The Challenge of Building a State

     After surviving the War of Independence, the nascent state of Israel was in desperate straits. We'd lost a full one percent of our population (a much higher percentage than America lost in World War II) and the country had been devastated by war. And, one of the first things we did was welcome in two groups of immigrants: Holocaust survivors and Jewish refugees who had been kicked out of Arab countries (ironically a very similar number of Jews were kicked out of Arab countries as Palestinian Arabs who lost their homes for various reasons during the War of Independence). As you can imagine, the vast majority of these immigrants were unprepared to be productive members of a modern economy due to lack of skills and/or the incredible trauma they'd been through. Israel addressed this problem in several ways. On the expenditure side, we instituted severe rationing of everything from food to furniture. On the income side, we solicited donations from Am Yisrael worldwide,  sold government bonds, and, controversially, accepted money from the German government to compensate for the slave labor and material losses of the Holocaust. This proposal led to vigorous debate in the Knesset at the time and huge riots in the streets. David ben Gurion, ever the pragmatist, wanted to accept the money. Menahem Begin, as a matter of principle, demanded that we refuse. Who do you think was right? What should we have done? 

What the Oral Torah has to say about being a Minority

     In order to learn more about the Oral Torah we went 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 to adapt the written Torah to changing circumstances. 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 Am Yisrael (the Jewish People). 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? And what conseuqence will our definition of Jewish have for the future of Am Yisrael? 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 (some of them had sung Christmas songs as part of being in Chorus class; everyone had celebrated Valentine's Day), 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!

The Bar Kochba Revolt and the Development of Christianity

     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?

Intro to Christianity

     In order to learn about Christianity we went on tiyul to the nearby 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 other 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 exonerate 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 Beginnings of a Post-Temple Jewish Life

    After Massada the students had a week "off" during which they went to Gadna for pre-army training. When the they got back to Tzuba we spent most of our first day reviewing. We talked about Massada and the zealots who lived and died there, and who, historically, 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?

Massada: A Fight to the Bitter End

     Today, after a very very early wake-up we spent some time at Massada, one of Israel's best known tourist sites. We struggled up the snake path, whose name accurately describes the narrow, winding trail up the mountain, just in time to catch the sun rising over the Dead Sea. A few students then led us in shacharit (the morning prayer). Even though I've done it nearly a dozen times, praying on Massada at sunrise is an incredibly beautiful experience. It's one of those things that never seems to get old. I can only imagine how meaningful it must have been for the students.

An Overview of Massada, with the Roman ramp in the foreground

     Having arrived, enjoyed the view and prayed, we then began class. While we were looking out over the Dead Sea the students noticed that it's actually two smaller bodies of water. This is because, over the last few dozen years the Dead Sea has been drying up. The various countries bordering the Jordan River (including Israel), which feeds into the Dead Sea, have been extracting the water for domestic uses, with the result that less and less water arrives at the Dead Sea. Several solutions have been proposed to try and mitigate issue. One of the main solutions Israel has employed is to try and find alternative sources of water, allowing more of the water from the Jordan River to flow into the Dead Sea. For example, a large percentage of our water comes from desalination; and we lead the world in the percentage of waste water that is treated and reused (Israel does this with ~70% of our water, second place in the world is Spain at around 25%).
     These attempts to increase the flow of the Jordan have so far proven to not be enough. As a result, a project called the Red Sea-Dead Sea Canal, which has been floating around for years, was recently approved. The idea is to build a canal from the Red Sea, at the Southern tip of Israel, to the Dead Sea. Since the Red Sea is at sea level (surprise!) and the Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth, mostly it will be gravity doing the work. In theory, Israel, together with Jordan and the Palestinian Authority, will use the downward flow of the water to generate electricity, which will be used to desalinate part of the water for the desert communities in the region. The remaining very salty water will then flow into the Dead Sea. All of this sounds great, but it is likely to be expensive, require the cooperation of multiple entities among Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian Authority, and will have a variety of environmental and social consequences that we're still trying to evaluate. Basically, it sounds great, but it's in the early stages and who knows what will happen.
     Massada itself seems to have been some sort of fortress for thousands of years. It overlooks the Dead Sea, always a site of curiosity and mineral wealth. It's also on the road to Ein Gedi, an important nearby oasis in ancient times, both for its springs and for the special perfume that was created there. But most of the ruins that we see today are from the time of Herod the Great, the brilliant, crazy, paranoid "King of the Jews" from 37-4 BCE. As part of his paranoia he built multiple fortresses outside of Jerusalem, just in case there was an uprising and he needed to flee. He also worried that perhaps Cleopatra, the charming, charismatic (though, according to the historical record, not beautiful) ruler of Egypt would convince one of the Roman leaders (whom she was in the habit of seducing) to giver her part of Herod's kingdom. In another situation, you might expect Massada to have simply been a military fortress, but not when Herod's in charge. He built himself multiple palaces, including an especially spectacular multi-tiered one on the northern edge of the mountain. Also, as an avid Hellenist, he couldn't live without a traditional Roman bath house, which he installed even though he was in the middle of the desert Even today it's clear what a beautiful, extravagant place Massada must have been in Herod's time.

A model of Herod's Northern Palace 

Remains of Herod's Northern Palace

     Several dozen years after Herod his desert fortress was appropriated by Zealots (the sect of Jews who supported an armed revolution against the Romans) fleeing Jerusalem during the Great Revolt. According to Josephus (the historian upon whom much of our Second Temple period knowledge is based) about 1000 Zealots inhabited Massada and continued to hold out against the Romans until the year 73 (three years after the destruction of Jerusalem and Beit HaMikdash). We spent a couple of hours walking around the site, trying to understand how first Herod and then the Zealots were able to live in the middle of the desert (I think the students will agree the system of aqueducts that brought water to Massada was particularly impressive).
     Unfortunately, the story of Massada has a very bitter end, as many of the students already knew. After a lengthy siege the Romans finally built an enormous ramp (which you can see on the first picture up above), allowing them access to the mountain top. Before they could finally break through the Zealots decided to commit mass homicide, drawing lots to determine which ten people would kill the rest of the community. One of the final ten then killed the other nine and then, finally, committed suicide.
     On the one hand, these Zealots were incredibly brave and committed. They really meant it when they said "Give me liberty or give me death." (obviously a misappropriated quote from the American Revolution and not an actual quote from the Zealots) I find it easy, in general, to respect people who have the courage to act in accordance with their beliefs. When Jews began returning to Israel in the modern era (~1880) trying to shed the image of the "ghetto Jew" and create a new, strong independent identity, the story of Massada spoke to them. For many years the IDF held swearing-in ceremonies on Massada, in which they would say "Massada will not fall again. The people of Israel live."
     But it also seems reasonable to think about the Zealots as religious/nationalist extremists who dragged Am Yisrael into a war we had no chance of winning. This is especially true given the fact that the Roman Empire, on the whole, was a reasonably tolerant place to live. When we think about it like this, the story of Massada sounds very different. If, today, we heard about a group of religious extremists in Pakistan (or anywhere else) who barricaded themselves into a fort, held out as long as they could, and then committed mass homicide (including women and children) in order to avoid captivity it's hard for me to believe we'd have the same respect that we tend to have for the defenders of Massada (and of course the situations aren't 100% the same).
     Do you think the Zealots, given their options, made the right decision by committing mass homicide? Do you think they were brave, noble Jews, or crazy, religious/nationalist fanatics? Is it possible to respect them and denigrate them at the same time? Should Massada be such an important, respected site in Israel?

Herod, the Four Sects, and the Destruction of the Second Temple

     We started our day at the southern part of the Western Wall, meaning the same wall as the Kotel (Western Wall), just a different part of it (further to the South). For several days we've been talking about the development of two main groups within Am Yisrael: those who embraced Hellenism and those who rejected it. As the Romans take over Israel (they're more or less in charge, though not directly ruling, by 63 BCE) we see Am Yisrael divide into at least four different groups (a little bit like political parties). The two main groups are the Sadducees and the Pharisees. The Sadducees came mostly from the Priestly class, believed Judaism should revolve around Beit HaMikdash (the Temple) and didn't accept the legitimacy of the Oral Law (we've just scraped the surface of this subject, but for now we can think of it as anything other than the strict, written text of the Tanakh). The Pharisees tended to come from a lower economic stratum. While valuing the Temple, they also believed that study and developing the law were important.
     Yesterday I left blog readers (though not the students) in terrible suspense, not revealing the big secret behind the Hanukkah story. The truth is it's rather mundane. After nearly a century in power the Hasmoneans, leaders of the revolt against Antiochus Epiphanes (167 BCE - 164 BCE), had become quite Hellenized. Among other things this led to a gradually worsening conflict with the Pharisees, which included quite a bit of violence by the Hasmoneans against the Pharisees. The Pharisees, the sect who ended up surviving and continuing Jewish history, didn't want to give credit to the Hasmoneans, their eventual enemies, for the revolt against the Seleucids. Instead, the Pharisaic Rabbis singled out one Hasmonean, Judah Maccabee, for praise, and created a story about some oil, giving most of the credit to Hashem.
     While the Pharisees and Sadducees were the two most important sects, there were at least three others. The Essenes, who considered Jerusalem to be corrupt beyond saving, lived in secluded communities in the desert. They were obsessed with purity and therefore wore all white and frequently visited their mikvahs (Jewish ritual baths). The Dead Sea scrolls were likely preserved in caves for us to see today by the sudden disappearance of one of these communities of Essenes. The Zealots, as their name implies, were intensely opposed to any foreign rule in Judea. They believed an armed revolt was the only way to overthrow the Roman oppressors. It is members from this sect who held out against the Romans at Massada. The last sect of Jews at this time is the Christians, to whom we'll devote a full class period later.
     While at the Southern Wall we talked a bit about King Herod, the genius/madman responsible for building Beit Hamikdash (the Temple). King Herod, a completely Hellenistic ruler who had the full backing of Rome, came from a family that had only converted to Judaism (probably after being forced by the Hasmoneans) a couple of generations earlier. His Roman sympathies along with his family's questionable Jewishness caused many of his subjects to question his legitimacy. Also, while his building program was magnificent (he built Beit HaMikdash, the port Caesarea and Massada, for example), it also meant there were high taxes to finance all these projects, which made him less than beloved. As a result (and probably because he was a little crazy anyways) he became tremendously insecure and paranoid, killing much of his family (among others).
     Regardless of the sanity (or insanity) of the man who built it (for a visual check out the video from my last post), Herod's Temple was an extraordinary building. Romans from throughout the empire visiting Judea marveled at three things: the Temple, a sea in which everything floats and a day on which no one works. In Judaism, there are three pilgrimage holidays (shalosh regalim in Hebrew): Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot (all connected to harvests in Israel). During Herod's reign there were certainly tens of thousands (at least) of pilgrims. We saw the special staircase designed to deal with crowds, the alley where the pilgrim might have exchanged his money and bought his sacrifice and the mikveh where he might have purified himself. While it's hard to convey the sense of importance Beit HaMikdash had to Am Yisrael (after all few religions today are based around a central shrine where animals are sacrificed), I think being there, seeing the enormity of the stones used in its building, walking up the southern steps singing the same songs Jewish pilgrims sang (such as Psalm 126, the Song of Ascents, which many Jews sing every Shabbat at the beginning of Birkat HaMazon, the blessing after meals) gives the students at least some sense of what it was like. They also found a few places for some great pictures.

     After the Southern Wall the students had a delicious falafel and shwarma lunch in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. When we reconvened we visited some homes that were likely destroyed along with the Second Temple to try and learn about who might have been living there. We saw beautiful mosaics, tons of mikvehs, and a generally high standard of living. We decided, based on these things together with the apartments location close to Beit HaMikdash, that these were likely the homes of Sadduccees. I then asked the students to consider what sorts of things they have in their homes/rooms and what it might say about them if archaeologists find it 1000 years from now. Will they identify you as more American or more Jewish? Should that matter?

    After Herod was king (37 BCE - 4 BCE) his sons took over for a while, mostly unsuccessfully. The Romans then decided to rule Judea directly instead of through a puppet king, and appointed procurators to that purpose. Like any other government official, some were excellent and many were terrible. For many this was their big chance to make money (one of the keys to advancement in Rome), so they taxed the population as heavily as possible.

     It is with this background--often incompetent and cruel governance, increasing fragmentation among Am Yisrael into various sects--that one of Am Yisrael's greatest tragedies occurred: the destruction of Beit HaMikdash. According to tradition there was a conflict between two Jews in which one of them was publicly embarrassed while the leaders of the Jewish community looked on. Taking the leaders' silence as approval the offended Jew then successfully convinced the Romans that the Jews were planning a revolt, which led to accusations and eventually a real revolt (this is the story of Kamza and Bar Kamza for those who are curious, it starts in the middle of the last paragraph). The scientific/historical reason seems to be a slowly escalating religious tension between Am Yisrael and Pagans, specifically in the Herod-built port of Caesarea. One way or another the Great Revolt (66-70 CE), as it's later called, eventually leads to the destruction of Beit HaMikdash by the Roman general Titus on the 9th of the Hebrew month of Av (the day everything bad happens to Am Yisrael) in the year 70. This is arguably the most tragic event in all of Jewish history (and, unfortunately, that's some serious competition) and is still commemorated today. In Jewish wedding ceremonies, for example, the groom breaks a glass, so that even on our happiest day we'll remember this terrible tragedy. How will Judaism, up until now based on Beit HaMikdash, survive? We'll save that for another blog.