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April 30, 1999/14 Iyar 5759, Vol. 51, No.31
Bible teaches inclusion
Torah Study
RABBI ISMAR SCHORSCH
Leviticus 21:1 - 24:23/Emor
Piety and morality diverged once again when Rabbi Hertz Frankel, the English studies principal of Beth Rachel, a network of Satmar girls' schools in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg, recently pleaded guilty to embezzling more than $6 million in public funds for his employer.
Frankel is unrepentant. "The end justifies the means," he told the New York Times. Apparently he believes the Jewish children in his care are more deserving of the money than non-Jewish children.
I am concerned about the failure of meticulous Jewish observance to stem egregious public behavior. But how do we explain sinful acts in a life absorbed with the pursuit of holiness? According to one prevalent view in rabbinic literature, the purpose of Judaism's elaborate behavioral code is to bring our passions under control.
No amount of study will illuminate the specific value of each and every commandment. God is not in the details - how we slaughter an animal, for example - but in their cumulative effect. To enhance our humanity through a system of lifelong character formation is the Torah's lofty goal.
The Jewish people are "particularly beloved," says the Talmud, because God gave them mitzvot (commandments), tefillin on their heads and arms, fringes (tzizit) on their clothes and a mezuzah on their doorposts. The Talmud offers the view of Rabbi Meir that a Jew ought to offer God at least 100 blessings each day. The chosenness of Israel expresses itself in acts of self-transcendence.
The underside to this sense of chosenness is an inclination to dichotomize the world between "them" and "us." Categories of people are set apart by the fact that God has assigned them far fewer mitzvot to keep. Three of those 100 blessings praise God for "not having made me a gentile," "for not having made me a woman" and "for not having made me a slave."
No matter the original intent, specialness slips easily into denigration of the other, chosenness into contempt. For this reason, the prayer books of the Conservative movement long ago formulated each of these blessings positively. We need not define our identity versus any other group, especially non-Jews.
Sadly, a low estimate of non-Jews pervades much rabbinic literature. The Mishna admonishes Jews not to leave their animals unattended at the inn of a gentile, because gentiles are suspected of engaging in bestiality. Gentiles are described also as liable to rape and murder, so that a lonely Jew should avoid their company.
This xenophobia contaminates one of the finest expressions of universalism in the Mishna. Prior to testifying in a capital case, witnesses are warned of the consequences of their words. "Anyone who saves a single person is credited with having saved the entire human race" (Mishna Sanhedrin 4:4). Regretfully, in some manuscripts and printed texts the word "person" is replaced by the word "Jew."
The violence to which Jews were often subjected reinforced the suspicion voiced by their sacred texts. In consequence, treatment of the "other" remains a problem for Judaism. In a divided world, we are entitled to take whatever measures will advance our own narrow interests. And it is such a world, in which holiness and hatred are intertwined, that Rabbi Frankel inhabits.
Yet in truth, our sacred texts are gloriously multi-vocal, offering abundant ideals on the subject of the "other." This week's Torah portion closes with an example yet to be fully realized in our sovereign Jewish state: "You should have one standard for stranger and citizen alike: for I the Lord am your God" (Leviticus 24:22).
The rabbis wrote that the resident alien was obliged to observe only the seven laws of Noah. Nevertheless, Rashi, who died in 1105, shortly after the first Crusade, saw fit to interpret that final phrase - "for I the Lord am your God" - as "the Lord of all of you." That is, "just as I confer my name on you, I confer my name on the resident aliens."
Rashi did not let the bitter reality of his era erode the inclusive spirit of the Torah.
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City. For more of his Torah commentaries, visit the Web page at www.jtsa.edu/pubs/schorsch.
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