A View from the Bleachers: ‘You must understand the words you are saying’

Rabbi Steven Garten

By Rabbi Steven H. Garten

In 1999 I began a weekly Talmud shiur class. The intent was to expose members of Temple Israel to the most important text of the rabbinic period. Many thought that this was counterintuitive. How interested would members of a non-halachic community be in the primary legal document of our people? Others wondered how long individuals committed to Jewish life, but not committed to the traditional understanding of mitzvot and obligation, would be interested in studying Talmud. Now entering our 21st year of weekly study, the questions remain, but the answers are more obvious. We study the texts searching for the meaning obscured by the legal arguments. We study the texts to understand how the brilliance of the Amoriam (writers and editors of the Talmud), can be applied to our lives in 2020.

As Rabbi Asher Lopatin writes in the Daf Yomi newsletter from My Jewish Learning (January 16, 2020), “The second chapter [of Masechet Berachot] begins with a question that focuses on the internal: Do we need to have intention during prayer or is it sufficient to merely recite the words? In Hebrew, the word for this is kavanah, which literally means direction, but also implies intention.” This is especially true in the context of the performance of obligatory behaviours: mitzvot.

The Gemara records a dispute:

The Sages taught that Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and the Rabbis disagreed with regard to the language in which the Shema must be recited:

The Shema must be recited as it is written, in Hebrew – this is the statement of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi.

The Rabbis say: The Shema may be recited in any language.

As Rabbi Lopatin further notes, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi argues “that you achieve kavanah by saying the actual Hebrew words of the Shema. But the rabbis disagree – you have to say the words in a language you understand.”

It is commonly understood, Rabbi Lopatin continues, that “the first word of the Shema is normally translated as ‘hear,’ but in this case the rabbis read it to mean ‘understand.’” The rabbis seemed to be saying, regarding the words of any prayer, “you must understand the words you are saying. And in fact,” as noted by most denominations, “the practice among observant Jews today is in accordance with the rabbis: the Shema may be recited in any language a person understands.”

Some might believe this conversation is purely academic, intended only for those with a sincere and ongoing commitment to a life of prayer. Yet it appears the rabbis were interested in something more than just prayer. They seemed to be cognizant that many individuals claim to understand the nature of obligation, but in reality are only playing out their commitment. The rabbis seemed to be aware that there are many individuals who make claims regarding their adherence to the law, but in truth do not understand the intention behind the laws.

While this Talmudic conversation ostensibly took place 1,500 years ago, the same conversation is taking place in the Israeli Knesset and United States Senate. Two individuals, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and U.S. President Donald Trump, are asking their respective elected bodies to ignore intentionality.

Trump has chosen to defend himself against two bills of impeachment by seeming to declare that what he did is not the issue; that it does not matter if he is guilty of the charges; it only matters if these are impeachable offences.

He appears to be similar to the individual who goes to pray daily, but conducts business and gossip continually. The obligatory responsibility to make prayer meaningful is lost on him/her. The president claims that as long as he shows up and doesn’t commit an impeachable offence, anything is OK. Not exactly the words of the presidential oath of office.

Likewise, Netanyahu is asking the Knesset to postpone his criminal trial until he is no longer prime minister. He does not want to argue innocence or guilt. He does not want to argue whether an indicted prime minister has the moral standing to lead his country in perilous times. He seems to be saying that it does not matter how he does his job as long as he shows up and appears to be acting in the best interests of the country. He wants the job to protect him from harm as opposed to his responsibility to protect others.

The Gemara understood that just showing up and just doing things without commitment to the values which the actions imply is not good enough. If it wasn’t good enough for the rabbis, why should it be good enough for us?

A View from the Bleachers: We have always worried about the next generation

Rabbi Steven Garten

By Rabbi Steven Garten

A true story told by Robert H. Mnookin in his book The Jewish American Paradox: Embracing Choice in a Changing World.

“I was on sabbatical in Oxford and enrolled my daughter in school. At that time English schools had a required course called Religious Education. The course would be taught by the headmistress. In the first class meeting the headmistress asked if there were any students not of the Christian faith, so my daughter raised her hand and told the class that she was Jewish. The headmistress asked my daughter if her parents would object if they were to read selections from the New Testament as part of the course. The headmistress was assured that even though they were from a different background that there would be no objection. When told what occurred I asked my daughter, ‘how did it make you feel?’ to which she responded, ‘When are we actually going to become Jewish?’”

The episode was one of many which led Mnookin to begin thinking about what it means to be Jewish. Like many bright, well-educated and successful people, he thought it was enough to simply say that he was Jewish. Being Jewish, he thought, was a matter of descent. Yet, here he was in Oxford, England, and his high-school-age daughter was challenging this view, arguing that if being Jewish is going to be more than a nominal residual identity of no inherent value, then it should be a religious identity that needed to be studied and practiced. The paradox, as per the book’s title, emerges when he discovers that in America – and, one could argue, in Canada as well – the diversity of beliefs, diversity of practices, and diversity of affiliations leaves one wondering what standard of religious practice could be established that deserves to be called “Jewish.” Though left unstated, it appears that his real concern is how one can perpetuate Judaism unto the next generations in the absence of a clearly defined path.

The dilemma being described is not new. We have always worried about the next generation. Tevye did not spring ex nihilo out of Shalom Aleichem’s imagination. There were Tevyes in every generation asking how we would survive. What is challenging to our peoples’ survival is that in this current age, when hyper-individualism reigns and so many Jews imagine it is necessary to recast their distinctive religion in “universal” terms in order to survive, what will serve as the foundation for the path forward? The older paradigms promoted as salvationary no longer seem effective.

We do not engage in uniform religious practices, if we practice at all. While the level of anti-Jewish feelings and events is on the rise, most of us do not consider ourselves persecuted. Our lives are not noticeably inconvenienced by hatred and prejudice, they are at best challenged. Israel has become a source of communal conflict instead of unity. We no longer loudly proclaim “We are one” as the clarion call of a community campaign. The unifying power of Israel’s survival has devolved into cells of pro-Israeli political choices, anti-governmental choices, and yes, even cells of Jewish groups unsure of the need for a Jewish state. The last challenge to our survival as a community is the growing number of intermarriages. Though the majority of Canadian Jews continue to marry within the faith, according to the 2018 survey of Jews in Canada, the issue remains divisive. Some promote ideas of welcoming, some still promote ideas of neutrality, and yes, some still actively preach the evils of intermarriage.

Chanukah has passed. It is one of the most observed festivals on our religious calendar. It is the perfect example of our paradoxical existence. We want our children and grandchildren to learn to love our holiday. Yet how many of us taught the “miracle story” as truth? Religious practice requires that the miracle is the underpinning for a celebration of lights. How many taught their progeny that Judah Maccabee was the progenitor of the IDF, a strong resilient Jewish army that can protect our people from the next oppressor? How many of taught our descendants that eight days of presents is certainly better than one day of Christmas? The variety of approaches is myriad. Which one we take reflects how we see our identity, though of course, there could be mixed identities and mixed messages.

Purim is the next chag that we observe. Perhaps the winter will be a wonderful time to consider how the celebration we envision complements the identity we wish to express.

A View from the Bleachers: Understanding our relationship with Israel

Rabbi Steven Garten

By Rabbi Steven Garten

The Reform Movement of North America has had a long and challenging relationship with the concept of a Jewish state. In 1885, a group of rabbis meeting in Pittsburgh, declared: “We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.”

For decades, this was the standard position of the Reform Movement. While there were very prominent rabbis who were nationalistically-inclined and publicly supported the Zionist enterprise, they were not in the majority.

However, in 1937, another gathering of rabbis recognized the changing environment of European Jews and reformatted their position to embrace a Jewish state as a haven for persecuted and displaced Jews. This document began the Teshuvah, turning from one extreme of anti-Zionist pronouncements to a second pronouncement in Pittsburgh.

In 1999, more than a century after the initial Pittsburgh Platform, the Reform Rabbinate declared: “We are committed to Medinat Yisrael, the State of Israel, and rejoice in its accomplishments. We affirm the unique qualities of living in Eretz Yisrael and encourage Aliyah.”

Those who are unaware of this history often have no context form which to understand the relationship of the largest North American Jewish organization to Israel.

Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the Union for Reform Judaism (URJ), represents a movement which is affiliated with two kibbutzim in the Negev, nearly 30 congregations in Israel, a scout movement, nursery schools, more than 20 per cent of the seats at the World Zionist Congress, and has ordained nearly 75 Israelis as Reform rabbis committed to leading a movement of progressive religious life in Israel. When the Reform movement speaks about issues related to the State of Israel it does so as an ohavei Yisrael (lover of Israel). It is therefore newsworthy when URJ makes statements on behalf of nearly 1.2 million North American Jews.

Last month, Rabbi Jacobs raised some Israeli and North American Jewish hackles when he raised concerns about the use of Keren Kayemet LeYisreal funds in the West Bank. More recently, his predecessor, Rabbi Eric Yoffie, began a very public debate with Rabbi Daniel Gordis about the state of the relationship between North American Jews and Israel. Rabbi Yoffie had been director of the Reform Zionist organization known as ARTZA prior to accepting the position of president of the URJ. Rabbi Gordis is an American-born Israeli author and scholar. He is senior vice-president of Shalem College in Jerusalem and author of more than a dozen books on Israel and Judaism. Twice he has been awarded the National Jewish Book Award. While ordained a Conservative rabbi, he no longer claims to speak for the movement in Israel or North America.

The debate originated with the publication of Rabbi Gordis’ newest book, We Stand Divided: The Rift Between American Jews and Israel. The volume’s central thesis is that liberal American Jews, that is the majority of identified Jews, blame the rift between Israel and their community on “what Israel does.” They all too often refer to Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians and its failure to recognize alternative forms of Judaism in Israel. Rabbi Gordis disagrees, claiming that no matter what Israel might do on these issues, American Jews would still be unhappy because the real issue is not what Israel does, but what it is. The problem, as he identifies it is, is that Israel is a particularistic democracy, created to preserve the religion, culture, and language of a dominant ethnic majority. North American countries are what Gordis calls “liberal democracies.”

Lacking a majority ethnic population that defines its national identity, the unifying principles in North America descend not from Sinai, but from the values enunciated in the founding documents of each country. These are universal values. Though they differ between the two North American countries, they are universal liberal values.

A short essay cannot do justice to the significant argument both offer to bolster their arguments. However, this is an important book to read, not because of its conclusions – but because it opens a relatively new avenue of dialogue about our relationship with the State of Israel.

Rabbi Yoffie, the epitome of the Reform Jew, believes we love Israel because of its Jewish character, not in spite of it. He argues that we can understand the distinction between liberal and particularistic democracies. He argues that even “liberal critical Jews” love the very essence of a Jewish state, its commitment to Jewish festivals, and the rhythm of the Jewish calendar. Rabbi Yoffie argues that our concern for the Jewish state and its values underpin our criticism.

The book challenges all of those who love Israel to look deeply within themselves to wrestle with understanding from whence comes unencumbered love of Israel, and from whence comes criticism of the Jewish State.