Between Messianism and “Messianism” (Column 585)

In the previous column I mentioned the matter of messianism. I argued there that the way the Religious-Zionist party relates to reality (in particular, its disregard for realpolitik considerations) strikes me as messianic. In this column I will try to define more precisely what I mean by this term—at least my meaning. The discussion is based on a seminar paper written by my daughter, Bruria, with my assistance (which appears here on the site), which examines whether Religious Zionism is a messianic movement. In the introduction she writes that dealing with this topic requires caution, since we lack a sufficiently long perspective and because we ourselves are involved in these processes and identify with the different conceptions, one way or the other. Nevertheless, in my view this is an important discussion to conduct on its merits. Here I will present the gist.

Redemption and Messiah as Principles of Faith

In Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles, brought in his introduction to Perek Ḥelek, the twelfth principle is belief in the coming of the Messiah and in redemption. There he cites biblical and prophetic sources for this belief. In Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, chapter 11, he repeats this. Belief in the coming of the Messiah and in redemption is considered a cornerstone of Jewish thought and of halakhic Jewish identity, and it seems there is no sage or halakhic decisor today who disputes this.[1]

Beyond the fact that the coming of the Messiah is a binding principle, the Sages command us to engage in hoping for salvation. This belief is not only an intellectual stance (knowing that the Messiah is supposed to come); it obligates us to a certain inner state: anticipation. A sharp expression of this appears in Shabbat 31a:

Rava said: When a person is brought to judgment, they say to him: Did you conduct your business faithfully? Did you set fixed times for Torah study? Did you engage in procreation? Did you anticipate salvation? Did you delve into wisdom? Did you infer one thing from another?

That is, every person is required to anticipate salvation—something beyond mere belief in the coming of the Messiah. So explains the Ran there in his novellae:

“Did you anticipate salvation.” Rashi explains: in the words of the prophets. One must further explain: Did you anticipate salvation in your days? He did not say: Did you anticipate that salvation will come to Israel—for one who does not believe that is an epikoros, for the epikorosim do not believe that salvation will ever come to Israel. So it is explained in Tosafot.

Thus the anticipation must be concrete, not just a general belief.

In addition, the Bible and rabbinic literature give various signs and descriptions of the redemption and of the generation of redemption,[2] such as changes in the world’s conduct (not unequivocal, except for the end of subjugation by foreign kingdoms),[3] the land’s blossoming, the return of Jews to it,[4] and the like. These signs spur engagement with redemption and with identifying the period in which it will come. Not only do they make such engagement possible (since one can compare the era’s signs with those given by the prophets and Sages), but it would seem that giving signs also legitimizes the very engagement. Sometimes the engagement is purely theoretical (perhaps as part of anticipating redemption), yet usually the motivation to engage with the signs and with identifying the period awakens in difficult times, or in times when these signs seemingly begin to be fulfilled (as implied by the expression “a revealed end” in Sanhedrin 98a). Needless to say, this phenomenon is indeed widespread in our day, and it is one of the foundational pillars of Religious-Zionist outlook.

Between Messianism and “Messianism”

This introduction raises the basic difficulty regarding the term “messianism,” which has acquired a negative connotation. What could be negative about messianism? Seemingly there is an obligation to believe in the coming of the Messiah and to engage with it, perhaps even to hasten his coming. Is there room for a negative connotation of the term “messianism”? For what follows, I will distinguish between messianism without quotation marks—a neutral, factual description of relating to the Messiah’s coming—and “messianism” with quotation marks—a phenomenon that we perceive as negative. The attempt to define the latter leads us first to the calculation of the end (ḥishuvei keitz), and perhaps also to “forcing the end.”

The Problematic Aspects of Engaging with Redemption and Bringing It

That same sugya in Sanhedrin discusses the calculation of the end. At the beginning of the sugya (Sanhedrin 97b) we find several Sages who calculated the end:

It was taught: Rabbi Natan says, this verse pierces and descends to the depths—“For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it speaks of the end and does not lie. Though it tarry, wait for it; for it will surely come, it will not delay.” Not like our Rabbis who expounded “until a time, times, and half a time,” nor like Rabbi Simlai who expounded “You fed them bread of tears, and gave them tears to drink in great measure,” nor like Rabbi Akiva who expounded “Yet once, it is a little while, and I will shake the heavens and the earth.” Rather: the first kingdom—seventy years; the second—fifty-two; and the kingdom of Bar Koziva—two and a half years.

Yet despite all this, the verse in Habakkuk is ultimately expounded as a reproach to those who calculate the end:

What is “[it] speaks of the end and does not lie”? Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani said in the name of Rabbi Yonatan: May the spirit of those who calculate the end be blown away, for they say: Since the end has arrived and he has not come, he will no longer come. Rather, wait for him, as it is said, “Though it tarry, wait for it.”

From the Gemara one could learn that one should not hang one’s anticipation of the Messiah on any calculation. Yet there is no explicit statement here forbidding engaging in calculation and expounding the verses. At the end of the sugya it indeed seems that the main point is not to base one’s anticipation on a calculation, but we do not find there a prohibition of the calculation itself. This emerges clearly from Rashi’s comments on the sugya. In Maimonides, however, we find that in his view it is forbidden even to interpret the verses in a way that calculates the end. His words convey concern about any engagement with this topic, as though it were dangerous explosives. In his halakhic work he returns to this: after concluding the signs of redemption and the traits of the Messianic King, he warns (Laws of Kings 11:4): “But the thoughts of the Creator cannot be grasped by man, for our ways are not His ways, and our thoughts are not His thoughts.” And further he writes (Laws of Kings 12:2):

All these and similar matters a person will not know how they will be until they are; for they are hidden matters even for the prophets. The Sages also have no received tradition regarding these matters, but only their interpretation of the verses; therefore they differ in these matters. In any case, the order of the events of these matters and their minutiae are not fundamentals of the religion; and a person should never occupy himself with the aggadot nor lengthen on the midrashim said concerning these matters and the like, nor make them a principle, for they do not bring one to fear or love [of God]. Likewise, one should not calculate the ends; the Sages said, “May the spirit of those who calculate the end be blown away.” Rather, one should wait and believe in the matter in general, as we explained.

“Forcing the end” is also considered problematic. Thus, for example, in the Three Oaths in Ketubot 111a, according to one version, we are adjured not to hasten the end (and the version before us reads: not to delay it—see Rashi there). But even about this one can raise questions. Thus we find in Sanhedrin 20b:

So too would Rabbi Yehuda say: Three commandments Israel were commanded upon entering the Land—to appoint a king for themselves, to eradicate the seed of Amalek, and to build for themselves the chosen House [the Temple].

One could think this command was given only for that time (upon entry into the Land). Yet other sources teach that this mitzvah was given for all generations. Indeed, one of the mitzvot enumerated in Maimonides’ Book of Commandments is to build the Temple:

The twentieth commandment is that He commanded us to build a House of service, wherein will be the sacrifices and where a fire will burn constantly; to it one will go up on pilgrimage and gather every year, as will be explained. This is His statement, “They shall make for Me a sanctuary.”

This mitzvah is agreed upon by virtually all enumerators of the commandments, and it is settled halakhah.

We do, however, find in Rashi on Sukkah 41b:

[…] but the future Temple that we await is built and completed; it will be revealed and come from Heaven, as it is said: “The sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands have established.”

He rules that the Temple will descend built from Heaven, i.e., we will not build it. The Arukh LaNer famously discusses Rashi’s view and writes that other Rishonim agreed with it,[5] yet he is unwilling to accept it:

Therefore it seems to me that certainly the Temple in the future will be built as an actual structure by human hands; and what is said, “the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands have established,” which is expounded in the Tanchuma as descending—this refers to a spiritual Temple that will come into the physical Temple built below, like a soul into a body; just as in the Mishkan and the Temple there descended a heavenly fire into the mundane fire kindled with wood. So it appears in the Mekhilta, which expounds from the verse “A fixed place for Your dwelling You have made, O Lord,” that the Temple above is aligned with the Temple below; and this is “the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands have established”—that in the future, when the Lord will reign forever, before the eyes of all mortals, He will dwell below within a Temple that is already built and aligned with the Temple above, meaning it will descend into the Temple that will be built.

His claim is that we are commanded to build it; and what the Rishonim wrote about it descending from Heaven means that a spiritual Temple will enter into the physical Temple that we build.[6]

It is possible that one root of this dispute is ideological, not merely exegetical. If the future Temple descends from Heaven, then there is no place for a messianism that aspires to build it. Conversely, the fact that we are commanded to do so teaches that the matter is indeed in our hands. This is the very messianic-redemptive tension described above. Similar debates arise in later generations regarding bringing the redemption; additional sources can be found in Em HaBanim Semeiḥa, which is devoted entirely to this topic.

Indeed, throughout history down to our day, engagement with messianism and messianic movements has aroused grave concern. Messianism is often portrayed as delusional and disconnected, perhaps even dangerous. How is it that attempts to realize a belief so fundamental and important to us are perceived as problematic acts? How are activities to promote the Messiah’s coming and to build the Temple any different from activities to promote Shabbat observance? One might suggest technical distinctions—e.g., between calculating an exact date and trying to identify a general period. But such distinctions cannot resolve the basic difficulty presented here.

It seems the root lies in the phenomenon of false messianism, and in the fears that arise from the history of messianic movements—on which I will comment below.

Is There a Halakhic Transgression in False Messianism?

It is important to understand that despite all the above, we do not find a halakhic prohibition on engaging with redemption, acting to bring it, or calculating the end. Even Maimonides’ severe language (Laws of Kings 12:2), cited above, indicates that this is a matter of policy and guidance, not a halakhic prohibition.[7] It would seem that the concept “false messianism” is, by its nature, more sociological-historical than religious-halakhic.

By way of comparison, note a related but different concept: “false prophet.” The Torah itself—and thereafter the Talmud and the poskim—forbids being a false prophet and also listening to him.[8] Is there a parallel prohibition on being a false messiah? We do not find such a prohibition anywhere. A person who declares himself to be the Messiah may be foolish, unstable, and usually harmful—perhaps all three—but it does not seem he is a transgressor, at least not in the halakhic sense.[9]

The conclusion is that false messianism is a concept rooted in history and sociology, in light of phenomena that occurred and the damage they caused. Therefore, addressing this phenomenon and its contemporary applications must rest also on historical analysis, no less than on examining Torah and halakhic sources.

A Look at History: The Phenomenon of False Messianism

In Jewish history not a few figures and movements arose that declared themselves messiahs, or purveyors of redemption. Almost without exception they were ultimately disproven. Some acted mistakenly and innocently; some explain the non-realization of redemption in their time by saying the generation was not worthy—i.e., they are unwilling to acknowledge that their messianism proved to be false. Others are remembered forever as wicked and deceitful. In some cases there were bitter debates; others remain debated to this day. Note that Maimonides cites Christianity and Islam as kinds of false messianism (but also points to positive aspects in them, as paving the way to a full Jewish monotheism; see Laws of Kings 11:4, cited below).

It is therefore no wonder that terms like “messianism” or “messianic movement” now carry a decidedly negative connotation. In light of historical findings, the idea indeed appears delusional, detached from reality, in many cases extreme, and therefore fear-inducing.

An extreme expression of this fear appears in the thought of Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who said: “I believe in a Messiah who will come. He will always be about to come. A Messiah who has come is a false Messiah.”[10] According to another version: “A Messiah who has come is not the Messiah, or is not a Jewish Messiah” (an obvious jab at Christianity, which sees that man as a Messiah who already came). His intent is that “Messiah” is an idea meant to spur us to action and improvement and to maintain hope, but not a historical prediction. In his view the Messiah’s coming should not be a historical event, but an utopian vision not meant to be realized. The main thing is striving toward it, not its actual realization. David Ben-Gurion once said similarly:[11]

The Messiah has not yet come, and I do not wish for him to come. The moment the Messiah comes, he ceases to be the Messiah. If you can find the Messiah’s address in the phone book—he is no longer the Messiah.

Why such categorical rejection of the historical realization of the messianic idea? Why is the messiah’s being merely potential of such importance to them? Persico, in the piece cited, attributes this to the waning of protest and of the drive to act that has propelled Judaism since time immemorial. Yet one cannot ignore the fear of the effects and consequences of messianism if it proves false—despair and loss of faith—as indeed happened more than once in history.

But the mainstream Jewish view obviously does not accept this interpretation. Belief in the Messiah’s coming is seen by faithful Jews as clearly historical. Still, the dangers that led Leibowitz and Ben-Gurion to such views undoubtedly exist, and it is important to understand how to confront them. These claims cast significant doubt on the very possibility of a messianic movement, since danger and fear constantly accompany it.

This attitude is reflected in negative reactions to any ideological movement that acts too resolutely to realize its utopia. The term “messianism” has been attached to Communism and to today’s progressivism—both entirely secular movements. Here the term denotes extremism and one-dimensionality in outlook and conduct, accompanied by failure to distinguish and a lack of openness to other options and opinions. The eschatological dimension does not exist in such movements, and thus the use of “messianism” appears metaphorical. But perhaps precisely for that reason these examples indicate more clearly the true essence of the concept.

Why Does the Holy One Set Up False Messiahs, and How Do We Know They Are False?

Maimonides writes in Laws of Kings 11:4:

If a king will arise from the House of David, immersed in Torah and engaged in mitzvot like David his father, according to the Written and Oral Torah, and he will compel all Israel to walk in it and strengthen its breaches, and he will wage the wars of the Lord—he is presumed to be the Messiah. If he did and succeeded, and defeated all the surrounding nations, and built the Temple in its place, and gathered the dispersed of Israel—he is certainly the Messiah. But if he did not succeed to that point, or was killed—it is known that he is not the one the Torah promised; he is like all the kings of the Davidic dynasty who were complete and proper and have died. The Holy One, blessed be He, only set him up to test the many, as it is said: “And some of the wise will stumble, to refine among them, and to purify and to make white, until the time of the end; for it is yet for the appointed time.”

Maimonides thus gives a criterion for knowing whether a king who arises for us is indeed the true Messiah. One criterion is success; a Messiah who fails is not the Messiah, though he may be a righteous Davidic king. If he is not of Davidic lineage or does not act to return Israel to Torah, he is not the Messiah. He then explains false messiahs generally as serving to test us. Notably, he sees this as the work of God—He set them up—not merely a sinful person pretending to be messiah.

Maimonides continues in that halakhah with another purpose for some false messiahs (he refers to Christianity and Islam):

But the thoughts of the Creator cannot be grasped by man, for our ways are not His ways, and our thoughts are not His thoughts. All these matters of Jesus the Nazarene and of that Ishmaelite who arose after him are only to pave the way for the true Messianic King and to repair the entire world to serve the Lord together, as it is said: “For then I will turn to the peoples a clear language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve Him with one accord.” How so? The world has already become filled with the matter of the Messiah and the matters of Torah and commandments, and these matters have spread to far-off isles and to many peoples of uncircumcised heart; and they are engaged in these matters of Torah—some say the commandments were true but have now lapsed and are not for generations; others say there are hidden meanings and they are not literal, and the Messiah has already come and revealed their secrets. When the true Messianic King will arise and succeed and be exalted and very high, they will all immediately return and know that their ancestors bequeathed them falsehood and that their prophets and ancestors misled them.[12]

Thus these “messiahs” too are the work of God, not only to test Israel but also to repair the world and prepare the way for the true Messiah. I presume Maimonides does not see Jesus and Muḥammad as positive figures and views their deeds as problematic; the benefit he describes is only a side effect.

Back to Religious Zionism: What Is a “Messianic Movement”?

The question arising here is whether it is not correct to see Religious Zionism as a messianic movement. This is a movement that, contrary to what was usual throughout history—merely to hope and yearn for redemption—decided also to act practically to advance it. Of course one can define it as a messianic movement without the negative connotation, and in that sense this is fairly clear. The question is whether there is not also a negative component, as in other forms of messianism.

We can examine this on two planes: (1) factual-outcome; (2) conduct-value. Above we saw in Maimonides that false messianism is measured by its success. But we are too early on the historical timeline to apply this to Zionism, which is still at its beginning. We cannot now determine whether this process will ultimately achieve redemption or fail. In the previous column I mentioned the tradition that the Third Temple will not be destroyed; if so, there is no false messianism at all—anyone who builds or attempts to build the Third Temple is, by definition, not a false messiah. I also explained there that I highly doubt the validity of that tradition itself. It seems we must wait and see, and history will speak.

The second option is to evaluate it by its conduct in practice. This depends on whether false messianism has inherent traits in its conduct, not only in its success. A priori, it is very reasonable that it does. When we judge a messianic movement—i.e., decide whether it is problematic (not merely whether it strives for redemption)—it is unreasonable to do so solely on the basis of success. If it conducts itself properly and could have succeeded, then its failure does not render it a negative movement. Perhaps the generation was unworthy (cf. Ḥabad; every “messiah” who fails explains himself that way). It is appropriate to judge a person by his motives and conduct, not by the outcomes of his actions, which are not always in his control. Therefore, if we view “messianism” as having a negative connotation, we must define negative traits of conduct, beyond the outcome (which may be an indicator of negative conduct, assuming that one who acts improperly is not granted success by Heaven).

It is important to realize that non-dependence on outcomes holds in the other direction as well. Even if we survey the prophets and Sages and find that Religious-Zionist appraisal of our era indeed reflects them accurately—i.e., the signs of redemption are truly being fulfilled now—that does not necessarily answer the question. Even if there is full congruence between our period and the descriptions in Scripture and rabbinic literature, there may still be room to argue that we must not draw conclusions. False messianism can also be a mode of conduct and a way of acting, not only a mismatch with sources or a historical failure. Hence even if the process succeeds, this does not prove there was no false messianism. We must remember that previous “messianic movements” also used the signs of redemption; every would-be messiah brought proofs—better or worse—for his claim to the crown.

In general, it is implausible to identify false messianism with mere exegetical error—mistakes in interpreting verses or reality. An error per se is not disgraceful. It is quite clear that much of what is problematic in false messianism lies in the manner of action taken in light of those “proofs,” not merely in adducing the proofs themselves.

Messianic Movement: An A Priori Analysis

If historical disproof is not necessarily a criterion for a “messianic movement,” how can we define it? Several possibilities:

• The most extreme approaches (Leibowitz and Ben-Gurion) would say that belief in a concrete, real Messiah—even without acting toward him—is false messianism. I assume this does not fit our tradition.
• A slightly less extreme approach would say that the very fact of acting practically to bring the Messiah makes one a partner in a “messianic movement” in the negative sense. The Messiah is an idea, a person, or a period for which we are to hope (and which is to be realized—unlike Leibowitz), but we still must not act practically to bring it. It is supposed to come from Heaven (as in Rashi in Sukkah cited above).

• An even less extreme approach would say that one may act to bring redemption, but the question is how. According to this view, what defines a “messianic movement,” or false messianism, is undertaking problematic actions to that end. Here one can point to a few kinds of problematic behavior:

  1. Actions that involve a halakhic prohibition.[13] For example, the Zionist movement established a judicial system that does not operate according to halakhah, seemingly involving the prohibition of “going to gentile courts.”
  2. Actions conducted in ways not accepted in our tradition, even if not formal halakhic transgressions. For example, cooperation with secularists and heretics, including establishing a government not run by Torah law. Another example is rebelling against the nations and hastening the end (against the Three Oaths in Ketubot 111). Many ḥaredim see in such conduct hallmarks of false messianism or a “messianic movement.”
  3. Actions lacking justification in realistic thinking, or overestimating our power. For example, selling all our possessions and ascending to a desolate land where we have no realistic chance of settlement; moreover, this entails security risks vis-à-vis Arab states (and the world). Provoking and declaring war on great powers. Some link false messianism to such actions.

To advance, we must try to examine messianic movements of the past and distill from the responses to them the negative components of messianism. This itself is problematic, for those responses were not based on sources but on people’s impressions. Rabbis who wrote what they wrote about Al-Roy, Shabbetai Ẓevi, or any other false messiah expressed a view about their messianism, but they had no sources establishing that view. It is therefore difficult to derive binding criteria for messianism from their statements. But, as noted, “messianism” in the negative sense is not a halakhic concept, and thus it cannot be clarified with halakhic tools from sources. It is more of an historical attempt to distill how messianism in the negative sense has been perceived through the generations.

Historical Summary

A few years ago Binyamin Shlomo Hamburger published False Messiahs and Their Opponents,[14] which tries to place Herzl as part of the series of false messiahs over the generations. The book is written from a ḥaredi perspective and is very tendentious (see Bruria’s paper), joining earlier polemical ḥaredi literature harshly critical of Zionist messianism. It is hard to avoid the impression that some of this ḥaredi criticism rests on those same fears of messianism in general, not necessarily on the specific content of Zionist messianism. Sometimes this is not even conscious, but it is certainly in the background. The book’s aim seems to be to conclude that Herzl is the latest (so far) in the series of historical false messiahs. This characterization is disturbing (to put it mildly), yet the claims warrant honest examination.

The number of messianic movements is large.[15] In her paper Bruria surveys the main messianic movements in Jewish history and the rabbinic reactions to them, and distills from this picture several parameters that characterize false messianism. This is not the place for historical details; I will present only the distilled conclusions. She divides these movements into four categories (and I add comments pointing to possible criteria):

• Bar Kokhba is characterized as using militarily and politically illogical force, defying Heaven (“my strength and the might of my hand”), yet he seems not to have transgressed halakhah. There are no testimonies of using mysticism or Kabbalah. Great Sages supported him, but ultimately the results of his actions were disastrous.
• Christianity departed entirely from halakhah and certainly from traditional principles of faith. It apparently used mysticism and attributed divine qualities to its prophet or messiah. It exited Judaism, with disastrous results throughout history.
• Al-Roy, ʿAmalʾain, Molkho (and perhaps the “Reuveni”) were messianic figures whose main problem was the use of irrational, delusional force and policy. They did not depart from halakhah and principles of faith. Yet their outcomes and consequences were highly problematic. At least for Molkho, according to some Sages, history has embraced and fixed him as a paragon. We concluded that for this type of messianism (not involving departure from halakhah) the outcome largely determined the attitude toward them.
• Shabbetai Ẓevi and the Sabbateans certainly departed from halakhah and faith, ending in conversion. They used mysticism and Kabbalah and gave them novel and deviant interpretations. In addition, they took irrational and forceful actions and brought spiritual calamities upon the nation. This is messianism par excellence.

From this perspective, the second and fourth types are simpler: there one could determine in real time that this was a “messianic movement,” false messianism, since all criteria appear. The other two are not unequivocal; it seems that the consequences of their actions determined the attitude toward them to a great extent. The implicit assumption is that the true Messiah might employ non-rational force, be characterized by extraordinary qualities, and have legends attached to him; if he succeeds, it will be clarified retroactively that he was indeed the Messiah.

Summary: Traits of a “Messianic Movement”

Summing up, several traits recur in “messianic movements” and false messiahs (not all in every case): It usually arises in a difficult period for Jews. A charismatic figure appears who performs wonders, or who wields great power and wealth. Personal veneration ensues (songs in his honor; festivals marking events in his life). He brings proofs from sources and presents signs of redemption and the Messiah’s coming. He engages in mysticism and Kabbalah, sometimes with his own interpretations. He acts actively to bring redemption—either by mystical means or by political-military force. At some point he begins to transgress and depart from the traditional halakhah and faith. He is ascetic, fasting, and appears pious. He brings people to repentance as part of preparing for the Messiah’s coming. He takes rash, non-rational steps by normal considerations, and uses force without prudence. His actions have disastrous results (disappointment and collapse of faith and practice; despair and suicides; conversion; intensifying persecutions by gentiles; ḥillul Hashem as gentiles mock our faith).

In many cases, some insist on continuing to see him as the Messiah even after failure, offering post-facto explanations: He is a true Messiah, but the generation was unworthy. The Messiah united with God and will return. He did not really die; it only appears so. He was misunderstood. And so on.

Diagnosis

There are several factors that make it hard for Sages to diagnose in real time whether we face false messianism—a “messianic movement”—or the true Messiah generating a messianic movement (without quotation marks). There is built-in ambiguity in defining Messiah and redemption. Beyond that, it is very hard to identify and diagnose historically the appearance of their signs. Reliance on Kabbalah makes diagnosis even harder. The hardships and hopes that arise when a “messiah” appears can lead to biased, unbalanced vision. The “messiah” himself may act with good intentions and innocence, even dying a martyr. In addition, there are always post-facto explanations for failure. Above all, the consequences of such messianism come only after the events; thus, in real time it is hard to evaluate and judge it. It is very hard to avoid the question: what will happen when the true Messiah appears? Will we then have clear certainty about him?

In contemporary Lithuanian polemical literature, Ḥabad messianism in the time of the last Rebbe and after his death has been described as a kind of Sabbateanism.[16] It is hard to deny many parallels. The Rebbe was charismatic and extremely learned. He labored mightily to bring people to repentance as part of the redemptive process he preached. He created a global movement of many thousands, governed by a strict hierarchy. He enjoyed—and still enjoys—blind adulation to the point of outright veneration. Many still think the Rebbe did not die. Many also blend him, in various ways, with divinity, in life and after death. Some employ mystical interpretations of his every act, including halakhic deviations (e.g., not sleeping in the sukkah; prayer times). He observed royal customs, and due to his spiritual-political-financial stature, leaders from around the world came to him. Stories of wonders surround him by the hundreds and thousands. The proclamation of his messiahship is recited in many places as part of synagogue prayer (even after his death). After his death, faxes are sent to his grave with questions; lotteries (goralot) are cast in his writings to instruct people what to do in various situations (shiddukhim, business, etc.). Such practices involve Torah prohibitions (“You shall be wholehearted with the Lord your God”; consulting the dead; sorcery and divination). During his life, festivals were set to mark events in his life. After his death, the expected post-facto explanations arose to justify the attitude: He is the true Messiah, but the generation was unworthy. The Messiah united with the Divine and will return. He did not really die; it only appears so. Unlike other ḥasidic courts, Ḥabad refrains from appointing a new Rebbe as successor; to justify this, a mystical theory was created that the seventh Rebbe is the last.[17]

Notably, one indicator of a “messianic movement” is the consequences of the disappointment after the “messiah’s” death and failure. Such consequences have not, in fact, appeared significantly in the Ḥabad context. Faith in the Rebbe continues, but I am not aware of phenomena such as mass conversion, despair of redemption, or abandonment of tradition. The rationalizations—intended precisely to prevent such outcomes—apparently “deliver the goods” here.

As noted above, false messianism is not a formal halakhic transgression—at least as long as it does not exceed halakhic bounds. But in the case of Ḥabad there are also halakhic violations; and even without them, the bitter taste of Sabbateanism makes it very hard to dismiss the phenomenon lightly. Whether this is false messianism is disputed among contemporary sages. It is said that Rabbi Shakh called Ḥabad “the sect closest to Judaism.” Some works claim idolatry and false messianism. Other Torah scholars indeed condemn or mock parts of the phenomenon but refrain from clear judgment—likely due mainly to their great esteem for the Rebbe and his initiatives, and for Ḥabad’s important work worldwide to this day. Another possible reason is that his death did not yield the harsh consequences found after other “messianic movements.”

Among kabbalists and ḥasidim there are attempts to bring the Messiah by mystical actions. These are not messianic movements in the full sense, for there is no practical action of any kind (perhaps except for ascending to the Land of Israel, which is a mitzvah in its own right, unrelated to redemption), and certainly no transgressions or deviations from faith. Kabbalists and Rebbes throughout the generations attempted practical-Kabbalah actions to bring redemption, usually in secret. Some have seen Ḥasidism as a messianic movement in general (a well-known debate between Gershom Scholem and Ben-Zion Dinur).[18] The historian Aryeh Morgenstern, who studies Jewish messianism, argues that the beginnings of the Jewish settlement in the Galilee (Tiberias and Safed) were rooted in kabbalists’ attempts to bring redemption. Likewise the beginnings of Jewish settlement in Jerusalem in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.[19]

This is a broad topic and we will not enter its details. In these behaviors per se it is hard to see a “messianic movement,” yet there were cases where the consequences were harsh (the disappointment when the attempt failed). In the final analysis, it seems that in history very few relate to these as “messianic movements,” nor am I aware of severe criticism of the messianism of those involved.

Why? First, the actions were secret. Second, the motives were pure. Third, there was no unjustified, unfounded resort to force, nor consequences arising from unreasonable steps for other people. There were no transgressions or deviations from tradition. No person was crowned messiah or prophet. Usually there were no deviant interpretations of kabbalistic sources. The consequences were generally minor. The phenomenon was not through a public movement but actions of private individuals. The conclusion is that merely acting to bring the Messiah (at least when actions are confined to the “four cubits” of the individual) does not suffice to be judged as “messianic” (in the negative sense).

In past difficult periods, messianic anticipation arose that led people to take unrealistic steps. In some such cases, a great Torah sage arose and took an oath that the Messiah would not come. For example, in the second half of the nineteenth century in Jerusalem, a very strong messianic movement arose (not personal—i.e., with no charismatic messiah at its head). Its consequences were disappointment and mass conversion. In response, it is told that R. Shmuel Salant, Jerusalem’s rabbi at the time, publicly swore that the Messiah would not come that year—to prevent the expected disappointment. This is an extremely unusual and far-reaching step by someone committed to the tradition of awaiting the Messiah every day that he may come. It seems that he viewed this as a decree by a “court below” that the Holy One would not bring the Messiah, to avert the harsh consequences of that “messianic movement.” Similar stories are told about the Ẓemaḥ Ẓedeq and Rabbi Aharon Kotler. Rabbi Aviner relates a similar story about R. Yaakov Gesundheit, the rabbi of Warsaw. Such actions testify to the danger sages saw in false messianism, to the point that they allowed themselves to swear the Messiah would not come (and hoped that God would ensure their oath be fulfilled).

In the final third of the eighteenth century there was a great aliyah of ḥasidim to the Land of Israel, led by R. Mendele of Vitebsk and R. Avraham of Kalisk, two great students of the Maggid of Mezeritch. Thirty years later, in the early nineteenth century, the students of the Vilna Gaon came as well, led by two of his great disciples, R. Menaḥem Mendel of Shklov and R. Saadya son of R. Natan Neta of Vilna.[21] These two aliyot could also be considered messianic movements, yet I am not aware of them being described as such. The reason is that although there was indeed a desire to advance redemption by practical means, those means did not include unreasonable acts, provocation of the nations, hastening the end, or deviation from traditional faith and halakhah. To the contrary, the practical aspect was fulfilling the mitzvah of settling the Land of Israel. Of course, this is not contingent on redemption. According to virtually all poskim, there is a halakhic obligation to ascend and dwell in the Land of Israel; hence the deeds of these two movements are not considered “messianic.” There was no claim to a concrete redemption that could fail, and thus the usual disappointments and harsh consequences were not to be expected.

Religious Zionism

In the last part of the paper, Bruria describes the conduct and conceptions of Religious Zionism. Ḥaredi criticism indeed sees it as a “messianic movement” (in quotation marks, in the negative sense), but, in light of the map drawn above, it seems hard to characterize it as such. There is no halakhic deviation, and generally no unrealistic actions. There is also no personal messiah.

Several leading Religious-Zionist figures addressed these ḥaredi critiques and even agreed with parts of them. Yet that did not prevent them from supporting Zionism. For example, Rabbi Shmuel Yaakov Rabinowitz of Aleksot, among the first rabbis to join Herzl’s Zionist movement, wrote:[22]

[The Zionist movement] has no connection or resemblance to the movements of false messiahs, who misled many of our people at various times and periods; it will not err in fantasies and delusions, it will not hasten the end, and it will not presume to do things beyond our capacity. Nor does it touch in any way upon the belief in the true Messiah anticipated at the end of days.

Under pressure of ḥaredi critique, it appears he even distances himself from blending messianic belief into the Religious-Zionist conception; his aim is to argue that they do not act to bring the Messiah and therefore are not a messianic movement.

Many years later, the Religious-Zionist thinker R. Avraham Korman, responding to the first edition of Hamburger’s book, wrote:[23]

A person who claims or hints that he is the Messiah—in the sense of the one chosen by God to bring redemption to the Jewish people—though Providence has not chosen him for this and has not informed him by prophecy that he is the redeemer, is a false messiah. A person who appears with a plan of how to help or save Jews in a practical and natural way is not included in the concept “false messiah,” for he never claimed to be one.

Here he does not deny that Zionism is part of the redemptive process; rather, he notes that it is done by rational means to improve the nation’s situation, without proclaiming some person to be the Messiah without divine appointment.

The (secular) Zionist movement was not perceived by its members as aiming to induce religious laxity and lead Jews to heresy. On the other hand, it is hard to deny that many who joined it indeed left observance (in my view, partly because of the ḥaredi negative stance toward it, which helped create this reality). I do not think this suffices to define Zionism as a “messianic movement,” for this was part of the broader phenomenon of Haskalah and modernity that preceded Zionism. There is also a basis to claim that Zionism actually saved many from assimilation, by posing a national Jewish challenge even for those not committed to tradition and halakhah. Moreover, it brought millions of Jews to the Land, thus physically preventing—and still preventing—their assimilation.

This discussion also raised the question whether a movement acting to bring redemption can be led by Jews who do not observe Torah and mitzvot. There are many references to this in Religious-Zionist writings. R. Kook already addresses it when he determines that settlement of the Land is the beginning of redemption. Moreover, he claims that what drives the pioneers is indeed commitment to Torah, though unbeknownst to them:[24]

They themselves do not know what they want. So joined are the spirit of Israel and the spirit of God that even one who says he does not need the spirit of the Lord—since he says he wants the spirit of Israel—the divine spirit rests within the very point of his aspiration, even against his will.

I have already addressed the value of mitzvot performed “unknowingly,” and I will not return to it here. But we do see the beginnings of a mystification of how reality and its actors are viewed; more on this below.

It is certainly possible to see in Religious Zionism messianic expectations liable to be disappointed, and, should the process fail, liable to produce harsh results (Bruria quotes there Rabbi Klener’s statement that if the State of Israel is destroyed, he will remove his kippah—a purely “messianic,” Sabbatean expression).

In the final analysis, I think the main trait that might place Religious Zionism under the heading of “messianism” is taking non-realistic considerations into account in setting policy and modes of action. This splits into two parts: (A) metaphysical considerations per se; (B) considerations that contradict realpolitik. I will now address both briefly; fuller detail with sources and quotations appears in Bruria’s paper.

A. Metaphysical Considerations

In several places I noted a commonality between Religious Zionism and its extreme ḥaredi opponents: both ground their worldview on metaphysical foundations. The former see Zionism as the beginning of redemption; the latter see it as the “footsteps of the Messiah” in a negative sense or as the work of the sitra aḥra. The common denominator is that both analyze historical events in mystical-metaphysical terms and even make decisions based on such considerations. This stands in contrast to what was typical of the mainstream of our tradition through the generations: Sages did not set their stance toward phenomena, groups, events, or individuals based on the metaphysical infrastructure animating them. A realistic religious stance must be based on two parameters: (1) halakhah (mitzvot and transgressions in the conduct in question), and (2) realpolitik (chances and risks). Therefore, a realistic religious stance should judge Zionism—for better or worse—by Zionism’s conduct itself: its secularism; the chances and risks of the enterprise; the mitzvot (settling the Land), etc. But both Religious Zionism and ḥaredi opposition do not do this; they set their stance on metaphysical grounds (what will bring redemption and what will delay it). This is manifestly “messianic,” and it is important to understand that it is not typical of how Sages related to events through the generations.

To be clear, I am not yet speaking of the dangers flowing from such an approach. My claim is that recourse to metaphysical considerations is itself “messianism,” since one should relate to the world and its conduct through realistic lenses. Even if one believes that cosmic, mystical processes underlie events, these cannot participate in determining one’s practical stance toward those events. Note: saying that Zionism is the beginning of redemption is not, in itself, “messianic.” It is a metaphysical speculation—true or not—but even if it is a mistake, we may err. Mysticism, whatever our view of it, is not prohibited. The “messianism” lies in setting policy and attitudes toward processes on the basis of metaphysical considerations. This resembles the proscription of “seeking the reasons for the commandments” (taʿama di-kra): there is no prohibition on expounding the reasons, but there is a prohibition on using such reasoning within halakhah, i.e., deriving halakhic conclusions from them.

B. Non-Realistic Considerations

In the previous column I argued that in certain cases recourse to metaphysical considerations leads us to adopt non-realistic policy. We rely on God to bring redemption and permit ourselves risks that, through realistic lenses, we must not take. As Ben-Gurion said: in the State of Israel, one who does not believe in miracles is not realistic. I will not return to this point here, but this is “messianism” in the full sense—taking problematic, dangerous steps because of the supposed divine guarantee of the outcome. The mystical interpretation (and the dubious traditions on which it relies) leads here to steps that can be disastrous. This is messianism par excellence, and in this sense the situations in which it appears reveal the “messianism” latent in Religious-Zionist thought all along.

Conclusion

In the previous column I argued that disregarding realpolitik is a hallmark of “messianism.” Here I wished to place the matter in a broader perspective, by defining “messianism” (in quotation marks, as opposed to messianism in the neutral-factual sense). It is an elusive concept that resists a sharp definition. Yet we saw several of its traits, distilled from historical phenomena that fell under the heading of “messianism.”

The conclusion is that beyond the extreme traits—departing from halakhah, wild mystification, and taking reckless steps—the form of messianism relevant to us is more moderate, consisting mainly of adopting positions and making decisions based on metaphysical considerations. In extreme cases this also leads to ignoring realpolitik and risks. This extreme expression certainly exists in broad sectors of today’s Religious Zionism (see the previous column), but its roots (recourse to metaphysics) have existed in it—and in its opponents—since its inception.

[1] In Sefer HaIkkarim, Maʾamar I, ch. 1, he cites Rabbi Hillel’s opinion from the Talmud which seemingly casts doubt on the Messiah’s coming, but this is only in the discussion whether it is a principle or an ordinary matter. He, too, has no doubt about the validity of this belief.

[2] See Mishnah, end of tractate Sotah.

[3] See Maimonides, Laws of Kings 11:3 and ch. 12, and Laws of Repentance ch. 9.

[4] Ezekiel 36:8; and Bavli, Sanhedrin 98a, and more.

[5] See R. Yissakhar Teichtal, Em HaBanim Semeiḥa, Budapest 5703 [1943], especially chs. 2–3.

[6] Note that in Rashi this is impossible, for he is discussing a prohibition of building on Yom Tov. The explanation is strained, but the very strain shows how important it was for the Arukh LaNer to present an alternative view.

[7] Maimonides himself calculates the end in his Iggeret Teiman. It seems he did this to encourage the Jews to whom the letter was sent. Had he seen it as a halakhic prohibition, it is unlikely he would have done so.

[8] See, e.g., Maimonides, Laws of the Foundations of the Torah, chs. 9–10, and more.

[9] Regarding kingship in general, some poskim hold there is a prohibition to appoint a king not from the House of David (see Book of Commandments, negative command 362, and Naḥmanides on Genesis 49:10). But these sources deal with appointing a king, not with false messianism. To illustrate the difference: if a descendant of the House of David were to declare himself the Messiah though he is not, this would not constitute a halakhic prohibition (aside from falsehood, whose halakhic status is itself somewhat unclear). See also Ari Shavit, “Limmud Zekhut ve-Ḥovah in the Views of Maimonides and Naḥmanides on the ‘Kingship’ of the Ḥashmonaim,” HaMaʿayan 50:3 (Nisan 5770), pp. 98–102.

[10] Oral remarks; see on YouTube, “Yeshayahu Leibowitz on the Coming of the Messiah.”

[11] Cited on Tomer Persico’s blog, Loop of the God (Lulat Ha-El), in the article “Judaism as a Protest Movement,” 2.5.2012.

[12] This passage is censored in common editions, but restored in the Frankel edition.

[13] In Bavli, Eruvin 43a, it is explained that if there is a prohibition of teḥumin (Sabbath travel limits) when descending from the firmament to below ten handbreadths, then the Messiah will not come on Shabbat or Yom Tov. The Brisker Rav proves from here that the Messiah will not come at the price of transgressing a rabbinic prohibition. See, e.g., Rabbi Simḥa Ullman’s article in Yismaḥu, no. 18, Parashat Beshalach, 14 Shevat 5770, p. 3.

[14] Second, expanded ed., Institute for the Heritage of Ashkenaz, Bnei Brak, 5769 [2009].

[15] The phenomenon begins already in the Hasmonean period. Josephus relates messiahs who proclaimed redemption from the Romans (Yehuda ben Ḥezekiah, Theudas, and others). Later came Jesus the Nazarene and his disciples; some classify Bar Kokhba as such (after the destruction). The phenomenon continues and even expands in later history, and many more. Some appear in Hamburger; many others appear in Wikipedia, s.v. “False Messiah.”

[16] For example, perhaps the most strident is David Berger’s The Rebbe, the Messiah, and the Scandal of Orthodox Indifference, Jerusalem: Orot, 2005. More balanced: Samuel Heilman and Menachem Friedman, The Rebbe: The Life and Afterlife of Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Dvir and Shazar Center, 2011. And a more popular and recent book: Yechiel Harari, The Rebbe’s Secret, Yediot Books, Tel-Aviv, 2013.

[17] On this, and on Ḥabad in the time of the last Rebbe generally, see Yitzhak Kraus, The Seventh—Messianism in Ḥabad’s Seventh Generation, Yediot Books, 2007.

[18] See Mor Altshuler’s article, “Against All Odds,” online: www.jewish-studies.info/files/against-the-odd.doc

[19] See especially his books: Mysticism and Messianism: From the Rise of Ramḥal to the Vilna Gaon, Jerusalem 1999; Return to Jerusalem: The Renewal of the Jewish Settlement in the Land of Israel at the Beginning of the Nineteenth Century, Jerusalem: Shalem Press, 2007.

[20] A literary depiction of this phenomenon can be found in Shulamit Lapid’s novel, Keḥeres HaNishbar (“Like a Broken Potsherd”), Keter, 1984.

[21] See Avraham Yaari, “The Students of the Vilna Gaon and Their Settlement in the Land,” Maḥanayim 77, Tevet 5723 [1962–3].

[22] HaDat ve-haLeʾumiyut, Warsaw 5660 [1900], pp. 127–128. Similarly, see Yitzḥak Nissenbaum, ʿAlei Ḥaldi, Warsaw 5689 [1929], p. 147. Nissenbaum relates a meeting with the son of Rabbi Meisel of Łódź, who hurled at him that Herzl is considered by the Zionists as the Messiah, and he was appalled and recoiled from this.

[23] Korman, Avraham, Yehudi ve-Artzo, Tel-Aviv 5752 [1992], p. 155.

[24] Orot, Jerusalem 5680 [1920], “Orot HaTechiyah,” ch. 9.