Friday, December 22, 2023

Falsifying History is No Way to Support Your Cause

Recently, I had to restate some very basic facts about Jesus.

Jesus was a Jew. He lived and died in a land that the Roman Empire called Judea. He did not oppose the empire, but other Jews did.

Jesus of Nazareth was of course a Jew. He was the child of a Jewish mother, and that made him a member of the Jewish people. His doctrines were Jewish. He read the Torah in Hebrew and spoke Aramaic, just like all the Jews (and just like I read the Torah in Hebrew and speak English). Moreover, if he and all his original followers hadn’t been Jewish, they would never have heard the word “Messiah,” much less understood the concept. Jesus is the favorite Jewish man of millions of people in the world.

At the time Jesus of Nazareth lived (c. 4 BCE-33 CE), the land was called Judea, not Palestine. When Jews rose up against Roman tyranny, the Roman armies destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem, prohibited Jews from entering the city (which they renamed Aelia Capitolina), and started using the name “Syria Palestina ” to emphasize the destruction of the Jewish state. It wasn’t “Palestina Capta” that the Emperor Vespasian put on his coins minted to celebrate his military victory: it was “Judea capta.”


Jesus is quoted in the Gospels as saying, "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and render unto God the things that are God's." He is also quoted as saying, "My kingdom is not of this world." He was no Simon bar Koziba, nicknamed Bar Kochba, who led a military rebellion against Roman rule. He was not even Rabbi Akiba, who hoped Bar Kochba would be the Messiah to free the Jews. Roman rule was not an issue to him: the end of the world as he knew it, was.

These things are not in dispute among any one who has ever studied the history of that time and place. There is ample archeological and documentary evidence about Roman rule, Judea, the Jewish wars, and the origins of the concept of a Messiah. Jesus' teachings vary somewhat from one gospel to the other, but the basic message is clear.

Why do I have to go into these simple facts yet again? Because in the context of late 2023, a wrongheaded meme is circulating that says "Shoutout to all the Christians who've remained completely silent about the Palestinian genocide while they get ready to celebrate the birth of their favorite Palestinian man."

This is nonsense. I can recognize that I am not the audience for message, and I can attribute the meme to good intentions--but Jesus was not a Palestinian, he was a Jew, and that shouldn't make a difference in any way to our response to the horrific situation in Israel and Gaza as of today, December 22, 2023.

We can oppose the brutal attack on Israel on October 7th which killed 1200 people (Muslims, Christians, Druzes, Buddhists, and Jews) AND the total war that Israel has been waging in Gaza almost without interruption since (which has killed 15 times as many lives), AND work for a ceasefire and a lasting peace—all without falsifying history. And we must.


Sunday, July 23, 2023

How to use and not use the concept of "generations"

Last night, Rona and I happened to be recalling three songs from our youth, all of which in some way touched on the topic of long hair. That probably wouldn't have happened if we had married someone from a different generation instead of someone born the same month and year. If I die and Rona gets involved with someone ten years younger, they probably won't know the same songs, movies, and television shows, and they won't remember some of the same events in the news. For them, that might matter. But what difference does it make to history?

I've long been of the opinion that "talking 'bout my generation" is a useless way to describe social trends. Yes, long hair was an issue for The Cowsills, the Charlie Daniels Band, and the musical Hair, and it wasn't for Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, or the Ink Spots. But hair is just one element of how we present ourselves, and self-presentation is an issue in every era, for a wide variety of people. Jeans were working-class clothes until they became trendy, and then there were designer jeans. Underwear used to be considered obscene. Then, not wearing underwear was obscene. Not wearing a hat made JFK different from Presidents before him, but covering your head indoors or not marked whether you were Jewish or Christian for the longest period of time. Even with hair, the Roundheads during the English Civil War used their hairstyle to distinguish themselves against the flowing locks worn by the aristocratic Cavaliers.

Maybe self-presentation is a constant issue across generations, you say, but isn't it trivial? (No.) Aren't the events that a generation experiences formative of their outlook? Yes and no. In my lifetime, you could trace changes in (white people's) attitudes toward government to integration, the Vietnam War, and Watergate. But in previous generations, going back a hundred years, you could find similar attitudes among some more or less well-organized groups, from socialists to America Firsters. Speaking of socialism, there's a resurgent interest in it among people born in the last thirty years, but so was there in the 1960's, the 1930's, the 1890's.

It's a truism that every generation thinks they're the first to discover sex. The same applies to many "generational" phenomena: in specifics they are new, but if you back up only slightly and take a broader view, you can see how they continue from the past.

I am thinking about what the right questions are to ask about generational change. I am pretty sure "How is this generation different from that one?" is a useless question. Instead, I think we should ask:

  • How is this generation framing the ongoing questions about how we should live?
  • Out of the perennial issues, what are the issues that are coming to the fore, and how?
  • Which questions seem less important to this cohort than that, at the present moment? (And will that change as they age?)
  • What are the different terms in which old questions are being posed anew?
  • When in history did we actually experience seismic shifts in what mattered and how we discussed it?

For instance, you could argue that the invention of the atomic bomb launched a whole new discussion about our ability to destroy the earth. Or you could trace it back to the Industrial Revolution and the "dark satanic mills" that Blake wrote about. Or you could say the big change happened when climate change began to occur at a rapid rate.

I would ultimately say that which of these arguments is "right" depends on what we are actually trying to find out, and to do. But they would all be more useful arguments than "OK, Boomer" or "Get off my lawn!"

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

Thinking about God: Jewish Views, by Rabbi Kari H Tuling: a review

Book Cover 

This is an invaluable book, and what you get out of it will depend on two things: who are you, and what are you seeking?

If you're a reader (Jewish or not) who's unfamiliar with this tradition, you may become bemused by the sheer variety of Jewish views about God, and how different they are, and how all of them are valid parts of the Jewish tradition. It may change your sense of what thinking about God can be like. Along the way, you will also quietly learn a lot about Jewish texts and traditional ways to read them and about ways that our understanding of God can shape our daily lives. In fact, Rabbi Tuling insists, "Theology defines what is possible in our lives." Read it, and see if you agree!

If you're a Jewish reader who's well-versed in bible and midrash, like me, you will recognize some of the passages with which Rabbi Tuling begins each chapter and nod along with her line-by-line explication. Some of the medieval thinkers were unfamiliar to me, and some of the modern ones too. But as a person who usually approaches God as a partner in the project of tikkun olam, the repair and gradual perfection of creation, and not as a "God of the philosophers," I found it useful to read over the contrasting views and see how much I agreed with some, and less with others. It made me put into words some of what I believe about God rather than just relate to God as someone who's always already been there.

And if you're a person who's inclined toward theology but not familiar with Jewish approaches, you may be taken up short by how much Jewish views of God can contrast with the assumptions soaked into Christianity (to say nothing of Islam, Buddhism, or other traditions!) You may also learn the connection between daring exegesis and theology in Judaism--much more common than a purely deductive approach--and you will have to decide whether you agree with the author when she says, "Any theology that can confidently explain why children get cancer is a monstrosity."

All of us readers, I think, will get suggestions on what to read next!

Monday, January 23, 2023

There Shall Be No Needy, Conclusion: Justice and the Justice System

I'm going to skip over the chapter of There Shall Be No Needy that deals with the environment, because although Jacobs explicitly recognizes that it may be the issue of the 21st century for many Jews, she can only speak about it in general terms. Plus, there have been many books specifically on the topic since hers came out.

The part about the justice system struck me in a personal way.

When my brother, Cantor Ron Fischman, was killed during the Days of Awe in 2014, one of the things I learned was how many people have had a death by violence in the family. Not as many among white, Jewish, and middle-class people,  but in some communities (especially impoverished and racialized communities), it can be impossible not to know someone whose father, mother, brother, or cousin, was killed. For many families, having a perpetrator in the family (and often, in prison) is also a fact of life. I was amazed how sheltered I had been from this reality.

Rabbi Jill Jacobs points out that the U.S. imprisons more people per capita than perhaps any other country in the world, and not only do we do it whether the crime rate is rising or falling, it has no effect on that rise and fall. From a Jewish perspective, that we continue to incarcerate people is inexplicable.

In Jewish history and halakhah, imprisonment is hardly heard of it. Some crimes, like murder and rape, officially require a death sentence, even if it has hardly ever been carried out. Most crimes against persons and property call for monetary fines only. And she points out that when a person truly carries out teshuvah (repentance), it's considered a good idea to waive the fines, to prevent people from avoiding the process of self-scrutiny, confession, and making amends because it could cost them!)

Imprisonment is barely a part of the Jewish tradition, and mainly in the last few hundred years: a blink of the eye in our 4,000-year history. The emphasis is on a) making cities safe places to live; b) treating perpetrators as human and even "our brother," too; and c) promoting rehabilitation.

So what? Except for Israel (which is a secular state and does not operate according to Jewish law), there is not one place in the world where Jews have a majority voice on making policy. What difference does it make whether or not you and I know what the Jewish tradition has to say on all these issues of social justice?

If nothing else, it is important to let our fellow citizens know that conservative and even reactionary positions are not equivalent to being religious or moral. We are currently seeing that in the sphere of reproductive justice. I am proud of the Jewish organizations that have not only spoken up in public but in court, saying that denying pregnant people access to abortions is preventing some Jews from doing what they are morally supposed to do in certain situations under Jewish law. As the car magnet that the National Council of Jewish Women sent me says to everyone who looks at the back of my car: "Abortion bans are against my religion!"

Thanks to Rabbi Jacobs and the organization she currently leads, T'ruah, for making the point that religious traditions can inspire us to work for liberty and justice for all.

Sunday, January 22, 2023

There Shall Be No Needy, Part 7: Society, Heal Thyself!

The importance of providing health care is such an assumption in the Jewish culture I grew up in that I was surprised to learn it was ever debated--but that just goes to show you how in Judaism, everything is open to debate! In chapter 7 of There Shall Be No Needy,  Rabbi Jill Jacobs gives respect to the minority view that it is up to God to heal sickness (not wounds), or that once upon a time in the age of prophecy that was the case. She rightly states that the overwhelming sentiment is that medicine is a mitzvah, for at least two reasons:

  1. We were made in the image of God. Whoever heals a human being is doing a good thing on a cosmic scale!
  2. Our bodies are our most valuable possessions. If it's a mitzvah to return my book, my coat, or my donkey that I have lost, what a greater good deed it is to return my health!

Ordinarily we don't pay someone for doing a mitzvah. As she has established in earlier chapters, however, rabbinic opinion is that Jewish communities can organize and regulate themselves for the sake of tikkun olam, which in this case means "to establish a health care system in which doctors and other potential lifesavers feel motivated to operate at their highest capacity, and in which patients can be expected to afford their treatments." But as she remarks:

These texts are especially troubling to read in contemporary American, where an inefficient and profit-driven health care system simultaneously makes it difficult for doctors to treat uninsured patients without risking their own livelihoods and prevents many patients from being able to afford needed medical care and medicine. (170-171)

As usual, Jacobs holds the U.S. to the standards she can find in the Jewish tradition and finds it wanting. Just to be clear, the Affordable Care Act passed the year after this book was published, yet I suspect it would not fundamentally alter her assessment: she is arguing that as Jews, we must demand much more from our society. In fact, she implies that any system that involves paying health insurance companies and having them make profit-driven decisions about health care is not acceptable by Jewish standards.

Wednesday, January 18, 2023

There Shall Be No Needy, Part 6: What makes a home?

As a former tenant and a longtime landlord, as someone who worked at an agency that prevented eviction and as a member of a city commission against housing discrimination, I have been acutely aware of issues around housing and homelessness. In There Shall Be No Needy, Rabbi Jill Jacobs shows that you don't have to have had my life experience to see those issues as Jewish issues. They are deeply rooted in Jewish experience and Jewish text.

I don't altogether buy her argument that "the lack of a secure home" because of exile has created a Jewish sensitivity to homelessness. The two situations are not comparable. At most, when we reflect on how distraught our ancestors were on being expelled from the land and how much it disrupted their whole society, we can understand that losing one's apartment or house, today, is not just a personal tragedy. That is important to realize, I agree.

Here are some other, stronger points that Jacobs makes about the search for housing justice being rooted in Jewish values:

  • Rabbinic texts assume that even poor people who have no food have homes. (Again, how deeply this is a criticism of contemporary American life, where that assumption is invalid!)
  • Poor people cannot be required to give up their homes to receive assistance (tzedakah). Instead, the rest of us are under an obligation to make sure they can live in those homes in dignity.
  • There is a model of what permanent housing is NOT: the sukkah. Houses that let the rain in, that have no heat, that are unsafe to live in for extended periods of time, are not homes, and providing such housing is not justice.
  • There is a model of what a permanent home IS: the kind of place where we must affix a mezuzah. She summarizes Maimonides' definition; it must be of adequate size, and:

A permanent home, in Rambam's description, must have doors and a roof so that the residents be protected from the elements and from other potential dangers, such as robbers. Finally, just as a sukkah should be constructed with the intention that it be temporary, a home must be constructed with the intention that it be a permanent dwelling place. According to these requirements, it may be that transitional housing, FEMA trailers, shelters, and other nonpermanent or unsafe residences would not qualify as homes... (144)


  •  The commandment to build a guardrail around a flat roof shows "a house should protect people, to the greatest degree possible, from all potential danger. Concern for human life must, literally, be built into the fabric of the house." (145)
  • Landlords have a deep and broad responsibility to ensure the place they rent out is safe and secure. We also have an obligation to prevent homelessness. This is not like renting out an animal (or a car). We have a commanded role to play in creating housing stability.
  • The federal government has had a long, evil history of creating racial segregation in housing and evicting poor communities en masse from their neighborhoods. (For a much more detailed discussion of this history, I recommend The Color of Law, by Richard Rothstein.) Therefore, we as a country must do teshuvah, repentance, for the sin of creating a racially biased housing crisis, creating homelessness and not preventing it.

Tuesday, January 3, 2023

There Shall Be No Needy: How does she get that from the sources?

If you've been following my summaries of There Shall Be No Needy by Rabbi Jill Jacobs here, here, here, here, and even here, you might be wondering: how does Rabbi Jacobs arrive at her conclusions? Are they predetermined, so that she goes looking for a prooftext to support them, or what is her method of reading Torah, Talmud, and other sources?

I admire the author's intellectual honesty. She is quite open about the fact that it's possible to derive different conclusions from the same texts. In chapter 5, for example, she points out that conservative commentators can look at rabbinic sayings about the need to follow minhag hamakom, the custom of the land, and argue that it means "let the market decide."  (She offers a quite different reading of minhag hamakom--in her view, it authorizes local living wage laws, for example--but she gives the sources for the opposing view. See page 109 and footnotes thereon.)

Over and above the close reading of texts, however, Rabbi Jacobs offers us this overall approach: repeatedly, she points out how the current situation in the U.S. denies the basic assumptions on which halakhah is based. Therefore:

Given the discrepancy between halakhic obligations on workers and the contemporary reality, we are confronted with two possibilities. We can either reconsider the halakhic [requirements], or we can accept the current reality as a challenge to traditional halakhah and in turn, use halakhah to critique the present-day situation. [my emphasis]

If applying halakhah in the U.S. capitalist society of the 21st century produces unjust results, then it is the society that has to change.

From this standpoint, she can make an argument using traditional Jewish sources that Jews should not only allow but actively encourage union membership,  require employers to hire union workers, and use the power of government to set wages, hours, and benefits in favor of the more vulnerable party, the workers. 

She can also use the text "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt" and say, remember that you were in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire--and in every major strike--and let that memory steer your moral intuition about how to act today.

If the book reaches conclusions that are conducive to liberal politics in the U.S., it is because liberality is deeply rooted in the Jewish tradition.