Bona tarda amigos – Erev tov – Shalom chaveirim v’chaveirot!
Trouble-Making Judaism
This evening I’m going to talk to you about Trouble-Making Judaism. So, what is ‘Trouble-Making Judaism’?[i] A narrative related in the First Book of Kings chapters 16 to 22, provides an answer, which reminds us that, actually, at its heart, Judaism is about – is supposed to be about – trouble-making. At chapter 16, verse 29, we learn that ‘Ahab, the son of Omri, became king of Israel in the thirty-eighth year of Asa, King of Judah’ – that is, in the middle of the ninth century BCE. Ahab married Jezebel, the daughter of the King of Tyre, an idol worshipper, and while the two of them consorted to worship Baal,[ii] Jezebel went about killing off the prophets of the Eternal One.[iii] But when ‘the word of the Eternal’ comes to Elijah, the Tishbite, an inhabitant of Gilead,[iv] Ahab soon finds that he has met his match – and when Ahab confronts Elijah, he tells him what he thinks of him (I K 18:17-19):
When Ahab caught sight of Elijah, Ahab said to him, ‘Is that you, you troubler of Israel?’
Yes, Elijah certainly was ‘a troubler of Israel’ – ocheir Yisrael – the noun/verb ‘troubler’, ocheir, based on the root, Ayin Kaf Reish meaning to ‘trouble’, as in, ‘stir up’, or ‘disturb’. That was the role of the prophets in their societies. The prophets were the hecklers; the sacred wordsmiths who barraged the kings and the priests, with criticism, tormenting them with threats of punishment for their sins and misdeeds. Their only responsibility was to speak out. As Brian Klug, puts it: ‘As a breed, the Hebrew prophets were intent on making trouble; trouble was their trade. They gave offence to ruler and to people alike, discomforting them to the core,”[v] And that is what the prophetic message is always meant to do: trouble, disturb, stir up the status quo.
In the Jewish liturgical practice established by the rabbis almost 2000 years ago, on Shabbat (the Sabbath) and festivals, congregations throughout the Jewish world, read, both, a portion from the Sefer Torah, the scroll which contains the ‘Five books of Moses’, and a section from the second part of the TaNaKh,[vi] the Hebrew Bible, known as N’v’im, meaning, ‘Prophets’, which begins with the book of Joshua, and includes all the prophetic books. This second reading is called the haftarah, which means, ‘conclusion’.[vii] So, week in and week out, and as the cycle of the year turns, congregants are made familiar, not only with the books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, but also, with important passages from the second part of the Bible – not least, the rousing words of the prophets.
The prophets – chief among them, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, and Micah – spent a good deal of their time, berating, both, the secular rulers of their day and the people; admonishing them for their failure to keep the commandments of the Eternal One, most particularly, the ethical injunctions. The rabbis, engaged with the task of reconstructing Jewish life after the destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70 CE, declared that the age of prophecy was dead.[viii] Nevertheless, by developing the practice of reading sections from the prophetic books each Shabbat and Festival, they ensured that those who participated in worship services, were made directly aware of key prophetic messages. As it happens, the origin of the inclusion of passages from the prophetic books in Shabbat and Festival services is shrouded in mystery. The prevailing theory is that the practice was introduced during the period of the persecutions instigated by the Selucid Emperor, Antiochus IV Epiphanes in 167 BCE, when the Temple altar was desecrated and the Jewish people were prohibited from reading the Torah, observing Shabbat (the Sabbath), and other key practices, like, circumcision.[ix] Irrespective of the precise reasons and context in which the haftarah was introduced, the impact remains: without taking the trouble to read the Bible for her/himself, the ordinary ‘Jew in the pew’ gets to hear the words of the prophets.
The significance of this experience is nowhere more evident than on Yom Kippur. Even as a rabbi, who is more than a little familiar, with the liturgical structure of Jewish worship, I always experience a jolt when I read the prophetic passage that is set aside for the morning of Yom Kippur, from Isaiah chapter 57 to 58[x].
Just imagine it: congregations of Jews the world over, are gathered in their synagogues on Shabbat Shabbaton, the ‘Sabbath of Sabbaths’, the most sacred day of the Jewish calendar, the day set aside for the confession of our transgressions and misdeeds, and a gruelling journey towards atonement. By the time we get to the haftarah in the morning service, we have probably already fasted for at least 16 hours. Our stomachs are rumbling. However, that’s not really a problem, because we feel we are engaged in something really important, and it is satisfying to know that we are observing all the important rites, established by our ancestors. But then, as if the prophet is present among us, and knows exactly how we are feeling at this point, he takes the opportunity to taunt us:
Is this the fast I have chosen, a day for humanity’s self-denial? To bow one’s head like a bulrush, to grovel in sackcloth and ashes? Is this what you call a fast, the day the Eternal One would accept?’
The prophet is not saying that we should stop fasting; he is simply intent on reminding us why we are fasting:
Is not this the fast I have chosen; to loosen the fetters of evil, to untie the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and whatever the yoke, to break it? / Is it not sharing your food with the hungry and bringing the homeless into your home; when you see the naked, to clothe them, never hiding from your own flesh and blood?’
The words of the unknown prophet are startling in themselves, a powerful message for all those who are inclined to forget that, as Brian Klug puts it, ‘being Jewish’ is about ‘doing justice’.[xi] The rabbis chose to highlight this message on the most sacred day of the Jewish year, a unique day marked by special rites – so unique, that the rabbis called it, in the Talmud tractate dedicated to the laws of Yom Kippur, simply, Yoma – which is Aramaic for ‘The Day’. A day set apart from all the other days of the Jewish year, when the observant Jew relinquishes every aspect of ordinary life and the daily routine: eating, washing, anointing, sex. So: a day devoid of any connection with any other day. And yet, the rabbis took this totally exceptional day, and taught us, through the words of the unknown prophet, that this day is, in fact, inextricably linked with all our days. That the whole point of observing Yom Kippur is for us to acknowledge our misdeeds, and resolve to go out into the world and put things right.
If it were not for the rabbis, Jewish life would have come to an end when the Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, and with it, the system of sacrificial worship, involving the presentation of offerings, the substance of this agricultural people’s labour on the land. The work of the rabbis in reconstructing Jewish life generated the new era of Rabbinic Judaism. But they did much more than rebuild Jewish life out of the ashes and rubble of the Temple. Keen to establish a seemingly seamless continuity between Temple Judaism and Rabbinic Judaism, the rabbis, nevertheless, transformed Jewish life, creating new rituals and practices, and investing ancient Jewish practices, including the festivals, with new meanings. If the catastrophe they faced was happening now, and a group of scholars came along and completely reinvented Jewish life, we would call them revolutionaries. So, why don’t we regard the first rabbis in this way? Because, actually, their interventions were much more subtle and sophisticated than the kind of actions we associate with disruptors of the social order. Knowing that the future of the Jewish people lay in their hands, they presented their innovations as the ‘oral law’ that was also given to Moses on Sinai, alongside the ‘written law’. In this way, the rabbis established the authority for their reinvention of Jewish life.[xii]
So, while the age of prophecy had ceased, the rabbis ensured that the prophets continued to speak to each succeeding generation of the Jewish people. It is significant to note in this respect, that the first paragraph of Pirkey Avot, the ‘Sayings of the Sages’, which is appended to the first rabbinic code of law, the Mishnah, edited around 200 CE, opens with this concise chronology, creating the link between the heritage that the rabbis were receiving, and their own work (Pirkey Avot, 1:1)[xiii]:
Moses received Torah from Sinai and handed it on to Joshua, Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets. And the prophets handed it on to the members of the Great Assembly. The latter said three things: be deliberate in judgement; raise up many disciples; and make a fence around the Torah.
In view of the fact that a great portion of the Torah is devoted to the rules and regulations governing the priesthood, with Aaron, Moses’ elder brother occupying the position of the first High Priest,[xiv] and given that the rabbis were involved in regenerating Jewish life after the destruction of the Temple, the absence of the priests from this chronology seems incredible. But here it is, as they say, in black-and-white. According to the rabbis, the prophets handed the Torah directly to the members of the Great Assembly, the semi-mythic body that is regarded as the first institutionalised expression of rabbinic leadership.[xv] And so, one might say, that the rabbis were engaged in, both, ensuring the continuation of Jewish worship[xvi] in the context of establishing a new framework for the observance of the commandments, and with ensuring that the legacy of the prophets would be kept alive.
They achieved this, practically speaking, as we have seen, through the practice of the haftarah reading. However, it could be said that, while the rite of the haftarah reading is, indeed, integral to Shabbat and festival observance throughout the Jewish world, it is not evident that the congregations who listen to the haftarah week in week out, actually pay attention to the proclamations of the prophets. There may be quite prosaic reasons for this. In most Orthodox and traditional congregations, the haftarah, like the Torah portion, is read only in Hebrew, which most congregants don’t understand. But it’s not just that most congregants can’t make sense of the language. The very nature of the rite of the Torah and haftarah readings may serve as a bar to people taking notice of what the texts being read with such ceremony, actually say. While every effort is generally made to ensure that all aspects of the ritual associated with the Torah service are performed correctly,[xvii] the content of the readings may be overlooked. It’s a triumph of form over substance – which is, precisely, the theme of the Yom Kippur morning haftarah.
Perhaps another reason why, despite having access to the words the prophets, via the haftarah readings, congregants seem to fail to be troubled or disturbed or stirred up, is to do with the establishment of the liturgical convention of the haftarah. This involved, not only identifying particular passages for reading on Shabbat and the festivals, which, for the most part, bear some relation to a theme in the Torah portion,[xviii] but also, selecting those passages that end on an up-beat note, and, in some cases, manipulating the passage, by appending a few verses from elsewhere at the end, to fulfil this purpose. In this way, however challenging the message, the haftarah invariably concludes with words of comfort and consolation, and so may be seen as a homiletical device. The concluding scriptural passage completing the reading of the sacred Scriptures within the service, by soothing any disturbance they may cause.
So, the troubling messages of the prophets are contained and confined – but why? It is important to remember that when the rabbis were creating a new system of worship for post-Temple Jewish existence, they were rebuilding Jewish life following an enormous catastrophe, characterised by trouble and disturbance. In this context, reassuring the people, and providing an orderly, secure framework for their lives was paramount.
To a significant extent, despite upheavals, persecutions and exiles, the framework for Jewish life created by Rabbinic Judaism held sway throughout the Jewish world, right up until the collapse of the ancien regime ushered in by the French Revolution of 1789. But then that revolution led to another one. With the birth of Liberal Judaism, just over 200 years ago, a positive response to Enlightenment and the emancipation of the Jews of Europe from a segregated ghetto-existence, was combined with a determination to re-emphasise the ethical teachings found in the Torah and expressed by the prophets,[xix] which involved sitting up and taking notice of what the haftarah reading – read now in the vernacular – had to say. It also meant taking the trouble to re-engage with the words of the prophets outside of a liturgical context, to make connections with the issues of the day.
In more recent years, the Jewish world has experienced another cataclysm, which has also generated a massive transformation. However, unlike the liberating explosion of Modernity, which generated new possibilities for Judaism and for Jewish life, like the Jewish community following the destruction of the Temple, Jews today are still living, at least partially, in the shadow of our own catastrophe – the Sho’ah.[xx] Nevertheless, many would argue that the time has come for ‘troublers’, and a disturbance of the collective peace. And indeed, since the 1970s new ‘troublers of Israel’ have been making their presence known: Jewish women challenging a rabbinic tradition that confines them to the domestic arena, marginalises and silences them; lesbian and gay couples and families searching for a home within Jewish life, and the right to participate fully in the synagogue, and celebrate their lives and their relationships on equal terms; Jews of conscience, both in the diaspora and in Israel, like the prophets of old, calling upon the leadership of the Jewish state to put the fine words of the declaration of Independence into practice, by ensuring that all Israeli citizens enjoy equal rights, [xxi] and urging the government to ‘pursue’, as a matter of urgency, the Jewish values of justice and peace in relation to the on-going conflict with the Palestinians.[xxii] In my book, Trouble-Making Judaism, several chapters explore aspects of these issues.[xxiii]
The significance of the individual
So far, I have focused on the ethical domain of Jewish life, and the importance of disturbing the status quo in order to ensure that justice is served. But there is also, another less obvious aspect to being a ‘troubler’.
One of the characteristics of the halachah, the Jewish legal system that regulates Jewish practice, is that it determines and constrains, both, the life of the community and the life of individuals. Progressive Judaism inspired by Enlightenment values, and the empowerment of the individual, as a citizen of her or his country, to make choices and decisions in his or her own right, has, since its inception, enabled individuals to make informed choices concerning how to live their Jewish lives.
Nevertheless, the empowered individual is not, simply, a product of the Enlightenment. While the halachah controls and constrains individual action, aggadah, the narrative tradition, which begins with the stories of the Jewish ancestors related in the Torah – and includes the rabbis’ imaginative interpretations,[xxiv] presents us with individuals, acting on their own volition.[xxv] So, when individuals ask questions, as we explore the texts, when we trouble Jewish teachings and traditions because we are troubled by them, we find powerful role models in the texts themselves. Some examples: the first woman, who questioned the prohibition against eating the fruit of the tree[xxvi]; Abraham, who argued with God concerning the fate of Sodom and Gemorrah[xxvii]; Rebecca, who, troubled by the contest going on within her womb, took the initiative to enquire of God[xxviii]; Jacob, who, on the eve of his reunion with Esau, wrestled with an unknown man or himself, and wrested a blessing and a new name from the encounter[xxix]; Moses, who demanded that the Eternal One demonstrate the Divine presence [xxx]; Miriam, who challenged her younger brother’s special relationship with God.[xxxi]
However, identifying connections between our lives and challenges and those of the characters we discover in the narratives of the Torah, and in the rest of the Hebrew Bible, is only one dimension of the experience of engaging with the source texts of Judaism. Exploring the sources, also involves grappling with passages that we find challenging or difficult or troubling, and insinuating ourselves and our questions into them, refusing to be satisfied with simple readings, and allowing our assumptions concerning what any particular text is teaching, to be disrupted as we engage with it. In my book, you will find some examples of this method: in my approach to Leviticus chapters 18 to 20, which I will return to in a moment;[xxxii] in my imaginative reconfiguration of the narrative following the Revelation at Sinai;[xxxiii] and in my aggadic interpretation of Miriam’s problem with Moses[xxxiv]
And there is something else. Of course, the empowered, choosing, individual Jew may choose to opt out of Jewish life – and, sadly, since the Sho’ah, many have chosen not to identify as Jews.[xxxv] At the same time, as my experience as a congregational rabbi demonstrates, increasing numbers of previously unaffiliated Jews are choosing to engage with Judaism, connect with other Jews, grapple with the Jewish source texts, interrogate what they say, and trouble the texts to discover new meanings that speak to their own individual lives and struggles. The third part of my book, ‘The Struggle with Trouble’, rooted in my congregational experience, explores the nexus between the individual Jew on her or his own journey, the challenge of commitment, and the development of enabling forms of Jewish community that far from constraining individuals, are, increasingly, providing a context for individuals to express their diverse struggles and ways of being Jewish.[xxxvi]
I have given you some idea of what I mean by Trouble-Making Judaism. Now I would like to give you a deeper sense of what it means to trouble with Jewish texts and with our Jewish inheritance by sharing with you my reinterpretation of Leviticus chapters 18 to 20. Straddling two portions of the Torah, Acharey Mot and K’doshim, here we find a chapter of mostly ethical laws sandwiched between two chapters dealing with sexual prohibitions. So what do we do with these texts? Progressive Judaism has tended to focus on the ethical laws contained in Leviticus chapter 19, and ignore the sexual prohibitions of chapters 18 and 20. Significantly, it is Leviticus chapter 19 progressive Jews read on Yom Kippur rather than chapter 18, which is the traditional portion for Yom Kippur afternoon.
Ignoring parts of the Torah which we find unpalatable or troubling is one approach. Another approach is to trouble with these troubling texts to find meaning for our lives today. That is what I like to do.
Sex Lessons in the Torah
So, what are the sex lessons in the Torah, and how can we trouble with the texts to construct an inclusive, egalitarian sexual ethic that is relevant and appropriate in the 21st century? It is significant that little is said directly about sex in the Genesis narratives, concerning the creation of humanity, except for the assumption that it is heterosexual, monogamous and geared to reproduction. Elsewhere in the Torah, however, in both narrative and legal texts, we find a number of teachings about sex which, together with Genesis 1 and 2, have become the basis of Jewish sexual ethics.
The most extended treatment of sex is contained in Leviticus 18 and 20, where the focus is on prohibited sexual acts – those between family members; a man and his neighbour’s wife[xxxvii]; a man and a menstruating woman[xxxviii]. two men; a man or woman and an animal. In all these cases, with the exception of bestiality, where initiation of the act by both sexes is conceived, the individual male is the subject; the individual female is the object. And this perspective is reinforced in all the other references to sex in other legal texts in the Torah: a bride must be a virgin[xxxix]. a father is prohibited from making his daughter a prostitute[xl]; sex out of wedlock is not punished as long as the woman is an un-betrothed virgin and the man who lies with her, marries her[xli].
Interestingly, however, in two key narrative passages dealing with exceptions to the taboo surrounding incest, the active role is taken by women. Following the destructions of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the transformation of Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt[xlii], Lot’s two daughters, left alone with their father, get him drunk on successive nights and lie with him, to ensure they have offspring[xliii]. In another case where the future is at stake, Judah’s daughter-in-law, Tamar, childless because Onan has spilled his seed rather than produced a child in the name of his dead brother, Er (Tamar’s first husband), conceals her true identity with the garments of a prostitute and entices her father-in-law to lie with her so that she may conceive[xliv].
These two exceptions highlight the hierarchy of values implicit in the system of sex laws outlined in the Torah: ultimately, the imperative of reproduction is so important it may even over-rule incest taboos. What is more, ethical conduct as such is a secondary consideration. The primary principle underlying the rules of sexual behaviour is the maintenance of social order and the preservation of the separateness of the people of Israel. The laws regulating sexual acts in Leviticus 18 and 20 are set in the context of the book’s concern with k’dushah – with setting apart: the offerings to be made on the altar from the remainder of property, the priests from the people, the people from the other nations. As the preamble to the sex rules in Leviticus 18 indicates, ethical issues are less relevant to the laws regulating sexual conduct than the need to ensure that the people do not follow the ways of Canaan or Egypt, but rather walk in the way of God[xlv].
But one rule in Leviticus 18, by contrast, does seem to emerge from a predominantly ethical concern. At verse 18 we read:
And you shall not take a woman to her sister, to be a rival to her, to uncover her nakedness, beside the other in her lifetime.
While there are no laws against bigamy in Torah, and indeed bigamy was only out-ruled for Ashkenazi communities in the late tenth century by the ban of Rabbeinu Gershom ben Judah[xlvi], and remains an option (in theory) for Sephardim within the religious Courts of Israel to this day, the rule against marriage between man and his wife’s sister seems motivated by consideration of the wife’s feelings and the need to preserve the integrity of the relationship between two sisters. As such it has much more in keeping with the next chapter, Leviticus 19, where the need for right conduct in social relationships is stressed again and again. Indeed, the link in ethical tone between this rule, and the chapter sandwiched between the two dealing with prohibited sexual acts, makes the apparent contrast between the ethical preoccupations of Leviticus 19 and the separatist agenda of 18 and 20 even more marked.
In my view, the juxtaposition of the chapters is not accidental. Rather, it suggests that just as the sex rules should be understood in the context of the imperative of setting the people Israel apart from the other nations, so they should be understood in the context of the ethical regulation of social relationships. And yet, in fact, to this day, Jewish law has failed to consider the implications of this juxtaposition for sexual ethics.
Sex and Love: a New Combination
At the heart of Leviticus 19, a chapter dealing with correct ritual practice and ethical behaviour towards the poor, the stranger, the disabled, the elderly, one’s neighbour, lies the famous dictum ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself. I am the Eternal’ (19:18). According to Rabbi Akiva, a leading second-century scholar, this commandment was not simply an important rule, it was ‘the great principle of the Torah’[xlvii], What does that mean? The first principle. The underlying principle. You shall love your neighbour. Who is your neighbour? The person who lives next door to you; the person who is like you. You shall love your neighbour as yourself: You shall love yourself – then you will be able to love your neighbour. And what is love? It is not merely an emotion; it is an act, a commitment. The phrase ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ is part of a section of laws dealing with acts of justice, with the myriad material ways in which we must fulfil our responsibilities towards our neighbours and towards God.
None of the various laws relating to sexual behaviour both in Leviticus and elsewhere say anything about love. The word is not even used in connection with the story of the first relationship at the beginning of Genesis. And yet there are many love stories in the Bible: Jacob and Rachel, Samson and Delilah, David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi.
And then there is the great book of love, Shir Ha-shirim, The Songs of Songs, traditionally attributed to King Solomon, the child of David’s union with Bathsheba, another legendary lover. In contrast to the Garden of Eden narrative, Arthur Waskow points out that ‘…the sexual ethic of the Song of Songs focuses not on children, marriage, or commitment, but on sensual pleasure and loving companionship.’[xlviii]
The Song of Songs provides a welcome reminder that sex is not just about who can do what with – or to – whom, it is about love and the joys of physical desire and intimacy. Fortunately, the post-biblical codes, while primarily concerned with the reproductive imperative, generally validate pleasure and so include both the ‘right’ of wives to experience sexual satisfaction[xlix], and the permissibility of a wide range of sexual practices – including both oral and anal sexual activity – if it is desired by the couple concerned [l].
But the implications of love – as understood in the context of Leviticus 19:18, and of loving companionship – as described in The Song of Songs – are not part of the framework of the rules governing sexual conduct. The reasons for this derive from the fact that despite the acknowledgement of women’s capacity for sexual pleasure, the rules of sexual conduct are primarily concerned with what men do.
Significantly, of the various ethical rules delineated in Leviticus 19, only that concerning the command ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ deals with the relationship of peers; of equals; of equal men. All the others involve ensuring right conduct between those whose relationship to one another is asymmetrical the person with property vis a vis the one who is poor, the Israelite vis a vis the stranger, the able-bodied vis a vis the disabled, the young vis a vis the old. Similarly The Song of Songs is unique in its egalitarian treatment of the lovers. In its pastoral paradise, love and desire is expressed equally and actively by both partners. Indeed, it is the passionate female voice present in the poem which has led some scholars to suggest that the text is probably the work of a woman[li].
For the spirit of Leviticus 19:18 and The Song of Songs to infuse the sex laws would require a huge conceptual shift. It would mean treating both women and men as active subjects, peers, equals. It would mean perceiving sex, not as a series of acts perpetrated by one party on the body of another, but as a means of expressing a relationship. It would mean seeing the expression of love and desire as one of the primary purposes of sexual activity. It would mean recognising all relationships, whether heterosexual or homosexual, with or without children, as variations on the theme of human partnership and evaluating them all according to the identical criteria of love, equality and reciprocity.
The commandment to ‘love your neighbour as you love yourself’ provides the ethical framework for a code of sexual behaviour. So what happens when we apply the criteria of love, equality and reciprocity to the sexual prohibitions outlined in Leviticus 18 and 20? Clearly all relationships in which the inequality of the parties is an inherent feature, for example relationships between adults and minors, are unacceptable. As far as other relationships are concerned, a clue to whether or not they fulfil the criteria emerges from the specific sexual terminology employed in the texts. There are a number of linguistic expressions for sex in the Torah, of which the most common are to know – lada’at and to lie down – lishkav. Both of these terms are morally neutral. The words themselves do not convey the nature of the sexual encounter, positive or negative. By contrast the expression gillui ervah, ‘uncovering nakedness’, which is used in the Torah exclusively in cases of incest and in reference to sex with a menstruating woman, suggests not only sexual intimacy, but vulnerability and danger. Within the world-view of Torah, blood is a powerful substance, and contact with it is taboo. From the vantage point of the present day, the danger associated with ‘uncovering nakedness’ has more to do with the potential for exploitation involved in ‘uncovering’ a person’s ‘nakedness’. In the words of a contemporary rabbi quoted anonymously[lii]: ‘Very simply, it means making a person completely vulnerable and then not taking care of them in their nakedness.’
The implications of this interpretation are clear. Whether or not one abstains from sex during menstruation, most Jews today would probably not put sex with a menstruating woman in the same category as sex with a family member, where the issue of exploitation is much more readily apparent. However, there would probably be general agreement that there is a potential for exploitation in any sexual context.
But the perspective of Torah appears to be much narrower. Interestingly, the expression ‘uncovering nakedness’ is not used in Torah in connection with other categories of prohibited sexual behaviour outlined in Leviticus 18 and 20 – adultery, sex between men and bestiality. In these examples, the more neutral term ‘lying down’ is employed[liii]. Clearly none of these cases entails the danger of blood contact or a built-in asymmetrical power dynamic. Indeed, in the case of two men lying down together, perhaps there may be an implicit assumption that the independent male subject is not in a position to exploit his equal – another male. But, at a deeper level, ‘uncovering nakedness’ refers not only to who is involved, but to what is involved. Even if the parties concerned are equals, any sexual encounter which entails exposing and exploiting another person’s vulnerability is ‘uncovering nakedness’.
Towards an inclusive, egalitarian Jewish sexual ethic
In recent years, sexual ethics has once become a topical item on the Jewish agenda – largely in the context of the need to rethink Jewish attitudes towards same-sex relationships[liv]. But other issues have also prompted new debate: sexual activity on the part of teenagers[lv]; sex out of marriage[lvi]; the incidence of extra-marital relationships; the growing phenomenon of ‘serial monogamy’; the general diversification of family patterns[lvii]. The challenge of an inclusive, egalitarian approach rooted in love and reciprocity is that it may be seen to turn heterosexual marriage, monogamy and child-rearing into options among a wide range of other alternatives rather than the essential components of the model Jewish family arrangement[lviii]. On the other hand, the reality of Jewish relationship patterns today is diverse. And indeed, as David Biale has argued, contemporary concerns, like pre-marital sex, are actually not new issues at all and have always been a feature of Jewish life, more or less sanctioned and accepted at different times[lix]. An inclusive, egalitarian approach makes it possible to apply ethical criteria to the broad spectrum of relationships and does not give any individual or group the licence to live outside the law and engage in irresponsible, exploitative or dangerous sexual behaviour.
And so, within the parameters of love and reciprocity, it is possible to specify a range of core ethical values which may be expressed in a variety of different relationships. In his article, ‘Rethinking Jewish Sexual Ethics’[lx], David Teutsch lists twelve ‘values’ which may be seen as ‘central’ to Jewish sexual ethics regardless of whether the relationship is between ‘two women or two men’ or ‘a woman and a man’: 1. Procreation 2. Meaningful relationships 3. Freedom for consenting adults; 4. Strong families 5. Fidelity 6. A stable community 7. Protection from violence and abuse 8. Good health 9. Honesty; 10. Privacy/modesty 11. Physical pleasure 12. Caring.
Ironically, of all these values, procreation alone – the first sexual imperative of the Torah – is clearly not a possible feature of all relationships: there are loving, committed, heterosexual couples who cannot have children and those who choose not to. Equally, within same-sex relationships, some partnerships include children, others do not[lxi]. Just as an inclusive, egalitarian approach should inform our understanding of what constitutes a valid intimate relationship, so our definition of family needs to be expanded to encompass a variety of different ‘familial’ living arrangements, including heterosexual and gay or lesbian partnerships – with or without children; ‘communal’ families encompassing single adults and/or couples – with or without children; and one-parent families[lxii].
The impressive Report of the Reconstructionist Commission on Homo-sexuality, published in 1992[lxiii], includes ‘discussion of values fundamental to Reconstructionism’, which provides a further contribution to the development of a new approach to sexual ethics. Here in a treatment of fifteen different values, we find a number which do not appear in Teutsch’s list: human dignity and integrity; k’dushah/holiness; equality; inclusive community; democracy; learning from contemporary sources of knowledge; ‘You shall surely pursue justice’. Clearly from the teachings of tradition to the insights of modern scholarship, there are a host of resources out of which to construct the specific details of a Jewish sexual ethic based on love and reciprocity. Contrary to the fear that an inclusive, egalitarian approach will prove too permissive, the reality is that it is extremely challenging and demanding for all Jews – heterosexual, lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender alike.
Embracing, diversity: K’dushah today
An inclusive, egalitarian approach may have its roots in ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’ and encompass a wide range of Jewish values, but is it really in harmony with the predominantly separatist spirit of Judaism, as expressed in Leviticus, and developed within rabbinic law? The philosophical framework of Jewish thought is characterised by the making of clear, unequivocal distinctions – that is what k’dushah, ‘holiness’ is all about. At first sight the values of equality and inclusivity seem at complete odds with this dynamic – particularly when it comes to including same-sex relationships and treating them as equal. But, in essence k’dushah, setting apart, is paradoxical. For example, the bride and groom are set apart to be joined with one another.
What is more, not only are separated elements essentially part of one another, but the unity is rooted in diversity. Towards the end of each of the three Jewish daily prayer services, there are two complementary prayers known as the Aleynu. In contrast to the particularistic tone of the first prayer, the second one includes the universalistic ‘hope’ that ‘all the inhabitants of the world’ will recognise the Oneness of the Eternal: ‘On that day the Eternal will be One and known as One’. The vision of universal unity is a coming together of all the different people. It is a union of different parts.
The Jewish concept of holiness sets apart and embraces different elements and remains at the heart of Jewish sexual ethic. ‘Homosexuality’ is different from ‘heterosexuality’. Female sexuality is different from male sexuality. Each individual relationship is different. And sexuality is also a continuum, embracing varying degrees of bisexuality between the two extremes, in which each relationship is also part of the rich texture of possibilities for human love, and as such should be subject to the same ethical rules. Ultimately, that is what an inclusive, egalitarian approach to sexual ethics is all about
The Legacy of the Rabbis
To conclude, a reminder of the first paragraph of Pirkey Avot, 1:1:
Moses received Torah from Sinai and handed on to Joshua, Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets. And the prophets handed it on to the members of the Great Assembly. The latter said three things: be deliberate in judgement; raise up many disciples; and make a fence around the Torah.
If it had not been for the vision of the rabbis and their determination to rebuild Jewish life after the destruction of the Temple, Judaism would have died. Their efforts ensured the continuation of Jewish life, and should also remind us that the future of Judaism cannot be taken for granted. It requires effort to reinvent Jewish life to meet the needs of each new generation – particularly, in the aftermath of catastrophe. And there is more to learn from the example of the rabbinic revolution, which makes the legacy of the rabbis much more complex: Despite their determination to reconstitute Jewish life in such a way that there was a secure ‘fence around the Torah’, engaged with generating aggadah, as well as halachah, they could not resist generating multiple meanings and troubling the Torah to tell many, many tales as they explored every word, investigated the gaps, and prodded the hints.[lxiv] And so, to continue the analogy: while building a fence, they also made of each panel in the fence, a door, which each Jew today may choose to open or to close. What is more, the rabbis saw themselves as the inheritors of the prophetic tradition – and so should we: as the prophets were ‘troublers of Israel’, exhorting the people of their day to examine the distance between the ethical values expressed in the Torah, and the social reality of iniquity and injustice all around them, so, we, too, need to be troublers, as we move between our sacred texts, and the broken world, we are summoned to repair.[lxv]
Moltes gracies
Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah
Congregation Beit Shalom, Barcelona
22nd March 2012 – 29th Adar 5772
[i] This talk is taken from my book, Trouble-Making Judaism (David Paul Books, 2012).
[ii] I Kings 16:31-32.
[iii] Ibid.18:13.
[iv] Ibid. 17:1-2.
[v] See: Brian Klug, ‘Offence: The Jewish Case’, in Being Jewish and Doing Justice: Bringing Argument to Life, p.61 (Vallentine Mitchell, 2010).
[vi] TaNaKh = Torah (‘Teaching’ – the Five Books of Moses’), N’vi’im (Prophets) and K’tuvim (Writings) – the three sections of the Hebrew Bible
[vii] All Hebrew verbs, nouns and adjectives, are based on three letter ‘roots’. The route for haftarah is Pei Teit Reish, meaning, to ‘conclude’. The last three verses of the Torah portion, are known as maftir, from the same root, meaning ‘concluding’ – that is, the concluding verses. In traditional liturgical practice, after the whole portion has been read, the scroll is covered, and a version of the Kaddish is recited – the Chatzi (‘half’) Kaddish – and then the three concluding verses, the maftir, are read again. The person called up to preside over the reading of the maftir, will also recite the haftarah, thus creating a link between the concluding words of Torah and the conclusion of the scriptural reading, taken from the N’vi’im.
[viii] In the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Baba Batra 12A, we read: ’Rabbi Abdimi of Haifa said: Since the day when the Temple was destroyed, the prophetic gift was taken away from the prophets and given to the Sages. Is a Sage not also a prophet? What Rabbi Abdimi meant to say was this: Although prophecy has been taken from the Prophets, prophecy has not been taken from the Sages. Amemar said “A Sage is even superior to a Prophet, as it says “And a Prophet has the heart of Wisdom” (Psalms 90:21). Who is usually compared with whom? Is not the smaller compared with the greater?”’
[ix] Epiphanes, meaning,‘God Manifest’. Antiochus IV ruled the Selucid Empire from 175 to 164 BCE. See: The First Book of the Maccabees, chapter 1, which covers the period of forty years from the accession of Antiochus to the death of Simon the Maccabee, for an account of the onslaught against Jewish life. Ismar Elbogen, in his authoritative work, Jewish Liturgy. A Comprehensive History, first published in English in 1993 by the Jewish Publications Society (Philadelphia – Jerusalem), writes (p.143): ‘In the absence of any information from the ancient period, we must resort to conjectures. The reading from the Prophets is surely later than the reading of the Torah, but it must necessarily be earlier than the closing of the canon of the Prophets. The Prophets are not read in order, as is the Torah, but by freely chosen selections…. The books used for the reading from the Prophets are not subject to the stringent regulations that apply to Torah scrolls. The Torah that is used for reading must be complete and must contain all five books, while for the reading of the Prophets it is enough to have the book that is being read. All this permits the conclusion that when the Haftarah was introduced, the Prophets were not yet considered to be a closed canonical work. In any case, it is certain that the Haftarah was introduced in pre-Christian times, because the earliest Christian sources already know the prophetic reading as an absolutely fixed institution (Luke 4:17; Acts 13:15). Also, the Mishnah, whose contents regarding this a much older than the date of its redaction, speaks about the reading of the Prophets in language that compels the conclusion that the institution had long been in existence.’
[x] This is the unknown prophet referred to as Deutero-Isaiah, the ‘Second Isaiah’, to whom the later chapters of the Book of Isaiah (chapter 40, onwards) are attributed. He lived and prophesied in the sixth century BCE, during the period of the Babylonian exile.
[xi] See Brian Klug’s book, Being Jewish and Doing Justice – Bringing Argument to Life (Vallantine Mitchell, London, 2010)
[xii] Rabbinic Judaism is defined by the belief that when God revealed the Torah to Moses, during the forty days and nights he sojourned on Mount Sinai, Moses received two parts: the ‘written’ Torah, and the ‘oral’ Torah. The oral Torah was later committed to writing: in the Mishnah (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Teaching’ – from the root Shin Nun Hei to ‘repeat’) and the parallel work, the Tosefta (Aramaic, meaning, ‘Additions), both edited around the 2nd century CE; in the G’mara (Aramaic, meaning, ‘Completion’), the commentary on the Mishnah that together with the Mishnah, forms the Talmud (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Learning’) – which is in two versions: the Y’rushalmi, the Jerusalem Talmud, edited in the land of Israel around the 4th century, and the Bavli, the Babylonian Talmud, edited in Babylon, around the 5th century; and also in the various collections of Midrashim (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Interpretations’).
[xiii] The Mishnah consists of six ‘orders’. Pirkey Avot is appended to the fourth order of the Mishnah, N’zikin. See the Judaica Press seven volume edition, edited by Philip Blackman (Gateshead, 1983).
[xiv] See, especially, the Book of Leviticus, which outlines the system of worship during the second Temple period
[xv] The Great Assembly, K’nesset G’dolah, also knownֹ as, Anshey K’nesset Ha-G’dolah,’The Men of the Great Assembly’; according to tradition, an assembly of 120 scribes, sages, and prophets, in the period from the end of the Biblical prophets to the time of the development of Rabbinic Judaism, marking a transition from an era of Prophets to an era of Rabbis. In Avot d’Rabbi Natan, 1:1, the parallel collection to Pirkey Avot, the first paragraph states: ‘Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi received from the Prophets; and the men of the Great Synagogue received from Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi.’ Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi were the last of the prophets, and so understood as involved in directly passing on the tradition to the rabbis. The Great Assembly is mentioned elsewhere as being responsible for specific innovations. For example, the Babylonian Talmud, B’rachot 33a states, in the name of R. Yochanan:’The men of the Great Synagogue instituted for Israel the blessings and the prayers, as well as the blessings for Kiddush and Havdalah’; and in the tractate M’gillah 17b, we find: ‘R. Yochanan said that, according to some, a baraita taught that one hundred and twenty elders, including some prophets, instituted the Sh’moneh ‘Esreh, the ‘Eighteen Blessings.’
[xvi] With the Temple destroyed, and with it Avodah, the ‘service’ of God through sacrifice, the rabbis instituted Avodat ha-lev, ‘service of the heart’. We read in the Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 2a: ‘” … love the eternal your God, and serve him with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deuteronomy 11:13). What is this service of the heart? You must say: it is prayer!’
[xvii] The rite of the Torah reading includes the following practices: Aliyah (Plural: Aliyot), from Hebrew root, Ayin Lamed Hei, to ‘go up’, which means, in the context of the synagogue service, to go up to the bimah – platform, where the Torah scroll is read – and recite the blessings connected with the Torah reading; G’lillah, from the root, Gimmel Lamed Lamed, to ‘roll’, which refers to the undressing and dressing of the Torah scroll; and Hagbba’hah, from the root, Gimmel Beit Hei, to ‘lift’, which refers to the raising of the scroll – before the reading in Sephardi, that is, Spanish/Portuguese tradition, and after the reading, in Ashkenazi, that is, German/Northern & Eastern European tradition.
[xviii] While the majority of the Shabbat haftarot (plural for haftarah), connect with the theme of the weekly Torah reading, in the three weeks leading up to the fast of Tishah B’Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, there are three ‘haftarot of affliction’, followed by seven ‘haftarot of consolation’, during the seven-weeks from Tishah B’Av to Rosh Ha-Shanah, the Jewish New Year.
[xix] See Response to Modernity. A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism by Michael A. Meyer (Oxford University press, 1988), for the most comprehensive account of the development of Progressive Judaism in the 19th century.
[xx] Sho’ah – meaning, ‘devastation’ or ‘catastrophe’ – a noun, with biblical origins, from the root Shin Aleph Hei, to ‘crash into ruins’. Sho’ah is the term preferred by Jews. The word Holocaust, which has much greater currency, is a translation of the biblical Hebrew word, Olah, ‘ burnt offering’. In the Bible, a burnt offering was a form of sacrifice. The notion that the murder of the Jews might be considered a sacrificial offering to God is highly problematic, and does not represent a Jewish understanding.
[xxi] Israel’s Declaration of Independence of May 14th 1948, states in paragraph 13: ‘THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.’
[xxii] Deuteronomy 16:20, states:’ Justice, Justice you shall pursue.’ Psalm 34:15, proclaims: ‘Turn away from evil and do good; and seek peace and pursue it.’
[xxiii] See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapters 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 15, 16 and 17
[xxiv] The main collection of rabbinic aggadah is Midrash Rabbah, which encompasses aggadic commentary on the five books of the Torah – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy – and the five books included in the third part of the Bible/TaNaKh, known as the Chameish M’gillot, the Five Scrolls, which are read in connection with particular commemorative dates in the Jewish year: the Song of Songs at Pesach, Ruth at Shavuot, the Festival of ‘Weeks’, Lamentations at Tishah B’Av, Ecclesiastes at Sukkot, ‘Tabernacles’, and Esther at Purim, the Feast of ‘Lots’. The term Rabbah was first applied to the midrash on Genesis, which dates to 400CE. The Rabbah to Lamentations, Esther and Leviticus, are also dated to the earliest period of 400 to 600 CE, while the Rabbah to Lamentations, the Song of Songs, Deuteronomy and Ruth are dated between 650 and 900 CE. Exodus Rabbah came later, between 900 and 1000 CE, and Numbers Rabbah, later still, during the Middle Ages. The ten volumes of Midrash Rabbah are available from Soncino Press. Louis Ginnberg’s seven volume, The Legends of the Jews (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1909), which has been reprinted many times, is the most accessible and comprehensive collection of aggadah.
[xxv] See Abraham Joshua Heschel, ‘A Time for Renewal’. Address delivered at the 28th World Zionist Congress in Jerusalem on January 19, 1972 and published in Midstream 18/5 (1972), pp. 46–51 for a compelling description of the difference between halachah and aggadah: ‘Halachah teaches us how to perform common acts; aggadah tells us how to participate in the eternal drama. Halachah gives us knowledge; aggadah exaltation. Halachah prescribes, aggadah suggests; halachah decrees, aggadah inspires; halachah is definite, aggadah is elusive… the interrelationship of halachah and aggadah is the very heart of Judaism. Halachah without aggadah is dead, aggadah without halachah is wild.’
[xxvi] Genesis 3:1ff. See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 1
[xxvii] Genesis 18: 23-33
[xxviii] Genesis 25:22
[xxix] Genesis 32:23-33. See the Introduction to Part Three in Trouble-Making Judaism
[xxx] Exodus 33:12-23
[xxxi] Numbers chapter 12. See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 2
[xxxii] See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 9
[xxxiii] ibid. chapter 11
[xxxiv] Ibid chapter 2
[xxxv] The Jewish population in Britain in 1945 was 450,000. Today it stands at c. 265,000
[xxxvi] See, in particular, Trouble-Making Judaism, chapters 10 and 11
[xxxvii] See also Exodus 20:13.
[xxxviii] See also Leviticus15:19ff.
[xxxix] Deuteronomy 22:20.
[xl] Lev. 19:29.
[xli] Ex. 22:15-16; Deut. 22:28-29.
[xlii] Gen. 19:26.
[xliii] ibid. 19:30-39.
[xliv] Gen. 38.
[xlv] Lev.18: 2b-3.
[xlvi] Gershom ben Judah, (c. 960 -1040?), best known as Rabbeinu Gershom, ‘Our teacher Gershom’, was a famous Talmudist and Halachist within the Ashkenazi world. About 1000 ce he called a synod which decided the following particulars: (1) prohibition of polygamy; (2) necessity of obtaining the consent of both parties to a divorce; (3) modification of the rules concerning those who became apostates under compulsion; (4) prohibition against opening correspondence addressed to another.
See: http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/view.jsp?artid=172&letter=G.
[xlvii] Sifra 89b.
[xlviii] Arthur Waskow, ‘Down to Earth Judaism: Sexuality’, in Jonathan Magonet (ed.), Jewish Explorations of Sexuality, Berghahn Books 1995.
[xlix] Talmud K’tubbot 61bff.; 47b-48a.
[l] Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Issurey Bi’ah 21.9.
[li] See Sybil Sheridan, ‘The Song of Soloman’s wife’, in Sybil Sheridan, Ed., Hear Our Voice. Women Rabbis Tell Their Stories, SCM Press 1994, 64-70.
[lii] See Sharon Cohen, ‘Homosexuality and a Jewish Sex Ethic’, The Reconstructionist, July-August 1989, 15f.
[liii] Note that the reference to bestiality in the case of a woman and an animal says ‘You shall not stand before a beast…(lo ta’amod lifnei veheimah)’.
[liv] See Ch. 7, note 28 for the new approaches that emerged in the 1990s. See, also, the pamphlet, Jewish and Homosexual by Dr. Wendy Greengross (Reform Synagogues of Great Britain, London,1982), for an attempt to grapple with the issues, which pre-dated Jewish lesbian and gay in-put.
[lv] See ‘Sex. And What Should I Tell My Teenager?’, MANNA 26, Winter 1990.
[lvi] Hyam Maccoby, The Independent, 12 September 1987, for a discussion of the sources on pre-marital sex. See also Foresight, the journal of Progressive Jewish students, September 1990, special issue on Love and Sex.
[lvii] See The Jewish Family Today and Tomorrow, a pamphlet published by the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain in 1983, for an early attempt to confront ‘Social change, its effects on the family and the implications for Jewish life.’
[lviii] See Waskow, ‘Down to Earth Judaism’ (note 12), and the response to his by Daniel Landes, ‘Judaism and Sexuality’, in the same volume.
[lix] See David Biale, Eros and the Jews, HarperCollins, New York 1992, for a full treatment of Jewish attitudes to sex ‘from Biblical Israel to Contemporary America’.
[lx] In The Reconstructionist (July/August 1989).
[lxi] See Ariel Friedlander, ‘Hundreds of Kids’, MANNA 48, Summer 1995, for a sensitive treatment of Jewish teaching and attitudes on fertility and infertility.
[lxii] See Ch. 12 – and for an early recognition of this phenomenon: The Jewish Family Today and Tomorrow (note21).
[lxiii] See Ch. 7, note 28. See also the study materials for a course designed for synagogue study programmes, Robert Gluck, Ed., Homosexuality and Judaism. A Reconstructionist Workshop Series, (The Reconstructionist Press, 1992).
[lxiv] See Chapter 1 for a brief account of the rabbinic hermeneutical method known as PaRDeS: P’shat – the search for the ‘plain’ meaning; Remez, the exploration of every ‘hint’ in the text; D’rash – the interpretation’ of the of what the text does and does not say; Sod – the mystical meaning of the text.
[lxv] The notion of tikkun olam is first used in the Mishnah in the phrase mip’nei tikkun ha-olam ‘for the sake of tikkun of the world’, where it concerns the need to maintain social order, e.g. in the case of divorce – see Mishnah Gittin 4:2. However, in the Aleynu prayer, which concludes each of the three daily prayer services, and was first composed by the rabbis for use on Rosh Ha-Shanah, the New Year, tikkun olam, takes on the meaning of ‘repair of the world’, as the prayer looks to a future time, when people will abandon false gods, and the world will be repaired under the sovereignty of God: l’takkein olam b’malkhut Shaddai. L’takkein olam, means, literally, ‘to repair the world’. The concept of tikkun olam was later developed by the 16th century kabbalist – mystical thinker/practitioner – Isaac Luria in Safed in Northern Israel. According to Luria, in order to create the world, God contracted into vessels of light. These vessels then shattered into shards of light trapped within the material of creation. Prayer, and, especially, mystical contemplation, releases the sparks, allowing them to reunite with God. (See ‘Tikkun: A Lurianic Motif in Contemporary Jewish Thought,’ by Lawrence Fine in From Ancient Israel to Modern Judaism: Intellect in Quest of Understanding. Essays in Honor of Marvin Fox, Vol. 4, ed. Jacob Neusner et al. (Scholars Press,1989). With the birth of Chassidim in Eastern Europe in the 18th century, the quest for tikkun olam in the mystical sense, became associated with the performance of all the mitzvot, the commandments, and in recent years, Progressive Judaism has stressed the role of ethical action in the pursuit of the more material and practical goal of repairing the world.
[1] This talk is taken from my book, Trouble-Making Judaism (David Paul Books, 2012).
[1] I Kings 16:31-32.
[1] Ibid.18:13.
[1] Ibid. 17:1-2.
[1] See: Brian Klug, ‘Offence: The Jewish Case’, in Being Jewish and Doing Justice: Bringing Argument to Life, p.61 (Vallentine Mitchell, 2010).
[1] TaNaKh = Torah (‘Teaching’ – the Five Books of Moses’), N’vi’im (Prophets) and K’tuvim (Writings) – the three sections of the Hebrew Bible
[1] All Hebrew verbs, nouns and adjectives, are based on three letter ‘roots’. The route for haftarah is Pei Teit Reish, meaning, to ‘conclude’. The last three verses of the Torah portion, are known as maftir, from the same root, meaning ‘concluding’ – that is, the concluding verses. In traditional liturgical practice, after the whole portion has been read, the scroll is covered, and a version of the Kaddish is recited – the Chatzi (‘half’) Kaddish – and then the three concluding verses, the maftir, are read again. The person called up to preside over the reading of the maftir, will also recite the haftarah, thus creating a link between the concluding words of Torah and the conclusion of the scriptural reading, taken from the N’vi’im.
[1] In the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Baba Batra 12A, we read: ’Rabbi Abdimi of Haifa said: Since the day when the Temple was destroyed, the prophetic gift was taken away from the prophets and given to the Sages. Is a Sage not also a prophet? What Rabbi Abdimi meant to say was this: Although prophecy has been taken from the Prophets, prophecy has not been taken from the Sages. Amemar said “A Sage is even superior to a Prophet, as it says “And a Prophet has the heart of Wisdom” (Psalms 90:21). Who is usually compared with whom? Is not the smaller compared with the greater?”’
[1] Epiphanes, meaning,‘God Manifest’. Antiochus IV ruled the Selucid Empire from 175 to 164 BCE. See: The First Book of the Maccabees, chapter 1, which covers the period of forty years from the accession of Antiochus to the death of Simon the Maccabee, for an account of the onslaught against Jewish life. Ismar Elbogen, in his authoritative work, Jewish Liturgy. A Comprehensive History, first published in English in 1993 by the Jewish Publications Society (Philadelphia – Jerusalem), writes (p.143): ‘In the absence of any information from the ancient period, we must resort to conjectures. The reading from the Prophets is surely later than the reading of the Torah, but it must necessarily be earlier than the closing of the canon of the Prophets. The Prophets are not read in order, as is the Torah, but by freely chosen selections…. The books used for the reading from the Prophets are not subject to the stringent regulations that apply to Torah scrolls. The Torah that is used for reading must be complete and must contain all five books, while for the reading of the Prophets it is enough to have the book that is being read. All this permits the conclusion that when the Haftarah was introduced, the Prophets were not yet considered to be a closed canonical work. In any case, it is certain that the Haftarah was introduced in pre-Christian times, because the earliest Christian sources already know the prophetic reading as an absolutely fixed institution (Luke 4:17; Acts 13:15). Also, the Mishnah, whose contents regarding this a much older than the date of its redaction, speaks about the reading of the Prophets in language that compels the conclusion that the institution had long been in existence.’
[1] This is the unknown prophet referred to as Deutero-Isaiah, the ‘Second Isaiah’, to whom the later chapters of the Book of Isaiah (chapter 40, onwards) are attributed. He lived and prophesied in the sixth century BCE, during the period of the Babylonian exile.
[1] See Brian Klug’s book, Being Jewish and Doing Justice – Bringing Argument to Life (Vallantine Mitchell, London, 2010)
[1] Rabbinic Judaism is defined by the belief that when God revealed the Torah to Moses, during the forty days and nights he sojourned on Mount Sinai, Moses received two parts: the ‘written’ Torah, and the ‘oral’ Torah. The oral Torah was later committed to writing: in the Mishnah (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Teaching’ – from the root Shin Nun Hei to ‘repeat’) and the parallel work, the Tosefta (Aramaic, meaning, ‘Additions), both edited around the 2nd century CE; in the G’mara (Aramaic, meaning, ‘Completion’), the commentary on the Mishnah that together with the Mishnah, forms the Talmud (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Learning’) – which is in two versions: the Y’rushalmi, the Jerusalem Talmud, edited in the land of Israel around the 4th century, and the Bavli, the Babylonian Talmud, edited in Babylon, around the 5th century; and also in the various collections of Midrashim (Hebrew, meaning, ‘Interpretations’).
[1] The Mishnah consists of six ‘orders’. Pirkey Avot is appended to the fourth order of the Mishnah, N’zikin. See the Judaica Press seven volume edition, edited by Philip Blackman (Gateshead, 1983).
[1] See, especially, the Book of Leviticus, which outlines the system of worship during the second Temple period
[1] The Great Assembly, K’nesset G’dolah, also knownֹ as, Anshey K’nesset Ha-G’dolah,’The Men of the Great Assembly’; according to tradition, an assembly of 120 scribes, sages, and prophets, in the period from the end of the Biblical prophets to the time of the development of Rabbinic Judaism, marking a transition from an era of Prophets to an era of Rabbis. In Avot d’Rabbi Natan, 1:1, the parallel collection to Pirkey Avot, the first paragraph states: ‘Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi received from the Prophets; and the men of the Great Synagogue received from Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi.’ Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi were the last of the prophets, and so understood as involved in directly passing on the tradition to the rabbis. The Great Assembly is mentioned elsewhere as being responsible for specific innovations. For example, the Babylonian Talmud, B’rachot 33a states, in the name of R. Yochanan:’The men of the Great Synagogue instituted for Israel the blessings and the prayers, as well as the blessings for Kiddush and Havdalah’; and in the tractate M’gillah 17b, we find: ‘R. Yochanan said that, according to some, a baraita taught that one hundred and twenty elders, including some prophets, instituted the Sh’moneh ‘Esreh, the ‘Eighteen Blessings.’
[1] With the Temple destroyed, and with it Avodah, the ‘service’ of God through sacrifice, the rabbis instituted Avodat ha-lev, ‘service of the heart’. We read in the Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 2a: ‘” … love the eternal your God, and serve him with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deuteronomy 11:13). What is this service of the heart? You must say: it is prayer!’
[1] The rite of the Torah reading includes the following practices: Aliyah (Plural: Aliyot), from Hebrew root, Ayin Lamed Hei, to ‘go up’, which means, in the context of the synagogue service, to go up to the bimah – platform, where the Torah scroll is read – and recite the blessings connected with the Torah reading; G’lillah, from the root, Gimmel Lamed Lamed, to ‘roll’, which refers to the undressing and dressing of the Torah scroll; and Hagbba’hah, from the root, Gimmel Beit Hei, to ‘lift’, which refers to the raising of the scroll – before the reading in Sephardi, that is, Spanish/Portuguese tradition, and after the reading, in Ashkenazi, that is, German/Northern & Eastern European tradition.
[1] While the majority of the Shabbat haftarot (plural for haftarah), connect with the theme of the weekly Torah reading, in the three weeks leading up to the fast of Tishah B’Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, there are three ‘haftarot of affliction’, followed by seven ‘haftarot of consolation’, during the seven-weeks from Tishah B’Av to Rosh Ha-Shanah, the Jewish New Year.
[1] See Response to Modernity. A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism by Michael A. Meyer (Oxford University press, 1988), for the most comprehensive account of the development of Progressive Judaism in the 19th century.
[1] Sho’ah – meaning, ‘devastation’ or ‘catastrophe’ – a noun, with biblical origins, from the root Shin Aleph Hei, to ‘crash into ruins’. Sho’ah is the term preferred by Jews. The word Holocaust, which has much greater currency, is a translation of the biblical Hebrew word, Olah, ‘ burnt offering’. In the Bible, a burnt offering was a form of sacrifice. The notion that the murder of the Jews might be considered a sacrificial offering to God is highly problematic, and does not represent a Jewish understanding.
[1] Israel’s Declaration of Independence of May 14th 1948, states in paragraph 13: ‘THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.’
[1] Deuteronomy 16:20, states:’ Justice, Justice you shall pursue.’ Psalm 34:15, proclaims: ‘Turn away from evil and do good; and seek peace and pursue it.’
[1] See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapters 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 15, 16 and 17
[1] The main collection of rabbinic aggadah is Midrash Rabbah, which encompasses aggadic commentary on the five books of the Torah – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy – and the five books included in the third part of the Bible/TaNaKh, known as the Chameish M’gillot, the Five Scrolls, which are read in connection with particular commemorative dates in the Jewish year: the Song of Songs at Pesach, Ruth at Shavuot, the Festival of ‘Weeks’, Lamentations at Tishah B’Av, Ecclesiastes at Sukkot, ‘Tabernacles’, and Esther at Purim, the Feast of ‘Lots’. The term Rabbah was first applied to the midrash on Genesis, which dates to 400CE. The Rabbah to Lamentations, Esther and Leviticus, are also dated to the earliest period of 400 to 600 CE, while the Rabbah to Lamentations, the Song of Songs, Deuteronomy and Ruth are dated between 650 and 900 CE. Exodus Rabbah came later, between 900 and 1000 CE, and Numbers Rabbah, later still, during the Middle Ages. The ten volumes of Midrash Rabbah are available from Soncino Press. Louis Ginnberg’s seven volume, The Legends of the Jews (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1909), which has been reprinted many times, is the most accessible and comprehensive collection of aggadah.
[1] See Abraham Joshua Heschel, ‘A Time for Renewal’. Address delivered at the 28th World Zionist Congress in Jerusalem on January 19, 1972 and published in Midstream 18/5 (1972), pp. 46–51 for a compelling description of the difference between halachah and aggadah: ‘Halachah teaches us how to perform common acts; aggadah tells us how to participate in the eternal drama. Halachah gives us knowledge; aggadah exaltation. Halachah prescribes, aggadah suggests; halachah decrees, aggadah inspires; halachah is definite, aggadah is elusive… the interrelationship of halachah and aggadah is the very heart of Judaism. Halachah without aggadah is dead, aggadah without halachah is wild.’
[1] Genesis 3:1ff. See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 1
[1] Genesis 18: 23-33
[1] Genesis 25:22
[1] Genesis 32:23-33. See the Introduction to Part Three in Trouble-Making Judaism
[1] Exodus 33:12-23
[1] Numbers chapter 12. See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 2
[1] See Trouble-Making Judaism, chapter 9
[1] ibid. chapter 11
[1] Ibid chapter 2
[1] The Jewish population in Britain in 1945 was 450,000. Today it stands at c. 265,000
[1] See, in particular, Trouble-Making Judaism, chapters 10 and 11
[1] See also Exodus 20:13.
[1] See also Leviticus15:19ff.
[1] Deuteronomy 22:20.
[1] Lev. 19:29.
[1] Ex. 22:15-16; Deut. 22:28-29.
[1] Gen. 19:26.
[1] ibid. 19:30-39.
[1] Gen. 38.
[1] Lev.18: 2b-3.
[1] Gershom ben Judah, (c. 960 -1040?), best known as Rabbeinu Gershom, ‘Our teacher Gershom’, was a famous Talmudist and Halachist within the Ashkenazi world. About 1000 ce he called a synod which decided the following particulars: (1) prohibition of polygamy; (2) necessity of obtaining the consent of both parties to a divorce; (3) modification of the rules concerning those who became apostates under compulsion; (4) prohibition against opening correspondence addressed to another.
See: http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/view.jsp?artid=172&letter=G.
[1] Sifra 89b.
[1] Arthur Waskow, ‘Down to Earth Judaism: Sexuality’, in Jonathan Magonet (ed.), Jewish Explorations of Sexuality, Berghahn Books 1995.
[1] Talmud K’tubbot 61bff.; 47b-48a.
[1] Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Issurey Bi’ah 21.9.
[1] See Sybil Sheridan, ‘The Song of Soloman’s wife’, in Sybil Sheridan, Ed., Hear Our Voice. Women Rabbis Tell Their Stories, SCM Press 1994, 64-70.
[1] See Sharon Cohen, ‘Homosexuality and a Jewish Sex Ethic’, The Reconstructionist, July-August 1989, 15f.
[1] Note that the reference to bestiality in the case of a woman and an animal says ‘You shall not stand before a beast…(lo ta’amod lifnei veheimah)’.
[1] See Ch. 7, note 28 for the new approaches that emerged in the 1990s. See, also, the pamphlet, Jewish and Homosexual by Dr. Wendy Greengross (Reform Synagogues of Great Britain, London,1982), for an attempt to grapple with the issues, which pre-dated Jewish lesbian and gay in-put.
[1] See ‘Sex. And What Should I Tell My Teenager?’, MANNA 26, Winter 1990.
[1] Hyam Maccoby, The Independent, 12 September 1987, for a discussion of the sources on pre-marital sex. See also Foresight, the journal of Progressive Jewish students, September 1990, special issue on Love and Sex.
[1] See The Jewish Family Today and Tomorrow, a pamphlet published by the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain in 1983, for an early attempt to confront ‘Social change, its effects on the family and the implications for Jewish life.’
[1] See Waskow, ‘Down to Earth Judaism’ (note 12), and the response to his by Daniel Landes, ‘Judaism and Sexuality’, in the same volume.
[1] See David Biale, Eros and the Jews, HarperCollins, New York 1992, for a full treatment of Jewish attitudes to sex ‘from Biblical Israel to Contemporary America’.
[1] In The Reconstructionist (July/August 1989).
[1] See Ariel Friedlander, ‘Hundreds of Kids’, MANNA 48, Summer 1995, for a sensitive treatment of Jewish teaching and attitudes on fertility and infertility.
[1] See Ch. 12 – and for an early recognition of this phenomenon: The Jewish Family Today and Tomorrow (note21).
[1] See Ch. 7, note 28. See also the study materials for a course designed for synagogue study programmes, Robert Gluck, Ed., Homosexuality and Judaism. A Reconstructionist Workshop Series, (The Reconstructionist Press, 1992).
[1] See Chapter 1 for a brief account of the rabbinic hermeneutical method known as PaRDeS: P’shat – the search for the ‘plain’ meaning; Remez, the exploration of every ‘hint’ in the text; D’rash – the interpretation’ of the of what the text does and does not say; Sod – the mystical meaning of the text.
[1] The notion of tikkun olam is first used in the Mishnah in the phrase mip’nei tikkun ha-olam ‘for the sake of tikkun of the world’, where it concerns the need to maintain social order, e.g. in the case of divorce – see Mishnah Gittin 4:2. However, in the Aleynu prayer, which concludes each of the three daily prayer services, and was first composed by the rabbis for use on Rosh Ha-Shanah, the New Year, tikkun olam, takes on the meaning of ‘repair of the world’, as the prayer looks to a future time, when people will abandon false gods, and the world will be repaired under the sovereignty of God: l’takkein olam b’malkhut Shaddai. L’takkein olam, means, literally, ‘to repair the world’. The concept of tikkun olam was later developed by the 16th century kabbalist – mystical thinker/practitioner – Isaac Luria in Safed in Northern Israel. According to Luria, in order to create the world, God contracted into vessels of light. These vessels then shattered into shards of light trapped within the material of creation. Prayer, and, especially, mystical contemplation, releases the sparks, allowing them to reunite with God. (See ‘Tikkun: A Lurianic Motif in Contemporary Jewish Thought,’ by Lawrence Fine in From Ancient Israel to Modern Judaism: Intellect in Quest of Understanding. Essays in Honor of Marvin Fox, Vol. 4, ed. Jacob Neusner et al. (Scholars Press,1989). With the birth of Chassidim in Eastern Europe in the 18th century, the quest for tikkun olam in the mystical sense, became associated with the performance of all the mitzvot, the commandments, and in recent years, Progressive Judaism has stressed the role of ethical action in the pursuit of the more material and practical goal of repairing the world.