The Language of the Jewish Future: Israelish, Americanish, Yeshivish

Rabbi Mishael Zion | Text and the City | Shavuot 2014

What is the language of the Jewish Future? The world is increasingly speaking one thin language. Jews are increasingly speaking three distinct depth languages. What is the role of Judaism in a thin, flat world, and what kind of leadership will bring it to fruition?

When the people of Israel arrived at Mount Sinai, they arrived “as one person, with one heart,” says the midrash. It was the quintessential moment of Jewish unity. And perhaps the only one. Since Sinai Jews have been in search of a unifying language, mostly in vain. In the modern world this has become even more challenging. Two hundred years ago one could still claim that the joint Jewish language was the language of Halakha, a supposedly unified Jewish practice and authority. One hundred years ago Modern Hebrew was revived in order to serve as a secular language for all Jews, replacing common practice with vocabulary. But today neither of those cast a wide enough net over the diversity of the Jewish people. As we prepare to stand again at Sinai this Shavuot, it is time to ask: What is the language of the Jewish future?

Well, first - what is the language of the global future? Futurists talk about a world where local depth languages are being forsaken in favor of a single language. Globish, a watered down, internetized and simplified version of English, is fast becoming the language of our flat world. Containing only 1,000 words, it is just enough to be able to say anything in the most basic vocabulary. Which explains its other name: Simplish. For every one person who speaks English – there are four who speak Simplish. Websites such as Simplish.com allow one to translate any text into this international language.

Some might see this as the perfect opportunity to define the Simplish of Judaism. Seeking a single and accessible Jewish language they would work to define the 1,000 words which allow fluency in “Jewish”.

Yet joining the trend of accessibility and thinness would be a grave mistake. Simplish was created for financial transactions, a world of consumers. It might be good enough to buy stuff with – but Simplish remains mute and insufficient when faced with the emotional and ethical complexities of life.

In a thin world restricted to 1,000 words, people seeking to live with depth – emotional and ethical – will seek a rich language that helps them make meaning of their lives and communities. This is where the future of Judaism – and other depth traditions – lies.

The need to find the depth languages of Judaism forces us to face the fact that the Jewish people are increasingly split between three distinct depth languages: Hebrew, English and Yiddish – or rather - Israelish, Americanish and Yeshivish. Each of these language presents a very different Jewish response to the modern world. At their best, they each present a rich challenge to the Jewish people: Yeshivish challenges us to be fluent in our tradition, in its wisdom and in its rituals. Americanish challenges us to translate Jewish concepts into the wider world. Israelish challenges us to take political responsibility for ourselves in our own ancestral land.

A Jewish people that speaks three distinct languages might sound terrible to some. But I’d argue that our different and diverse languages are the key to our success – as long as each one of them is spoken ethically, vibrantly and deeply. Independently and in tension with the other, these Jewish languages present a foundation to stand on, in a world of Globish.

The crisis occurs when these three languages stop being in tension with eachother, stop being challenged by the other. As we seek to stand at Sinai again, the question becomes: How do we keep the conversation going between these three distinct languages?

The Talmud offers us a useful leadership model. Split between Bavel and the land of Israel, the two Talmudic Jewish communities were rife with rivalry and alienation. Yet they kept the conversation between them going thanks to the leadership of intellectual connectors. Known as the “Nehotei”, those who “went down”, these cultural agents would bring ideas back and forth between the two centers. Open any page of Talmud and you’ll find that whenever Ulla, Rav Dimi or Rabin – or any of the other nehotei - show up, they always revolutionize the conversation.

A vibrant Jewish future that speaks three different languages requires such connectors, people fluent not only in their own language – but skilled at travelling back and forth between the other Jewish languages.

Such modern day “nehotei” require three characteristics: They must be travel ready, committed to going beyond themselves and engage Jewish othernesses. They must be idea driven, both recognizing a good idea for its value, without bias or prejudice, and using those new ideas as fermenting agents of change. And they must be translators, skilled at taking an idea from one context and make it meaningful in another context; transferring knowledge and practice across cultures and languages.

A vibrant Jewish future that speaks three different languages requires not superficial unity, but rather vibrant connectors, people fluent not only in their own language – but travelling back and forth between the various Jewish languages. As we stand at Sinai in the 21^st century, these three depth languages and the connectors between them offer an increasingly thin world a deep alternative for modern life.

This talk was delivered as part of the Jewish Education Project’s Jewish Futures Conference 2014. Speakers were asked to respond to the question: What is your vision for the Jewish Future in 2040? 

Doubt, Pray, Love: If Only You'd Walk in My Paths

Rabbi Mishael Zion | Text and the City | BeHukotai 2014

Camp Schneller, originally an Ottoman Orphanage

During my last year of military service in the IDF, I was posted to “Camp Shneller”, a base conveniently Shabbes, Shabbes, Goyim!” in protest. I couldn’t resist the temptation and would often prop out my window and respond with a hearty “Shabbat shalom gam lachem, to you too!”.

located in my home town of Jerusalem (after serving in the Gaza Strip as the second Intifada broke out, it was time for a break). “Shneller” towered over Me’a Shearim, the heart of Ultra Orthodox Jerusalem, a dot of army green in a sea of pious black. On Shabbat, wayward Haredi teenagers would come to the gate and yell “

One of the best parts of serving at Shneller was that I was allowed to pop out for prayer services, 3 times a day. Never since have I been as devout a “minyan”-goer as that year… Shabbat had me away from my post for hours on end, as prayer services often turned into a meal hosted by a Haredi family (unbeknownst to my officers…). Continuing a long tradition of Jewish beggars, I quickly learned which families served the best food and developed a strong preference to their synagogue. I’m forever indebted to the gracious hospitality of the families of Me’a Shearim…

Surat al-Fatiha

It was at one such meal that my host informed me: “Someone who follows Halakha is not afraid of anything!” I perked up, as I had always thought Haredim – which literally means “those who fear” – are defined by their fear. Whether they fear for God’s word, or fear Modernity and his henchmen - secular Jewish sovereignty and smartphones. He surprised me by reaching to a shelf and pulling out a Quran. He read the Surat Al-Fatiha, the opening chapter of the Quran and the centerpieces of Muslim Prayer:

Praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds!

Merciful to all, Compassionate to each!

Lord of the Day of Judgment –

It is You we worship, and upon You we call for help.

Guide us to the straight path,

The path of those upon whom your grace abounds.

Not those upon whom anger falls,

Nor those who are lost.

(Quran, Opening / Fatiha)

He continued to tell me his life  story – a classic Israeli tale of becoming religious: growing up in a secular home, travelling to India after the army, encountering spirituality. Something drew him to Islam – and there this Sura found him. The metaphor of the paths stuck with him. Living a fully modern life, all paths are open to me, he felt. But they are not equal. Some paths might incur divine wrath. Most will simply get me lost. How to find the STRAIGHT path, and what guides will help stick to it. This question eventually led him to a life where there is not only a straight path, but a narrow one. All the better to stay on it…

To him Halakha – literally walking the path – means one never has to fear losing one’s way, for there are clear signposts along the path. There is never any doubt – Halakha defines the boundaries of the path, and thus provides certainty to those who walk on it. This week’s Torah portion, Behukotai, opens with a similar metaphor:

If  you walk in My laws, and keep My commandments, and do them; Then I will give your rains in their season, and the land shall yield her produce, and the trees of the field shall yield their fruit… (Leviticus 26:3-4)

אִם-בְּחֻקֹּתַי, תֵּלֵכוּ; וְאֶת-מִצְו‍ֹתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם. וְנָתַתִּי גִשְׁמֵיכֶם, בְּעִתָּם; וְנָתְנָה הָאָרֶץ יְבוּלָהּ, וְעֵץ הַשָּׂדֶה יִתֵּן פִּרְיוֹ.

At first glance this a simple conditional proposition. If we walk along the straight path – we will receive blessing. If we do not, we will find ourselves among “those upon whom anger falls” (read the rest of chapter 26 to see what happens to those unfortunate souls…).

Rabbi Mordechai Lainer of Izbica, in his radical Hassidic Mei haShiloach, flips the certainty of “walking the path of Halakha” on its head.

“If you follow in My laws” – “if” is a language of doubt. For who can know whether they are fulfilling the Torah to the depth of God’s intent…

And for this reason the verse here uses a language of doubt, “If you follow in my laws”. For even if a person fulfills all of the Shulkhan Aruch [the classic treatise of Jewish law]– he is still in doubt whether he arrived at the depth of Divine intent. For God’s intent is deep, too deep to find.

In addition, “if” is a language of prayer. For God – as it were – is praying: “If only you would walk in my laws and reach the depth of my intent…”

(Mei HaShiloach, II Behukotai)

Yes, there is Halakha. But there is also Divine will. And those two are not always aligned. Admitting the gap between the two is a radical move for Jewish tradition. If there is a hope for a liberal, progressive Halakha, it lives in the crevices between the two.

And amid those crevices, God prays. The Mei haSiloach touches here upon another deep anxiety: that people will understand not only what I said, but what I mean; what my intent is. Whether God or Human, there is a huge gap between what we say and what we mean. Between the initial instruction and actually walking the “straight and narrow”. Recognizing this doubt, whether in regard to Divine intent or human intent, is hard. But navigating the gap is the task of those who seek to truly walk the path, straightening the crookedness of the path with their heels. In the face of doubt, the honest response is not a façade of certainty, but a quiet prayer. I hope you understand what I mean.

Shabbat Shalom,

Mishael

Prophets and Priests: On Aspirations and their Demise

Rabbi Mishael Zion | Text and the City |Behar 2014 

In the center of Jerusalem hangs a bell which has never tolled. It is a replica of Philadelphia’s Liberty Bell, crack and all. Both are inscribed with a verse from this week’s Torah portion:

“Proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof” (Leviticus 25:10)

וּקְרָאתֶם דְּרוֹר בָּאָרֶץ לְכָל יֹשְׁבֶיהָ (ויקרא כה:י)

The inscription exposes the prophetic calling which lies at the center of both nations. Anything but normal, it prescribes the nation a redemptive role. Some consider the inscription the source of a dangerous and blinding national ego-trip, others as a wellspring of an exceptional and inspiring ethical vision. The crack is symbolic: Both countries struggle over the gap between their highest aspirations for themselves and the reality outside.  This tension between aspirational and possible, between de jure and de facto, is a drama which unfolds in our weekly portion.

Biblical Context is helpful here. Our verse appears in the most aspirational of commandments: the mitzvot of Sabbatical year (Shmitta) and Jubilee (Yovel). The darling commandments of financial interventionists the world over, this Biblical duo command that

 “Six years you shall sow your field, and six years prune your vineyard, and gather in the produce thereof. But on the seventh year shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath unto God; you shall neither sow your field, nor prune your vineyard.”

After seven cycles of such Sabbaticals, seven times seven:

“you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof; it shall be a jubilee unto you; and you shall return every man unto his possession, and return every man unto his family.” (Leviticus 25: 1-10)

A quick refresher:  Every seven years Shmitta calls for a cessation of all agricultural work and a remittance of all slave ownership (and of all debts, throws in the book of Deuteronomy. This coming year will be a Shmitta, so you might want to think twice before acquiring a slave). Every fifty years a remittance of any real estate transactions ensues, alongside a second year of agricultural remittance. The Torah commands a “reset” of the economy requiring each person to “return to Go and collect $200”. If you are unfortunate enough to have acquired more than the amount of money given you at the beginning of the game – you must return all properties, houses and hotels to the bank (Monopoly, the Shmitta version, is bound to be a hit). Shmitta and Yovel are the touchstone of the Torah’s strategy to fight poverty in an “For the land shall not be sold in perpetuity for the land is Mine; for you are strangers and settlers with Me” (ibid 25:23-24).

agrarian society – as much as it is about creating a theological awareness that human ownership is counter-redemptive.

Did we mention it’s an aspirational commandment?

So aspirational in fact, that later generations had to work overtime to tame it. Rabbinic legislators, concerned that Shmitta would undermine the healthy functioning of the economy – loans would be withheld, neighbors would refrain from business - pillaged the Sabbatical year of most of its content. To this day a community’s response to the sabbatical year is a litmus test of its Jewish engagement: in Israel it creates political uproar. In America it generates a swarm of new-age initiatives. Most people shrug their shoulders and move on with their lives… (Snarkiness aside, I’m an admirer and aspiring practitioner of modern re-interpretations of Shmitta, like this one from Hazon).

The Jubilee did not fair as well. Jews essentially lost count of when the Jubilee year is somewhere between the first and second temple. No one seemed to shed a tear.

The fate of Shmitta and Yovel, like the aspirations of Israel, America and many other well meaning  projects, fell prey to the social dynamic which one Jewish essayist labeled “Priest vs. Prophet”.

Ahad haAm (1856-1927, aka Asher Ginsberg, literally “One of the guys”…), Russian auto-didact, serial newspaper editor and founder of Cultural Zionism, dedicated his life to translating the concepts of Jewish religion to a secular age. In his essay, “Priest and Prophet”, Ahad haAm turns these two obsolete servants of the Lord into timeless leadership types:

In the early history of any epoch-making idea there have always been people who have devoted to that idea, and to it alone, all their powers, physical and spiritual. They make the new idea a primal force; and the social equilibrium, being a product of the struggle between all such social forces, is, therefore, bound to be affected by this new force. But just as no one force ever obtains a complete and absolute victory, so there is no original idea that can hold its own unless it is carefully guarded by its adherents.

There are thus two ways of doing service in the cause of an idea ; and the difference between them is that which in ancient days distinguished the Priest from the Prophet.

The Prophet is essentially a one-sided man. A certain moral idea fills his whole being, masters his every feeling and sensation, engrosses his whole attention. He can only see the world through the mirror of his idea… His whole life is spent in fighting for this ideal with all his strength ; for its sake he lays waste his powers, unsparing of himself, regardless of the conditions of life and the demands of the general harmony. He remains always a man apart, a narrow-minded extremist, zealous for his own ideal, and intolerant of every other…

It is otherwise with the Priest. He appears on the scene at a time when Prophecy has already succeeded in hewing out a path for its Idea. But the Priest has not the strength to fight continually against necessity and actuality; his tendency is rather to bow to the one and come to terms with the other. Instead of clinging to the narrowness of the Prophet, and demanding of reality what it cannot give, he broadens his outlook, and takes a wider view of the relation between his Idea and the facts of life. Not what ought to be, but what can be, is what he seeks. (Ahad haAm, Priest and Prophet, 1893)

It seems that Shmitta and Yovel, those grand ideas set into motion by the Prophets, was handed off to the Priests, who promptly forgot one and gutted the other… We could play out Ahad haAm’s analysis on a wide variety of social change movements today. Indeed the Priest is easily identifiable as our neighborhood politician, earnestly serving a grand idea, but constantly sacrificing the idea on the altar of reality. The Priest is a master of “the art of the possible”.

But who is the prophet in today’s terms? Where does tenacious inspiration, battle for a core idea, unflinching zealotry appear today? “Said Rabbi Yohanan: Since the destruction of the Temple, Prophecy has been taken away from prophets and given to babies and fools” (Talmud Bavli, Bava Batra 12b). Babies and fools? Perhaps religious extremists and a handful of vegans. Does Western society still have a shot at finding prophets?

Greil Marcus, cultural critic best known as the biographer of Dylan, Van Morrison and Elvis, points out that the American prophetic voice was always a key of American leadership. He highlights the self-critical assumption guiding such canonized notables as John Winthrop, Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. They all believed that “the nation was made to judge itself in a court the country would have to convene over and over again” (Marcus, “The Shape of Things to Come:Prophecy and the American Voice”, pg. 14). But since then the prophetic voice has disappeared from the political and civic discourse. It re-appears today only in the works of artists, novelists and filmmakers (Marcus finds it in Phillip Roth, Allen Ginsburg, David Lynch and a handful of pop-culture icons I hadn’t encountered before…).

What such prophets have is the ability to judge the nation based on its aspirations for itself in a way that resonates and moves the people. They rang the bell of liberty, letting the inscription on the shell reverberate throughout the nation – and then challenged that nation to stand up to its promise. “We have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check” as King put it (pg. 30. In Israel, Meir Ariel rang that bell best of all, see last year's post).

At the end of the day, stuck between de facto and de jure, de facto will probably win. We need our priests – God knows I am more of priest than a prophet myself… And yet, as Shmitta rolls around next year, perhaps we can let it push us in the direction of de jure once again. As Ahad haAm puts it in his essay – the prophet knows he will not win, but he pulls nonetheless:

The fundamental idea of the Hebrew Prophets was the universal dominion of absolute justice. …Justice for them is beauty, it is goodness, wisdom, truth: without it all these are naught… The ideal of the Prophets is to pull practical life in the direction of absolute Justice — an ideal for which there can never be a complete victory. (Ahad haAm, ibid)

A Letter from Jerusalem, November 1947

Rabbi Mishael Zion | Text and the City |Yom haAtzmaut 2014 

On Israel Independence Day – are we celebrating the past, the present, or the future?

This year, somewhat depressed about the present, and deeply concerned about the future (but fighting – in my own way – to improve both), I’ll be turning to the past to re-contextualize the celebration. This year I spent a lot of time reading the letters my grandparents wrote from Jerusalem between 1947 and 1949, as I prepared for an ELI Talk which I gave last month - "A Tale of Two Zions". I've attached below the letter which they – Frances and Moshe Sachs (or Bud and Fran to family…) wrote to their parents in Baltimore right after the UN approved the Partition Plan on November 29, 1947.

Hag Atzmaut Sameach,

Mishael

NOVEMBER 29TH, 1947 – THE GENEREAL ASSEMBLY OF THE UNITED
NATIONS APPROVES PARTITION OF PALESTINE BY A VOTE OF 33-13,WITH TEN ABSTENTIONS, AND ONE ABSENCE.

Nov. 28, 1947, Friday Afternoon:

Fran and Moshe Sachs
outside their home in Jerusalem, 1947

Six of us piled into the Egged Bus to Kfar Etzion, an Orthodox Kibbutz 45 minutes ride south of Jerusalem. We were guests of the only American couple. This Kibbutz is proof of the 

amazing possibilities of the barren and rocky hills of Judea…

Shabbat at Kfar Etzion. Cholent for dinner. Exploration of the Kfar. Hike to kibbutz Ein Tzurim about a mile away. Ein Tzurim, only year old. All Palestinian, also Orthodox, all about 18-21 years old, and unmarried! Hopeful of successfully growing feed for cattle, then can have a dairy farm close to the profitable Jerusalem market. Spirit of enthusiasm far more evident than at older Kfar Etzion. Past ruins of old Roman home, over battle grounds of Maccabees back to Kfar Etzion.

Thrilling singing at "Shalosh Sheudos" (סעודה שלישית). Bridge after havdalah with our hosts. Early to bed.

Then suddenly, at 1:00 AM, [a knock on our door] "Americans - get up. We have a Jewish state" - in Hebrew! אמריקאים קומו, יש לנו מדינה!

Such excitement. The dining hall was cleared of tables. Barrels of wine in the center of a tremendous, wild Hora. Except for VJ [=Victory over Japan, my grandfather served as a chaplain in the Japanese Front during WWII] day never have I known such thrill. My feet trembled as I stumbled in breath-taking dances. Such an Hatikvah! Somebody shouted "Judgment for Bevin" ( משפט לבווין ) - a huge bonfire was casting its light for miles around. It was said that a hastily made effigy of Bevin was burned. The rest of the case of oil was cast on the fire.

One group leaped on a truck - and took off to Masuot Yitzchak - the colony in the neighborhood. One haver rode horse back to Ein Tzurim to awaken our neighboring kibbutz.The huge spotlight on the watch tower waved warning over the mountains and greetings to all the Yishuv.

With unrestrained joy the four isolated kibbutzim, in what was scheduled to be the heart of the Arab State area, greeted the pronouncement of the U.N.!

[Note: I remember vividly my observation of soldiers training in the fields outside the kibbutz on the Shabbat morning before the decision of the United Nations. At that time I had wondered why the members of an Orthodox Kibbutz would want totrain on Shabbat. How simple minded I was. MBS]

JERUSALEM, Sunday Nov. 30

Tel Aviv, November 30, 1947

Sunday morning we squeezed into early bus to Jerusalem. Streets were crowded with merrymakers, who had been up all night. Everyone in town who had strength to come downtown was there, milling about, extending mazal tov and חג שמח to friend and stranger alike. The night before the populace had decorated the British tanks with blue & white flags – British "Tommies" and police still friendly in morning. Trucks pushed thru the crowded streets - loaded with the children of the city - every stop more and more kids piled on to the overcrowded vehicles. Flags, songs just plain excitement poured from the happy kids. The railroad - style chant  "Medinah Ivrit - Aliyah Hofshit!" Hebrew State / Free Immigration!

was the refrain of the day. The national song was – “David Melekh Yisrael Hai v’Kayam…”

A Yemenite on his donkey was decorated as the messiah. Dances in the streets! We paraded to the Jewish Agency building and back - meeting everyone we knew & marveling at the number of our friendships for such a short period. JNF boxes were manned in all the streets.

Blue & white from houses, buildings, stores [and] trucks. Even a cake in the bakery window with the legend: In Honor of the Hebrew State.

Thus Jerusalem, [scheduled to be] in the International Zone, celebrated the great news.

TEL AVIV

Can you imagine not being in Tel Aviv with such excitement afoot? We took the Egged bus to Tel Aviv at about 1: 15 in the afternoon. Tel Aviv was relatively quiet when we arrived. The exhausted crowds were resting up for the second night of reveling. But the evening was different. Allenby St. was as crowded as Times Square on New Year's Eve. Flares were being tossed by the celebrating throngs. The same crowded trucks! The public "horas". The full cafes. But the spirit of intense overpowering enthusiasm had begun to wane. People in the Jewish State were beginning to accommodate to the news that all their struggle had not been in vain.

The "war" of posters on all the store windows and walls had begun. The Stern group proclaimed joyously their part in the success, pledged support to a Jewish state in all Palestine, but what that means only time would tell. Haganah called for discipline and willingness to sacrifice. Hashomer Hatzair... Hapoel Hamizrahi... all the organizations but the Irgun had posters everywhere. It is rumored that the Irgun will disband - but no one knows...

We can't help but think in our joy, of the happiness of Dov [Miller/Mills] and his chaverim in Germany, of Shim Kaufman & the refugees on Cyprus... [from the Exdous boat].

Love, Bud & Fran

Date: December 1, 1947

Re: Parents, in Baltimore, Getting a Bit Nervous

Dear Bud,

I can imagine your thrill on hearing the news of the UN passing on Partition.

We here are thrilled with the news, - and  hope and pray, there will not be any serious violence. This in today's news, seven have already perished and a number of innocent people injured. Bud and Frances, I hope you will both stay off the streets as much as possible and be as careful as is physically possible. May God be with you and [all] the innocent people. No! We are not alarmed because life wherever one is, has its dangerous moments. – But during these trying days we want you to be especially cautious.

Love, Mother and Dad [Sachs]

**The full letters were compiled and edited by my grandfather, Rabbi Moshe Sachs, in 2006, with the assistance of Elisha Mallard. If you’d like a copy of the full PDF, send me an email…

Criticize Me! Creating a Healthy Culture of Rebuke

Rabbi Mishael Zion | Text and the City | Kedoshim 2014

"If you treat a man as he ought to be and could be,

he will become what he ought to be and could be"

Goethe

A parlor game for the Biblically inclined: Of all the verses in the Torah, which is the commandment people fulfill most often? I’d put my money on this one:

הוֹכֵחַ תּוֹכִיחַ אֶת עֲמִיתֶךָ, וְלֹא תִשָּׂא עָלָיו חֵטְא.

Criticize, yes, criticize your fellow, And you shall not bear sin because of him! (Leviticus 19)

The action has many names: admonishment or feedback, advice or chastisement. Each verb reflects a different style and approach in the conveying of the same basic information (“you did X and that was a mistake”). What word would you use to describe the last time you criticized someone? Rebuke seems to be a favorite of Bible translators, although the more neutral “reproof” comes the closest to the Hebrew original – tochecha תוכחה, from the Hebrew word להוכיח – to prove; to make manifest.

What is clearly manifest is that criticism is too often a self-detonating mechanism. It is experienced as an attack – thus inviting a defensive response, or a counter attack… There is no speech act more quotidian and yet more treacherous then the conveying of criticism.

And yet there is nothing more crucial to a healthy society - or relationship - then a healthy culture of criticism. Getting this commandment right is crucial at home as in the workplace, in the trenches of social action as between friends. To use the language of our weekly portion, Kedoshim - which begins with the call to “Be Holy!” and continues to command us to “Rebuke, yes Rebuke!” – the path to a Holy Society passes through the Temple of Rebuke. But our text seeks to create a society which aspires not only to Holiness but also to Love. Our chapter, Leviticus 19, includes not only “Be Holy” but also “Love your Neighbor as yourself” among its top-ten. Indeed, for the Rabbis, rebuke is the very cornerstone of a loving relationship:

אמר ר' יוסי בר' חנינה: התוכחת מביאה לידי אהבה, "הוכח לחכם ויאהבך" (משלי ט ח), היא דעתיה דר' יוסי בר' חנינה דאמר: כל אהבה שאין עמה תוכחת אינה אהבה.

Rabbi Yose son of Rabbi Hanina said: Rebuke leads to love, as it says, “Rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee” (Proverbs 9:8). In addition he said: Love unaccompanied by rebuke is not love. (Beresihit Rabbah 54; 21:25)

So how is criticism done right? I’m still working on that one. In the meantime, I’ve found some good practical advice in the following sources:

Speak Sheep to Power

Nathan is faced with the challenge of a lifetime when he is commanded to make manifest to his King that he is not only an adulterer, but a murderer to boot. Facing King David, Nathan’s dilemma captures how painful the process of rebuke is. For at its core, rebuke is the tearing off of a mask of lies and deception which a person has told not only others, but himself.

Nathan’s solution is brilliant: I can’t rip this mask off his face, but he can…

¹The Lord was displeased with what David had done, and the Lord sent Nathan to David. Nathan came to David and said, “There were two men in the same city, one rich and one poor. ²The rich man had very large flocks and herds, ³but the poor man had only one little ewe lamb that he had bought. He tended it and it grew up together with him and his children: it used to share his morsel of bread, drink from his cup, and nestle in his bosom; it was like a daughter to him. ⁴One day, a traveler came to the rich man, but he was loath to take anything from his own flocks or herds to prepare a meal for the guest who had come to him; so he took the poor man’s lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.”

⁵David flew into a rage against the man, and said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who did this deserves to die! ⁶He shall pay for the lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and showed no pity.” ⁷And Nathan said to David, “That man is you! […] ¹³David said to Nathan, “I stand guilty before God!” (Samuel II 12)

Nathan does not rebuke David, he sets up the situation so that David rebukes himself. He invites David to view himself from an external viewpoint, allowing him to recognize and admit his own guilt. Successful rebuke is the act of causing self-incrimination.

Speak of the Future, not the Past

Maimonides in his Code gives some practical advice on the setting in which successful criticism can be given:

He who rebukes another, whether for offenses against the rebuker himself or for sins against God, should administer the rebuke –

in private;

speak to the offender gently and tenderly;

and point out that he is only speaking for the wrongdoer's own good, to secure for him life in the world to come. (Maimonides’ Code, LAWS OF CHARACTER TRAITS 6:7)

Maimonides points out a few concerns: social setting (privacy, intimacy – avoiding public shaming); tone and timing (not to criticize as an immediate response or an emotional outburst, but in a methodical and opportune moment); and finally –creating an atmosphere of trust and genuine investment in the other’s wellbeing. Rebuke cannot be experienced as a gratuitous revisiting of yesterday’s actions (or the making of a theological stance about the afterlife). The motivation for criticism must be the desire to see the best possible future for the other.

Don’t Speak

There is a commandment to rebuke, but sometimes – if there is cause to believe that the rebuke will not achieve the desired effect – the correct fulfilling of the mitzvah of rebuke is to be silent.

אמר רבי אילעא משום ר' אלעזר בר' שמעון: כשם שמצוה על אדם לומר דבר הנשמע, כך מצוה על אדם שלא לומר דבר שאינו נשמע. רבי אבא אומר: חובה, שנאמר: "אל תוכח לץ פן ישנאך הוכח לחכם ויאהבך" (משלי ט:ח).

R. Ela’a in the name of R. Elazar son of R. Simeon said:  Just as one is commanded to say that which will be heard, so is one commanded not to say that which will not be heard. R. Abba stated: It is a duty, for it is said in Scripture: "Rebuke not a scorner, lest he hate thee; Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8). Talmud Bavli  Yevamot 65b

Figuring out when to rebuke and when to stay silent is perhaps the most challenging of all. For me this week’s portion invites a moment of introspection: those times in which it would be wise to be more sparing in fulfilling this commandment, and the time when my opting for peace and passivity turned into passive aggressiveness…  But perhaps the biggest piece of advice is not about giving rebuke, but about being a person who willingly accepts, even seeks, advice. As Sefer Haredim, a 16^th century self-help guide for “Holier living” puts it:

"Remove the barriers from your heart" (Deut. 10:16) A person's heart must be soft and receptive, receiving the words of a reprover and not hating him, rather loving him more,  as the verse says: “Rebuke the wise one and he will love you” (Proverbs 9:8).

Finally, after teaching about rebuke a few years ago, someone gave me a wonderful gift. This poem by William Blake:

A Poison Tree

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

I was angry with my friend; 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe: 

I told it not, my wrath did grow. 

And I waterd it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears: 

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles. 

And it grew both day and night. 

Till it bore an apple bright. 

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine. 

And into my garden stole, 

When the night had veild the pole; 

In the morning glad I see; 

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Shabbat Shalom,

Mishael