Was Haman An Antisemite?

"Sometime afterward, King Ahasuerus promoted Haman son of Hammedatha the Agagite; he advanced him and seated him higher than any of his fellow officials.  All the king's courtiers in the palace gate knelt and bowed low to Haman, for such was the king's order concerning him; but Mordechai would not kneel or bow low.  Then the king's courtiers who were in the palace gate said to Mordechai, 'Why do you disobey the king's order?'  When they spoke to him day after day and he would not listen to them, they told Haman, in order to see whether Mordechai's resolve would prevail; for he had explained to them that he was a Jew.  When Haman saw that Mordechai would not kneel or bow low to him, Haman was filled with rage.  But he disdained to lay hands on Mordechai alone; having been told who Mordechai's people were, Haman plotted to do away with all the Jews, Mordechai's people, throughout the kingdom of Ahasuerus." (Megillat Esther, JPS Translation)

This week, we will read Parshat Zachor, commanding us to erase the memory of Amalek, the evil nation who attacked the Jewish people (women, children, elderly) from the rear on their way out of Egypt.  That specific reading is read on the Shabbat before Purim specifically because Haman is described as a descendant of Agag, an Amalekite leader.  It is for this reason that the custom has developed to blot out the name of Haman during the reading of Megillat Esther with groggers, bullhorns, and a whole host of other sound producing machines.  As might be expected, the noisemaking aspect of this imperative has been seized excitedly by children, who listen eagerly for the name of Haman, waiting eagerly for the hint of Haman's name.

Conceptually, Haman is understood not only to be a genetic descendant of the Amalekites, but a ideological one as well.  He is presumed an anti-semite, and often cited as a paradigmatic example of anti-semitism throughout the ages.  In fact, Rabbi Moshe Soloveitchik felt that it was Haman's anti-semitism, not his descent from Agag, that established him as a bona fide Amaleki.  "Amalek is not purely a genealogical halacha but rather an ideological one." It is in this vein that Adolf Hitler and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, among others.

Now, Amalek is often said to have had a deeply ingrained hatred for the mission of the Jewish people, opposing the notion that a loving God runs the universe and the events therein.  In fact, it is often told that the gematria of Amalek and "safek" (the Hebrew word for doubt) are equivalent.  When we look at the description of Haman, this is not an adequate description of his motives and behavior.

There is nothing in Megillat Esther that would suggest that Haman hated the Jewish people because of some inherent quality of ours.  Rather, Haman was a power-hungry adviser who likely wanted the kingship for himself.  He had illusions of grandeur, which is likely the reason he demanded everyone bow-down to him in the first instance.   When Mordechai refused to comply, he stood in opposition to Haman's egomania, and was targeted for punishment, as were his people.  The Jewish people were inconvenient and in the way, though the reader gets the sense that it didn't really matter that it was the Jews.  In fact, the Jews are described as "Mordechai's" people specifically to emphasize that this has more to do with Mordechai than the Jews per se.  To bolster the point, ask yourself the following simple question; would Haman have hated the Jewish people if he never met Mordechai?  Since the answer is no, it stands to reason that Haman did not have a deep prior hatred of the Jewish people.

Truthfully, Haman's "anti-semitism" has much more in common with many modern enemies of the Jewish state, and as such, the lessons are even more important.  Many (though obviously not all) enemies of the Jewish people or the Jewish state use the Jewish people as a convenient distraction from the social, economic, and ethnic problems that plague their countries.  The Jewish people are an effective weapon in the arsenal used by modern day power-hungry rulers to prop themselves up throughout the mideast and the world.

Esther was able to deal with Haman by explicitly exploiting his worst character traits and the flaws of her husband, the king.  I encourage my readers to look through Megillat Esther this year and to suggest (in the comments?) ways in which Esther did just this.  We should all learn from her perception and tact.          

     

Even More Unfair . . .

Hi All.  My last post discussed my thoughts on the situation at the Kotel plaza, and what I believe to be unfair and counterproductive policies there.  This post will continue to discuss the same geographic area from a completely different angle.  

As some readers accurately pointed out, there are much bigger injustices occurring at the Temple Mount.  While I chose to focus on the internal issue, as its generally better to focus on internal improvement rather than outside castigation, I've decided that the points raised by several readers deserve to be heard as well. 

And now, onto the substance.  Jews tend to focus on the Kotel, the Western or Wailing Wall.  In fact, when one visits the Kotel, it's not uncommon to see Jews kissing the wall, placing notes containing prayers in the cracks of the wall, and other such gestures of veneration.  The prayers of the world's Jews are directed towards Kotel, or so many think.  In reality, our prayers are directed (or supposed to be directed) towards the location of the Kodesh HaKodashim, the Holy of Holies, which was located somewhere near the center of the Temple Mount, and represented the resting place for no less than God's presence on Earth.  Many decisors of Jewish law are actually of the opinion that someone who prays at the Kotel should direct their prayers towards the center of the mount (on an angle to the left of the wall) rather than at the wall, as is the common custom.  All of this to say that we've mistakenly elevated the value of the Western Wall in our mind above the immensely significant heritage of our two past Temples and the true import of the site.  

Now, on the Temple Mount itself.  The Dome of the Rock (constructed as a political monument in the year 692 c.e.) rests on the most important spot in the national and religious heritage of Israel and the Jewish people.  In addition, the comparatively smaller and more recent Al-Aqsa mosque sits oblique to the Dome as a place of Muslim and only Muslim prayer.  

Though there are many complaints one could fairly lodge (such as truth about the actual importance of the site in Muslim theology and history), I'll focus on the main one.  Though Jews and other non-Muslims can tour the Temple Mount under the close watch of Israeli authorities at designated times, they cannot pray there.  This is strictly enforced by the Israeli authorities, as part of an agreement they voluntarily entered into with the WAQF, the Muslim authorities who control the site.  When tour groups go up, they watch closely to make sure no one talks or so much as dares to pray or do something that would offend the Muslims.  This is true not just for Jews but for all non-Muslims.  Imagine, for a moment, all non-Jews being banned from Jewish holy places, and a unit of armed officers watching closely to enforce the ban.  We would never do such a thing, as we believe that our God is the only God, and therefore everyone's.  He cares about all people, and desires their heartfelt prayer.  In fact, we earnestly pray for the day when all nations will come to our Temple to pray to the one God.  "[M]y house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples" (Isiah 56:7).  It's with this thought that we conclude prayers on Yom HaKippurim and other holy days, representing our sublime yearning for unity in the face of our human condition and the existence of one omnibenevolent God.    

As Abraham Joshua Heschel eloquently stated at a 1963 conference on race and religion, "What is an idol?  Any god who is mine but not yours, any god concerned with me but not with you, is an idol."

The Islamic rule stands in sharp and shocking contrast.  This highlights an important general point about religion.  Some faiths use religion and God generally as ideas to belittle others and promote themselves.  This is the creed of many outside of our faith, and though it is not our creed, manifests itself too often within the Jewish community.  True faith enhances all of our lives and allows us to work together.

Now, the thought that Israeli authorities would enforce such a blatantly racist and unfair agreement on behalf of the Muslim authorities is quite disturbing in its own right, and seems to represent the worst violation of the the Rabbinic idea that one should not sin, nor aide in the commission of one.  The Israelis are guilty as accomplices.  That we can actively enforce a ban on prayer for all non-Muslims is a violation of the most basic ideals of the Jewish faith, yet also of western democractic ideals.  

Unless the issue is brought to light and people make their voices heard, the status-quo will remain.  Frankly, Muslims will make more noise and will be more upset about a change to the current standard than Jews and others are currently, and so they will continue to "win" for fear of the consequences.  It's long past time Israel made some fairness one of its mainstream political demands, and certainly time for Jews, believers in God, and others who value democracy to make their voices heard.                

Anat Hoffman and Religious Coercion

It's somewhat old news.  Anat Hoffman (pictured above in handcuffs) is the Executive Director of the Israel Religious Action Center, the legal and advocacy wing of the Reform movement in Israel.  As many readers are likely aware, Anat Hoffman was arrested back in October just as she was reciting the Shema for her role in organizing a women's Torah reading and prayer service in the women's section of the Western Wall.  Her arrest received much coverage in Israel and particularly throughout the diaspora.  Liberal Jewish theological and political advocacy groups throughout the world were outraged.  Many Americans, born and bred on the notion that there ought to be a wall of separation between church and state, found it difficult to accept that the Western Wall, the site of our ancient Temples, was one of the few places where certain Jews might actually be arrested merely for their style of religious worship. 

Notably, the Orthodox position and reaction has been quite different, and somewhat monolithic.  In Orthodox circles, the discussion has centered around the fact that these practices have never been allowed at the Western Wall before, and that since such practices are an affront toward the traditional gender roles embodied in the classical Rabbinic tradition, they are offensive and must be stopped.  Many worshipers are offended by having to witness new and problematic innovations at their holy site, the thinking goes.  

Moreover, Orthodox Rabbinic control of the Western Wall absolutely must be maintained, in much the same way that all of Jerusalem must always remain unified.  This is what I hear in what has become the Orthodox echo chamber.  This event is only regrettable in that the arrest brought to the public's attention the issue of freedom of worship, and that this very attention threatens to eventually uproot Orthodox control of holy sites and potentially the state Rabbinate as well. 

Writing as an Orthodox Rabbi, I am struck by a fundamental problem.  In general, the Orthodox community to which I belong seems to speak of control in terms of political power.  Winning is an end unto itself, and control of the state Rabbinate and holy sites is regarded as vital, if we are ever to defeat the well-intentioned yet misguided forces of liberal Judaism.  In short, the aim is for us to win and for the others to lose.

In my view, this type of thinking is clearly wrong, both from a human perspective but also from an Orthodox perspective.  We passionately believe that the prophetic writings of the Torah and Tanach, as well as the collective wisdom of our rich and diverse faith as developed and handed down throughout the millenia, represent a moral imperative and a divine mission to live upstanding moral and ethical lives.  In that regard, it is indeed disappointing that so many have rejected Judaism.  It is more disappointing when supposed "representatives" of the faith (Rabbis and other religious leaders) pervert the mission on a daily basis with institutional fraud and subsequent cover up, all while stringently observing only the most superficial trappings of Judaism.  

The core of our divine mission is to model both ethical behavior and loyalty to the one God, as a group.  If many members of the group fail to join the effort, we are all weaker for it.  And so our aim should be to foster ties and reconciliation in a divided Jewish world.  This is all the more true because we (the Orthodox community) have much to learn from others and have failed miserably (on the whole) when it comes to the modeling ethical and spiritual group behavior.  In our society, it makes less than no sense to suggest that others will come to appreciate God or the Torah if we force them to observe our rules and norms, especially when we have so much to clean up in our own house.  People may be persuaded by the beauty of the Torah, but not when it's strictest interpretation and least sensitive iteration is shoved down their throats.  For God's sake, we ought to let up on others (especially those who want to worship, albeit in non-traditional ways), and focus on becoming better individuals ourselves.  Then, it's possible that we'll actually deserve control of the institutions we currently abuse for political purposes of power and self-aggrandizement.  If our control keeps distancing people (and it most certainly does on the whole), why do we care about the control?   

Kosher Quandries

There are so many important issues to write about at the current moment . . . that and I'm admittedly delayed on finishing my comments on Brit Milah.  Nevertheless, I'm writing about something that's been on my mind for a while, and is currently a hot topic of conversation in Israel.

Recently, a new Jewish leadership organization called Beit Hillel was formed, comprised of leading Rabbinic figures (with a focus on synagogue Rabbis ;-)) and female religious leaders and educators.  The group was formed with an emphasis on promoting a more moderate and sensitive version of Orthodox Judaism than that which people (too) often encounter.

What's caused a stir is that they recently put out a teshuva (document containing legal rulings) regarding the permissiblity of dining in homes and establishments which are not Kosher.  The document can be accessed here, and is noteworthy for many reasons:

1) Style
While the observant community, particularly its Rabbis, used to be known for scholarship and scholarly debate regarding important issues, this trend has experienced a significant decline in recent years.  We've grown used to proclamations of law, "kol koreh" documents, conflicting verbal accounts, and simple stories, rather than the scholarship and reasoned argument of generations past.  Argument occurs by tumult and fiat on far too many occasions, without sophisticated or nuanced debate.

Beit Hillel's rulings are organized, well-researched, thorough, and sourced.  They cite opposing arguments, and note why they've chosen to rule the way they have globally, and then on individual issues as well.  This is a surprisingly refreshing trend, and hearkens back to the way things were done not so long ago (save the fact they've posted their thoughts on the organization's website :-)).

Lastly, this helps to push back against a growing problem.  Many legal rulings in the Jewish world today are heavily influenced by ideology and haskafa, one's philosophical-religious outlook on life.  That's all well and good, and it's done on all sides of the equation.  However, there's been a trend whereby those associated with a more stringent version of Judaism assert that the law or custom is such, when the legal ruling of the classical sources was much more lenient.  However, the Rabbis in question merely issue a proclamation, without explaining that the added stringencies are based on a sequence of philosophical suppositions, suppositions which many of us firmly reject.

2) Content
Right at the beginning of the teshuva linked to above, Beit Hillel transparently note the religious ideology that motivates them, and passionately argue for it.  Basically, they state that while keeping Kosher according to Jewish law is an important value, there are other values that are also important.  Therefore, when certain norms in Kashrut which are stricter than the basic law become normative, other values suffer.  In this case, strictures have kept the people of Israel from socializing with each other, increased strife and skepticism of the Rabbinate, and decreased the honor due to God and his Torah.

Therefore, they published a researched guide explaining (according to mainstream Jewish law) how Jews who keep Kosher might legally eat in other settings, in an effort to increase cooperation and interaction between Jews.  These include rulings permitting wrapping food in aluminum foil and warming it in a non-Kosher oven, and eating vegetables which may not have been checked for bugs (based on the fact that there may be reasons why it's permissible - the subject of another overdue post) especially given that a person can always check as they eat.

I would add that the Rabbinic desire to return to a basic observance of law, yet stress communal and national cooperation (also the subject of many positive mitzvot) rather than individual piety is a much needed and long overdue step in the right direction and a return to religious balance.  This actually represents a Rabbinic move to take other ignored yet central Mitzvot into account.  To the extent that any of the rulings cited seem a little edgy, it's only because our halachic discourse has shifted so far towards stricture that normative Jewish law now sounds unreliably lenient.  Three cheers for Beit Hillel!          

Thanksgiving Thoughts . . .

First, I'd like to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all of my readers (I'm not sure how many there are :-));  this is the perfect opportunity to express my gratitude that you've taken the time to read and respond to my thoughts.  Though I haven't posted as often as I might like and still do hope to find the time to be able to post more, I definitely appreciate the feedback and discussion I've come to expect when I do get around to posting.

As many of you are likely aware, the celebration of Thanksgiving in the Orthodox Jewish community is far from a given.  During the twentieth century, major poskim (decisors of Jewish law) issued different rulings regarding the celebration of Thanksgiving.  Three basic views were promulgated in regard to this matter:

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik permitted and proudly celebrated Thanksgiving himself, according to those close with him.  Members of his class at Yeshiva University heard him talk of going home to Boston for a Thanksgiving meal.  Others, such as Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner categorically forbid any celebration of Thanksgiving, ruling that it was either an idolatrous holiday or, at the very best, something akin to it.  Rabbi Moshe Feinstein took something of an intermediate position, ruling that it was a secular holiday, and therefore not idolatrous.  Nevertheless, he stated that he felt it was irrational and foolish to celebrate the holiday, and that there would be a tangential problem of adding to the commandments by celebrating on a particular day in a particular way each year.  

The intention of my post today is not to discuss the merits of these and other legal arguments about the validity of Thanksgiving in Jewish law, but rather to briefly discuss some of the implicit messages and implications inherent in these views.  

1) By claiming that Thanksgiving is, in essence, silly, we place ourselves "above" the need for a day of gratitude to our Creator.  Some have claimed that Jews are thankful every day, and that no special day of thanks is needed.  True, we should always be thankful.  I don't see why a believing Jew would feel that way any more than anyone else, though.  Further, Judaism is replete with the notion that we ought to set aside specific times of the year to focus on that which we ought to focus on every day of the year.  Passover is a once a year focus on the exodus and the responsibility resulting from that freedom, a topic we are commanded to mention and remember each day of the year.  Tisha B'av is a once a year focus on the destruction and exile that has haunted our people, something we also reflect on each day of the year in our liturgy.  It's self-evident that we humans need to set aside specific times to focus on things we'd like to focus on throughout the year.  These special appointed times serve as a focus and motivation, keeping us on track, affording us the time off to do what we say we ought to be doing, and serve as an important cultural statement of shared values.

As Jews, giving thanks to our brethren, country, and ultimately to God is one of the major tenets our religion stands for.  As an example, the entire system of blessings before and after food is designed to increase our awareness of and gratitude towards God in our everyday enjoyment and survival.  Further, the entire notion of the Sabbath, one of the hallmark features of Jewish life, is predicated on the notion that we should set aside time once a week to thank God for his blessings in our week.  This is clearly the philosophical outlook behind the prohibition of melachot (39 specific forms of labor), and the popular notion that Shabbat is the mekor haberacha, the source of all blessing in our lives.  Refraining from our own creative activity allows us to acknowledge the "behind-the-scenes" God who makes it all happen.  Being a blessed nation (i.e. having a clear relationship to God) is dependent first and foremost on acknowledgment and gratitude.

2)  The Rabbinic decisors who accepted Thanksgiving did so because they considered it primarily a secular holiday.  Though Washington's original proclamation was steeped in the soaring language of thanks to the Divine, this doesn't accurately reflect the reality, they would claim.  Thanksgiving, at its essence, is a holiday consisting of a turkey dinner with family, football, Black Friday, etc.  Those  Rabbis who rejected Thanksgiving emphasized its Christian origin.

Personally, I feel that there is another approach inherently espoused by many, perhaps even a silent majority.  While Thanksgiving certainly has its fill of cultural hallmarks and practices, so do all good secular and religious holidays, meaningful or not.  At its core, though, Thanksgiving is an important day about the very thanks it's named for, and it's a good and positive thing, Jewishly and otherwise.  That the idea of thanking God was commemorated in this way by Christians who happen to worship in a different way to a different deity is immaterial.  After all, Washington and many of the founders were deists as much as they were truly believing Christians.  More importantly, we feel a kindred commonality with many Christians and others of faith.  We believe in a higher Source, and they believe similarly.  This can be said not just of Christianity, but many faith systems.  That our theologies are different, even vastly so, remains important but less so than it once did.  Fundamentally, we relate to and even share the religious sensibility that motivated a day of thanksgiving to God, regardless of particular religious beliefs.

All that we have is ultimately due to the benevolence and blessings of God.  More than the ideas which divide us, this powerful idea motivated Thanksgiving, and is one that many of us (myself included) proudly share.  As a Jew, I am grateful that we live in a country which celebrates this fact, and would urge us to celebrate thanksgiving with this focus in mind, rather than focusing on our differences.  Broadly, we are commanded to remain a people separate and apart in order to preserve our identity as a group that recognizes and promotes God in the world.  When we emphasize our particularity to such an extent that we can't even take part in a celebration of thanksgiving to the Creator, we fail to actualize our divinely ordained mission, and render our unique identity pointless.                   

Circumscribing Circumcision - An Introduction

I know it's been a while . . . the holiday season proved to be busy, but it's time to get back to commenting on  real issues that matter.  For the next several posts, I wanted to do a series on the recent circumcision debate taking place in New York.

As many readers are likely aware, many Jewish groups have filed suit, and are challenging a recent controversial decision by the New York Board of Health (see here).  The decision by the Board of Health, in brief, requires informed parental consent before metzitzah b'peh is allowed at a brit milah, the Jewish ritual circumcision performed on all males.  Metzitzah b'peh is/was a small customary component of the ritual, whereby the mohel (man who performs the circumcision) would suck to draw a small amount of blood during at the conclusion of the ceremony.  The custom is sourced in ancient ideas about bloodletting, with the notion being that this ceremony will help to protect the baby.  Many have preserved the custom while also insuring higher standards of safety by having the mohel used a sterilized pipette instead of sucking directly.

The NY Board of Health issued its ruling in part because of controversy surrounding the death of certain children, and the possibility that potentially deadly diseases such as Herpes may be transmitted to the baby, resulting in illness and even death.

There are several important questions to address:  1)  From a perspective of Jewish law, what is the status of this custom, and need it be kept in light of our modern scientific knowledge and understanding about viruses and the transmission of disease?  2) Should we be tolerant of more conservative approaches towards the preservation of custom?  3)  How big need the risk of illness or death be before we act?  4)  Are the challengers correct in asserting that the First Amendment protects them against government regulation?  5)  What is our general attitude towards laws with a secular purpose which incidentally impinge on religious practice?

As many of you know, I have the benefit of writing from multiple perspective on this issue.  On the one hand, I studied at Yeshiva University, and had the pleasure of studying this topic with the esteemed Rabbi Tendler (an outspoken advocate on this issue).  On the other hand, I am an attorney, and have long taken a particular interest in issues relating to the 1st Amendment, particularly the Free Exercise Clause of the First Amendment.

In the next post, I'll begin by discussing the relevant constitutional clauses, and other relevant Supreme Court Cases.  I hope that this will be a fruitful and educational discussion about the cross-section between religious freedom and governmental regulation.

Special Guest Post

This week, we are honored to have a guest contributor, Michael Hein.  His thoughts carry a crucial and central message at this juncture of history, and the strength of their argument speaks for itself:

 

This week's parsha - Shoftim - gets me into more trouble, er, I mean is one of the most emotionally and philosophically moving of all parshiot. Commentary on it is endless. At its end are the particulars of the Egla Arufa.

Midrashically, it is said that the particulars of the ceremony (taking place exactly on the border of two towns, the breaking of the neck of the calf so that blood spills onto the ground, etc.) represents (one among many interpretations) the idea that in our communities, the level of decency and law-abiding-ness was lax enough to allow a murderer to exist and commit his crime; that the spiritual air of the place(s) was not “clear” enough to fill the lungs of such a person to dissuade him from his heinous act; that the society charged with rearing him, and giving him his middos (or if a traveler – hosting him) failed to inculcate by example an appreciation of and respect for Torah and Mitzvos, for the sanctity of life, or, at it's barest minimum, for following the rule of Law. And for that deficiency, teshuva is in order.

But why the forced declaration of the leadership of the involved towns? Why must expiation be made for the residents, almost all of whom, could not possibly have anything to do with the physical act of the actual murder?

The answer, of course, lies in another phrase - Kol Yisroel Arevim Zeh ba Zeh (Every member of Israel is responsible for each other). It is a weighty philosophic concept - truly an Ol Malchus Shemayim - or, it is just lip service.

Parshas Shoftim assures us that if we truly believe in the ambient morality of the klal (community), of the spiritual purity of the air we breathe, of the accountability each has to the other in society; then the upward delegation of the responsibility for monitoring the lawfulness of society to interested (or advantaged) community members (more specifically the abdication of one's responsibility to such members); the free reign given to men in positions of great power and realm without accountability and oversight; surely condemns all of us to the eventual necessity of having to stand at the border of "two towns", in a ditch, with a bloody knife literally in the hands of those very unexamined leaders, as pennance, bewailing the occurrence of terrible crimes, (billions in theft, money laundering, assault, battery, bribery, extortion, domestic abuse, arson, pederasty, etc.), the crowd seemingly "not understanding where such guilt could possibly come from"; aware of our defilement, pleading for catharsis, yet not being willing to open our eyes to the very source of our contamination staring at us in the mirror.