Immortality Deal. They are central to Jewish identity, and they also present a significant practical challenge—though not an insuperable one. When we knock ourselves out and are "perfect" in our observance of the Pesach dietary laws for 8 whole days, we feel we have earned something big — maybe even Eternity. Having gone through the 8 Pesach days (or the 25-hour Yom Kippur fast) according to the book, we can now turn to God with our shoulders thrown back and our head up high and tell God: "I've done it! I am truly deserving now. Surely you will grant me Olam Ha-Ba now, for all the sacrifices I have made!"

This is part (though not the whole) of the "Ba'al Teshuva" syndrome that some of us are familiar with—people whom we know, of ordinary background, who feel the strong attraction of an ultra-strict religious regimen for the personal security it offers. The same tendency is more selectively manifested when Jews decide to pick and choose certain observances and do them 200% or 500%. Pesach is very easy to adopt for this strategy. Go crazy-strict for 8 days, but in doing so, you are buying insurance for eternity. It's a very tempting proposition.

But does God really want this kind of extremism? When I look around the world and see the incredible variety that adds to the richness of existence, it seems to me that God is saying in all of this: Be yourself, the best you know how! Take what you do seriously, but don't go crazy over it! Excel in what you do best, but don't sacrifice what is inimitably "you" for a straitjacket of someone else's devising. Honor the traditions you grew up in, but be open to the richness of being around you and enrich yourself by it! And if you ever do come to a point of being judged, you will be judged for the totality of your life, not for this or that one detail.

As Rabbi Akiva said, "B'tuv ha-olam nidon, ve-hakol le-fi rov ha-ma'aseh" — the world is judged in goodness, and it is all according to the preponderance of the deeds (Pirkei Avot Chapter 3).

My Take on "Migdol Yeshuot" (II Samuel 22:51)

Every year, come the 7th day of Passover, I am reminded of it again—how (in my view) an 8th-Century Jewish politician tried to ram something down the throats of his fellow-Jews and got the usual response of “two Jews, three opinions.”

As we read the Haftarah from Chapter 22 of Second Samuel, we come again to that last verse where it says, “Migdol yeshu’ot malko”—“A tower of salvation is his King.” Only it wasn’t written that way. The consonants of the written text say “Magdil yeshu’ot malko”—He gives abundant salvation to His king [and deals graciously with His anointed, to David and his descendants forever.] It is written, in other words, the same way as the end of Psalm 18.

Why, then, did the Masoretes vocalize II Samuel 22:51 as “migdol” when the consonants read “magdil”?

Here is my pet theory.

Roll back the calendar to the centuries after the Moslem invasions. The Abbasids established a mighty empire—the Caliphate—with Baghdad as their capital. They forcibly converted to monotheism any pagans who stood in their way. They graciously made an exception of the Jews and Christians—the “peoples of the Book”—on condition that they governed themselves according to an approved religious regime of their own faith-community.

Under these circumstances, the rabbis of Babylonia rose to new heights of prestige. Their interpretation of the Talmud was authoritative for Jews throughout the Muslim realm. They also took care to establish an official liturgy—the first Authorized Jewish Prayer Book.

High in the prestige rankings of that time was the Exilarch, the secular head of the Jewish community, who thought he was a descendant of the Davidic line, and therefore could regard himself as the Messiah of his generation. Certain prayers were instituted in his behalf, such as the blessing “et tzemach David” in the Amidah, praying for the restoration of the Davidic lineage in the Jewish homeland.

In this context, it seems pretty clear that the verse “Magdil yeshu’ot malko ve-oseh chesed li-Meshicho, le-David u-lezar’o ad olam” was probably inserted into the Grace After Meals in this period, also as a token of glorification of the Exilarch. ("He increases the salvation of His king...")

But just as there are Jews in each generation who can’t stand the current political leadership, you can bet that there were Jews of that period who couldn’t stand the self-important stuffed shirt who bore the title of Exilarch. When it came time to say grace after meals, they were looking for a way to avoid this obsequious singing of his praises.

They found it.

Since the vocalization of the Hebrew Biblical text was still pretty fluid at that time (there were three competing traditions of vocalization just making their start), it was easy to claim that however so-and-so claimed the text should be read, wasn’t the correct way to read it. We have countless midrashim with the punch-line “al tikrei” — don’t read it X, read it Y.

So just because the consonants of a particular word read MGDYL didn’t mean you had to read it MaGDiYL. You could say that the Y and V are interchangeable, and read it MiGDoVL.

That profoundly changes the syntax of the phrase. Instead of “[God] Increases the Salvation of His king [= the Exilarch]”—glorifying the Exilarch— you could understand the phrase “A Tower of Salvation is his King [= God]. It is a Jewish truism that God is the one really worthy of glorification, not any flesh-and-blood mortal.

If the Exilarch-of-the-moment’s popularity rating was under 40%, then this stratagem probably caught on like wildfire and became the favored reading of the verse, especially at the public recitation of Grace After Meals. From then, it was a simple matter, when the last recension of the vocalization of the Bible was made, for this vocalization to be accepted as the “Kere” (vocalized version) overriding the “Ketiv” (written version) of II Samuel 22:51.

That’s my thought-for-the day for 7th day Pesah. Hope you enjoyed your holidays!