Question

Hello Rabbi. First of all, I have to say that I identify with and agree with most of your observations regarding the recent controversy around Rabbi Melamed. Still, something Rabbi Melamed wrote in his "Revivim" column in the newspaper "Besheva," on the 2nd of Sivan 5781, caught my attention:

"…This question is not abstract for me. There were times when I lay awake at night, unable to fall asleep from all the thoughts. Here I am in the Land of Israel thinking that my people are the chosen people, while somewhere else a Frenchman sits and thinks the same, and elsewhere an Arab or a Japanese or a Chinese person also thinks the same. And so too, the believers of every religion are convinced that theirs is the true religion. So how can I honestly say that specifically our people are the chosen people and our religion is the true religion?
Of course, I knew the main answer, which rests on the divine revelation that continues from the Exodus from Egypt, the revelation at Mount Sinai, and the long history of the Jewish people with all its great glorious periods and its abysses of suffering, all of which we learned about from the words of the prophets and sages.
And yet I remained troubled, mainly by the moral question. Until my mind was settled by the argument that the people who more than all other peoples want to do good to all people and all nations are the chosen people, and the faith that more than all other faiths seeks to respect and cultivate all talents and professions and give all of them meaning and divine value is the true faith.
Indeed, this is the identity card of the Jewish people. This is the culture that accompanies Jews, even if they have become very distant, so long as they are aware that they are Jews."

Allow me to propose my understanding of these remarks and present the difficulty that arises from them.
Regarding the first paragraph, the question is of course legitimate, and I am even impressed by the honesty with which he presents his hesitations—things that even a high-school student would be afraid to say in front of certain people, all the more so someone whose entire status and social capital are based on faith in the Jewish religion—and despite that he expresses them publicly. (Though on the margins of the matter it should be noted that this is not necessarily the right thing educationally speaking. I can imagine that a religion whose own leaders are not all that confident in it—or at least appear that way—would not make much of an impression on someone who is wavering. But that is not critical for our purposes.)
In the next paragraph he notes that he has factual arguments based on empirical observations that confirm Judaism as the true religion (we will not discuss the arguments themselves). Yet he remains troubled by the moral question involved (which carries the assumption that choosing one people with preferential rights is morally problematic—something that can certainly be debated, but that is not our concern). This statement can be interpreted in two ways:

• A religion that is not moral is evidence against its truth—and that evidence may carry weight against the factual arguments above, so what troubles him is the possibility that Judaism is not true.
• The moral question troubles him on an emotional level, and although this is not an objection to the truth of the Torah, it is still troubling, because it destroys our heart's desire that the will of God be moral.

The first possibility
According to the first possibility, the question should be understood this way: since we have an a priori assumption that a true-but-immoral religion is a less likely state of affairs than a true religion being moral, then in terms of probability Judaism's hand is at a disadvantage against another religion if it is not moral; and if an immoral religion is an obviously implausible state of affairs, then perhaps even against no religion at all. It follows that in order to maintain the Jewish religion as the most reasonable choice for conduct, we must say that it is necessarily moral.
At this stage, let us approach Rabbi Melamed as a halakhic decisor. According to how he defines the solution to the moral problem:

"The faith that more than all other faiths seeks to respect and cultivate all talents and professions and give them all meaning and divine value is the true faith."

That means that in his view, in order to be the true faith, Judaism must behave as he describes it (for the continuation of the column, see how else this plays out; he notes that this applies even in relations between husband and wife, etc.). This must entail very significant a priori positions regarding his halakhic rulings—because it follows that he cannot allow himself to issue a ruling that in his eyes does not satisfy this condition, which is far from trivial. For example, it follows that in his view Haredi Judaism, for instance, is a priori mistaken (all talents and professions? Not really), but that is only a small example. Can he allow himself to issue rulings that reduce the perfection of reality? Preventing pregnancy as against going out to work, things that ruin a marriage, and the like? After all, in his view, the moment something like that happens, it turns Judaism into something untrue!
The second possibility
From the standpoint of the second possibility, the situation is more complicated. Technically, what is at stake is not the Jewish faith itself. And yet, in order to resolve the question, he is forced to make a broad determination about the nature of Judaism. True, since the faith itself is not what is at stake, in principle there remains the possibility that he will try to be as objective as possible in each issue on its own merits and retract his determination if he arrives at a ruling that proves to him that the determination in that column was mistaken. And yet this still raises a question about his motivations and their role.
Granted, this is psychologically understandable (the justifying mind…), but it may drag in influences on halakhic ruling whose nature is unclear. For it should be noted that he conducted the entire discussion within the framework of Jewish law. Unlike the general Michist approach of checking what Jewish law says, comparing it to morality, and preferring morality when necessary, his entire discussion takes place within Jewish law itself. True, we are all human and no halakhic decisor is perfectly objective, but here it nevertheless seems exceptional to me. Can a halakhic decisor who openly declares such a deep halakhic wish really be considered objective?
 
What do you think about this? Do you agree with my analysis? If you do agree, doesn't that amount to partially conceding some of the claims of the Hardal camp and the like? And how, in your opinion, should we interpret his statements in the column quoted above?
(As an aside, I would also be glad to hear the Rabbi's opinion of the quality of the analysis itself, since I am trying to sharpen my skills in this, much of it inspired by your columns.)
 
Thank you very much