Pledging Jewish Allegiance: Part II

You can read the first part of this multi-part look at Pledges of Jewish Allegiance and responsa about conversion in the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries here. 

I think -- and this is me, of course -- that when it comes to conversion to Judaism, the concern of the rabbis and the born-Jewish community is one of honesty, sincerity, and dilution of the Jewish people. Oddly enough, in Pledges of Jewish Allegiance, a "warning" narrative is mentioned to show just what can happen when you don't welcome the convert with open arms. The source is an aggadic one, which means that it's not legal but rather a narrative from which we can learn something, and it comes from the Tractate Sanhedrin.

What is the purpose of [writing in the Torah], "And Lotan's sister was Timna"? -- Timna was a royal princess, as it is written, aluf Lotan, aluf Timna; and by aluf, an uncrowned ruler is meant. Desiring to become a proselyte, Timna went to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but they did not accept her. So she went and became a concubine to Eliphaz, the son of Esau, saying, "I had rather be a servant to this people than a mistress of another nation." From her, Amalek was descended who afflicted Israel. Why so? -- Because they should not have repulsed her. (29)

The passage doesn't state why Timna should have been accepted, but it does suggest that "when people are turned away, the implications for Jewish security in the future can be very problematic." Hell hath no fury like a potential convert scorned? 

Maimonides, writing in the late Twelfth Century, discusses the idea mentioned in the last blog post of intention at length when detailing how to handle a potential convert.

The appropriate way to perform the commandment [of conversion] is that when the convert comes to convert, we investigate him lest [he be converting] for money that he will receive, or for some position of authority that will come his way, or whether it is because of fear that he wishes to enter the religion. If he is a man, we investigate whether he has cast his eye on a Jewish woman; and if she is a woman, we investigate whether she has cast her eye on a Jewish man. If no inappropriate motivation is discovered, we inform him of the magnitude of the weight of the yoke of Torah and of the tremendous efforts required from Gentiles to perform [its commandments]. If they accept and did not change their minds and we see that they have returned out of love, we accept them. (30-31)

The new and interesting thing about this is that it suggests that the court be compelled to investigate, not that the court simply turn someone away because their motives might be suspect. You will notice, oddly enough, that in this bit from the Mishneh Torah Maimonides says absolutely nothing about acceptance of the mitzvoth (commandments). After all, the text merely says that the potential convert is "informed" of the weight of the yoke of Torah -- not that he or she must accept it or be fully educated on it prior to conversion. In later responsim, rabbis will use these ambiguities to support their own points. 

And then, of course, there's this, which comes later from Maimonides, is a big deal, and I think that this should inform how we view conversion today. 

A convert whom they did not investigate or to whom they did not make known the commandments and the punishments [for not fulfilling them] but who was circumcised and immersed in front of three judges is a convert. Even if it subsequently becomes known that he converted for some ulterior motive, once he has been circumcised and immersed, he has been removed from the status of Gentile, and he remains suspect until his righteousness can be verified. Even if he returns to Gentile worship, he remains in the category of a Jewish apostate whose marriage is a valid marriage. (32)

BAM! This very passage from the Mishneh Torah, says volumes about the convert -- volumes that many modern rabbis seem to ignore when they think that they can revoke a conversion. Even in the Beit Yosef, Rabbi Karo follows Maimonides' claim that all conversions are valid, regardless of whether the courts have investigated and that it is "obvious" that failure to accept the commandments does not render the conversion invalid after the fact (36). It also must be mentioned that both Maimonides and Karo agreed that every case with conversion is different, unique, and specific to the time and place and that every court must handle the case accordingly. In essence, there is no simple way to hold every potential convert to the same process and same procedures. 

In just about everything that Maimonides says regarding the convert, it is clear that he values and respects the position of he or she who joins the fold. In a query from Ovadiah ha'Ger as to whether he should amend the liturgy and avoid phrases like "God and God of our fathers," given his status as a convert, Maimonides had this to say:

You should recite everything as it is, and do not change anything. Rather, you should pray as every Jewish citizen does, whether alone or in public. The critical point is that it was Abraham our Father who taught the entire nation, who gave them the wisdom and who made known to them the truth and unity of God. He battled against idolatry ... and brought many under the wings of the Divine Presence. ... Thus, anyone who converts until the end of time ... is a disciple of Abraham our Father and a member of his household. ... Thus, you should say "our God and God of our ancestors" ... -- there is no difference here between you and us. 

It's statements like this, from one of the greatest sages of all time, that makes me wonder why we've fallen so far. 

I'll conclude with this portion of the series by saying that many rabbis in later times who sought to make it "easier" to convert followed the position of the Beit Yosef in the emphasis on the discretion of the court while also debating what exactly "for the sake of heaven" means in Maimonides' initial dictum about the conversion process. In future posts, you'll see how confusing and convoluted the debate becomes based on the writings of Tractate Geirim and the works of Maimonides. 

Still: Think back to what Maimonides says about once a convert, always a Jew. Why can't we live by this simple dictum? 

Pledging Jewish Allegiance: Part I

Not that long ago, @bethanyshondark hooked me up with someone who provided me with a review copy of a book that is more than right up my alley: Pledges of Jewish Allegiance: Conversion, Law, and Policymaking in Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Orthodox Responsa. I'm only halfway through the book, but I felt compelled to write about what I've already read. There are some definite positives and some very clear negatives to this book which were apparent from the get-go. The upside is that the collection of responsim in English translation is, in and of itself, invaluable. I'm able to overlook some very egregious "errors" because of this.

The authors of this volume are David Ellison and Daniel Gordis, the former is the president of Hebrew Union College (a Reform institution) and the latter is a popular speaker on Israel and is the president of the Shalem Foundation. The book was written over a period of a decade, according to the acknowledgements, and I imagine the push to get it printed now, at this very moment, was because of the increased intensity in the U.S. and Israel over the "Who is a Jew?" question regarding conversion.

The first thing that caught my eye in this book was the fact that the entire first chapter discusses the "geir" as meaning convert in the bible. I don't know how many times I have to say it, but there is absolutely zero proof that any use of the term in the bible meant anything other than stranger.

Jewish tradition permits the convert to join the Jewish people but often makes it difficult for him to do so. Even the Bible's word for "convert," geir, reflects this conflict, for geir means not only "convert" but "stranger" as well. The Bible refers to the convert as a geir even after he has joined the Jewish people. (14)

I can't express how distraught I was after reading this. The truth is that I really just wanted to put the book down at this point, because from an academic (and personal) standpoint, this is ignorant academics. In most of the instances in the Bible where this term is used, the understanding is that the individual being called a geir has simply tagged along with the Jewish people, he or she is a stranger among the Israelites. There is no formal layout for conversion at this point in the Israelite narrative, and the closest we truly get to someone in the bible converting is in the story of Ruth, who says that the Israelites will be her people and that their G-d will be her G-d. Other than that, the closest perhaps is Yitro (Moshe's father in law), but even there the rabbis and scholars struggle with whether he "converted" to become an Israelite as he joined the people and then subsequently left -- problematic when community is so important to the conversion narrative.

That being said, the meat of the book is interesting and informative about how we got from the Nineteenth Century to now and what exactly shaped modern-day rulings and concerns about motivation, acceptance of the mitzvoth (commandments) and what that means, and so on. Before I cut myself off (because I don't want to write five-million word long blog posts) I do want to share one thing that will set the stage for us that comes from Tractate Geirim, a minor tractate not formally part of the Mishnah (Oral Torah) and typically dated somewhat later.

Anyone who converts [in order to marry] a woman, for love or out of fear, is not a convert. Thus, Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Nehemiah used to say that all those who converted in the days of Mordecai and Esther are not [valid] converts, as it is written, "and many of the populace were converting to Judaism, for the fear of the Jews had fallen upon them." And anyone who does not convert lesheim shamayim [for the sake of heaven], is not a [legitimate] convert." (24)

The interesting thing about this particular passage is that it informs what the rabbis discuss in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries -- but not in a way that you might expect. Ultimately, this very specific dictum is brought into question amid a rise in intermarriage and the Enlightenment period.

So I'll leave this one at this for now. Stay tuned for a multi-series look at some of the responsim and exactly what they mean for us today.

Particularly! Look out for what Maimonides has to say on the whole thing. It might surprise and delight you!

The Illuminated Fortress and Abraham

I was struggling in my Midrashic Literature class yesterday (probably all of the stuff on my mind that is stressing me out -- I could be elsewhere than class doing important things), but there was one thing that really struck me as fascinating and personally significant. It's the text of Genesis Rabbah 93.1-3, which is based on the text from Genesis 12:1-3. Here's the text!

And the Lord said to Abram, Go forth from your native land and from your father's house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and it will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and curse him that curses you; and all the families of the earth will be blessed through you.

And the Lord said to Abram, "Take yourself from your land, etc..."

Rabbi Isaac opened, Listen, lass, and look, and incline your ear, and forget your mother and your father's house (Ps. 45:11)

Rabbi Issac said, This is like someone who travels from place to place, and sees a certain fortress illuminated (lit. burning, doleqet). He said, Is there no master (lit. ba'al) of this fortress? Above him, the master peeked out and said to him, I am the master of this fortress.

Thus it was when our father Abraham said, Would you say that this world has no master? The Holy One, Blessed be He, peeked out and over him and said, I am He, the Master of the World. So shall the King desire your beauty, for he is your Lord. So shall the King desire your beauty. To beautify you in the world, and to bow down to him. Hence, and "the Lord spoke to Abram." (The beautifying text comes from the end of Psalm 45, actually.)

Now, this translation isn't the exact translation that we used in class (I fudged with a version I found online), but it works.

The interesting thing about this midrash is there are really two ways that we can take this. If we read it as the fortress being ablaze, as in literally on fire, then we can understand why the wandering guy would say "who's running this joint?" Essentially, the wanderer wants to know why there's such chaos and madness at this fortress because if there were a master, it wouldn't be ablaze. Then we understand Abraham, as he sees the chaos and madness in the world and must ask if there is a master to the world, to which G-d says "Yo, it's me!"

The second reading is if we understand doleqet as illuminated. The wanderer sees this glorious and amazing fortress and asks aloud to no one in particular, Who is the master of such amazing splendor and beauty? Then we can understand Abraham's query of the world because he looks around and sees the creation and wonders who is the master of such an amazing and profound thing. Thus G-d answers and says, "Yo, it's me!"

Maybe I'm preferential to the second reading of the text, but I think it's probably the more likely because if you read it that way, then the explanation of the verse makes sense. We have to explain why G-d is speaking to Abraham. After all, when we look at Noah, it's explained that he was righteous out of all the men of the world. The text often explains WHY G-d chooses certain individuals (the prophets for example), but Abraham is just given through the genealogy and then it says that G-d spoke to him and told him to go forth. The big question is: WHY? Why Abraham? What'd he do to warrant G-d's command?

If we use the second reading, it's simple to understand! Abraham looks about, sees the splendor of creation without any prodding or pushing, and G-d recognizes that Abraham understands. It could be said, then, that Abraham is choosing the religion of HaShem, but it's more likely that they met in the middle. Abraham sees creation and is in awe -- he understands HaShem's beauty through the world around him. G-d sees Abraham seeing him and bam, G-d speaks.

I like this midrash for a simple reason: I see myself in Abraham. I didn't come to Judaism through knowing Jews or having had some significant Jewishly related experience. I developed my own set of beliefs outside of organized religion, convinced that I'd developed my own religion and set of beliefs. But really, once it was suggested -- based on these beliefs -- that I examine Judaism, I realized that this beautiful amazing way of life I envisioned was already there. In essence, I stood before the fortress saying "Who is the master of this place?" and there was G-d, waiting for me.

At any rate, I think this is a beautiful midrash. Which reading are you more inclined toward?

From 613 to 3:16: An Interesting Thought

Bonus points if you get why I chose this image!

I've seen the bumper sticker more and more lately, and it simply says: "JOHN 3:16." After all, that's really all you need to know. The verse, the tour de force of Christian theology, says "For G-d so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." I'm not here to argue truth, fact or fiction. No, I'm here to discuss something incredibly interesting.

I was walking through the library yesterday when I saw a book, simply titled "3:16" when it hit me -- 3:16 is the reverse of 613, the number of mitzvoth in Torah. The crux of one flipped on its head to be the crux of another. One, with its 3:16 showing that it was Jesus dying that nullified the need for the 613 mitzvoth to be followed.

So, automatically, I asked myself: Which came first? The Gospel of John? Or the identified tradition of 613 mitzvoth? The Torah, of course, was written long before the Christian canon. But the issue is more complicated than just that.

The identification of 613 mitzvoth comes from the wisdom of a few rabbis. The Talmud notes that the Hebrew gematria (numerical value) for the word Torah is 611. If you combine Moses' 611 commandments to the two received directly from G-d at Sinai, we get 613! This number -- 613 -- is attributed in the Talmud to Rabbi Simlai (early 3rd century CE), but other classical sages held this view, too, including Rabbi Simeon ben Azzai (early 2nd century CE) and Rabbi Eleizer ben Jose (2nd century CE). So we can confidently say that in the early 100s, if not earlier, this idea was evident among the rabbis. There were 613 mitzvoth, and these mitzvoth -- 365 negative, 248 positive -- are the "rules" we as Jews are to live by.

The Gospel of John is a more difficult text to really wrangle. There is already a boatload of suspicion of who he was, where he was writing, whether he even knew Jesus, and most importantly, WHEN he was writing. From what I can conclude from a quick bit of research online, the "general" consensus is that the Gospel of John was written around 100 CE.

So here we have a text and an idea -- John 3:16 and 613 mitzvoth -- both from the early 2nd century. Whether the rabbis had exposure to the Christian text is something that I don't think we can really know, and there are some scholars who argue that the rabbis recording the Oral Torah were completely isolated from the greater world around them (I think this is kind of, well, ridiculous). But what we do have here is an interesting polemic coming from John, whose language was intentionally antagonistic against Jewish traditions and customs.

Thus, where better to write the championing verse for Christianity but in the reverse of the numerical tour de force of Judaism?

I don't know if this is something that anyone's written on this, but I think it's really fascinating and most definitely something worth considering. Maybe I'll spend more time on this during the school year, but I think it would be worth taking a more developed and in-depth look at the most agreed-upon dates of the texts and whether there is any literary evidence to maybe connect the two numbers.

I'm not big into gematria, but I think it's quite fascinating. Even if you're not into gematria, that there are 613 mitzvoth is something all frum Jews cling to and all Jews regardless of creed identify with. At any rate, I hope you all find this as fascinating as I do.

It Really is Quite Punny, Rabbi.

When I was in High School, my "diff" (that means "differentiated" or advanced) English class my junior year I think it was, had to do what we called an I-Search paper. The teachers schlepped us down to the university campus, acclimated us to the university library, helped us to become official prime researchers, and then we all completed a 10, 15, 20 whatever page paper on a topic of our choosing. For me, it was Etymology. Instead of focusing on the origins of words, though, I focused on names and the meanings of names. I was fascinated on the studies that concluded that naming your child with a suffix like John Charles Johns II or Steven Lee Jenkins Jr. would make your kid more susceptible to mental illness, or that giving your kid a name like Sergeant would make him more likely to end up in the military or law enforcement (does anyone actually use that name anymore?).

So, while digging and shuffling through papers in my Talmud class, trying without luck to figure out what my term paper would be on, I happened upon the topic of falsifications, fabrications, and downright unrealistic accounts in the Talmud. I'm not saying it to be blasphemous, for there really ARE cases in the Talmud where a story will be told, presenting a lesson or moral quandary, and at the end of the text the rabbis will say outright that the story is a falsification. Sometimes it's not completely outright, and in other instances it's plainly put. I was reading an article by Louis Jacobs on the topic and he said something that perked my interest even more, relating specifically to names.

"Of importance to our investigation is the peculiar phenomenon, found also in Midrash, of attributing rulings and sayings to teachers whose name is a pun on the subject matter of that particular saying e.g. when R. 'Abba bar Memel explains the meaning of the term memel in the Mishnah" (56-57).

Jacobs goes on to explain the possible reasons for this -- whether it was a name attributed to a rabbi because of the saying, whether the scholars were attracted to discussions where their name was an intended pun, or that it's a literary device in which the names of scholars were appended to the sayings because of the pun.

For someone who has always been obsessed with names, their etymologies and their stories, this is the perfect discussion! The question now is whether there is enough out there written about the topic (the signs point to not really right now), so that the professor will approve my research so I can get started.

Anyone know any other instances of such puns on rabbinical rulings/significant words within the ruling? Intriguing stuff!

Back in the Saddle: Midrash!

I'm back to it. School starts tomorrow, and my first class is Wednesday morning. So, a pile of books at my side, I'm reading up on Talmud and Midrash and Hellenism and ... lots of relevant stuff. I've come across a few things and, being me, decided to share because I find them absolutely interesting. I hope you feel the same. Just as a note, midrash is sort of an explication on a verse or idea. If you think about it, gemara, the elaboration on the mishnah (Oral Torah) is a type of midrash, right? Right.

+ The moment we got to Israel last month on Birthright, exhausted from an 11-hour plane trip, we were bused to a nature preserve to plant trees. I'd forgotten the reason for doing this, the necessity for planting trees and the biblical explanation for why Israel is so big on the creation of forests and the growth of the tree population, until just now when I was reading in "Back to the Sources " a Midrashic explanation behind Leviticus 19:23, "...when you enter the land, you shall plant all manner of trees." Aha! There's the reason. The midrash, in turn, says that the reason for doing this first upon entering the land is to mimic or reenact G-d's work in the creation of the world. Brilliant! And here's my effort, I did as the Torah said (even if begrudgingly with exhaustion, bad hair, etc., heh).

Note the Barack'N in the Free World tee from KosherHam.com!

+ The second thing in this specific chapter on midrash that struck me discusses the people turning to the rabbis after terrible destruction, seeking guidance, and out of this being born midrashic texts, including Lamentations Rabbah. The following is an example from that text, where the "rabbis use the common comparison of the Torah to a marriage contract (ketubah in Hebrew as a means of offering hope to a people in despair."

"This I recall to mind, therefore I have hope." -- Lam. 3.21

R. Abba b. Kahana said: This may be likened to a king who married a lady and wrote her a large ketubah: "so many state-apartments I am preparing for you, so many jewels I am preparing for you, and so much silver and gold I give you."

The king left her and went to a distant land for many years. Her neighbors used to vex her saying, "Your husband has deserted you. Come and be married to another man." She wept and signed, but whenever she went into her room and read her ketubah she would be consoled. After many years the king returned and said to her, "I am astonished that you waited for me all these years." She replied, "My lord king, if it had not been for the generous ketubah you wrote me then surely my neighbors would have won me over."

So the nations of the world taunt Israel and say, "Your God has no need of you; He has deserted you and removed His Presence from you. Come to us and we shall appoint commanders and leaders of every sort for you." Israel enters synagogues and houses of study and reads in the Torah, "I will look with favor upon you ... and I will not spurn you" (Lev. 26.9-11), and they are consoled.

In the future the Holy One blessed be He will say to Israel, "I am astonished that you waited for me all these years." And they will reply, "If it had not been for the Torah which you gave us ... the nations of the world would have led us astray." ... Therefore it is stated, "This do I recall and therefore I have hope." (Lam. 3.21)

Wow. Brilliant, no? And appropriate for the current state of things. If ever one wonders if we've been abandoned, we merely return to this -- and to the Torah/covenant -- and know that it isn't so!