Why I'm not Voting for Bibi...but I'm not Protesting him Either

     A few nights ago there was a large rally in Tel Aviv (certainly in the tens of thousands, but estimates vary widely depending on your political bent) to advocate for a change of government in the upcoming elections. This rally, in my opinion, reflects a deeply held belief among much of Israel that it's time to move on. The complaints are numerous. Bibi only offers fear, never hope. He's promoted economic policies that favor the rich and increase inequality. He and his wife live an extravagant lifestyle on the state's dime (or shekel, as the case may be). He can't get along with President Obama, leader of the world's premier superpower. I could easily continue. Before we get carried away I should mention that his party, the Likud, is likely to get the second most votes (something like 20% of the votes), and because the right wing block seems like it will be larger than the left wing block, he's likely to be Prime Minister again. But that leaves 80% of the population that's not voting for him, many of whom deeply dislike him. I'd like to examine the reasons people feel so strongly against him, why I don't necessarily agree, and why, even though I don't agree with many of his critics, I'm not voting for him.
     Before I talk about how Israelis feel about Bibi, I want to talk about how American Jews feel about him. My impression (and feel free to correct me all you American Jews out there) is that he's much more popular in the US than he is in Israel. There are a few reasons for this. First of all, he's a dynamic, charismatic speaker, who speaks English like a native (he spent much of his childhood in Boston). However you felt about his recent speech in Congress, it was eloquently written and forcefully delivered. Second, I think that American Jews often (very reasonably) care more about Israel's existential issues than our day-to-day problems. Bibi's strength is that he's "tough on security". In his election propaganda he paints himself as a trustworthy leader, the only serious adult among a crowd of children (or, in the case of the left wing parties, sniveling wusses). The sorts of existential issues he campaigns on (Iranian nukes, Islamist terrorism, etc.) are more interesting and important for American Jews. A story about the Mossad's attempt to thwart Iran's path toward a bomb is better reading than the Department of the Interior's attempt to lower housing prices. But it's also in American Jews' self interest. Many American Jews think of Israel as a safety net (even subconsciously) and so Israel's existence is important. By definition American Jews live in America, and so the day-to-day struggles of trying to live life here is less important.
     In Israel, while we obviously fret the existential stuff, we also have to go about living our lives. The state has been in jeopardy since before it even existed, and it will probably continue to be (unfortunately). We're used to it, and our leadership, from the left and the right, has always dealt with it. We're not interested in hearing about it every second of every day. Like people around the world and throughout history, on most days we care more about how much our groceries cost than whether we're going to have a bomb dropped on us. And the feeling among many Israelis is that Bibi can't empathize with that struggle, and therefore doesn't try and do anything about it. That's why all of the stories about Bibi and his wife Sarah's lifestyle (the exorbitant amount they spend on ice cream or wine each month, the way they treat their staff, etc.) strike such a chord. Two college educated adults in Israel can't buy an apartment without significant financial help from their parents. Bibi and Sarah spend $2700 a year of taxpayer money on ice cream.
     Bibi also takes flak for, essentially, being a politician. One of his most vocal critics (and a major speaker at the rally a few nights ago), ex-Mossad head Meir Dagan, says that "we have a leader who fights only one campaign--the campaign for his political survival." This criticism echoes the point above, that Bibi only cares about Bibi.
     Even Netanyahu's go-to issue, security, is open for attack. His critics point out that we've had three wars with Hamas (the terrorist organization running the Gaza Strip) in the last six years with nothing to show for it. Hamas is still in charge, building tunnels and amassing rockets, just waiting for the next round of violence. In this last war Hamas was able to fire rockets at Tel Aviv (and the whole coastal plain area, where ~75% of Israel's population lives) and shut down Ben Gurion airport. On our northern border we know that Hezbollah has massively re-armed and is likely digging tunnels as well. And Iran, who Netanyahu talks (or screams) about non-stop is still moving toward a nuclear bomb and seems to be gaining ground regionally, both in the Syrian civil war and in Yemen, where Iran's allies, the Houthis, are now the de facto rulers. If this is a Prime Minister who's strong on security, what would a weak one look like?
     I acknowledge all these criticisms, and even agree with some of them. I've heard them often from people I respect, most importantly my fiance Noy, who is actively involved in V15 (link in Hebrew), an organization dedicated to bringing about a change in government in 2015. I'm not voting for him, but I also think he's not getting a fair shake.
     First of all, I don't much care what he does in his personal life. I've often said that I would be happy for Bill Clinton to be President of the US forever, but I wouldn't want to introduce him to my sister. Whether or not someone is a sleazeball is (and I tend to think most politicians are), in my opinion, one of the least important qualifications for whether or not he/she can effectively run a country. I take more seriously the criticism that his lifestyle shows his lack of empathy with the rest of us commoners, and his lack of a serious plan to try and improve the economic circumstances of the average Israeli is one of the main reasons I'm not voting for him. As for Dagan's complaint that Bibi is only concerned about winning the next election, I think there's probably a modicum of truth to it, but if we're only allowing candidates that don't act like politicians, we're going to have a pretty small slate of candidates.
     I also think that, again, it undersells Bibi. In his recent speech in front of Congress, for example, I have no doubt that he had his own political interests at heart. He thought standing up to the American President over Israel's security would help woo the Israeli right (where he's in a fierce competition with Naftali Bennett, the charismatic leader of the Jewish Home party--here's some of his propaganda). He knows that he's an excellent speaker, and that giving a speech like that, in that setting, makes him look very Prime Minister-ish. He wanted to distract us from the cost of living issues that have become so important in this campaign. But that doesn't mean it's the ONLY reason he gave the speech. My impression is that he deeply believes what he says about Iran. Smart people can disagree with him--President Obama clearly does--but that doesn't mean it was only political theater.
     When Obama came to Israel he eschewed the opportunity to speak to the Knesset (the Israeli Parliament) and instead spoke to a group of Israeli students. He told them "political leaders will never take risks if the people do not push them to take some risks. You must create the change that you want to see." I think Bibi saw his own speech to Congress as an attempt to do the same thing, to speak directly to Americans and tell them that their leadership is wrong. Obama's the leader of the free world. Bibi's the leader of a small, embattled country (that I love dearly). American support for Israel matters more than Israeli support for America (though Israel managed to survive our first twenty years with no American support, and I believe we still could if we had to). I don't think they get to act the same and I don't think Bibi served his purpose. But I do think he's a smart, strategic thinker, who believed making his speech the way he made it was important, even if it served his political goals as well. 
     As for his economic policies, I acknowledge many of the criticisms leveled against him. It's frustrating to have to buy a pair of shoes online, have them sent to my parents in the US and then have them bring them to Israel because it costs half the price. Paul Krugman (NYTimes economist) just wrote about the staggering growth in inequality in Israel (an excellent read). But I also think this is a large, complicated, long-standing issue, and to put all the blame on Bibi is unfair. And if we're going to blame him for the economic problems here then it only seems fair that he get credit for the successes. The whole world went through a major economic crisis over the last several years. In much of Europe the outlook is still quite dire. In Israel, it was merely a hiccup. There were no massive layoffs, no dramatic fall in real estate prices. Israel's GDP growth is better than virtually any other advanced economy in the world. If Bibi takes the blame for the economic problems, then he gets the credit for successfully managing the economic crisis. 
      I also think that there's a case to be made for his security policies. There's no doubt that he's put Iran firmly on the international agenda. I'm not sure Obama would even be working so hard to sign a deal with Iran if not for Bibi's constant yelling about them (which is ironic given that Bibi is against the proposed deal). He's also worked to retard Iran's nuclear progress, for example with the stuxnet computer virus. He's overseen the rapid and wildly successful expansion of our missile defense system. The sad truth is there's a limit to what we can do about the Iran problem, and I think Bibi's more or less done what he can (with the exception of how he handled his speech in the US). 
     The same can be said for how he's dealt with Hamas. It seems quite unlikely that toppling Hamas would lead to a friendlier leadership in the Gaza Strip, and if it were friendlier (like the Palestinian Authority, who governs the West Bank, might be) they would be seen as Israeli puppets and have no legitimacy. And, as sad as it is, I don't think we can afford not to shoot back when they provoke us. This is the Middle East and if we don't shoot back they simply shoot more. This depressing set of circumstances basically means that when Hamas shoots we have to shoot back, but there's nothing to gain by shooting so much that we destroy them. This summer I actually think Bibi was particularly shrewd and made an important, and successful, gamble. He knew we had to deal with Hamas's tunnels, and yet he accepted cease fire after cease fire--betting that Hamas wouldn't accept in return--and was able to establish as much legitimacy as possible (for my full thoughts on the war this summer and Bib's handling of it check out the blog I wrote). There is no good solution to the Hamas problem, and Bibi handled it as well as anyone could. 
     So why aren't I voting for him? For one, I don't think he can deal with the rising inequality. Like any politician who's been in power too long he's lost touch with what it means to be a regular citizen. He's been in power six years and the problem is getting worse, not better. He doesn't deserve all of the blame, but he deserves some of it. And while I give Bibi credit for Israel's economic growth, I think that he has lost sight of the balance necessary between overall growth and growth for the majority. That's not just my personal opinion on what I think is just, I think that the growing inequality is like to prevent sustainable economic growth.
     On security issues, I don't have a particular problem with the things he's done. But there's a near universal consensus in Israel (a huge shock for anyone who's ever met an Israeli) that the Palestinians aren't going to play nice, even if we negotiate a state for them. And even hardcore right-wingers acknowledge that the status quo is unsustainable in the long term. The range of possibilities is extremely narrow and I can't believe that a Labor-led government would, in practical terms, do virtually anything differently. 
     What I do think the left would do differently is to present a better picture to the rest of the world. When Bibi announces that there won't be a Palestinian state on his watch (as he did last night), or clearly and intentionally insults President Obama, I think he's doing Israel a huge disservice. I believe the vast majority of the world is anti-Israel and that much of it is anti-Semitic. I believe that no matter how we act we are likely to be condemned. I believe that we can survive without the US if we need to (though I definitely don't want to). But none of that is a reason to thumb your nose at the rest of the world. In today's day and age international opinion matters, and the fact that we're fighting an unfair, uphill battle doesn't mean we should ignore it. 
     But most importantly I'm not voting for Bibi because he doesn't give me any hope. The state of Israel is an impossible dream. The return of Am Yisrael (the Jewish People) to our ancestral homeland, the revival of the Hebrew language, the transformation of barren deserts into luscious greenery is all one big miracle. A miracle I moved across the world to be a part of and that gives meaning to my life every day. The founders of the state of Israel had a vision. They believed we could create a brighter future for Am Yisrael and then went out and did it. I don't know if Bibi ever had dreams for the future of Am Yisrael, but it sure doesn't seem like he has one now. I acknowledge that change in our neighborhood of the world can be scary. We pulled out of Gaza and got a whole bunch of rockets in return. As far as I know we're the only state in the world that actively worries that our neighbors are developing a nuclear weapon to wipe us from the face of the earth. I understand that there are positives to the status quo. But Theodor Herzl, the founder of modern Zionism, famously said "If you will it, it is no dream." As far as I can tell, Bibi lost (or never had) the ability to dream. It may be dangerous, but I want a leader who dares to try something new, to move Am Yisrael forward. I don't think Bibi can do that, so I'm voting for change. 

Introduction to Islam

    In my previous post I explained the flowering of Jewish culture under Persian rule that resulted in the Babylonian Talmud. Unfortunately, like all periods of prosperity, it didn't last (how's that for upbeat?). The Persians and the Byzantines (the remainder of the Roman Empire based in Constantinople in Asia Minor) spent most of the 6th century in a series of devastating wars. So by the year 600 they were exhausted in every sense of the word, making it very easy for the world's newest superpower to burst onto the scene, and that's exactly what the Arab Muslims did.
     The Arab people first show up in written history around the year 900 BCE (meaning, of course, they certainly existed before that), and up until the time of Muhammad were essentially synonymous with what we today call Bedouins, the nomads and semi-nomads who live in the desert. In the early 600s Muhammad was a poor man living in the city of Mecca, a trade hub which housed a stone considered holy by the pagan Arabs (the Kaaba stone). Like most nomads, in Arab culture there is a strong emphasis on family and tribal loyalty, which often leads to bitter rivalries between different families (something that can still be seen in the modern Arab world). So the world Muhammad lived in was full of various tribes in a constant state of semi-warfare.
     According to Muslim tradition (and virtually everything we know about Muhammad is based on tradition, rather than historical fact) Muhammad received the Quran over a period of years from the angel Gabriel ("proof", according to Muslims, of its divine origin is the quality of its writing, impossible for an illiterate like Muhammad). He began to preach the teachings of this Quran around Mecca, which was met with disapproval, much like Jesus in Nazareth ("no prophet is welcome in his hometown"), and in 622 Muhammad and his followers fled to Medina, an event known as the Hijra, which represents the beginning of the Muslim calendar. In Medina Muhammad was more successful, and after a number of years his expanded band of followers were able to conquer Mecca. Shortly thereafter Muhammad successfully united all the tribes of the Arab peninsula (which history has shown to be a very big deal, given how rarely the Arabs have been unified since then).
     As the Arab-Muslim empire began to expand, Muhammad died, passing on the leadership to a position called the Caliph, which is a combination of spiritual and temporal leader. The first few Caliphs are generally agreed (among Muslims) to have been good leaders (known as the Rashidun), after which accounts start to differ. At any rate the first major dynasty to rule this new (and rapidly expanding empire) was called the Umayyad dynasty. Under the Umayyads the Arab-Muslim Empire reached its greatest extent (in around 750), which is shown below.

stages of Muslim conquest

     Compared to the Roman Empire, which took 1000 years to reach its peak, the Arab-Muslim Empire practically exploded onto the scene, helped along by the weakened state of the Persians and Byzantines. But the Arabs, who were used to living as nomads/semi-nomads, had no experience governing large territories, so the burden/privilege of governance often fell on the same people who had been governing for years, with the Arab conquerors simply cracking the whip (I mean that figuratively, though I'm sure there were literal instances as well). By the time the Abbassid dynasty, which had replaced the Umayyads everywhere except for Spain (more on that in the next post), there were many non-Arab Muslims holding important posts. The Persians, especially, adopted the Arabic script and Muslim religion and mixed them together with Persian culture and governance. It was this milieu that led the Islamic civilization (which it's no longer really accurate to call Arab-Muslim, in my opinion) to the staggering heights it reached at its zenith in the 9th century. For hundreds of years Islam carried the torch of civilization while Europe recovered from the end of the Roman Empire, exemplified by the House of Wisdom built by the Abbassids in their new capital of Baghdad.
     So what exactly did these Muslims believe? First of all, they don't see Muhammad as having received anything new. In their view God had given the same message to Abraham, Moses, Elijah, Jesus, etc., but in each instance it was gradually lost and/or corrupted. Therefore, virtually anyone who's considered holy by Jews or early Christians is also holy in Islam. From a Muslim viewpoint Muhammad is simply the last prophet, and this time the message didn't get lost.
     The essence of Islam is expressed in five "pillars". The first is a simple declaration of faith; Allah is God and Muhammad is his messenger. The second requires Muslims to pray five times a day. You can actually hear the beautiful call to prayer from our Arab neighbors here at Kibbutz Tzuba (and, truthfully, the call is a lot more beautiful in the middle of the afternoon than it is at 5:30 in the morning). The third requires Muslims to fast during the daylight hours during the entire month of Ramadan (which, compared to the secular calendar, moves each year because the Muslim calendar is lunar, like most non-agricultural peoples). The fourth is the requirement to give charity (2.5% of your savings per year if you have above a certain amount). The final requirement is to complete the Haj, a pilgrimage to Mecca, at least once in your life if you're able.
     As you can see, there are quite a few similarities between Muslim and Jewish beliefs. For example, Muslims and Jews both believe in one God, rather than the more complicated trinity worshiped by Christians (I'd like to be clear that Christians still certainly consider themselves monotheists, it's just more theologically complicated). But compared to pagans, all three of the Abrahamic faiths are quite similar, and so when Muslims conquered the world they gave a special status to the "peoples of the book" (Jews and Christians) known as Dhimmi. This status gave people of the book the right to live in Muslim society, though often with additional taxes and restrictions. Speaking very broadly, historically it has been better to be Jewish in a Muslim society than in a Christian one. 

Jewish Math: Mishna + Gemara = Talmud

     In the previous post I discussed the development of the Torah She'be'al Peh (Oral Torah), mentioned a few of its main contributors (Hillel, ben Zakai and Akiva) and explained how it was finally written down around 200 CE by Yehuda HaNasi and named the Mishna. Of course, the second it was written down it began to face the same problems the Oral Torah was originally meant to solve: a lack of flexibility and an inability to address changing circumstances. Given that these are problems Am Yisrael had already dealt with once before we had a solution ready. In the same way that the Mishna developed as a series of discussions between Rabbis about the text of the Tanakh that were eventually written down, the Gemara developed as a series of discussions about and interpretations of the Mishna, which were eventually written down. The Mishna and the Gemara together are called the Talmud (from the Hebrew root meaning "to learn"), which is written predominantly in Aramaic, the vernacular of 4th and 5th century Mesopotamia.
     Up until now, aside from a few years in exile in Babylon and a quick jaunt down to Egypt for some slavery, the center of Am Yisrael (the people of Israel) has been in Eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel). But the complete decimation of the land and its people due to the Great Revolt (66-70) and the Bar Kochva revolt (132-135) and the subsequent rise of Christianity slowly pushed more and more of Am Yisrael into the Galut (exile/diaspora). So while there was a Talmud published in Eretz Yisrael, it seems to have been done hurriedly and not at the highest possible level. Also, as you might expect, the Talmud that was published in Israel, called the Jerusalem Talmud (though it was definitely not written in Jerusalem, where Jews were nearly non-existent at this point), deals quite a bit with laws that are specific to the land of Israel. This meant that part of it was irrelevant to Galut Jews, who would make up the majority of Am Yisrael from this point all the way to the modern day (today probably a bit more than half of Am Yisrael live in Eretz Yisrael). For both of these reasons--its less-than-optimal quality and its focus on Eretz Yisrael--the Jerusalem Talmud is secondary in Jewish tradition.
     The main Talmud from which Jews study even today was written several hundred miles away in Mesopotamia (the land between the Tigris and Euphrates River, modern day Iraq) and known as the Babylonian Talmud. It's this series of books you'll find in virtually any observant Jewish home. This process was begun by a man named Abba Arikha (known simply as "Rav", which means Rabbi, in the Talmud), a Mesopotamia-born student of Yehuda HaNasi (codifier of the Mishna). Rav, after studying in Israel, returned to Mesopotamia and opened a famous academy at Sura (there was another at Pumbedita), which cultivated the creation of the Gemara (Rav is also known for codifying the Jewish prayer the Aleinu, which is first written down in Rav's Rosh Hashanah service).
     The Jews of Mesopotamia, under the control of a Persian Empire, were prosperous and generally allowed a good amount of autonomy. This allowed scholarship on the Gemara to flourish, and by around 400 Rav Ashi, a famous head of the Sura Academy, had begun to organize it and write it down, similar to what Yehuda HaNasi did with the Mishna. This process of culling and organizing was eventually completed by his students, and by the year 500 the Babylonian Talmud was more or less complete.
     To try and understand the Talmud (and Jewish law in general) we can compare it to American law. In the US all law is based on the Constitution. But of course the Constitution doesn't comment on things such as the legality of downloading music without paying for it. So why is downloading music illegal? At some point a judge decided that, based on his understanding of the Constitution, downloading music should be illegal (perhaps it's similar to something that is explicitly illegal in the Constitution?). This ruling then became a part of the law, so that the next judge doesn't necessarily have to go back at the Constitution, he can simply site the original case, which decided that downloading music without paying is illegal.
     In Judaism, all law is based upon the Tanakh. But, just as with the Constitution, the Tanakh doesn't explicitly cover each issue. Therefore as new issues arise the Rabbis make their best interpretation and those interpretations/decisions get written down, and that's what became first the Mishna and then the Gemara (and together the Talmud). This process continues today as various commentaries on the Talmud. Here's a link to a famous Talmudic passage in which the Rabbis are discussing the phrase "an eye for an eye". This particular tractate is dealing with how to assess damages (ie should you actually poke out their eye or does the phrase actually mean compensation) Be warned it's very difficult to understand without a background or proper teacher, but definitely give it a try! The part at the beginning in all caps is the Mishna; the part after that is the Gemara. 

Writing down the Oral Torah: the Story of Yehuda HaNasi

    On Sunday we were on an amazing tiyul (field trip) in the north of the country. We began at Beit Shearim, which is just southeast of Haifa, then cut across the country to Beit Alfa, which is near Beit She'an on Israel's Eastern border, and finished up with a dip in the beautiful Sachne Pools nearby. So why were we up north? After the destruction of Beit HaMikdash in 70 and the Bar Kochba revolt from 132 to 135 Jerusalem and the center of the country were completely destroyed and the center of Jewish life moved to the north. The Sanhedrin, for example, moved among places such as Tzippori, Beit Shearim and Tiberias (and is therefore known as the "Wandering Sanhedrin" during this time). During this time the most important development for Am Yisrael was the continued progression of the Torah she'be'al peh (Oral Torah or Oral law). I explained the principles behind the development of the Oral Torah in a previous post, but it's basically the tradition that was passed down to explain difficulties/incongruities in the written text, and by the arrival of the Romans (63 BCE) it was already a prominent part of Jewish thought. The destruction of Beit HaMikdash by Titus basically ended the Sadduccee sect, whose Judaism was based on Beit HaMikdash and who didn't accept the legitimacy of the Oral Torah, leaving only the Pharisees, now the leaders of Am Yisrael, and their academies, the centers where the Oral Law developed.
     I've already mentioned a few of the most important Rabbis in this process: Hillel, who applied Hellenistic logic to Jewish law and developed hermeneutical principles (some of which will be familiar to modern lawyers, such as an "a fortiori" argument), and Yochanan ben Zakai, who fled the besieged Jerusalem, established an academy in Yavneh, and began to build a Judaism not based around Jerusalem and Beit HaMikdash. In my previous post I mentioned Rabbi Akiva, spiritual leader of the Bar Kochva revolt, who died gruesomely in an amphitheater while saying the Shema (the central statement of faith in Judaism). Rabbi Akiva is generally credited with beginning to organize the Oral Torah. As you can imagine the main way people studied the Tanakh was in order, beginning with Breisheet (Genesis) and proceeding through Shemot (Exodus), Vaykira (Leviticus), etc. But as we more explicitly defined the goal of study to be understanding which laws can be derived from the Tanakh this wasn't an effective method, so Rabbi Akiva organized the Oral Torah into six books, arranged by subject. Now, to learn about the laws regarding Shabbat, for example, you didn't have to search through several different books of the Tanakh and find the appropriate interpretation; you could simply look at the section dealing with laws about Shabbat.
     One of the next major contributors to the Oral Torah (and obviously I'm leaving out many important people) was Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, who is the reason we began our tiyul in Beit Shearim, where, according to tradition, he is buried. During the time when Yehuda HaNasi was active (around 200 CE) he noticed at least two main problems with the Oral Torah. First, given the number of Jews who had been killed during the two revolts and the ongoing persecution against Am Yisrael, he recognized the difficulty of depending on the tannaim (who memorized and passed on the Oral Torah), who might be killed at any moment. Second, he saw that as the process of Oral Law drew wider acceptance there were more and more interpretations to the various stories and laws. While this flourishing of Jewish thought certainly had many positive aspects, it also made it more likely for there to be a sect (or sects), such as the Christian Jews, who would eventually break away from Judaism. Given these realities he made the controversial decision to write down the Oral Torah, which he organized in the six categories developed by Rabbi Akiva and is today known as the Mishna.
     Today, it seems quite obvious that writing down the Mishna (or anything else you want to preserve) is a good idea, but there are several problems. The first is that writing down the Oral Torah destroys one of its main advantages: its ability to adapt to new circumstances. Once its written down it loses its flexibility (and we'll see how Am Yisrael deals with this problem in a later blog). Another main concern is that in writing down the Oral Torah Yehuda HaNasi had to decide which traditions/interpretations to include and which to leave out. In explaining this to the students I asked them to consider what they would write today if they had to make an official determination about what is Jewish. Most Jews would clearly describe someone who wears a kippah, prays three times a day, studies Torah and behaves in a morally just way as Jewish, and most Jews would clearly describe someone who goes to church every week and accepts Jesus as his personal savior as non-Jewish. The question is where do we draw the line? Does being Jewish only mean behaving ethically? Does it mean a minimum number of visits to Beit Knesset every week/month/year? Does it mean celebrating Jewish holidays, or speaking Hebrew? If I "feel Jewish" does that make me Jewish? It's obviously a very difficult question to answer, and I hope you'll share your own view in the comments.
     Also on this tiyul we saw what it was like for Am Yisrael to live as a minority among a strong majority culture (sound familiar?) and the influences the majority culture can have. At Beit Shearim we saw rabbis' graves with pictures of eagles, the symbol of Rome, and even Nike, the goddess of victory. At Beit Alpha we saw the beautiful mosaic floor of a Beit Knesset, which had a picture of the Roman sun god Helios in the middle.

part of the mosaic floor in the beit knesset at beit alpha showing the god Helios

     After seeing these somewhat surprising images in slightly uncomfortable places I asked the students what they made of it, and how they thought it compared to their modern day lives. Many of them accepted the ubiquity of modern American Christian culture (I think about half had sung Christmas songs as part of being in Chorus class), but still felt like these particular instances were going too far (a foreign god in a beit knesset!). Both of these discussions were incredibly interesting, and I hope the students (and anyone else who's interested!) will share their thoughts in the comments. A few of them also wrote about which cultural practices and symbols we can adapt and use as Jews in their own blogs, so check them out!

Bar Kochva revolt

     In my last blog I summarized the life of Yehoshua ben Yosef (Joshua son of Joseph, commonly known as Jesus) and explained a few main differences between Judaism and Christianity. But of course that was only the very beginning of the Christian story. In the roughly three centuries that followed the life of Yehoshua the Christians were persecuted terribly (and I say that as a Jew who's fully aware how badly the Jews have been persecuted over the years). Though of course history actually moves in fits and starts, we can say that by around the time of the emperor Constantine (~320) Christianity had become an accepted religion (his mother was Christian and it is said that he saw a cross in the sky before a famous battle, which he won) and by the end of the 4th century it was the official religion of the Roman Empire.
     This official adoption by the Roman Empire had important consequences for the way Christianity was organized. In general, it mirrored the organization of the Roman Empire. So, for example, Constantine's new capital Constantinople (today's Istanbul) became an important center of Christianity. When the Western Roman Empire fell in 476 CE the Eastern Roman Empire (which history would call the Byzantine Empire) became the standard-bearer for Christianity. This split, between the conquered west and the unconquered east would eventually lead to the Great Schism in 1054 in which Eastern and Western Christianity split.
     Christianity also underwent important theological changes in the centuries after Yehoshua's death. Arguably the most important influence came from Paul, originally a Jew named Saul, who converted to Christianity after famously having a vision of Yehoshua while on the road to Damascus. After this experience he became a major proselytizer for Christianity. Not only that, but while previously the target audience for proselytizing Christians had been Jews, Paul preached mainly to pagans, traveling extensively within the Roman Empire and famously writing many epistles (letters) to other communities, many of which are preserved in the Christian Bible.
     Paul, along with his extensive outreach, also made significant changes to the substance of Christianity (as always, it's unlikely that he thought of and enacted these changes alone, but he's generally the face of them). Whereas Yehoshua had said he didn't intend to change even a word of the law, Paul (and others like him) decided that certain Jewish practices, such as circumcision and keeping Kosher, were unnecessary in Christianity. In the instance of circumcision, for example, Paul said that merely getting circumcised didn't make you a good person; its your actions that matter, and so he advocated a "circumcision of the heart" rather than a literal circumcision. While Jews would agree that getting circumcised doesn't make you a good person, our view is that it's a physical symbol of our covenant with HaShem (the Hebrew phrase for circumcision is literally a covenant), which should help us remember how to behave. In fact, virtually all Jewish rituals are to help us remember some particular message or event.
     While it seems clear that Paul's new version of Christianity came from an honest place--Yehoshua himself pointed out that the trappings of holiness, such as priestly garments, aren't what actually make you holy--it certainly didn't lessen Christianity's appeal. You can imagine an ancient Roman who admired Judaism's morality and views on god considering conversion only to decide against it when he learned he'd have to cut off a little part of his best friend. Paul solved this problem for Christianity.
     Another important Christian thinker was St. Augustine, who was active around the year 400. At this point Rome, who had ruled the world for at least 500 years, was clearly in decline, and would be sacked for the first time since 390 BCE (an interval of 800 years) during his lifetime. Partially as a response to this he wrote the book "City of God", explaining that the physical existence in this life was far less important than the world-to-come. Like Paul, he was clearly a brilliant scholar and deep thinker, but you can imagine the appeal of this idea in a world in which the physical conditions were rapidly deteriorating.
     St. Augustine also dealt with the intellectual conundrum that was the continued existence of the Jews. If, as he knew to be the case, Christianity was True, how can we explain the continued existence of Am Yisrael (the Jewish people)? Shouldn't they all have died out and/or converted to Christianity? St. Augustine's answer is that Am Yisrael survived in order to act as witnesses to the glory of Christianity and to serve as a warning to Christians. He also contributed to the development of the idea of "original sin" (discussed in the previous blog) and just war theory. Even today his writings continue to exert a major influence on Christian thinkers (and even general philosophy).
     Back in Eretz Yisrael things weren't going well for Am Yisrael. After the Great Revolt of 66-70, which culminated in the destruction of the Second Temple, we were able to pick ourselves up and re-establish some kind of community. Unfortunately, 50 years later, the Roman emperor Hadrian rose to power, who was an avid Hellenist. As such, he clashed with Am Yisrael, passing laws forbidding circumcision (which, in his view, mutilated the beautiful human body), building a pagan temple on the site of the destroyed Beit HaMikdash (Temple) and even renaming Jerusalem Aelia Capitolina, a combination of his own name and that of Rome's chief deity.
     Not surprisingly these measures led to a Jewish revolt. Whereas during the Great Revolt Am Yisrael was divided and fighting among ourselves, this time we were united under the military/political leadership of Shimon bar Kochva (bar Kochva was a play on his actual name; it means "son of star"), who was widely believed to be the messiah, and the spiritual leadership of Rabbi Akiva (more on him in the next blog about the further development of the Oral Torah). This revolt was so successful that there was actually an independent Jewish state for more than two years, and it took up to half of the entire Roman army (this is the higher side of various estimates, but its clear that it took a huge force) to put it down. Rome's 12th legion, for example, was erased from history during the rebellion (and maybe the 9th as well). Bar Kochba and co even printed their own coins.

coins from the brief Jewish state founded by bar Kochva. left: Beit HaMikdash with the Ark of the Covenant within. right: a lulav and etrog, symbols of the Jewish holiday of Sukkot

     Unfortunately for Am Yisrael, this revolt happened right at the peak of Rome's powers, and so they eventually put it down. To combat bar Kochba's guerrilla tactics the Romans embraced a scorched earth strategy, destroying absolutely everything. There are many stories about the ferocity of the destruction. The Jerusalem Talmud, for example, writes that the Romans "went on killing until their horses were submerged in blood to their nostrils". One Roman historian estimates that nearly 600,000 Jews were killed (even today that would be nearly 5% of the Jewish population). 

     After the rebellion the anti-Jewish laws became even stricter. Hadrian wanted to completely extirpate Am Yisrael so, among other punishments, he ceremonially burned the Torah scroll on the site of the destroyed Beit HaMikdash. He also renamed the province of Judea, going back to Israel's historical enemies the Philistines to find the name Palestina. Another unforeseen result of the rebellion was a further split between Judaism and Christianity. While there were certainly multiple reasons that the Christians chose not to participate in the rebellion, one major consideration was that they couldn't accept that bar Kochba was the messiah. 

     This rebellion, in my opinion, is more problematic than the Great Revolt. It's easy to make the case that the Great Revolt was a huge mistake, one for which we must largely blame ourselves (which is not to excuse the role the Romans played). In this case, though, it's more complicated. How should we have reacted to Hadrian's laws? At what point do you say "enough is enough"? When he renamed Jerusalem? When he outlawed circumcision? When he built a pagan temple on Har HaBayit (the Temple Mount)? How should we have reacted?

The life of a Jew: Yehoshua ben Yosef (Jesus)

     On Wednesday we were on tiyul in Ein Karem, a lovely neighborhood on the edge of Jerusalem and the traditional home of John the Baptist (the New Testament only says it was in the mountains of Judah, but traditionally this is the place). This class is always one of the most challenging for me. Whereas the classes about the development of Am Yisrael are filled with meaning for me, teaching about Christianity is more academic. Also, it's a challenge to present Christianity as different from Judaism, but still credit it as a worldview that has given meaning and comfort to millions of people. And, lastly, I know so much less about it! So, as always, if you notice something incorrect in the blog, please feel free to let me know, especially today.
     The story of Christianity begins during the Second Temple period, about which we've been learning for a couple of weeks. During this time there were many different sects of Jews (we've talked about four of them quite a bit, but there were certainly many more smaller sects) and plenty of people claiming to be the messiah. One of them, Yehoshua ben Yosef (Joshua son of Joseph), went on to be the most important figure in Christianity. Most scholars agree that Jesus (his Greek name) was born between 6 BCE and 4 BCE to a Galilean family. According to tradition his pregnant mother left Nazareth, where they were living, and came to visit her relative, John the Baptist's mother, in Ein Karem. Then, due to a census requiring that everyone return to his/her ancestral homeland, the unborn Jesus and his family went to Bethlehem, where Jesus was born.
     From a historical perspective, this story doesn't make much sense. The point of a census (from ancient times until today) is to learn about the population of an area in the present day, mostly in order to assess taxes and conscript soldiers. Given these goals, having everyone go to a place where they may not currently be living is silly. Of course, there are plenty of arguments against this line of thinking, ranging from "God can do whatever God wants" to "this census was special and different for reason X." If you believe that this story doesn't make historical sense then we have to ask why it exists. The answer is that early Christianity was a sect of Judaism, whose goal was to attract more Jews. According to Jewish tradition the Messiah will come from the line of King David, who, as we know, was born in Bethlehem. Therefore, if you want to convince Am Yisrael that someone is the Messiah you need to show that his family comes from Bethlehem (also, it can be challenging to reconcile Yehoshua as a direct descendant of David with the fact that his father, according to tradition, wasn't biologically his father due to the immaculate conception).
     Whatever your take on his birth we don't hear much about Jesus until around the time of his Bar Mitzvah. At this time he and his family go to visit Beit HaMikdash, an event that fits in very well with what we would expect from a family like his in this time period. While there, Yehoshua gets lost, and his parents later find him discussing the law with the Pharisaic leaders, who are impressed by his erudition. On the one hand, if Yehoshua was a great Rabbi, this shouldn't be surprising. On the other hand, as a poor peasant from a backwater Galil town (which Nazareth was at the time), it's unlikely that Yehoshua was a scholar, if he was even literate.
     After his visit to Beit HaMikdash we again don't hear much about Yehoshua for a while. The story resumes when he meets his relative John the Baptist (at the time it probably would have been more accurate to call him Yochanan the Mikve Man) and gets baptized. After wandering through the desert and being tempted by Satan, Yehoshua returns to the Galil (specifically the area near the Kinnerret, the Sea of Galilee) and begins to preach and do miracles. One of the few direct teachings we have from Yehoshua (as opposed to later reports and explanations by his followers) is his Sermon on the Mount, in which he preaches to all his followers. Some of what he says in this speech, such as "blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness" fits perfectly with Jewish dogma. Other parts, such as "blessed are the meek" do not. For Jews, each life has independent value to Hashem. So, for example, Jews aren't allowed to commit suicide because we're not allowed to just give away our lives if we feel like it; it's not ours to give. By a similar token, the idea of "turn the other cheek" (which seems to me to be quite similar to "blessed are the meek") is not a Jewish value. Your life and well-being have independent value, and you're not allowed to let someone trample on that. (Also, for Jews, there's nothing inherently wrong with being wealthy, assuming you still act appropriately, which is different from the Christian view that says it's easier to fit a camel through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get to heaven.)
     Eventually Yehoshua and his disciples head to Jerusalem and, upon arriving, Yehoshua cries and prophesies the destruction of Beit HaMikdash. Throughout his life and teachings its clear that Yehoshua believed the wealthy, and specifically the Sadduccee priests running the Temple, were corrupt and immoral (and, by the way, he wasn't the only one). In our day and age we might expect Yehoshua to be one of the leaders of the "Occupy" movement. (This certainly elucidates his view, mentioned above, about the difficulty of rich people getting into heaven.) After spending a few days in Jerusalem Yehoshua and his disciples sit down for what history will call "The Last Supper." Judas, one of Yehoshua's disciples, then betrays him and turns him over to the Jewish leadership (as Yehoshua predicted). The Jewish leadership (meaning the Sadduccee priests) are, obviously, not big fans of Yehoshua, who has been lambasting them as corrupt and allowing people to refer to him as the Messiah (which makes him, officially, a heretic). The priests then turn Yehoshua over to Pontius Pilate, the contemporaneous procurator (Roman government official).
     According to Christian tradition, Pontius Pilate does everything he can reasonably do to avoid killing Yehoshua, including giving the people a choice between Yehoshua and a zealot leader. In this case, it's hard to reconcile the traditional story with the historical research. Pilate, according to non-Christian sources, was a terrible, rapacious procurator, and there are no other examples of a procurator offering the crowd the opportunity to exempt a prisoner. A traditional Christian response might point out that this was during Pesach (Passover), one of the three pilgrimage holidays, so Jerusalem would have been packed with extra people and particularly susceptible to revolution. Given these concerns it's possible that Pilate changed his tune and made a one time decision to allow this amnesty-by-referendum.
     At any rate, according to tradition, the crowd votes to release the zealot (perhaps with some "encouragement" from his zealot buddies in the crowd) and Yehoshua is crucified, an extremely common way to kill someone at the time (to the point that bored Roman soldiers would crucify people sideways, upside down, etc.) After his crucifixion and death Yehoshua was put in his tomb. Christian tradition then tells us that when his followers went to visit the body he wasn't there, and that he spent the next several weeks visiting his students and performing miracles before finally ascending to heaven.
     Rather than continue the story of the development of Christianity (which includes the writing of the four gospels and the conversion of Paul, who begins to preach more to pagans than to Jews and who does much of the organizing and public relations that turns Christianity into a prominent religion), I'd like to change focus and discuss one of the main differences between Judaism and Christianity. One of the most important conceptual differences is the idea of original sin. For Christians, when Eve ate the apple in the Garden of Eden she tainted all of humanity with sin, so that even a newborn baby is already sinful. According to this view of humanity--that we are all innately blemished--no one can go to heaven. In order to solve this problem, Yehoshua, who is not tainted by original sin because he's godly, but can make a meaningful sacrifice because he's human, sacrifices himself. The rest of humanity, by believing in Yehoshua as the messiah can, in this way, absolve ourselves of original sin and get into heaven.
     This aspect of Christianity is interesting and important for a number of reasons. First of all, it shows how theologically Christianity is much more complex than Judaism. The ideas that Yehoshua is both God and man (which, as I explained above, is necessary for Christian theology) and that God has three different aspects/"persons" are quite complicated compared with Judaism's straightforward belief in one god. (Of course, Judaism is complicated in other ways. Good luck explaining that a Jew has to walk up 10 flights of stairs on Shabbat rather than take the elevator because he's supposed to be resting.) Even more important, however, is the idea in Christianity that the path to heaven must run through Yehoshua, meaning the central tenet of Christianity is acceptance of Yehoshua as the messiah (or christ in Greek).
     A Jewish joke will help explain the difference. Rabbi Moshe and Rabbi Shmuel are having a deep theological discussion late into the night. As dawn approaches they finally prove definitively that there is no god. Parting ways Rabbi Moshe climbs into bed, but, distraught over this discovery, can't fall asleep. After a couple hours he sees Rabbi Shmuel on his way to the beit knesset (synagogue) to pray shacharit (the morning prayers). Flabbergasted, he calls out to him, "Rabbi Moshe, we just proved that there's no god, what are you doing?" Rabbi Moshe answers him "god, shmod, you still have to pray three times a day."
     This story illustrates the point that in Judaism faith is much less important than behavior and, specifically, following the law. Is it better to believe and have really pure motives? Absolutely. But if you're questioning your faith or you woke up on the wrong side of the bed and don't feel like following the law do you still have to? Definitely. Whereas faith is the central tenet of Christianity, following the law and behaving like you're supposed to is the central tenet of Judaism. (Judaism also tells us that often people who originally do the right thing for the wrong reason end up doing it for the right reason, such as Oscar Schindler.) Just to be clear, I have no doubt that if you asked a Christian leader whether Christians are required to behave in a moral, righteous way, the answer would be an unequivocal, emphatic "yes." (and I suspect the leader would encourage you to model your behavior on the life of Jesus, whom he would encourage you to accept as messiah). And if you asked a Jewish leader whether Jews are required to believe in Hashem as the only god you'd get a resounding "yes" as well. But if we're trying to compare the religions, it's clear that Christianity puts a greater emphasis on faith.
     Do you think these differences say anything about the respective religions? Does the modern Christianity you see reflect this emphasis on faith? Should Am Yisrael put more of an emphasis on faith? Do you think this would encourage more unity?

The hero of the Great Revolt: Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai

    Shalom and sorry it's been so long since I last blogged. I had reserve duty for a week, and then my fiance and I took a quick trip to Bulgaria (a topic for another post). The students have been very busy, too! After climbing Massada a couple of weeks ago they stayed down south to go to Gadna. At Gadna they got a small taste of what it's like to be in the IDF (Israeli army). From the stories I've heard it sounds like it was a really interesting experience and I'd encourage you to check out the students blogs about it. After Gadna they headed down to Eilat, Israel's southernmost city and only access to the Red Sea, making it an important port to Africa and the east. It also has gorgeous coral, which the students enjoyed while snorkeling. Finally they stopped at Kibbutz Lotan, a kibbutz founded through the Reform movement, which focuses on environmental issues such as creative recycling and green building.
     When the students got back to Tzuba we spent most of our first day reviewing. We talked about Massada and the zealots who lived and died there, who, historically, rarely mentioned. The zealots at Massada were barely mentioned for centuries. Traditionally the hero of the Great Revolt (66-70) is Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakai, or "the Ribaz" to his friends (virtually all great Jewish scholars are also known by their initials, such as, famously, the Rambam).
     Yohanan ben Zakai was a Pharisaic leader (another way of saying he was a rabbi) who opposed the rebellion. Stuck in a besieged Jerusalem, he faked his own death and was smuggled out of the city in a coffin, apocryphally filled with dead fish (he had to fool both the Zealots, who refused to let anyone leave the city, and the Romans). Once out of the city he finagled his way into a meeting with Vespasian, the Roman commanding general. According to tradition ben Zakai addressed Vespasian as Caesar (emperor), and while Vespasian was explaining to him that this is not the case a herald arrived to tell Vespasian that, yes, he had in fact just been declared Caesar. Ben Zakai then requested as a reward that he be given "Yavne v'chochomeha" (Yavne and the sages). Essentially, he asked for a small, out of the way town, at which to re-establish his academy and continue learning/teaching Torah. Though it may not seem like it at first glance, this meeting between Vespasian and Yohanan ben Zakai ended up being one of the most important events in Jewish history. At his academy in Yavne ben Zakai continued the development of the Torah she'be'al peh (oral Torah) and, crucially, designed a new Judaism not based on Beit HaMikdash (The Temple).
     But in order to understand these developments we first have to understand the Oral Torah itself. The problem with written law is its inflexibility. Inevitably the world changes and the law, if it is to remain relevant, must adapt with it. Traditionally, Am Yisrael says that when Hashem gave the Torah to Moshe on Mt. Sinai, Hashem also explained it to him. These explanations were then passed down in an unbroken chain from Moshe to Joshua to the Judges to the Prophets, etc. This divine pedigree is critical, since oral law is the source of the vast majority of Halacha (Jewish law).
     From a more scientific perspective we can't trace the oral law back to Moshe (and, honestly, what CAN be traced back 3500 years?), but it's clear that it's existed for a long time. Again, given the way that law typically develops, this is almost inevitable. For example, in the time of Ezra (~450 BCE) you can imagine one of the scribes reading the Tanakh out loud, translating it as he goes. At some point, some member of the crowd calls out that he didn't understand a certain word or phrase. The scribe, in order to translate, has to explain the intent of the original Hebrew, and, voila, we have an oral law. Historically, there's no evidence of a written law existing independent of the oral law.
     In the last few centuries BCE, as Hellenism was taking hold in the Middle East, the oral law took a great leap forward. One of the results of the contact between Judaism and Hellenism is that Jewish scholars began to use Hellenistic thinking and logic in their thinking about the law. This new, logical approach (rather than waiting for divine revelation) led to the rapid development of the law. One of the earliest proponents of these new methods was Rabbi Hillel, who lived right around the turn of the millennium.  However, I'll leave the lives and innovations of the specific scholars for another post.
     Reform Jews view the oral law quite differently. According to the Reform view the oral law is simply the opinions of very bright Jewish scholars. This repudiation of the sanctity of the oral law is one of the things that sets Reform Judaism apart from traditional Judaism. Do you think the oral law should carry more weight among Reform Jews? Can we really make an educated decision about how important it is without studying it (as most Reform Jews, myself included, haven't)? Do we have any more or less evidence that the Oral Torah is more/less divine than the Written Torah? Even if it's not divine, should the consensus of the Rabbis carry weight?