YUTOPIA

See the Introduction to Sacred Slogans for methodology and goals
Click here for a downloadable PDF source sheet

As debates over US immigration and refugee policy continue, activists have taken to citing the Biblical commandments to love and protect the “ger,” popularly translated as the “stranger,” as the moral basis for their respective positions. Those who do not recognize Biblical authority can dismiss these commandments as easily as they would for anything else in the Bible. But for Jews, or at least those Jews who accept the Bible as representative of divine will, the Biblical commandments to protect the stranger ought to carry religious significance. Jewish activists who invoke the “stranger” in the context of immigration or refugees are thus asserting that the Biblical protections ought to be applied in such cases, and therefore Jews have a religious obligation to support (or oppose) government policies that run counter to God’s commandments.

Setting aside the question of if Jews should demand that civil policies follow Biblical (or Rabbinic) law, Torah has more to say about the relationship between the “stranger” and society than an unconditional obligation to provide support to whoever demands. 

Let me state explicitly that I have no desire to debate immigration or refugee policy as these complicated subjects are well beyond my expertise. The specific point I am addressing here is that if it is appropriate to extend the Torah’s model of the “stranger” to immigration and refugees, then we ought to consider more of the Torah’s laws and values to see if such analogies are truly warranted.¹

See the Introduction to Sacred Slogans for methodology and goals
Click here for a downloadable PDF source sheet

Not long after he accepted chairmanship of the Jewish Agency, former Israeli MK Isaac Herzog referred to intermarriage as a “plague” that required a “solution.” One might expect this sort of rhetoric out of an Orthodox rabbi, but not from the head of the Jewish Agency, whose mission is “to connect the global Jewish family.” Herzog subsequently clarified, “A Jew is a Jew is a Jew, no matter which stream he belongs to, if he wears a skullcap or not.”

While “a Jew is a Jew” does not appear in that exact form in traditional Jewish texts, the Rabbinic analogue can be found in the Talmud. Commenting on Joshua 7:11, R. Abba b. Zavda says, “even though he has sinned, he is still ‘Israel’”.¹ Meaning, a Jew who sins is still part of the Jewish people. This is a fundamental concept for Jewish outreach among those who try to ignite the latent “Jewish spark” within all Jews.

At the same time, “a Jew is a Jew” hits at the core issues of inclusion and exclusion in the Jewish community. This is a particularly contentious issue in Israel where non-Orthodox denominations lobby for official recognition and legitimacy in the Jewish state. As discussed at length in a previous podcast series, the politics of exclusion has been a constant theme throughout Jewish history. And as we will see in this post, certain people may be halakhically Jewish, but may still be excluded from society due to their actions. The point of this entry is to differentiate between the status of one’s Jewish identity and one’s role in a Jewish society, in that the former does not guarantee the latter.²

See the Introduction to Sacred Slogans for methodology and goals
Click here for a downloadable PDF source sheet

This post addresses two Sacred Slogans frequently employed in the name of pluralism. The first is that there are “70 faces of Torah,” referring to the multiplicity of possible interpretations, seen as the inspiration for religious blog names on Patheos and HuffPost. The second is “eilu va’eilu divrei elokim hayyim” – “these and those are the words of the living God.” Both of these Sacred Slogans are typically invoked to praise the institution of debate and to affirm that multiple – and sometimes contradictory – viewpoints can be equally valid.

When we examine the sources of these idioms we will find some affirmation of debates, but more significantly, we find their limitations.

See the Introduction to Sacred Slogans for methodology and goals
Click here for a downloadable PDF source sheet

Introduction

The idea of tzelem elokim,¹ also known as imago dei, posits that humanity is created in the image of God. The primary source for this idea in Judaism comes from a creation narrative in the book of Genesis.² There is a long fascinating tradition of Jewish philosophers and theologians speculating on the nature of what it means to be created in the image of God, which is beyond the scope of this essay. My present concern is tzelem elokim’s usage as the foundation for a universal/humanist conception of Judaism, to what extent this conception is compatible with Torah, and if we should take tzelem elokim at face value.

About a year ago I tweeted the following, kind of as a joke, but not really:

Made an appointment for a nutritionist/dietitian, which means I can eat what I want over the next 3 weeks.

— Rabbi Josh Yuter (@JYuter) June 21, 2017

And indeed I did. I think this was the first time since I moved to Israel that I had a burger at a kosher McDonald’s.¹ And, as expected, the nutritionist put me on a new diet which restricted my options. With one year down, let’s see how it worked.

As we approach Tisha B’Av, arguably the most tragic day in Jewish history, it is common for Jews to explore the religious causes for the destruction of Jerusalem and the Holy Temple. After all, the hurban, was cataclysmic for the Jewish people politically and religiously as we lost both our sovereignty in becoming exiles and our Temple through which we connected with God. And if such a cataclysm was the result of transgressing particular sins, then these sins must be among the most grievous, and thus the most urgent in need of correcting.

According to the Talmud in B. Yoma 9b, the sins which caused the destruction of the First Temple were idolatry, forbidden sexual relations, and murder. The severity of these sins is well documented in Jewish law as all of them are not only capital offenses, but they are known as יהרג ואל יעבור/yeihareig v’al ya’avor – sins for which one ought to let oneself be killed rather than violate.¹

Regarding the destruction of the Second Temple, the Talmud in Yoma continues that even though the Jews were engaged in Torah study, fulfilling the commandments, and performing acts of kindness, the Second Temple was destroyed because of a שנאת חינם/sin’at hinam or “baseless hatred” throughout the nation.² This demonstrates that the sin of baseless hatred is just as severe as the sins of idolatry, sexual transgressions, and murder since all of these transgressions were responsible for the destruction of the Temple and the exile of the Jewish people.

In my experience, most Jews are familiar with the reasons for the destruction given in B. Yoma 9b, and why it’s common to find much discussion over the harms of “baseless hatred”³ around this time of year.⁴

But the Talmud records additional reasons given for the destruction of Jerusalem which are rarely discussed. Here is a sample of some of them from B. Shabbat 119b:

I’ve always been sensitive to hypocrisy and double-standards, particularly those along partisan lines, so the past two years have been particularly exhausting. The same people who will excoriate political opponents for certain transgressions will forgive and justify those same transgressions when it’s politically expedient. This is true of Evangelicals who support Trump or excuse or even romanticize the transgressions of those who are (or have been) political allies.

To this end, I’m reminded of a sermon I gave for Parashat VaYeitzei in 2013 on the role personal connections affect our reactions to immoral behavior.