What Is a Jew and an Israeli According to Bennett (Column 396)
In the column before last I discussed Naftali Bennett’s political decisions. In the previous column I addressed religious commitment via Racheli Rotner’s post. I will devote this column to Bennett’s conception of Judaism and Israeliness, as he presents it here (without the preface; see also here). At the end of the column I will return and tie all these together.
My initial inclination was not to agree with the gist of his words (see the series of columns on Judaism, from column 336 onward), and at times I felt like a trainee in a Bnei Akiva activity or a pathetic civics class—an emotional, somewhat childish enthusiasm meant to instill in me certain values. I’m past that age. But for some reason, as I read I found myself identifying quite a bit with parts of it, and that made me uneasy (and even a bit worried). So I thought it appropriate to give it some more thought, and try to delineate the lines of agreement and disagreement, of comfort and discomfort.
Bennett’s Words
I’ll begin with a full quotation of his words:
| Jewish-Israelis =========== Twenty-two years ago, I—a kippah-wearing student at the Hebrew University—met a 20-year-old female soldier, a beautiful education NCO, secular. Her name is Gilat Einav. I remember the first time I introduced her to my late father and to my mother, at a café in Jerusalem. I was very worried about how they would react to me dating a secular woman. After the meal, my mother grabbed me and said: “She’s wonderful! She could be my best friend in the world.” A great weight was lifted from my heart. ** Twenty-two years later, we built a home in Israel. We have four children. And by the way, my mother and Gilat truly are best friends. We keep kashrut and Shabbat, but Gilat’s family comes to us by car on Shabbat, and together we make kiddush and have a wonderful family Friday-night meal. Many Shabbatot we go to her parents in Moshav Kfar Uriya, and we don’t conduct a kashrut inspection. We simply stroll with Grandma Bracha in the fields, and it’s wonderful. ** We are Jewish-Israelis. ** What is a Jewish-Israeli? A Jewish-Israeli is not tied to the level of observance of commandments, but to a worldview regarding our country. It’s a way of looking at life—a kind of “lens” on reality. A Jewish-Israeli can be religious, traditional, secular, Hardali (national-Haredi), or Haredi. Jewish Israelis are Jews who are deeply connected to our roots that are almost 4,000 years old—from Abraham our forefather to this very day. Jewish Israelis do not judge one another by strictness in observance. Jewish Israelis accept and love every Jew. Jewish Israelis understand that every Jew who lives in this land fulfills one central, monumental mitzvah—living in a Jewish state in the Land of Israel! A Jewish-Israeli sees Independence Day as a national holiday, just like Passover, and is moved by the torch-lighting ceremony, with a heart bursting with pride. A Jewish-Israeli stands at attention during the Memorial Day siren and feels these are the two holiest minutes of the year, just like on Yom Kippur. A Jewish-Israeli sees in Miriam Peretz’s speech a natural continuation of the Song of Deborah. A Jewish-Israeli knows that every IDF soldier who fights for us is the holiest thing in the world, regardless of his opinions, skin color, or level of observance. A Jewish-Israeli loves the Torah and accords respect to rabbis, and is happy that in the Land of Israel there are thousands of Torah learners who preserve the chain of generations. A Jewish-Israeli sees no contradiction between the progress of the Start-Up Nation and our roots. Excellence in mathematics does not come at the expense of Pirkei Avot. A Jewish-Israeli remembers that we are unbelievably fortunate, compared to our forebears who lived in miserable exile. A Jewish-Israeli believes that precisely here in the Land of Israel, we can break through with Jewish creativity, expand Torah study—for women as well as for the secular—and is not afraid of differing opinions. We can return to a culture of enormous debates like in the days of Hillel and Shammai. The very essence of Judaism is a stormy debate between different positions. A Jewish-Israeli generally holds clear views, but is not sure that all wisdom resides with him. He sits with others and also listens to them. A Jewish-Israeli remembers well that we lost our land because of hatred among brothers that led to civil war, and he is determined never, ever to let that happen again. A Jewish-Israeli celebrates the diverse traditions that developed in dozens of countries of the diaspora: from Yemen to the United States, from Ethiopia to Poland, from Morocco to Iraq. It’s all a wonderful mosaic, and we must not lose our ancestral traditions. A Jewish-Israeli understands that for 2,000 years halakha dealt with individuals and communities, and did not develop to a state of managing a country, economy, employment, shared life, minorities, transportation, an army. Why? Because we didn’t have a state, so it wasn’t really relevant. Therefore halakhic renewal is required here in the coming centuries. Slowly, gently. ** How fortunate we are! How fortunate we are to live here, in this wondrous generation! ** Naftali Bennett |
First Questions
Several principal questions arise for me upon reading this (particularly because parts of it don’t speak to me, and yet I still think I am a Jewish Israeli, with or without a hyphen):
- Apparently he intends merely to describe some typological figure—that is, to define the concept “Jewish-Israeli.” But in practice it seems he sketches an exemplary, utopian figure and preaches that we be like it, while criticizing those who are not. This is not a neutral description but a kind of exhortation.
- It is unclear which of these are criteria for “Jewishness” and which are criteria for humanity. Quite a few of these criteria do not seem connected to Judaism in any way (and some not even to Israeliness).
- It is unclear which of these are values and which are facts. One can define a Jew in the factual-ethnic sense, and one can also define values such that whoever is faithful to them is a Jew in an essential sense (that is really a definition of Judaism, not of “a Jew”). Is there value in being a Jewish-Israeli? If one does not meet these criteria, is one “not okay” in some sense? Is he not a Jew, not an Israeli, or perhaps only missing the hyphen?
- What role does emotion play in defining the Jewish-Israeli? If someone’s heart does not burst with pride at the torch-lighting ceremony, or does not see in Miriam Peretz a continuation of the prophetess Deborah, is he not a Jew, or not an Israeli? Conversely, if someone’s heart does burst and he falls in admiration at Miriam Peretz’s feet, must he be a Jewish-Israeli? Perhaps he is from the Mekuyah sect, or just a gentile who loves people who contribute to society, or maybe an Evangelical Christian who sees us as the people of the Bible?
- What is the standing of the hyphen in the expression “Jewish-Israeli”? Is this a different kind of Judaism, a different kind of Israeliness, or is it a “juxtapositional” compound in the Rogatchover’s terminology (that is, the two components dwell side by side without blending—unlike a “blended” compound)? My impression is that for him this is mainly a definition of Israeliness, though naturally some part of it is Judaism (even though there are non-Jews and Druze who are as good Israelis as you and me).
My View on the Matter
In my eyes, a Jew in the halakhic sense is one born to a Jewish mother or who converted in accordance with halakha. A Jew in the essential sense is one who is faithful to halakha—no more and no less. In the ethnic-national sense, “Jew” is a fairly amorphous definition, and it is very hard to set criteria for it. Everyone says whatever they want here and there is no way to decide; but there is also no real need to decide. That definition is not important (what would be the practical difference whether someone is a Jew in the ethnic-national sense?), except perhaps for academic researchers of nationalism. Of the three definitions, only the middle one has a value dimension. The first and third are mainly facts (even if the third is a very amorphous fact and hard to diagnose).
From this you’ll understand that my fundamental view regarding the term “Jewish Israeli” is juxtapositional and not blended (hence I did not write it with a hyphen). The term “Israeli” in my eyes denotes facts, not values. It is my nationality and my state, just as Belgium is for Belgians. I ought to be loyal to the state (even if, in my opinion, there is no obligation to burst with pride about it), precisely as a Belgian should be regarding Belgium. It’s simply that, to my sorrow or to my joy, I was born here and not in Belgium. There is no inherent value here beyond a basic loyalty to the state and the society of which you are part, as part of the civil covenant implicitly signed by every citizen. For me this is similar to the value of fulfilling a contract, not some supreme substantive value. I wouldn’t write odes of praise to a paid watchman who pays up when the animal deposited with him is stolen or lost.
Nor do I see value in bursting with pride about any event—if only because emotions are not a matter of values (see column 22). Emotion is a fact. Beyond that, emotions are subjective and emotional, and each person has his own mental and emotional makeup (if he has one at all). In different situations there are those whose hearts will burst and those whose hearts will not. A person lacking emotions, whether due to a brain defect or simply a cold personality, is as fine an Israeli as I am. Therefore a mentally healthy Israeli who simply does not burst with pride at this ceremony—or any other—is, in my eyes, an excellent Israeli like me and like any other Israeli. You may not believe it, but in my opinion even someone who has harsh criticism of the state and/or of the way the torch-lighters are chosen, and therefore feels his heart ache with sorrow during the ceremony (or simply doesn’t bother to watch it)—he can still be a wonderful and caring Israeli like me and like Bennett. True, if someone is indifferent to the whole matter (despite being mentally healthy), then something is probably missing in his Israeli identification and civic concern; and still, he is an Israeli in every respect. It’s permissible to be indifferent, as long as you fulfill your obligations as a citizen.
So when Bennett says that a Jewish-Israeli is supposed to burst with pride during the torch-lighting ceremony, it seems to me that he is merely describing what happens to him personally, and saying that despite—or because of—that he sees himself as a good Israeli. That, of course, I can agree with. From there to general criteria for Judaism or Israeliness or their conjunction, the distance is great. So why did I nevertheless feel some identification with his words?
The Meaning of Bennett’s Manifesto
As I wrote, I still feel there is something non-trivial in what he says. First, my sense is that Bennett seeks to hold up a mirror to the common conceptions (such as mine) that see Judaism as something timeless and anachronistic: a religion (in the biblical sense, “dat” means law) that has no bearing on what you think or do, apart from fulfilling your halakhic duties—the conception that your Judaism is a set of mechanical actions that can be performed in any situation and under any circumstances, and are independent of them. That, of course, I do not accept.
In his words Bennett also holds up a mirror to Haredi-ism, which sees Judaism as an idea that clashes with loyalty to the state, with modernity, and with everything outside it. Here I am, of course, with Bennett. Bennett essentially claims that a Jew need not live in exile, and he argues that even in biblical times Jews were not only observers of commandments. They had a national identity; they waged wars; there were power struggles, ceremonies, governance and institutions—all those things that for many of us (like me) are no longer associated with Judaism. I accept this thesis partially. I fully agree that a Jew is also a citizen of the world and ought to be one. Judaism is not a monastery and should not be sequestered in Noah’s arks. But that’s not because what is outside the ark is also Judaism—it isn’t. Rather, it is because a Jew is also a human being—perhaps first and foremost a human being—and as such he ought to live and act across all arenas of life, not only in the beit midrash and the ark. The Torah was not given to ministering angels. There are several similar yet non-identical facets to this, as I will now explain.
Halakhic Renewal
His remarks about the halakhic renewal that this requires of us seem very correct to me. For some reason, statements like these are always linked to the debate between Religious-Zionism and Haredi-ism. But it’s important to understand that to say this, there is no need to assume that Israeliness is part of Judaism, nor to be a Religious-Zionist (with or without a hyphen). It suffices to recognize that in Israel there is factually a situation in which many Jews are trying to run a state and modern social life, and therefore it is clear that this requires creative and open halakhic engagement. It is important to remember that halakha also deals with how one eats and, by contrast, how one expels the waste of that food from our bodies; therefore it should also deal with how one runs a modern state. This does not mean the state has religious value, or that Israeliness is necessarily part of Judaism—just as it doesn’t mean that excreting or eating lunch has religious value. Israeliness is the circumstance within which I live my Judaism, and therefore it demands recognition and halakhic treatment.
The implication is that the need to renew halakha exists objectively, regardless of one’s attitude to the state. Even Haredim who oppose Zionism need to recognize and understand this need. Here one can see the distinction I have often made between two meanings of Haredi-ism: conservatism (particularly halakhic conservatism) and opposition to Zionism. My claim here is that halakhic openness can go together with opposition to Zionism, as long as one takes care to look at the surrounding reality and not to seclude oneself in physical and conceptual Noah’s arks. I feel that, among other things, Bennett means to say this—and here, too, I fully agree.
Normative Duality
This is the place to note the opening in which Bennett describes his relationship (in the broad sense, including his wife’s entire family). At least in the subtext, I understand him to be claiming that a person can be a Jew faithful and committed to halakha while living simultaneously in a parallel, additional world that is more general and universal—and sometimes even directly contradictory. As I argued at length at the beginning of the third book of my trilogy, a person can be faithful to halakha and at the same time fight for gay rights and for opening mikva’ot (ritual baths) to anyone who wishes to immerse, even if that is not in line with halakha. The reason is that in my world beyond halakha there is also an entire realm of values (such as democracy and equality), and I am committed to all of them. Moreover, I explained there that when these values clash with halakha, halakha does not always prevail. As a Jew faithful to halakha I can desire that every Jew be obligated by halakha, and at the same time as a Jewish-democrat (Jewish-Israeli?) fight for his right not to observe it and to live according to his own path. In other words, I detect in his words an additional claim: halakha is not the whole picture. In addition to being a Jew, I am also a human being. Needless to say, I fully agree with that as well.
On Particularistic Universality, or: In Praise of Normalcy
True, Bennett paints this universality in Israeli-particularistic colors, but in my opinion that is of little significance. This is universality as experienced by us here in Israel. Our secular, normal life (the arts and literature, professional pursuits, sports, and more) is in Hebrew. Our democracy is Israeli. The hills we hike are Israeli. But essentially, for me, this is a manifesto for normal Judaism and not specifically for Israeli Judaism; it just happens to be written by an Israeli. It seems to me that this is precisely the point where I connect with his words despite my initial antagonism. His Israeliness is, in my eyes, universal, and as such I do see in it a certain value dimension. I must, however, sharpen that this is a negative value dimension: that is, there is a rejection of the value-laden claim that all this has no place within a Jewish worldview. That does not mean that any of these things, in themselves, are values—and certainly not Judaism. That, as noted, I do not accept.
My antagonism is directed at the identification he makes between all this and Judaism (because in my view there is no connection, at least on the value plane), and also somewhat at the fact that this universal normalcy dons Israeli-particularistic colors for him in a way that makes it harder to understand that it is essentially sheer universality and normalcy. He could have written the same thing about a Jewish-Belgian, and in principle it would be the same. As an Israeli, I of course find myself identifying with his words as phrased here, but that is only because I was born here and these are my feelings. More precisely, it stems from facts and not from values. Factually, I want to live with my people in my homeland, Israel, and therefore it is natural for me to speak of Israeliness rather than “Belgian-ness.” But that is really a contingent and factual matter, not a value. From an objective viewpoint, there is no greater value in being Israeli than in being Belgian. This is a matter of built-in identification within us that is, at its core, factual. In short, the value dimension—so far as I see such a dimension here—is not Israeliness but universality. I identify with his claim that a Jew should and can be normal, but not with the notion that this normalcy has intrinsic value or that it is part of Judaism, nor with its connection specifically to Israeliness.
Beyond my critique of the failure to distinguish between values and facts in his words, when one makes too big a deal out of this particularistic fact, one can also reach fascism (in which you see your nation as something essential rather than a contingent fact, and also as a supreme value that tramples individuals beneath it—and of course you see your nation as superior to every other nation). But that is another discussion.
Conclusion
What leads me to see Bennett as a good representative of mine is that same freedom and opening of frameworks, as opposed to the prevailing religious rigidity. I am not with him in the “lite-ness,” nor in the am-ha’aratzut (ignorance) and the balabatish ideological small-mindedness. But there is something refreshing in his normalcy. I am fed up with religious representatives about whom you can predict in advance what they will say about anything—those who subjugate every statement and every reference to the religious conceptual framework (when there is no need). I do not want a Knesset member or a rabbi who feels compelled to refer to a Pride Parade as a “parade of beasts” because halakha forbids homosexual relations—someone incapable of understanding that one can live in both worlds and that it is not right to subordinate one to the other. Bennett, in my eyes, represents the possibility of being a Jew faithful to halakha and, in parallel, a human being with universal values. Not because there is no contradiction—sometimes there is indeed a contradiction—but because I belong to both of these worlds together, and when there is a conflict, it must be resolved rather than ignoring one of its sides.
In this sense, the present column joins the previous one. I wrote there that Racheli Rotner represents, in my view, a certain normal and free Judaism, just as with Bennett. Except that my sense is that in both of them this is not grounded and not theoretically supported (neither halakhically nor philosophically). It is apparently a natural and obvious feeling for them, and both are unwilling to give it up, even though it runs counter to accepted Torah and religious dogmas. As I wrote there, I am trying to formulate these conceptions into a coherent intellectual framework, thereby giving them theoretical and halakhic—or rather meta-halakhic—backing.
I must add that, at least within the religious framework, I believe that natural feelings that are not supported by a theoretical and halakhic foundation cannot truly exist and progress. Whoever goes with them as they are is ejected from the religious framework, and then those who remain inside are only the fossils. Therefore a deep and thorough theoretical plowing is needed, and I believe that, in the end—even if only after many years and even generations—it will come to fruition and bear fruit on the practical plane and even the political one.
Moreover, this has an expression in the political sphere as well. As long as these natural feelings are not supported on the theoretical plane, it is very hard for people to support them and even to give them a voice at the ballot box. Their simple feeling—accompanied, of course, by statements from the rabbinic establishment—is that a serious Jew committed to halakha cannot lend his hand to a coalition some of whose components have emblazoned on their banners freedom and rights for every person, with any sexual orientation and gender identity. You must decide: Are you a Jew or a democrat? We need only hear the voices coming out against Bennett and his coalition from those quarters to understand the power of the rigidity. Therefore I wish to argue here: You indeed can, and it in no way contradicts your religious commitment. Here we return to Bennett the politician. May he—and we—enjoy great success. And see life with the woman whom you love…
Discussion
Hello to Dr. Michael Abraham,
I wanted to ask: would you be so kind as to be ashamed?
I strongly recommend being ashamed first of this column, then of the previous column, and most of all of the one before them on SG/birth (worship of Benito and asking forgiveness of Haredism).
I enjoyed reading it, yasher koach. We are all Jews, according to Bennett’s definition.
By contrast, the approach of most religious streams is that “nobody really understands what ‘authentic’ Judaism is except our own people.”
If I understand correctly, the rabbi is trying to draw a middle line between these two extremes?
I don’t think it is proper for one person to write to another telling him to be ashamed.
In fact, your comment is not serious enough to merit a response, but nu, all right, I already wrote one.
My honored sir, I ask you too to be ashamed of your attempt to educate me.
Cossack, trolling can be cute once. When it repeats itself and stirs up discussions, it already becomes disturbing.
I don’t see why I am drawing a middle line. It depends on which definition you are dealing with: the halakhic-ethnic, the essential, or the national-cultural. I am definitely among those who think they know best what Judaism is.
It appears at the beginning of the third book in the trilogy.
See here: https://mikyab.net/%D7%9B%D7%AA%D7%91%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%9E%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%A8%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%9B%D7%A4%D7%99%D7%A4%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%91%D7%95-%D7%96%D7%9E%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%AA-%D7%9C%D7%9E%D7%A2%D7%A8%D7%9B%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%A0%D7%95%D7%A8%D7%9E%D7%98%D7%99%D7%91%D7%99%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%9E%D7%A7
And also here: https://mikyab.net/posts/781
With God’s help, Monday, in the portion “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob,” 5780
The people of Israel are a people of heroes. We were called ‘Israel’ on account of our ability to fulfill “for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” Israel is the boldest among the nations…
But we were also called ‘Jews,’ on account of our ability to give thanks. To give thanks to our Creator, who is the one who gives us strength to succeed; not to become proud, saying ‘my power and the might of my hand,’ to acknowledge even our mistakes and say, “She is more righteous than I,” and from that to take responsibility and be guarantors for our brothers, even if it seems that he did not act properly.
Therefore a Jewish Israeli, even when he is highly accomplished and distinguished in compassion and acts of kindness, still remains also ‘shy,’ aware as well of his own smallness. And as the prophet Micah said: “to do justice and love kindness,” and together with that, “and to walk humbly with your God.”
And as Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Klein explained (head of the rabbinical court of Sălaj-Ceh, great-grandfather of Yair Lapid), this is why the name of each tribe was placed both on a separate stone in the breastplate and together with the other tribes on the shoulders of the ephod: to teach us that on the one hand each person must say, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me,” and not rely on others to act; but on the other hand to feel that “when I am for myself alone, what am I,” and only through his connection with the collective will he succeed.
With blessings, Ami’oz Yaron Shnitzlar
Once Rabbi Sabato asked the students in the yeshiva: 4 people see a ship sinking—a journalist, a photographer, a writer, and a painter. Who can document the event best?
Bennett is trying to paint something here, and you are reading it with a different hat on, and therefore challenging it from many directions.
Accepted.
Paragraph 3, line 1
… still remains also ‘shy’…
Paragraph 5, line 1
… that therefore his name was written…
A question for Michi and his supporters.
Michi wrote:
“A person can be faithful to halakha and at the same time fight for the rights of homosexuals” (for example, to be allowed to marry and receive rights as a normal couple).
Here is another sentence:
A person can be faithful to halakha (of course halakha forbids murder) and at the same time fight for the right of members of criminal organizations to carry weapons (just as any citizen may try to obtain a license to carry a weapon).
A given that we all agree on (I very much hope):
Male homosexual intercourse and murder are forbidden according to halakha.
Note that in both cases we are talking about the halakhic aspect, not the moral aspect.
What is the difference between what Michi wrote and what I wrote?
I am really trying to understand the logic.
And please, without demagogic claims like “What an evil/stupid person you are for comparing homosexuals to murderers.”
I am really only trying to understand the mindset.
Put simply:
You took the sentence out of context.
Rabbi Michael Abraham wrote about the contradiction between the moral aspect and the halakhic aspect.
If you feel that it is moral for criminal organizations to hold weapons—you are welcome to act on that issue despite its contradicting halakha (similar to what you wrote about the halakhic aspect; I very much hope you do not think that is moral).
Doesn’t the first article contradict the second article and the article here?
Does the rabbi mean that he has retracted the first article? (Or does he define himself as denying a fundamental principle, in which case there is no contradiction, or did I miss something?)
I no longer remember. It is an ancient article. What do you mean?
And what is a Jewish-Israeli who moves to the U.S. to be the CEO of a high-tech company and then sells it to an American company?
An ordinary Jewish-Israeli.
In exile, a Jew cannot be a normal human being without abandoning mourning for the destruction and sliding into assimilation. Only in the Land of Israel, where Jews are the majority society, can a Jew be a normal human being. Therefore only in the Land of Israel could this kind of piece be written.
I think you are mistaken in your assertion that “feelings are not a matter for values,” for two reasons:
1.
Even if there is no value in the feeling itself, it is reasonable to say there is a correlation between feeling around something positive and practical commitment to it. And if you agree that “actions are indeed a matter for values,” then feeling too is indirectly connected to values. For example, if a person is flooded with feelings of joy when he gives up going out to a movie in order to feed his elderly parents, then presumably he is also more practically committed to the value of honoring parents than a person who does this without any feeling.
And if you agree that there is a correlation between feeling and action, then there is no flaw or failure in what Bennett wrote about being moved at the torch-lighting ceremony.
2.
Beyond that, how do you know there is no value in the feeling itself?
As I understand it, you infer this from your assumption that feeling is the result of factors external to the person, but that is an unfounded assumption. The same could be argued regarding actions—that they too are the result of external factors. It is true that actions and feelings are influenced by external factors, and it is even true that feelings are more influenced by external factors than actions are, but it does not seem reasonable to me to say that feeling is influenced only by external factors.
To illustrate, one could say about feeling something similar to what you wrote in column 22 about love—”even if it seems to awaken on its own without rules and principles and without deliberation, it may be that this is hidden deliberation, or the result of spiritual and psychological work that preceded the moment of its awakening.”
And since feeling too is influenced to some degree by a person’s choice, it is reasonable to say that there is value in being moved and in positive feelings regarding something valuable, just as there is value in valuable actions.
__
To conclude, I stress that I agree with you about the inferiority and secondary status of feeling (compared to thoughts and actions), and also about the dangers latent in it. But as I explained above, I think you are mistaken in not seeing feeling as having any connection at all to values.
Since this is a significant mistake that you repeat in many articles, I wrote this comment with excitement and joy at the benefit I believe it will have if it causes you to reconsider the matter (:
Hello David,
First of all, you gave yourself a very big break when you determined that a homosexual family or homosexual marriage is something moral… it really isn’t. But let’s leave that aside for the moment.
Here is an example of something that every religious person (normal and serious) observes, even if it goes against morality:
An injury on Shabbat that is painful but certainly not a matter of saving a life—a toothache requiring surgical intervention (not pleasant at all), or a sprained ankle.
Halakhically we will not desecrate Shabbat, even though morally it is very hard for a person in pain, or to see the suffering of others, and not offer them assistance that requires desecrating Shabbat.
So why don’t you and Michi also propose updating the halakha of Shabbat observance?
Let’s also say that because in this generation there are people for whom Shabbat is difficult, and the spiritual level is not high, one can also
compromise on the issue of Shabbat desecration…
Why are you “great heroes” דווקא on certain issues, and not on others?
I am glad and moved by the excitement and joy that I caused you, except that unfortunately I must dampen it somewhat. I have written and said these things more than once: if a feeling expresses an attitude, then it can be a sign of something important, and yet it itself is not important.
And if you are handsome—that requires further consideration.
With God’s help, 12 Tammuz 5780
And regarding Bennett’s definition of the ‘Jew’ as a person who relates to the heritage of the people as a ‘source of inspiration’ but not as a source of authority—this is precisely the position of the Reform movement (see, for example, the words of Rabbi Buchdahl in column 336). So what is ‘Israeli’ about it?
With blessings, ayin sham
By the way, Bennett’s claim that halakha was created in exile and therefore deals only with the laws of individuals and communities, and not with laws of statehood, is factually incorrect. The Mishnah was written by Rabbi Akiva and his students, who carried the banner of the revolt against the Romans, and in it, as interpreted in the Talmuds and the words of the Rishonim and Acharonim, the foundations were also laid for the ‘laws of kings and their wars.’
With God’s help, 12 Tammuz 5780
And since Gilat Bennett is the daughter of Moshav ‘Kfar Uriyah,’ it is worthwhile to cite here Rav Kook’s blessing ‘for the founding of the new moshav, Kfar Uriyah,’ in which the rabbi is especially impressed by ‘the principal and primary clause’ in the moshav’s regulations, which states that “the moshav is founded on the principles of Torah and Judaism, and traditional religion.”
And on this the rabbi says:
‘You have done greatly, my honored sirs, in raising the banner of steadfast faith as a standard of honor before all upon your settlement founded in holiness… By this declaration… you have breathed the soul of eternal life into your great undertaking, and we hope… that you will be a model for the many, from whom they will learn, now and even more in the future. For the light of God, His blessing and success, will shine upon the work of your hands… to fortify the foundation of all our works of national revival, and all our building in the land of our fathers—upon the foundation of the living light of the soul of all worlds and His spirit, which gives life to His people and His inheritance through the light of His Torah, the heritage of the congregation of Jacob, the crown of splendor of generation after generation and a treasury of life and blessing from forefathers to descendants…’
(Igrot HaRe’iyah 554, dated 24 Sivan 5673).
With blessings, ayin sham
Paragraph 2, line 4
… that you will be a model for the many, who…
No matter how much you try to kosherize the abomination of LGBT-ism with lofty words and slogans about democracy and rights that supposedly do not contradict halakha, it will not help you. I understand the family and emotional issue and your psychological need in this, but in any case it is worth putting things on the table. About homosexuals the Torah wrote “abomination”; there is no need to elaborate and spell out the verse, which does not depart from its plain meaning. “Abomination” means repulsive and disgusting. It is not like desecrating Shabbat or eating pork; it is simply an abomination. Therefore, that same one whom you see as obligated to fulfill His will—I’m not talking about you of course, with you everything is wordplay—He also created this sexual urge for some of His creatures, but warned against it with the death penalty and called this act an abomination!! Which means that a person faithful to Him is supposed to feel revulsion when he sees such people, just as any person feels revulsion toward a pedophile or anyone who lies with an animal. Therefore, even if you do not want an MK or a rabbi who finds himself obligated to relate to a pride parade as a parade of beasts, because halakha forbids homosexual relations, and because halakha views them like one who lies with an animal!!! And even if that person is capable of understanding that there are two worlds here and that it is right to subordinate one to the other, just as you subordinate a pedophile to disgust.
Glad to hear I am speaking with someone who does not know basic logic. First of all, the assumption I started from was that the right of homosexuals to be allowed to marry is moral—not that their marriages are moral.
Second, I do think homosexual marriage is moral; moreover, there is no contradiction at all between that and halakha.
All your other examples are nothing more than cheap demagoguery from someone who does not know basic logic, so I will have to ignore them.
Is it correct that in your view one should fight for LGBT rights only on the assumption that he is coerced (say, in his opinions), and otherwise not (because of placing a stumbling block before the blind, for example)?
Not necessarily. The fact that he is coerced of course raises the motivation to fight on his behalf. But so long as there is nothing immoral here, only a religious prohibition, I oppose the state enforcing it. For example, I oppose the state enforcing religious marriage, even on someone who could do so and does not want to.
Keep climbing tall trees and causing rabbis a hundred years from now distress. When the rest of the world (including Muslims and Christians) accepts LGBT people, then Judaism too, as usual, will trail behind them. Blessings.
Hello David,
I understand this is a sensitive issue, and I understand that perhaps you have family or friends dealing with this issue of homosexuality (and perhaps you yourself are homosexual),
but even if someone is not strong in logic, it is advisable to avoid barbs and to try to explain respectfully and nicely where he erred.
And know that even if you (or one of your acquaintances) are such, I (like 99.99% of religious people) love you very much.
I claim the following—
Anyone who supports the *right* of homosexuals to marry thinks there is no clear moral problem with it, and that it does not stand in contradiction to something else.
Moreover, I do not think you will find even one sane person in the world who would support allowing a right for X, while also holding that X is immoral and that X
does not stand in clear contradiction to another right.
Let’s take an example—artificial abortion.
I believe there are people who hold that the abortion itself is immoral, but overall they support allowing the right to abortion,
but that is because forbidding abortion would stand in clear contradiction to the woman’s right over her own body.
That is to say, your attempt to make it seem possible to hold that “I support the right to homosexual marriage, although I think it is morally problematic”—
that is simply a creature that does not exist.
I want you to show me one person who holds that way. I will gladly wait.
As for your claim that my argument about a sprained ankle is “demagoguery,” that is simply not true.
Demagoguery is “an appeal to emotion.”
There is no demagoguery at all in my question. It is a very simple question in order to try to understand your thinking and Michi’s.
I will ask it again:
If you support making halakha more flexible for homosexuals because there are problematic moral aspects here, especially in a generation spiritually as complex as ours, in tension with the halakhic issue,
why would you not also support making the issue of Shabbat observance more flexible, where there are problematic moral aspects too, especially in a generation spiritually as complex as ours, in tension with the halakhic issue?
Why should someone drawing close to religion have to understand that there are situations in which he will not be able to take his son to the hospital when he has a certain injury?
Isn’t that morally problematic?
Why should we not also be flexible regarding Shabbat desecration for the whole people?
I will answer in order.
I apologize for the barb; indeed it was inappropriate and unnecessary.
I do not personally have to deal with a different orientation, but I do indeed have close acquaintances who do.
The claim “I love you,” together with 99.99% of religious people, is in the end only a cheapening of the concept of love, an unnecessary remark. It is not very different from saying: I love all human beings, but I still hate and will fight against certain groups. The context of love is simply irrelevant to the subject.
Morality is a fluid thing. There are things that are immoral, but only slightly, and on the other hand there are things that would horrify the listener to his core. For our purposes, it may be that I think insolence toward an older person is immoral behavior, whereas murder is far more immoral.
In a case where there is an act that is only slightly immoral, but restricting it is a much more immoral act. Continuing with the same example, would you agree with me that actual imprisonment is not a moral punishment for someone who was insolent toward an older person? (Even though it is an immoral act, the imprisonment is an act that is more immoral.) I got a bit tangled in the argument here, but the idea is clear.
As for a person who holds that way, you will not find me on that list, because I hold that from the outset it is moral; on the other hand, I do know people who hold that way.
It is demagoguery because when you raise the issue of making halakha more flexible, you are appealing to conservative emotion against making halakha more flexible, even though this is not at all a matter of making halakha more flexible.
And regarding the rest of your comment—again, demagoguery.
David,
Halakha is not what is written in the Written Torah, nor is it only this or that סעיף in the Shulchan Arukh.
Halakha is derived from the Oral Torah—the endless dialogue between the people of Israel and the Creator.
The people of Israel, with all its rabbis and spiritual guides, refuse to recognize homosexual marriage (which presumably will lead to abominable acts).
So even if it is not written explicitly in halakha, de facto it is forbidden.
By the way, it is not accurate that it is not written in the halakhic sources.
You are invited to look on Wikipedia at the entry “Homosexuality in halakha.”
Regardless of all this, I recommend you learn from Rabbi Sherki, may he live long, about the Oral Torah.
You did not answer the first reason I gave.
I also did not understand how you answered the second reason (which is, in my view, more central and important).
Perhaps I will read columns 311 through 314 and column 371 to try to find an explanation for what you said, that “feeling expresses an attitude,” and how that answers what I wrote.
I explained that feeling can express a kind of attitude and not only external factors, and yet it has no value in itself, but at most is an expression of something that has value. What matters is a person’s attitude as the result of a decision, not nature or something spontaneous. And also not something derived from a decision.
And if feeling is a means of contributing to action, then again it is a means and not an end. And this very means too must be discussed in terms of how it comes about (spontaneously or as the result of a decision).
The Torah also wrote “abomination” about eating meat with milk; see Hullin 114:
The “ancient” article deals (if I understood correctly) with a proposal raised by certain people to maintain a value system outside the Torah in addition to commitment to the Torah, and even to be prepared in some cases of conflict to prefer it over halakha. The conclusion of the article is that this is denial of a fundamental principle, and probably also idolatry (for a principle too can be an idol, and commitment without independent justification is itself acceptance as divine).
Therefore I asked whether the rabbi has retracted that article.
Absolutely not. Commitment to a system outside the Torah and the Holy One, blessed be He, is syncretistic idolatry (and perhaps this is actual halakhic idolatry). Thus Leibowitz, who spoke of morality as an atheistic category—if someone is committed to morality according to that, he is engaging in syncretistic idolatry. But in my view morality is an extra-halakhic category, though not an extra-Torah category. The obligation to morality is rooted in the Torah (though not in halakha). And when the source of validity is the Holy One, blessed be He, there is no additional factor here.
Hello Rabbi. In fact this article deals with the subject of separation of religion and state, and separation of religion and morality. I would like to ask: why, if there is no connection between religion and morality, can we not learn Torah from a person who is not moral? Assuming he observes Torah and commandments but is not moral.
First of all, one can learn from him.
The sages suspected such a person that perhaps his reasoning is incorrect, his intellect is not straight, or he is biased. If that is indeed so, then he can distort the Torah that he teaches. But if you learn from him critically and examine his arguments, there is in principle no obstacle to learning from him.
I understand the appreciation for a person who investigated, erred, and I still appreciate the inclinations of his heart because of the initial investigation.
But what is the meaning of appreciating a person who did not investigate, does not walk in the path you believe in, but is ‘normal’?
It is appreciation for normality, not for a specific person. In every group there are people who investigated and people who did not.
I think it is necessary to clarify this in every article that argues for this view, otherwise it is not understood (and as proof, I knew the rabbi’s conception that commitment to a value system not dependent on the Holy One, blessed be He, is idolatry, and I understood that the rabbi had changed his mind; all the more so for someone who does not know this).
(Incidentally, I do not agree with these claims.)
You wrote: “My feeling is that Bennett wants to hold up a mirror to the accepted conceptions (such as mine) that see Judaism as something ahistorical and anachronistic. It is a religion (in the biblical sense, dat means law) that has no contact at all with what you think or do, except for fulfillment of your halakhic obligations. The conception according to which your Judaism is a collection of mechanical acts that can be carried out in any situation and under any circumstances, and is independent of them. With that, of course, I do not agree.”
According to your view that Judaism is only halakha and that you are a gentile who keeps commandments, where do you disagree with Bennett?
It would be a bit exaggerated to claim that Bennett has a systematic doctrine about Judaism and halakha. At least I am not familiar with one. If you have a specific question, you are welcome to ask, but I see no point in writing an essay on everything Bennett disagrees with in my trilogy. Turn to him; perhaps he will want to write one (he has a lot of time now).
You wrote that you do not agree that Judaism is a collection of mechanical acts that can be carried out in any situation and under any circumstances and is independent of them. Leaving Bennett aside, why do you not agree?
Pay attention to the structure of the sentence. Bennett claims not so, and with that I do not agree.
Hello,
Could the rabbi point here to articles/columns in which he discussed commitment to two different value systems (normative duality) in the context of halakha?
Thank you.