A Religious Jew and a Secular Zionist
Interview Contents
Religious Jew and Secular Zionist
No camp-based label can contain Rabbi Michael Abraham, a PhD in physics who became a teacher at the hesder yeshiva in Yeruham. In the middle of his hesder track he left for the army, grew emotionally distant from religion, and returned to Torah through the ultra-Orthodox world. When academia told him he would be able to deal with the subjects that truly interested him only after retirement, he decided to retire immediately.
If you have ever wanted to meet a religious Jew who defines himself as a secular Zionist, a scientist who does not always believe in scientific proofs and who claims that, from his perspective, the Talmud was edited by the Holy One, blessed be He, and not by Rav Ashi—you are invited to head south to distant Yeruham and knock on the gates of the hesder yeshiva.
There, against the backdrop of the desert landscape, you can meet Rabbi Michael Abraham—a former physicist, now a yeshiva teacher. He is an unusual figure, combining Torah and the exact sciences, philosophy, and broad general learning. He is the author of the work of thought ‘Two Carts and a Hot-Air Balloon,’ and his views range from plainly unconventional to simply original, though all of them are interesting and thought-provoking.
Rabbi Abraham was born in Haifa in 1960. He went through what he calls a ‘standard’ religious-Zionist educational track: the state-religious Carmel school and Yavne yeshiva high school in Haifa, Midrashiyat Noam, and the hesder yeshiva in Gush Etzion. He left the yeshiva after his first period of service and continued as a regular soldier in the Armored Corps.
He began his academic education with a bachelor’s degree in electronics engineering at Tel Aviv University. At the end of his degree he met Dafna, a woman who had become religiously observant and at the time served in a computer unit in the army, and the two married. Rabbi Abraham completed his master’s and doctorate in physics at Bar-Ilan University, while combining his academic studies with Talmud study at Yeshivat Halikhot Olam in Bnei Brak, and from there continued to a postdoctoral position in physics at the Weizmann Institute. After a short period, he was offered a teaching position, and he left academia and moved to the hesder yeshiva in Yeruham. Since then he has lived with his wife and six children in a modest apartment in the southern town, teaches Torah to his students, and writes articles and books.
Despite his Torah learning and his many academic degrees, Rabbi Abraham projects a great deal of simplicity, even a certain folksiness. I ask him about the transition from the world of academia to the world of the yeshiva.
Question: How did you get to Yeruham?
When I finished my postdoctorate I began working at Bar-Ilan and saw that I was not doing what I love. I usually do what I love. At the end of my doctorate I wanted to work on something on the border between philosophy and physics, because that is what interests me. They made it clear to me that I needed to go on producing articles, and that in retirement it would be possible to deal with things like that. So I decided to retire immediately. A mutual friend of mine and Rabbi Blumenzweig, head of the hesder yeshiva in Yeruham, heard that I was looking for work, and that was that.
Question: So did you get to Yeruham only because that was what happened to come up, or did you also see a social mission in it? Are you, for example, involved in the local community?
Both things together. Living in a development town is a childhood dream of mine. And yes, we are definitely involved in the local community, although naturally the society closer to us is the religious one. There are several religious communities in Yeruham—an ultra-Orthodox community, in whose institutions our children study, and a variety of religious-Zionist communities.
My wife works at a religious-secular study center called ‘Bamidbar.’ She has many friends there.
Question: What is distinctive about the hesder yeshiva where you teach?
It is a yeshiva with a certain social orientation, although great effort is made to ensure that the learning is not harmed. In general, the yeshiva places strong emphasis on the conservative academic side of learning, with less involvement in ‘the new spirituality,’ Carlebach, and the like. What you might call lively, vigorous learning.
Not Studying for the Test
Question: Was that not a drastic change from the world of academia?
No, not at all. I think the main difference is that the students’ motivation to learn is much higher. At the university people always ask whether it is for the exam. Once I gave a lecture at the university on a topic I had worked on in my research, just to take a break in the course. I saw the students slowly dropping away. In the yeshiva, by contrast, the students just want to listen and learn; they ask whether there can be another class, or ask to sit with me in some study group. I hardly found any differences for the worse.
Question: Do you miss involvement with science?
Science itself—no. I do engage a little in the philosophy of science. Not in a systematic way; I read a bit, and some of what I write deals with it.
Question: Yeruham is considered a remote town. Do you not feel that perhaps you could have had more influence in the center of the country?
No, I actually think the opposite. There is more possibility of influencing in the periphery than in the center.
Question: Why?
Because the center is more saturated. The people who are willing to listen are spread more thinly, and it is harder to reach them. דווקא in the periphery there is a much more meaningful possibility of influence, so it seems to me.
Question: But the number of people is smaller?
All right. With those people with whom I have contact, there I have influence. I also write a bit, and that reaches farther out. I gave up long ago on hopes of influence on a global level.
Question: Do you see yourself returning to science?
Yes, perhaps. I do not think in the long term. Maybe in a year, maybe in ten years…
Question: Your children study in ultra-Orthodox institutions and you are a teacher in a hesder yeshiva. Where do you place yourselves in terms of religious affiliation?
Just a few days ago someone gave me a beautiful definition. She said that she had noticed that Dafna and I do not devote a gram of energy to self-definitions. That is wasted energy, and that is exactly right. I do not place myself anywhere. I do what I think is right; sometimes it fits here and sometimes there.
Although Rabbi Abraham is today a distinctly Torah personality, there were years in which he had difficult struggles over religion. He left the hesder yeshiva before completing his studies there, and according to him, although he was never ‘sociologically secular,’ in terms of content he was very far away.
One of his friends who participated in a seminar of Arachim convinced him that it was a fascinating anthropological experience, and that is how Rabbi Abraham came to the seminar, where he met his wife Dafna. The seminar itself did not convince him, but it helped him, in his words, ‘decide that a decision had to be made.’ What tipped the scales were five years of study at Yeshivat Halikhot Olam—a yeshiva for people becoming religiously observant in Bnei Brak. ‘What gripped me was the learning,’ he says.
Question: What do you mean? What exactly ‘gripped’ you?
It is hard for me to explain. It is something that enters inside. When I study something non-Torah, I enjoy it because I love learning, but when I study Torah I feel that I have added something more to my self-construction. It is a feeling that there is something real here that touches the soul.
Logical Faith
Question: In your opinion, can faith be proven by a rational-logical route?
That depends on what one defines as rational proofs. If a person truly does not believe, in my opinion it will be hard to persuade him, although there are some fairly good proofs.
I once heard an interesting definition of the difference between philosophy and theology: philosophy posits premises and derives conclusions, whereas theology posits conclusions and derives premises.
It is a nice definition, but not a correct one, because in my opinion philosophy too can have conclusions tacitly built in from the start. But if we use the definition above, then according to the philosophical method, taking a person, presenting him with arguments, and causing him to believe will be difficult.
By contrast, taking someone who thinks he does not believe, and giving him proofs that show him that he actually does believe—that is more possible. That is what I also try to do in the book and in other settings: lectures and the like.
Question: What is the right way to educate toward faith, in your opinion?
In my opinion there is a problem in the state-religious school system, and it is that from first grade they educate for openness. You cannot educate for openness at such a young age and also for deep Judaism. First one must immerse oneself in Torah. Only after that is in the child’s blood and is the language of his life can one open up to various directions. And I am actually in favor of openness. The attempt to fight on too many fronts in education does not succeed.
Question: By the way, what is your opinion of incorporating academic research methods into Torah study, as in the layers method, for example?
(The layers method is an approach that claims that different sections of the Talmud were written in different periods by different figures, and that one should relate to that in study.)
I think the method is incorrect. And I do not mean educationally problematic, but simply incorrect. Those who use it argue that it improves the students’ motivation, when otherwise they would not study, and they may be right—I have not checked. But I think it is wrong to study that way.
The traditional claim is that the Talmud is a coherent unit, one whole. Some argue that historically that is so. On the historical level I do not know how accurate that is, but the traditional way of relating to the Talmud as a single unit is correct. As far as I am concerned, the one who edited the Talmud was the Holy One, blessed be He, not Rav Ashi. If that is what was received as a text, that is a sign that in value terms it is one unit, and that is how it should be studied. The historical question is not important.
On the other hand, I also do not think one should attack those who use the method with excessive harshness. Expressions such as heresy, bringing an idol into the sanctuary, and the like are not justified, and in my opinion they also do not help in fighting the method.
Rabbi Abraham has not forgotten the struggles of faith from his youth. In his book ‘Two Carts and a Hot-Air Balloon’ he tries to respond to these and other hesitations, and to present a theory that offers a deep philosophical root for essential conflicts in our society.
The source of the intriguing title is the two carts, empty and full, which represent Judaism as against secularity, while the hot-air balloon comes from a joke that shows the lack of usefulness of mathematical proofs.
In the book, issues such as left versus right, religiosity versus secularity, modernism, postmodernism, and more are discussed through the use of a range of fields of knowledge. Among other things, you will find philosophical discussions, Torah issues, mathematical proofs, historical analyses, and literary excerpts.
A basic claim that appears in the book is that no argument can be proven by purely logical means, which he calls ‘analytical thinking,’ and that even fields that appear to be proven ‘scientifically’ actually rest on hidden beliefs—’synthetic thinking.’
Analytical Mind
Question: Why did you write the book?
I have no defined goal beyond what is described in the book: to try to explain why a great many phenomena in the world derive from the fact that people suppress the synthetic components in their thinking. They ignore them; they do not acknowledge their existence.
A great many ideals, values, and social movements can be explained against that background. It was very important to me to try to persuade the public on this matter. For a large part of people, it is enough simply to point this fact out to them for them to come somewhat to their senses from the mad analyticism they get themselves into.
Another central thing, beyond the contents themselves, is to understand that our grasp of the tangible derives from our grasp of the abstract.
That is to say…
In order to understand the tangible, concrete, real world, one must begin from certain abstract ideas, entirely abstract philosophical considerations—to understand the philosophical roots of real occurrences. That is how I think. One of the problems in our public discourse is that it remains only at the level of realia. That right-winger argues with that left-winger, and so forth. No one tries to clarify where it comes from, what the basic assumptions are, how they exert influence. I think the analytical and the synthetic are the roots of right and left, for example. These are very burning concrete issues today, but it is impossible to understand them well without entering the philosophical layer.
Question: Can you define what you mean by the terms analytical and synthetic?
Analytical is a form of thought that accepts as true only something that has been proven. Synthetic is an approach that is willing to accept other things as well. That is more or less it, in somewhat simplified form.
In practice, no human being is purely analytical. These are theoretical figures. Real people are always somewhere between these two poles. But I think it is very important to clarify theoretical poles in order to understand complicated reality. Science also works that way. To understand a complicated situation, you break it down into purer, more ideal components, and then it is easier to understand and deal with them. And when you understand each one separately, you try to see what happens when they are found together in some situation.
Question: In other words, you are making a scientific analysis of overall reality?
What I am proposing is actually a meta-cultural theory, and it has to be grasped as a theory. Because many people remarked to me that it is a bit too simplistic to divide the world into analytical and synthetic, and to classify the whole universe and everything moving in it according to that scheme.
The claim is that a theory is always simplified by its very nature. If it were not simplified, it would not help at all. We are all familiar with complicated reality. The attempt to understand it is through simplified theories. To build a theory, one must abstract. One must create a situation that is much simpler, clean it of various components that exist in reality, understand it as it is, and then add something else, and something else, while still trying to get as close as possible to complicated reality.
I understand that you oppose the standard image of science as something based on rules of logic and religion as something based only on faith.
That is my struggle in both directions. One direction is against those who think science can be entirely analytical. The other direction is against those who think religion can be completely synthetic—
For example, ideas like ‘the unity of opposites’ and living within contradictions.
But after all, we say that the Holy One, blessed be He, is something we are incapable of grasping intellectually, and therefore contradictions arise for us.
The fact that there is something I cannot grasp does not mean I should reconcile myself to contradictions. In science too there are things I cannot understand. That is not a contradiction. A contradiction is a thing and its opposite. A contradiction means that if I believe X, I cannot believe not-X.
Question: What, for example, about the question of free choice versus God’s knowledge? Is there not a contradiction here?
There is a section devoted to this in the book. To this day I am not convinced that it is an analytical contradiction, but I tend to think that it is. That is, I choose one side and believe that God truly does not know what will happen.
Question: Really?
The Shelah says that too. I have authorities to rely on. But even if I did not have authorities to rely on, I cannot believe in a thing and its opposite. There is a saying in the Talmud that says that even if Joshua son of Nun were to tell me this, I would not accept it. I can say that I believe, but that will not help if the cognition that accompanies the statement cannot accept a thing and its opposite. One has to distinguish between different kinds of contradictions. There are different levels of contradiction. But the frontal contradiction, which is what I call analytical, cannot be lived with. People who speak about ‘the unity of opposites’ and things of that sort are, for me, no more than birdsong.
Question: For whom, essentially, is the book intended?
For any person willing to invest enough energy and time, and for whom these problems matter. I assume no prior knowledge on the reader’s part. In fact, in my eyes it addresses the secular public—the broader public—much more, though unfortunately that has not happened so far. It has not reached them at all. That is, it is not that they chose not to buy it; rather, no one has heard of it. דווקא within the insular religious niche it sold well.
As our conversation continues, Rabbi Abraham recommends his book to adolescents and adults who encounter problems of faith, and according to him there are many כאלה.
Question: What sort of responses do you receive?
Mainly questions. Usually people enjoy it. I assume that whoever does not enjoy it simply does not respond; it is not a representative sample. People send letters and I answer, so there is fairly lively activity with the book’s readers. In that sense I think it moves people.
‘Two Carts and a Hot-Air Balloon’ does sell well, but it is marketed only at ‘Diyunon’ and religious bookstores, ‘those very pious kinds of places,’ as Rabbi Abraham puts it. The book is published by Beit El, and apparently the Steimatzky chain, which is the key to reaching the wider public, is not willing to market books from this publisher.
Rabbi Abraham regrets this, but is nevertheless planning two additional books that together with the first will constitute a trilogy. One will deal with ‘Science, Religion, and Myth,’ and the second with a comprehensive picture of the human soul—intellect, emotion, psychology, and so on. The issue of analyticism versus syntheticity will also be emphasized in these books.
From the course of his life, and from his book as well, one gets the impression that Rabbi Abraham is one of those people who carve out their own furrow, and devote deep thought to matters that seem self-evident to most of us. I ask about his opinions on various current issues, and receive unexpected answers.
There Is No Jewish State
Where is the state headed, in your opinion? The current situation seems very fluid…
I cannot predict, but I can state my worldview. If there is such a thing as a Jewish state at all, it is not this thing in which we are living. I do not know whether a Jewish state is possible at all. People can be Jewish, but not a state. Today I do not think there is anyone who speaks in the name of the Jewish people as a whole. Certainly not the government or the president. One implication, for example, is that if someone decides to hand over territory to non-Jews, in my view that has no religious significance. It has security significance. I support a certain territorial compromise, but no religious aspects accompany it.
Question: And what about the laws that deal with this subject?
The laws concern territory that is in Jewish possession. In my opinion the territory is not, even today, in Jewish possession, and therefore it is not being handed over to a non-Jew. The state as sovereign is not a Jewish entity, and therefore I also have no principled religious problem with wanting to hand territory to a non-Jew. I oppose certain forms of this process in political-security terms. I do think some sort of compromise must be reached, but not by agreement. We need to decide what we want and do it. There is no point in negotiations; it is only giving and not taking, as Peres said. Everything I have said is a position, not a forecast of the future.
I also think, for example, that religion should be separated from state. Judaism loses a great deal from not being separate from the state. The state would not lose either, though it is not aware of that. People who do not understand this think they are losing. We are willing to make many compromises because of this confusion between the concept Israeli and the concept Jewish. People who come to the state and want to be Israelis have to be Jews. That is, we have to make conversion easier so that a catastrophe will not be created here. I see no reason in the world to do that. One can define that whoever is Jewish is Jewish, and whoever is Israeli is Israeli. And I do not think I am prepared to impose on a large public that does not want it an identity it does not want. The sooner we recognize this, the healthier it will be.
Question: So do you basically see the state as one state among all others, only with a large Jewish community?
Yes, there is a very large Jewish community here and I think that is good, and therefore I also want to be here. Besides, this is the Land of Israel and it has its rights. Socially as well, I very much want to live here. I told the students in the yeshiva that I am a religious Jew and a secular Zionist. I am a Zionist like any secular person on the street—I support the state, want to help it as much as I can, to be loyal to it, to pay taxes, to keep the laws, and to do everything I can so that the state endures. I seek its good. But I have no indication that this is the beginning of redemption or that it has some Jewish significance. I would be very happy if it became clear to me that it does. I do not rule that out; I simply do not know.
Question: In other words, it seems to you that we just happened to come here after two thousand years?
I do not know; I have no idea. All sorts of things happened, and I very much hope it is not for nothing. I have no way of knowing whether it is or not, and I also do not think it matters. Many things were on the road to redemption. The Holocaust too was on the road to redemption. That does not mean I would
Cooperate
with the persecutors. The fact that something leads to redemption still does not turn it into something positive. Religiously speaking, the Holy One, blessed be He, manages history as He sees fit. I am a secular citizen of this state with a Jewish religious worldview.
In certain respects this is an ultra-Orthodox view.
I think that in very deep respects this ought to have been the ultra-Orthodox view. What happens in practice is that the ultra-Orthodox do not believe in the possibility of creating a society that believes in such a worldview, because it is apparently somewhat complicated. And so they find themselves forced to oppose the state. I really do not see why it is necessary to oppose it. You only need to neutralize the religious meanings.
In practice, they do not oppose it; they live here like everyone else.
The terminology is such that the ultra-Orthodox slang terms for Zionists are pejoratives. Those are tactical devices. I think that in essence, in depth, this ought to be the ultra-Orthodox view, just as in America. Even if I were an American citizen I would try to be loyal, keep the laws, and so on. As a religious Jew, if there were a law that contradicted my worldview, I would not obey it—not in America and not here. I see no sanctity in the law here that would allow me to violate something that contradicts my worldview. Students in the yeshiva ask me whether they should refuse an order to evacuate settlements. I say—look, I do not think there is a religious problem in this. It is certainly a manifestly legal order; there is no doubt at all. The associations of a manifestly illegal order are dragged in here for no reason, simply because of a confusion of concepts. But if you think it contradicts your worldview and that it is a religious prohibition, then refuse the order. Personally I do not think so, but in my opinion you must do so. Not only are you permitted. It is like desecrating the Sabbath. By the way, I am not sure I would have agreed to evacuate settlements, not for religious reasons but for moral ones. One can tell the residents, look, we are no longer protecting you. Bear the responsibility yourselves. If you want to stay, then stay. But I cannot take a person’s home away from him. Those are moral considerations, not religious ones. Whoever thinks there is some religious problem with evacuating territory from the Land of Israel should refuse.
Question: By the way, do you think rabbis should intervene in politics?
Of course. They must intervene.
No Experts
Question: What about the claim that this ‘sullies’ the rabbinate?
Whoever thinks the rabbinate should be detached from politics may understand politics, but not the rabbinate. I once wrote about this in an article in the Tzohar bulletin, and there I explain why all those learned people who write that there are subjects that belong to experts and not to decisors of Jewish law are mistaken. That is an error. No field is like that. No decision can be made by experts. There has not been one decision since the creation of the world that was truly a matter for experts alone. No such thing exists. Whoever does not understand this does not understand what a decision is. I explain in the article that it is like abortion. There is a committee that is supposed to approve a woman to have an abortion under certain conditions. One can argue yes or no. Personally I think it is murder, but again, for moral reasons, not for religious reasons.
Judaism has something to say about that as well…
Question: Of course it does. On the contrary, in religion there are cases in which one can be lenient. What is forbidden is forbidden, what is permitted is permitted. I have a wonderful story: a friend of a friend of mine was once in an interview for admission to medical school. He was a religious young man. They asked him: what will you do if an abortion comes your way? You are a religious fellow—what will you do with that? The fellow said: I do not understand. If you mean the religious problem, then I will sell the knife to a non-Jew. But if you mean the moral problem, I have no idea what I will do! That is, people have a feeling that this is a problem for religious people, that it has no moral aspects and everything is fine. Only religious people have some crazy scruple of that kind. In my view this is a moral problem. Morally, I am not willing to do even what Jewish law sometimes permits. But again, beyond this question, who decides? Who sits on such a committee? At least a considerable part of them are social workers and doctors. This is not a matter for doctors at all. A doctor is an adviser. A doctor can tell me what functions the fetus has at a certain stage, what damage an abortion can cause the woman. Fine, those are the data. But now I need to decide from what point this is a human being. That is a value judgment, not a medical judgment. Where is the line? From when the heart begins to beat? From when brain waves begin to appear?
But Jewish law discusses that too.
Question: Exactly! The decision from what point the fetus is considered a human being is a value judgment and not a matter for experts. The same goes for the permitted speed on the highway. On the Haifa-Tel Aviv road the limit is up to 100. Who decided that? Experts from the Technion? It is not a matter for experts at all! An expert from the Technion can tell me, at most, what percentage of risk is involved in each speed of travel. Even that only with limited reliability. But the question is—which risk is permitted! One percent? Half a percent?
A line has to be drawn somewhere.
Correct, but an expert should not be the one to do it. It is not a matter for experts! No decision on earth is a matter for experts. The main problems we have in life are value problems. And in value problems Jewish law has a great deal to say. Torah guidance, Jewish law, and so on. Therefore I am absolutely in favor of rabbis intervening in politics—the more the better. And I usually do not agree with what they say. Therefore I try to intervene myself. But that has nothing to do with the problem of intervention as such.
In conclusion, I ask Rabbi Abraham what his plans are for the future.
‘I do not make plans more than two weeks ahead,’ he tells me. ‘For the time being we are just moving along with the world.’
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