Oh, the joy
of Hanukkah. Such a popular holiday, yet with no clear message or meaning. There
seem to be more interpretations to the holiday of lights and Maccabees than
the calorie count of a latke. Indeed, every few years a media fistfight
breaks out about the meaning of the holiday. In 2009 David Brooks wrote an op-ed in
the NYTimes about Hanukkah, pointing out the zealous actions of
the Maccabees. Many liberal dreidel-spinners were horrified to be reminded
that their beloved holiday of religious freedom was based on the acts of
violent religious zealots.
I found Brooks’
piece disheartening not because of the questionable actions of the Maccabees,
but rather because he ended up denying the right to creatively interpret the
holiday. Brooks’ expectation that holidays must be confined by a historicist
representation of their original context revealed a deep misunderstanding of
how Judaism works. Judaism is a
“community of interpretation,” and it is those interpretations that make
Judaism an interesting, vibrant and moral tradition, that walks the line
between adhering to its authentic calling and being continually relevant.
No Jewish
ritual exemplifies this “community of interpretation” more than the way
Hanukkah was interpreted by Jews in the modern era. Travel among Jewish homes
as they light their menorahs, asking what the meaning of Hanukkah is, and you’ll
discover extremely divergent stories:
In many an
American home, Hanukkah is a battle of a minority against those who deny it religious
freedom. In Orthodox homes Hanukkah is about a civil war against hyper-free
assimilated Jews who gave in to their neighbors’ Hellenized ways.
In secular Israeli
Zionist homes God and the oil lamp were summarily evicted and the battle of
the Maccabees was re-christened a battle for national political freedom. In
the home of a Habad family near you the Maccabees wear black hats and battle
to ignite a Jewish spark within their fellow Jews. (If you’ll excuse the product placement - you can read more about these
interpretations in my father, Noam Zion’s Hannukah
anthology).
Each
community uses the rituals and metaphors of Hanukkah in order to shape and celebrate
their ideological world view – and this is exactly as it should be!
In 1907 a
wild Hanukkah party rocked the world of the early Zionist settlement in
Jerusalem. Betzalel, the heady Zionist art school of Jerusalem had just
opened its doors, and its founder, Boris Shatz, had place his baroque-like
sculpture of Matthias, the first Maccabean zealot, at the center. The polemic
that followed on the OpEd pages of the Israeli Zionist newspapers of the time
rivals was immortalized in Israeli Nobel laureate S.Y. Agnon’s novel “Tmol
Shilshom”:
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When Professor Boris Shatz founded his Betzalel, he was struck
by Hanukkah, the holy day that people started calling the Holiday of the
Maccabees. They went and turned it into a lusty party.
They placed a large statue of Matityahu the High Priest, with a sword
in hand ready to stab the villain who dared sacrifice a pig on the altar
placed in honor of evil Antiochus. They danced the night away in revelry and excess.
The next day [Eliezer] Ben Yehuda wrote in his newspaper good words
about the party, but he was disturbed on account of that statue that they had
placed in the ballroom: For Matityahu was a zealous for his religion – his religion and not his country. As long as
the Greeks controlled our country, and stole, robbed, murdered, killed and
destroyed cities and villages, Matityahu and his sons stayed in their city
Modi'in and didn't do a thing, but the second the Greeks began harming the
religion… he jumped up like a lion, he and his heroic sons…
And now, says Ben Yehuda in his essay, now I have no doubt that when
we gathered yesterday in his honor, if the statue would have come to life, or
if Matityahu was alive today - that he would have stabbed us all in one go
with the sword in his hand! Wouldn't he have sacrificed us on top of that
altar?!
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כשעשה הפרופסור
בוריס שץ את הבצלאל שלו, פגע בו חנוכה, חג קדוש זה שהתחילו קוראים לו חג המכבים.
הלכו ועשאוהו נשף חשק.
העמידו פסל של
מתתיהו כהן גדול, כשהוא אוחז חרב בידו לדקור את הפריץ שהקריב חזיר על גבי המזבח
שעשו לשם אנטיוכוס הרשע. עשו כל הלילה בהוללות ובזוללות.
למחר כתב בן
יהודה בעיתונו דברים של חיבה על הנשף, אלא שדעתו לא היתה נוחה בשל אותו פסל
שהעמידו באולם, שהרי מתתיהו זה קנאי לדתו היה, לדתו ולא לארצו, שהרי כל הזמן
שפשטו היוונים על ארצנו וגזלו וחמסו ורצחו והרגו והחריבו ערים וכפרים ישבו לו
מתתיהו ובניו במודיעין עירם ולא נקפו אצבע, אלא משהתחילו היוונים לפגוע בדת...
קפץ כארי הוא ובניו הגיבורים... ועתה, אומר בן יהודה במאמרו, ועתה אין אני מסופק
שבשעה שנתאספנו אמש לכבודו, אילו היו נופחים רוח חיים בפסל, או אילו היה הוא
עצמו חי, כלום לא היה דוקר אותנו כולנו כאחד בחרב שבידו?! כלום לא היה מעלה
אותנו על גבי המזבח?!
ש"י
עגנון, "תמול שלשום", עמ' 386
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I love how
the polemics of a century ago continue to be relevant today.
The irony of
inviting Matityahu to a secular artists rave, surrounded by idols and
sculptures, is awesome, and it reminds us to always be a little tongue in
cheek about our reinterpretations. I hear Ben Yehuda’s criticism, but I would
side with Boris Shatz here. We have the right, in fact, we have the need, to
be reinterpreting our holidays for ourselves and our communities in ways that
are relevant, that charge our lives and our Judaism with a content that is
fresh and motivating. When we weave Jewish narratives back into our lives, we
galvanize our focus towards greater meaning and action. These
reinterpretations need to resonate within Jewish values and narratives
authentically, but they must also be renegotiated so as to be a response to
the needs and vision of our communities.
What is the
meaning of Hanukkah in 2011? What do the Maccabees tell us this year? Is it the
continuous call to let the affluence of the American Jewish community spill
into the public realm, as symbolized by Jewish lights in the window lighting
the public streets, or is it about our need to light candles inwardly,
reminding ourselves of the light of our heritage in a time of existential darkness?
Are today’s Hellenists those who are mimicking European neo-fascist sentiments
in the land of Israel, and it is time for Maccabean democracy fighters to “banish
the darkness,” or are the Hellenists those who blindly accept a post-ethnic
mentality and are ashamed to call the Jewish people their family? I hope
you’ll see that I am not claiming that Hannukah is any one of these stories,
rather that within the spectrum of stories that can be told within Jewish
narratives and values, we must take ownership of this story, redeem it from
its “original historical” significance (a Greek idea if ever there was one!)
and reinterpret the holiday, placing a big Matityahu in the center of our Hanukkah
parties and actively choosing how we are telling the story of his battle. This
is what the Zionists and American Jews of previous generations did so effectively.
We must not feel alienated from these rituals because of their historical underpinnings,
but rather retell them creatively, turning them into tools as we encounter the
greater challenges of our own existence.
Perhaps that
is the ironic fate of Matityahu the Zealot: to hear widely divergent
explanations of his heroism and have people wolf down fatty foods espousing narratives
he would scarcely recognize. That too must be symbolized somehow through the
narrative of Hanukkah.
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“When the Holy Blessed One gave the Torah to Israel, He gave it to them like grain from which to make finely sifted flour; and as flax from which to make fine linen” (Seder Eliyahu Zuta, p171). Blogging one grain of Torah and unraveling the many garments made of it, "in those days and in our times". With a cultural eye and the assumption that "The Torah is a commentary on our lives, and our lives are a commentary on the Torah."
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Hanukkah and the Battle for Re-Interpretation
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Joseph in Egypt, Israelis in New York: Christmas and “Book-bag Judaism”
This week and next, our Israeli
Bronfman Fellows (or Amitim,
as we call them) are visiting New York and Boston. This “reverse-Birthright” is
a powerful experience for the seventeen year old Israelis as they explore what
it means to be Jewish in America, and what that inspires in them regarding
Israeli Judaism.
In this week’s parasha,
VaYeshev, another seventeen year old, Joseph, is sent down to Egypt as a prisoner.
He will quickly turn into a prince and beckon his family to leave the land of
Israel and join him in the goldene-medine of Egypt.
With all the hullabaloo around the
Israeli Government’s advertisement campaign guilting Israelis who left for “Egypt”
to come home, I was especially curious to see how the Israelis would respond to
visiting America around Christmas-time. Today, as they visited Rockefeller
Center (to discuss New York City as a “modernist project” through Jose
Maria Sert murals and the Atlas statue),
they were totally taken in by the charm of Salvation Army bell-ringing and
mid-town Christmas Markets. Standing by the Christmas tree, a religious amit
began arguing with his secular counterpart who was jumping up and down to the
music: “You see, this is why secular identity doesn’t stand a chance outside
Israel: One Christmas song and you’re a goy.”
The secular amit stopped dancing, looked his religious friend in the face and
said: “I speak Hebrew, so I’m safe. It’s the Americans who should worry.”
Their
argument reminded me of a passage in a book by Fania Oz-Salzberger, Israeli
author Amos Oz’s daughter and a scholar in her own right. She wrote a
fascinating book about the experience of
Israelis in Berlin, and writes insightfully about the Israeli yearning for
Europe (or “hutz la-aretz” – anywhere outside Israel) and the charm of
Christmas. Like the secular Amit, her reflections bring her to suggest that
Hebrew is enough to sustain a Jewish identity:
There is something misleading about our [=secular
Israelis'] Mediterranean yearnings to the north-European winter. Europe was
always described to us in a foresty-green color, wet with rain, with all kinds
of red and purple berries and spotted mushrooms. Or dressed in soft snow and
stillness under a distant blue sky.
But no: It's grey here, and wet. No colors either…
And maybe because of that their Christmas is so
assertive, so colorful and protestful. In the market along Berlin’s
Unter-Den-Linden, one of the many markets that is filled with holiday
decorations, sweets and tiny Christmas trees, over a cup of mulled wine, I
suddenly find myself thinking about my fathers-fathers and my mothers-mothers -
stiff necked and stubborn in the European winter. How did those generations and
generations of Jews survive these sad northern winters, passing by the holiday
markets on a daily basis, with their finely decorated evergreen trees; passing by
those candies and sweets; walking, with their children holding their hands,
past the Goyim's holidays and banquets… and not be tempted?
Only at the very end of that long road, the Berlin
Jews gave in. Gershom Scholem's family already celebrated Christmas, with a
nice "roast duck or a rabbit", and a decorated tree taken from the
market by the Church. A German folk holiday, which you celebrate not as Jews
but as Germans.
But that wasn't
the end of it, because Scholem spoke clearly on a different matter. Maybe he
didn't mean to, but he and Bialik and Agnon made sure that lost Jews like
myself can never just get swallowed and disappear, never to return again.
Because Scholem and Bialik and Agnon cast this wicked spell on us heretics, so
that even after our mistaken ways have led us back to this European world, and
we were tempted towards those Christmas markets and ski trails and beaches, and
after we became pagans and "Canaanites" and "stam Hilonim"
– simply secularist – we still will never be able to get rid of the book-bag
on our backs. For even after we cast out the Yiddish, we are still
prisoners of the Hebrew language, and through our Hebrew we will forever be the
prisoners of memory. And through memory we will be prisoners of the
duality, of multiple worlds…
Because we'll
always be carrying those books on our backs.
Fania
Oz-Salzberger, "Israelis in Berlin" | Keter 2001 (Hebrew), pg. 74-77
What is that wicked spell of Hebrew? Does it really need to be Hebrew literacy, or is being literate in Jewish texts enough to become a “prisoner of the duality” that Oz-Salzberger claims to be the essence of a Jewish identity. Couldn't this “book bag” vision of Jewish identity work be being an English speaking Jew who is equally connected to Jewish texts and learning, or is the language necessary for the spell to work? What building blocks are required to create a robust Jewish identity when “Jingle Bells” and “Noel” are playing in my ears? (yes, I’m writing this sitting in a Starbucks café…)
I have no answers, only questions. Yet as much as I happen to love prayer, a synagogue community and talk of God, my hunch is that it is a rich cultural Judaism, a "book bag" Judaism, which secular and religious alike can enjoy, that holds the key to the spell binding nature of Jewish identity. But it'll take a whole lot more work...
With Joseph in the parsha and Christmas cheer all around me there is no better time to ponder the secret to creating a spell-binding Jewish existence in Israel and in America. At least this is an advantage to being a Diaspora Jew – as one of the Amitim put it today: In Israel I never have to actively give meaning to my Judaism – here I do.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Shimon and Levi: Navigating the Dark Side of Biblical (and Modern) Justice
I love sweet inspirational texts, but I find my imagination is always
more engaged by the darker, complex stories of the Torah. The stories that my
elementary school Torah teacher tried to act as if they didn’t exist (“we won’t
be studying chapter 34 because we don’t have time”),which of course made us
students actually want to read them… This week’s parsha includes one of the
darkest:
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A family of newcomers to the land of Canaan, Dina, the daughter of
Yaakov, is raped by Shekhem, the entitled son of local nobility. When he
offers his hand in marriage to Dina’s family, the brothers trick Shekehm’s townspeople
into circumcising themselves as part of a covenant. And then:
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But on the third day it was, when the
[townpeople] were still hurting, that two of Yaakov’s sons, Shimon and Levi,
Dina’s brothers, took each man his sword, they came upon the city secure, and
killed all the males… they took Dina from Shekhem’s house and went off… for
they had defiled their sister.
Yaakov said to Simon and Levi: You have
stirred-up-trouble for me, making me reek among the settled-folk of the land!
They will band together against me… and I will be destroyed!
But they said: Should our sister then be
treated like a whore!?
(Genesis
34:25-26, 30-31)
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וַיְהִי בַיּוֹם הַשְּׁלִישִׁי בִּהְיוֹתָם כֹּאֲבִים, וַיִּקְחוּ שְׁנֵי-בְנֵי-יַעֲקֹב שִׁמְעוֹן וְלֵוִי אֲחֵי דִינָה אִישׁ חַרְבּוֹ, וַיָּבֹאוּ עַל-הָעִיר, בֶּטַח; וַיַּהַרְגוּ, כָּל-זָכָר... וַיִּקְחוּ אֶת-דִּינָה מִבֵּית שְׁכֶם, וַיֹּאמֶר יַעֲקֹב אֶל-שִׁמְעוֹן וְאֶל-לֵוִי: עֲכַרְתֶּם אֹתִי, לְהַבְאִישֵׁנִי בְּיֹשֵׁב הָאָרֶץ, בַּכְּנַעֲנִי וּבַפְּרִזִּי; וַאֲנִי, מְתֵי מִסְפָּר, וְנֶאֶסְפוּ עָלַי
וְהִכּוּנִי, וְנִשְׁמַדְתִּי אֲנִי וּבֵיתִי. וַיֹּאמְרוּ: הַכְזוֹנָה, יַעֲשֶׂה אֶת-אֲחוֹתֵנוּ?!
בראשית לד:כה-לא)
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It is a
story of vengeance and retribution, of hot headedness and betrayal. By the
end of the story you too might want to bury yourself with shame, as Yaakov
did.
But I am a
Levite, and I can’t help but also sensing a moment of pride in all
this. Shimon and Levi’s cry for simple retributive justice, unanswered by
Yaakov, rings true: “Should our sister then be treated like a whore?” Simultaneously
repulsed and drawn to the power of vengeance, I seek to navigate these dark
waters.
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Some might be so repulsed they want
to erase the story from the canon. Any other year, we could get away with taking
the moral high ground on our tribal ancestors. But this year we can’t just
shove this story back into the recesses of Mesopotamian life.
In a year when crowds cheered outside
the White House, excitedly waving American flags, upon Osama bin Laden
assassination, and extrajudicial executions, even against American citizens (like cobelligernt Al Awlaki) , are a prize
presidential war-time tactic, we must ask when are we happy for justice to be
meted out without due process, and when do we require a higher standard, even
at the price of endangering our nation.
To take a much more extreme example: When
the body of Libya’s horrific dictator is mutilated and dragged across our TV
screens, it might be simple to dismiss this as a barbaric act, but it awakens
us to ask where is the line drawn between just retribution and unethical vengeance.
I am not trying
to make an analogy between the story of Dina and modern occurrences which
themselves are complex and distinct. Rather, I am demarcating a dark territory
- call it “Shimon and Levi Land,” and it demands of us to define a limiting factor for retribution that
would help us make the distinction between retribution and vengeance. As I
was asking myself this question, I returned to the late philosopher Jean
Hampton’s “A New Theory of Retribution”, quoted here as presented in Martha Minow’s “Between Vengeance and
Forgiveness”:
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Retribution at
its core expresses an ideal that can afford proper limitation, and thereby
differ in theory from vengeance. This ideal is equal dignity of all persons. Through
retribution, the community corrects the wrongdoer’s false message that the
victim was less worthy or valuable than the wrongdoer; through retribution,
the community reasserts the truth of the victim’s value by inflicting a
publicly visible defeat on the wrongdoer. The very reason for engaging in
retributive punishment constrains the punishment from degrading or denying
the dignity even of the defeated wrongdoer. Thus, “it is no more right when
the victim tries to degrade or falsely diminish the wrongdoer than when the
wrongdoer originally degraded or falsely diminished the victim.”
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According to this definition,
Shimon and Levi were acting out unjust vengeance, for their desire was to
degrade and diminish the rapist (and his entire town!) just as the rapist had
done to their sister. Qaddafi’s mutilation is another example of acting out
of the (human) desire to shame and degrade a person that had shamed and
degraded so many others. Not showing the body of Bin Laden might have been an
attempt to maintain the sense of dignity of even our arch nemesis, inflicting
a publicly visible defeat without unnecessary degradation (Israel made a
similar choice when executing Adolf Eichman, never releasing pictures of the
act – counter to popular demand – and appointing wardens and executioners
only from countries where the Holocaust did not occur, to avoid the semblance
of direct revenge).
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At the end
of the day, my own momentary pride in Shimon and Levi standing up for their
sister is surpassed by the deep injustice of their actions. No one sees this
more clearly than their father, Yaakov. True, in this week’s parasha he falls
short: at first he is silent about the rape, then about the deceit, finally he
rebukes them for the murders but on a political pragmatic level, not a moral
one.
Only at the end of his days, while giving out
blessings to his sons, Levi and Shimon are bludgeoned by him, in one of the
most scathing poems I’ve ever read:
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Shimon and Levi
Such brothers,
Wronging weapons are
their ties-of-kinship!
To their council may
my being never come,
In their assembly may
my person never unite!
For in their anger
they kill men,
In their self-will
they maim bulls.
Damned be their anger,
that it is so fierce!
Their fury, that it is
so harsh!
I will split them up
in Yaakov,
I will scatter them in
Yisrael.
Genesis 49:5-7
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שִׁמְעוֹן
וְלֵוִי, אַחִים—
בְּסֹדָם
אַל-תָּבֹא נַפְשִׁי,
בִּקְהָלָם
אַל-תֵּחַד כְּבֹדִי:
כִּי
בְאַפָּם הָרְגוּ אִישׁ,
אָרוּר
אַפָּם כִּי עָז,
וְעֶבְרָתָם
כִּי קָשָׁתָה;
אֲחַלְּקֵם
בְּיַעֲקֹב,
וַאֲפִיצֵם
בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל.
(בראשית מט:ה-ז)
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Shimon and Levi are punished for
their acts by becoming wanderers, never receiving a proper portion of the
land. May we merit a better fate as we navigate these tough decisions in our
countries and in our personal actions.
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Wednesday, November 30, 2011
No Easy Answers: Seeking a Path of
Integrity
In 19th century Baghdad, a group of
students turned to their teacher with a question, seeking guidance on one of
the most elusive human dilemmas: when is it justified to lie?
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Question: We know that deceiving is a grievous act,
so much so that deceivers are said to “not see the face of the shekhina”
(divine presence).
Yet we also know that at times it is justified to
deceive, as the Rabbis taught that “it is permissible to fib in the interest
of peace”…
Now there are many occasions when a person could
find justification to lie and to justify it as being in the interest of
peace… Therefore we ask our teacher to instruct us in other situations in
which it is justified to lie, so that we shall recognize the right path to
take, and may your reward be multiplied by the heavens.
Responsa Torah
Lishma #364, Iraq 19th Century.
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מצינו בענין
השקר
שהוא
חמור
מאוד
והוא
מארבע
כיתות
וכו'
ומצינו
שנעשה
בו
היתר
לפעמים
שאמרו
רז"ל
מותר
לשנות
מפני
דרכי
השלום... והנה יזדמן
כמה
עניינים
שהאדם
יוכל
לעשות
להם
היתר
לשנות
בהם
ולתלות
ההיתר
משום
דרכי
השלום
... על
כן
יגיד
לנו
מורנו
אופנים
אחרים
שיש
בהם
היתר
לשנות
כדי
שנדע
את
הדרך
אשר
נלך
בו
ושכמ"ה.
(שו"ת תורה
לשמה סימן שסד)
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Striving to lead a life of truth, one confronts this question
constantly, in various iterations: Should I tell this “white lie” in the
interest of peace? Was it right to avoid the truth that time? Do I forsake
peace and order for the sake of speaking truth to power? Should I stick by
the rules or can I play dirty for the sake of a greater cause?
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Writ large, this dilemma touches upon
the question of civil disobedience (Occupy anywhere), of how much governments
should tell their people (Wikileaks), of legal deals settled in back rooms in
the interest of “moving forward” (Judge Rakoff vs. the SEC-Citibank
settlement), or nations preventing full
democratic rights from the people in the interest of peace (hello, Egypt).
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Yaakov and Lavan, the heroes of this
week’s parsha, VaYetze, are the paradigms of this dilemma. Lavan goes down in
Jewish memory as the paradigm of the deceitful, untrustworthy “other.” He
tricks Yaakov by giving him Leah and swindles him from the profits of
shepherding.
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But our Yaakov himself is the
paradigm of uncomfortable Jewish stereotypes: the
runaway-victim-cum-sneaky-businessman, the master of deceit whose tricks get
played right back at him. Yaakov literally means “Heel/Sneak,” and the end of
this week’s parsha sees him sneaking off with Lavan’s daughters and flocks
back to Canaan.
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Back to our Iraqi students and their dilemma: They are
hoping for clear guidelines: when is it justified to lie, and when is it not.
In between the lines
of their question, you can hear that more than a fear of the consequences of
lying, they are afraid of themselves, of the power of their sharp minds to
justify any situation under the rubric of: “it is OK to fib in the interest
of peace”.
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The teacher on the other side of the
question was the leader of the Iraqi Jewish community, and perhaps the
greatest sage of Arabian Jewry in the 19th century, Rabbi Yosef Chayim,
aka the “Ben Ish Chai”(son of a living man). Unfortunately, he offers no easy
solutions:
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Answer: To produce before you my own understanding
of the exact iterations where it is justified to lie – that I will not do!
Rather I will
quote the stories where this dilemma is brought up in the Talmud, and you
will learn directly from them.
And so I shall begin:
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המצאות של אופנים
שיש בהם היתר לא אעשה לכם מדעתי בדבר זה ורק אביא לכם אופנים הנזכרים בתלמוד ואתם
תלמדו מהם וזה החלי בעזר האל צורי וגואלי.
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The Ben Ish Chai then quotes 45 (!)
scenarios of lying and deceit from Rabbinic texts (read them all – in Aramaic
- here).
He concludes by saying:
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I have now set before you a table full
of the various iterations about lying and deceit mentioned in Rabbinical
texts that are justified. And you must be punctilious
in learning these scenarios yourself, and logically deduce one thing from
another. Only keep the fear of God on your
face: do not create leniencies for yourself beyond the bounds through remote
analogies. And this is sufficient guidance – may it bring peace.
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הרי סדרתי לכם שלחן מלא כמה אופנים בענין השקר וגניבת
דעת הנזכרים בדברי רז"ל להיתרא ואתם תדקדקו בכל דבר ודבר ותלמדו דבר מתוך
דבר אך תשימו יראת ה' על פניכם לבלתי תעשו קולות חוץ מן השורה בדמיון דחוק... ודי בזה, והיה זה שלום. ואל שדי ה' צבאות יעזור לי. כ"ד הקטן יחזקאל כחלי נר"ו.
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What I find fascinating about this
obscure responsa is the way the Ben Ish Chai refuses to delineate exact guidelines
for navigating this dilemma. The Ben Ish Chai is “setting the table” for his
students, not spoon feeding them. In a Halakhic tradition that is often quick
to seek higher authorities to tell people exactly how to behave, the Ben Ish
Chai offers an empowering cry for autonomy: study the stories yourself, and
reach your own conclusion (it is fascinating that this is a choice Jewish law
makes often in the realm of the ethical, and rarely in the realm of ritual…).
He avoids giving strict moral guidance, and instead offers a moral education,
hinting that each person must go through their own journey of studying and
encountering the detailed dilemmas of differentiating right and wrong, truth
and lie, for themselves.
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Next week, Yaakov will turn into
Yisrael. The conniving anklegrabber will find the courage to become a
face-to-face confronter, as he struggles with an angel and is granted a new
name:
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“Not as
Yaakov/Heel-Sneak shall your name be henceforth uttered, but rather
Yisrael/God-Fighter, for you have fought with God and men and have
prevailed.” (Genesis 32:29)
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וַיֹּאמֶר: לֹא יַעֲקֹב
יֵאָמֵר עוֹד שִׁמְךָ, כִּי אִם-יִשְׂרָאֵל: כִּי-שָׂרִיתָ עִם-אֱלֹהִים
וְעִם-אֲנָשִׁים, וַתּוּכָל.בראשית לב:כט
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Perhaps Yaakov needed to go through
his own biographical education into the depths of deceit in order to
establish his own commitment to truth. For the Ben Ish Chai it is the stories
of the Talmud that help him design a life of truth amid the occasional need
to deceive. As we try and walk the “straight and narrow” ourselves, we must
make use of the resources that our biographies and cultures give us, being “punctilious
in learning these scenarios ourselves” as well as sharing the stories that
were helpful to us, with those who walk alongside us. There will be moments
when we might find ourselves still being Yaakov’s, let’s hope
it will only be a step on the way to being Yisrael.
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Shabbat
Shalom,
Mishael
Read this, past and future BYFI Divrei
Torah on our Blog: Text and the
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