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text: Unity in Judaism
  האחדות ביהדות
  Jewish perspectives, Jewish communal Affairs Department, NY. 1986
  
  
  Unity in Judaism
  
  Foreword
  
  The Jewish Communal Affairs Department of the American Jewish Committee is pleased to publish <i>Unity in Judaism</i> by the distinguished scholar Dr. Eliezer Berkovits. This paper is part of the Department’s “Jewish Perspectives” series, which applies the insights of the Jewish tradition to contemporary issues.
  While previous contributions to the series dealt with social and ethical matters of universal concern, this monograph addresses a serious internal Jewish problem -- the increased polarization among Jewish religious groups.
  Although Jews have a long history of disputing with each other, the current debate could split the Jewish community irreparably because the very definition of Jewishness is at stake. Intermarriage and divorce have increased rapidly among American Jews. There are hundreds of thousands of children who have been born either to mixed-marriage couples or to couples in which the non-Jewish spouse’s conversion is not recognized by Orthodox Jews. Too, the large number of Jewish couples who dissolve their marriages without a Jewish divorce (<i>get</i>) has produced offspring from remarriages who, according to Orthodox and Conservative Judaism, may not marry other Jews. As a result of these trends, it is conceivable that there will soon be two distinct groups of Jews, whose members will not marry across group lines.
  Recently, disputes over these and other matters have become more intense. Extremists in all the camps have escalated their rhetoric, denouncing each other publicly and creating a confrontational atmosphere that prevents civil and meaningful communication.
  The American Jewish Committee, believing that the unity and ongoing vitality of the Jewish community supersedes all other considerations, has tried to combat polarization by encouraging dialogue among the leaders of the different religious streams of Judaism. This process may enable all Jews to reach a consensus on the issues that now divide us; at the every least, it will create an atmosphere of tolerance and mutual respect enabling Jews to agree to disagree in a spirit of love.
  To facilitate dialogue and understanding among Jews, we commissioned Dr. Berkovits to analyze the biblical, talmudic and rabbinic sources on Jewish unity. We hope that this extensively documented and sensitively written paper will show Jews how high a priority their tradition places on showing respect and consideration for one another, regardless of differences in ideology or practice.
  Yehuda Rosenman, Director
  Jewish Communal Affairs Department
  
  Judaism and Peoplehood
  
  One of the most significant facts about Judaism is that Jewish religion and Jewish peoplehood are inseparable. According to Jewish tradition, Abraham had prophetic qualities; yet the history of Judaism does not start with a prophet but with a father, <i>Avraham avinu</i>, our father Abraham. That is how he is referred to through the entire course of Jewish history, and that is the name that will remain with him till the end of days. When God called Abraham to his world-historic mission, one of the promises He made to him was: “And I shall make you into a great nation” (Gen. 12:2). Again, when after the sin of the golden calf God was inclined to destroy that sinful people and asked Moses to accept the task He once entrusted to our father Abraham, He addressed him in almost exactly the same way: “and you I shall make into a great nation” (Exod. 32:10). Immediately prior to the revelation at Sinai, God’s message to the children of Israel was: “And you shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” The identification of Judaism with Jewish peoplehood is evident in the words of the prophet Isaiah, who quotes God as saying: “This people I have shaped for Myself; let them tell My praise” (Isa. 43:51). The medieval philosopher Saadia Gaon summed up this aspect of Jewishness in his statement: “We are a people only through the Torah.”
  Yet nothing could be further from the truth than to see in the interrelatedness of Judaism and peoplehood evidence of particularism, exclusiveness, or racism. Judaism is not a missionary religion. Nothing could be more alien to it than slogans like “Compel them to enter” or “Baptism or death.” Judaism is obligatory only for Jews, and no one else. This truth was clearly formulated by the prophet Micah when he declared: “For all the nations, each one of them shall walk in the name of his God, and we shall walk in the name of the Eternal One, our God, forever” (Mic. 4:5). But no one is automatically excluded because he or she is a stranger. Anyone who, out of sincere conviction, wishes to convert to Judaism is welcome, whatever his or her race, national origin, or religious and cultural background. Becoming a Jew like any other Jew, the convert is referred to as “Ben/Bat Avraham Avinu,” son/daughter of our father Abraham, and thus enters that “great people” which God promised Abraham.
  The interrelatedness of religion and peoplehood is unique to Judaism. Whereas other religions focus on the relationship between God and the individual, Judaism is the covenantal relationship between God and a people. The Jew never stands before God alone, but always within the communal reality of the Jewish people, its teaching, experience, and historic continuity. Outside of Judaism, individuals belonging to different religions may belong to the same people; their religions do not determine or require peoplehood. But a gentile who converts to Judaism automatically enters the Jewish people.
  Furthermore, Judaism’s concern is not primarily the salvation of individual souls but the comprehensive spiritual, socioethical, economic and political reality of human existence. Thus Judaism is best characterized, not as a religion, but as the covenantal civilization of a people.
  The interdependence of Judaism and peoplehood dictates the unity of the Jewish people. In the words of the Talmud: “The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: You have made <i>Me</i> one in the world, so will I make <i>you</i> one in the world. You made Me one, as it is written: ‘Hear Israel, the Eternal, our God, the Eternal is One’ (Deut. 4:5). So will I make you one in the world, as it is written: ‘Who is like Your people Israel one nation on earth’ (2 Sam. 7:23).” The singularity and unity of the Jewish people has lasted for many centuries. Surely it is remarkable that a people dispersed in the world, without a government, without a country of their own, managed to remain one people. Jews from various backgrounds, various cultures, speaking different languages, even differing in their religious observances, immediately recognized and acknowledged each other as Jews. Indeed, we have been one people on earth, and more intimately attached to each other than have been the members of any other nation.
  
  The One People; Destiny and Responsibility
  
  There is a rich talmudic and midrashic tradition on our subject that is best represented by two interpretations of the <i>arba minim</i>, the four plants of the Sukkoth festival. Both interpretations see the plants as symbols of the Jewish people.
  The Bible says: “And you shall take unto you on the first day the fruit of a goodly tree, palm branches, the boughs of thick-leaved trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days” (Lev. 23:40). One rabbinic explanation is:
  “The fruit of a goodly tree,” such are Israel. Just as the <i>etrog</i> has taste as well as aroma, so too there are members of the people of Israel who are masters of the Torah and also doers of good deeds.
  “Palm branches,” such are Israel. Just as the date palm has taste but no aroma, so too there are Israelites who are Torah scholars but do not perform good deeds.
  “Boughs of thick-leaved trees,” such are Israel. Just as the myrtle has an aroma but no taste, so too there are Israelites who do good deeds but are ignorant of Torah.
  “Willows of the brook,” such are Israel. Just as the willow has neither taste nor aroma, so too there are Israelites who neither perform good deeds nor study Torah.
  What does God do? To destroy them is not possible. So He says: Let them unite. Thus they will atone one for the other (<i>Midrash Rabba, Vayikra</i> 30).
  The other interpretation, expressing a similar idea, appears in the talmudic tractate <i>Menahot</i> 67a. Of the four plants it says:
  Two of them produce fruit. The other two do not produce fruit. The fruit-producing ones are in need of the fruitless ones, and the fruitless plants are in need of those that do bear fruit. A Jew cannot fulfill the festival commandment unless the four are joined in one bouquet. So it is with Israel. When they seek acceptance by God, let them form a united association.
  Obviously, in both statements the rabbis emphasize the responsibility of every Jew to strive for Jewish unity. However, the responsibility derives from a preexistent unity, one which is given. Only because Israel is <i>one people</i> are Jews mutually dependent. What each Jew does has an effect on all the others; individual behavior influences the plight or destiny of the whole. One may live and act against the unity of the Jewish people and thus weaken the foundations of our existence, or one may cooperate with it and enrich the sources of our strength and enhance the life of all Israel. The personal and national responsibility for unity emanates from the unity of fate that is the share of every Jew from birth.
  The oneness of Israel is the work of the One God. Israel, as one people, has been chosen for a special task in God’s plan for human history. Its unity of fate is its unity of destiny. Within it every Jew has his place without distinction, independent of opinions, ideas, ideologies or conduct. The unity of fate and destiny places upon us responsibility toward our fellows and toward the nation in its entirety.
  *
  How is the nature of that responsibility for the preservation of national unity to be understood? The two midrashic statements that formed the starting point of our discussion seem to express one idea: that the four plants used at the holiday of Sukkoth symbolize the need for Jewish unity. However, the two interpretations differ in emphasis. The first uses the concepts of “Torah and good deeds,” categories of the holy and the ethical. The other, describing the various sectors within the Jewish people, employs the symbolism of fruit-bearing and barren plants, that is, it speaks in pragmatic, utilitarian categories.
  The need for unity formulated in pragmatic terms, the mutual dependence of the fruit-bearing plants and the barren ones, suggests a unity to be preserved in the mundane dimension. A scientist whose work is essential for the well-being of the people, independent of his religious commitments, certainly belongs to the “fruit-bearing” section of Israel. Dare we say that the <i>halutzim</i>, the pioneers, without whose sacrificial toil the State of Israel could not have been established, would have to take their place in the “barren” sector of our society because in their majority they were secularists? Certainly not! The destiny of the Jewish people realizes itself on a twofold track: a social-economic-political track that is vital for all nations; and a spiritual, Torah-guided track of faith and values, without which life itself becomes meaningless for Israel. And the Jew has to accept responsibility for unity on both tracks, the mundane-utilitarian as well as the spiritual-sacred. Jewish destiny fulfills itself in the integration of both.
  *
  How shall we meet the responsibility for unity in the two realms? As to the pragmatic-utilitarian one, it is easy to see that the “barren” elements are dependent on the “fruit-bearing” ones. But what does it mean that the “fruit-bearing” are also in need of the “barren”? In order to understand the point of this symbolism, we must ask: Who are the productive elements in society? The answer will depend on a person’s social ideologies, beliefs and prejudices. For the worker, the capitalist may be a parasite, and vice versa. The same applies to differences of origin. Jews of Western descent often judge those of Eastern descent as backward. If we use the term “exploiter,” each side may apply it to the other. Responsibility for unity means that one must not allow one’s relationship to others to be determined by such considerations. One must strive to bridge the social-economic-cultural gap. We are all dependent on each other, all in need of each other. And divisions within our people tear at the very essence of Jewishness. Even if one is undoubtedly a “fruit-bearer,” if that status leads him to separate from other Jews, the value of his “fruits” becomes questionable.
  The idea has added significance in the spiritual-sacred dimension. Of each one of the four groups that the four plants symbolize it is said: <i>eleh Yisrael</i>, “such are Israel,” those without “Torah and good deeds” no less than those of “Torah and good deeds.” Looking at their division, God says: “To destroy them is not possible.” To destroy them all? Why should it occur to anyone to destroy even the masters of the Torah who also practice good deeds? Apparently, if there is no unity among them, God’s interest in all Jews diminishes. He wants the “one people on earth,” not a mere private holy society of saints. Even more surprising is the conclusion: “Let them all join together in unity and they will atone for each other.” That the men of “Torah and good deeds” atone for the people who are without them is understandable. But there is also an implication that those who are empty of “Torah and good deeds” will atone for those who are distinguished by them. How so? And why indeed would Torah scholars who practice good deeds be in need of atonement at all? It would seem that the rabbis believed that if there is no unity in Israel all are responsible, all are to be blamed.
  And in any case, who are the masters of Torah and good deeds? Once again, there prevail all kinds of ideas and ideologies among us, especially as regards the meaning of good deeds. It would seem that our sages of old taught that no matter how one understands the categories of the sacred, if they cause us to create disunity within the “one people on earth” that God has “formed for Himself,” one is guilty and in need of atonement, and to receive that atonement one is dependent on reestablishing unity with that section of the Jewish people that one assumes is empty of Torah and good deeds.
  
  Unity in the Midst of Plurality
  
  In the light of this tradition, what ought to be the relationship among the various ideological groupings within the Jewish people today? Clearly, any expression of disrespect toward another Jew violates both the unity of destiny that has its origin in the covenant between God and Israel and the unity based on responsibility to which all Jews are called.
  One may gain deeper insight into the importance of the right relationship to Jews whom one might consider “barren ones” or as being “without Torah and good deeds” from some words of Rabbi Shneur Zalman Shneurson, of blessed memory, founder of the Habad branch of the Hasidic movement. In his work <i>Likutei Amarim</i> (ch. 32), he discusses a talmudic statement that, at first, sounds unpleasantly abrasive. Advising someone who “sees that his fellow man sins,” the Talmud says it is a mitzvah, a commandment, to hate him. He is even ordered to tell the man’s teacher so that the teacher too might hate him. Rabbi Shneur Zalman notes, however, that the Hebrew word <i>haver</i>, which is usually translated as “fellow man,” actually has the literal meaning of “associate,” someone on our level in the study and the knowledge of Torah and the practice of the divine commandments. If such a person sins, one has to respond with reproof. If after repeated remonstrances he continues in his objectionable ways, then one may hate him. But this applies only to one who is close to us in Torah observance. If the person is not a <i>haver</i>, and is removed from us in his way of life, we are bound by the advice of Hillel the Elder: “Be you of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace … loving human beings and bringing them near to the Torah,” for the “cords of love” may guide them to Torah and to the service of God.
  Rabbi Shneur Zalman continues: Even regarding the <i>haver</i>, he who is near to us, one is commanded to love him and to hate him simultaneously. One is to hate the evil in him, and love the good that is hidden in him, which is the divine spark that gives life to his soul. The good is, as it were, in exile, overpowered by the evil. Compassion will dissolve the hatred and awaken the power of love.
  *
  We limit our discussion to the relationship between the various religious groupings within Judaism. Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist ideologies are, of course, opposed to the Orthodox interpretation of Judaism. Because of that, are non-Orthodox Jews to be considered disbelievers or heretics from an Orthodox standpoint?
  Rabbi Yosef Albo (1380-1444), in his <i>Sefer Ha’Ikkarim</i>, has a significant discussion of the theme in which he defines the concept of heresy. Albo notes the strange fact that some of the leading rabbis quoted in Talmud, Midrash, and their commentaries occasionally disagree with each other in matters of basic belief. We find, for instance, that the Jerusalemite Amora, Rabbi Hillel, maintained that the Jews should not expect a future Messiah, since they already “forfeited” him in the days of King Hezekiah. Rabbi Yehuda, basing himself on the biblical counting of the first days of creation even before the sun, moon and stars were formed, asserts that there must have been an order of time even before the creation of the world. Rabbi Eliezer the Great inquires after the substance out of which heaven and earth were made, as if he rejected the belief in creation out of nothing. (Actually, the 14th-century philosopher Gersonides explicitly accepted the Aristotelian view of an uncreated original matter that was coeval with God and out of which God created the world.) There are also serious disagreements between Maimonides and Nachmanides on the nature of reward and punishment in the world to come, as well as on the doctrine of resurrection. Since these disagreements have a bearing on fundamental teachings, shall we say that the epithet “heretic” applies? Obviously not, maintains Albo. He reaches the following conclusion:
  The correct and true way may be learned from what our teachers, of blessed memory, said about Elisha, the son of Abuha, about whom the decree was announced: “Return ye straying sons, except Elisha. For he knew his Creator, but intended to rebel against Him.” This proves that their opinion was that only one who knows the truth and yet denies it, he alone belongs to the category of the <i>reshaim</i> [wicked, transgressors], who do not deserve the opportunity of return. But he who has no intention to rebel, nor to depart from the way of truth, nor to deny what is contained in the Torah or transmitted by the Oral Tradition, but explains the verses [of the Bible] according to his own understanding, such a person, even if his explanation is contrary to the truth, God forbid that he should be called a heretic or infidel.
  The essence of Albo’s theological interpretation emerges also from a statement that appears in the <i>Shulhan Arukh</i>, the authoritative code of Jewish law. A person who transgresses a biblical commandment is not trusted to testify in court. Yet, if one transgresses, even after receiving a warning, because one believes that what he does is permissible, one is to be admitted as a witness (<i>Hoshen Hamishpat, Hilkhot Edut</i>, ch. 34).
  On this basis, one can say that Reform and Conservative rabbis certainly do not mean “to rebel, to depart from the path of truth and to deny.” Rather, they are convinced that their interpretation of Judaism is the correct one. They explain it according to their understanding, and their intention is <i>le-shem shamayim</i>, for the sake of heaven. Obviously, the Orthodox view is that they explain the Torah “contrary to the truth,” but, as we have seen, that does not make them heretics and disbelievers. They are <i>toim</i>, Jews in error. As such, they are not transgressors, and may be admitted as witnesses in a Torah court.
  As to the rabbinical authorization of Reform and Conservative rabbis, it may be well to recall some words of the authoritative 16th-century scholar Rabbi Moses Isserles in his work <i>Darkei Moshe</i>. On the subject of <i>semikhah</i> (rabbinical authorization), Maimonides states: “A rabbinical court may grant <i>semikhah</i> in limited areas [of halakhic decisions], but only if the person is qualified in all areas …” (<i>Sanhedrin</i>, ch. 4). Explains Rabbi Isserles: “It seems that this applies only to the times when the law of <i>semikhah</i> [the original classical teaching and judging authorization] was in practice. But today’s <i>semikhah</i> is nothing but a privilege granted, and for whatever a person is qualified, he is qualified” (<i>Yore De’ah</i> 242). On this basis, it would seem that the general rejection of all marriages at which Reform or Conservative rabbis officiate is halakhically unjustified. All that is needed for a marriage to be legally binding is the espousal of an unmarried Jewess by an unmarried Jew in the presence of two witnesses. In our times there exists, in the overwhelming majority of cases, no problem regarding the qualification of the witnesses.
  According to a decision of the Israeli chief rabbinate over 40 years ago, even a non-Orthodox Jew may be accepted as a witness. There were times when social trustworthiness was dependent on religious observance, and in those days a transgressor of religious commandments was also suspected of testifying falsely. However, “in these matters,” runs the decision of the chief rabbinate, “the reliability of a witness is to be determined in accordance with the conditions of the time and place.” Thus someone who does not adhere to the Sabbath laws is qualified to be a witness (see M. Elon, <i>Ha-Mishpat Ha’Ivri</i>, I, 85-86). It is true that, years later, another Israeli chief rabbinate overruled this opinion and restored the law as it had previously prevailed. But is the matter to be considered as settled for all conditions and for all times to come?
  The Talmud itself actually records two opinions about this matter. According to Abaya, a person who desecrates the Sabbath knowingly would not be admitted as a witness. Rabba, on the other hand, is of the opinion that only a person who transgresses laws dealing with monetary matters, who is dishonest, is not fit to be a witness (<i>Sanhedrin</i> 27a). Even though disagreements between Abaya and Rabba are usually decided according to Rabba, this is one of the few exceptions when we rule according to Abaya. Nevertheless, if, because of changed conditions and circumstances, a rabbinical authority should rule that an honest person may be trusted as a witness, independent of his religious opinions and behavior, he would have the talmudic authority of Rabba to lean on.
  In another context, Maimonides makes a revealing comment about the biblical rules regarding witnesses. According to the Torah, the testimony of two witnesses is required in order to establish a fact in court (Deut. 19:15). Yet, in the case of a woman whose husband’s whereabouts are not known, if one person testifies to his death, the testimony is accepted and the woman is considered a widow and may, if she so desires, remarry. A number of other biblical rules about the validity of testimonies were also overridden in order to free a woman whose husband has disappeared from her marriage bonds (<i>Yevamot</i> 87b). The question arises: How could the rabbis rule against the laws of the Torah on testimonies? Maimonides explains the matter in the following words:
  The Torah did not insist on two witnesses and on the other rules concerning testimony, except where there is no other way of establishing the fact clearly but by the witnesses and their testimony…. However, when a fact may be ascertained independently of the witnesses, or where as in this case, there is sufficient reason to trust even only one witness, the Torah does not insist [on the literal adherence to the written word]. In this case, it would be far-fetched to assume that the testimony was false. Therefore, the sages were lenient and admitted even one witness… (Maimonides, <i>Hilkhot Gerushin</i> 13:2a).
  Maimonides makes the important point that biblical rules regarding testimony were not meant as fundamentalist dicta without any reference to conditions and circumstances. Their only purpose is to establish the factual truth. If, therefore, that truth can be established in a different way, and a given situation requires that it be so established, then it is the meaning of the biblical law that we do not adhere to the written word. (See my Hebrew work, <i>Ha-Halakhah, Koha ve-Tafkidah</i>, p. 201.)
  There is no doubt that in our own days it would be a monstrous act of injustice to declare hundreds of thousands of nonobservant Jews to be untrustworthy witnesses, so that their testimony could not verify a fact. Such a rule would not only contradict the purpose of the biblical law on testimony but would be a serious violation of fundamental principles of Jewish ethics. There can be no doubt that, in the present circumstances, religious observance cannot be the qualification of a person as a witness. Since there is no doubt that non-Orthodox rabbis would accept as a witness only a person who is trustworthy from an ethical point of view, one would have to say that many of the marriages at which they officiate are indeed halakhically binding.
  Similarly, the general rejection of all conversions performed under the direction of non-Orthodox rabbis is halakhically not justified. It is an uncontested statement of Maimonides, based on the Talmud, that “a convert who was not examined [for his motivation] or was not informed of the mitzvoth and the seriousness of their transgression, but underwent circumcision and ritual immersion in the presence of three laymen, is accepted, i.e., he is a Jew in all matters” (<i>Issurei Bi’ah</i>, ch. 13; see also Talmud, <i>Yevamot</i> 47b). It is true that this is the law only <i>be-di’aved</i>, de facto, after the event. However, it is an accepted halakhic principle that <i>bi-sh’at</i> <i>ha-dhak</i> or <i>tzorekh gadol</i>, in a situation of need, whatever is admissible <i>be-di’avad</i> may be practiced <i>le-khathilla</i>, ab initio. I have argued for many years that the need for Jewish unity may well justify Orthodox acquiescence in many of the practices of non-Orthodox rabbis in these matters.
  Needless to say, there are numerous deviations, especially by Reform rabbis, in matters of marriage and conversion that can never be approved halakhically -- patrilineal descent, not requiring a Jewish divorce, conversion without immersion and circumcision, the performance of mixed marriages. This, however, does not free us from meeting in responsible and mutually respectful dialogue in order to establish contact or even tolerable working relationships in certain areas. We are all equally under obligation to strive for the unity of the Jewish people.
  The outright rejection of the validity of all marriages and conversions performed by non-Orthodox rabbis has very serious consequences. In fact, such an attitude actually annuls many halakhically binding marriages and ignores many halakhically effective conversions. The situation demands encounter, dialogue and rapprochement between the various ideological branches of Judaism. Even if we should not succeed in achieving a mutually accepted modus vivendi, the effort would be in keeping with the ethos of halakha and the comprehensive spirit of Judaism.
  In addition to encouraging better communication and understanding among ideologically polarized rabbis and scholars, we might also attempt to promote better organizational coordination. One of the greatest achievements of the Jewish people during its centuries of exile was the institution of the <i>kehillah</i>, the local communal organization. Within its framework, all Jews in each community, regardless of ideological differences, administered their religious, educational, cultural and welfare activities. The <i>kehillah</i> functioned through the combined guidance of rabbis and lay leaders appointed by representatives of the people. Starting at the end of the 18th century and continuing on through the 19th century, increasing numbers of Jews rejected traditional Jewish practice, and this created inevitable strains within the <i>kehillah</i> structure. Nevertheless the <i>kehillah</i> maintained its effectiveness in most European countries until the Holocaust.
  In our day, when ideological dogmatism has become a serious threat to Jewish unity, the renewal of the <i>kehillah</i> might be a helpful way of getting Jews to cooperate on matters transcending ideology. Perhaps all synagogues in a particular neighborhood could unite to form a <i>kehillah</i> within which all would strive to sustain and enrich Jewish life through joint consultation in an atmosphere of mutual respect. It is hard to think of a better way to “atone” for each other’s shortcomings.
  *
  The need for unity is much greater in Israel than in the Jewries of the Diaspora, since the intensity of the ideological confrontation in Israel may endanger the very foundations of the State. There is a comment by our sages on the subject that seems to speak to the present situation in Israel. The first verse in the weekly portion of <i>Nitzavim</i> reads: “You stand today <i>all of you</i>, before the Eternal One, your God.” Said the rabbis: “When is it that you are standing? When all of you become one entity. When should it happen? Today!” (<i>Yalkut Shimoni</i> on Deut. 29:9).
  One of the most serious stumbling blocks to unity in Israel is the law of the State in matters of “personal status.” Undoubtedly this affects the unity of the people, and leaving this subject to individual discretion would bring social chaos and destroy the very basis of national existence. Yet, while government legislation is necessary, its present form is subject to criticism, since, in all matters of personal status -- marriage and divorce, conversion, determination of Jewishness -- Israeli legislation recognizes only the Orthodox branch of Judaism. This is objectionable for ethical, halakhic and spiritual reasons.
  From an ethical standpoint, we must not forget that for many long centuries the Jewish people suffered religious discrimination in the lands of its exile. How can we now apply the same injustice to millions of Jews who are not Orthodox in their ideology?
  It would also seem that the Israeli legislation is contrary to halakhah. For many centuries now we have lived without a Sanhedrin. Nor has there been the institution of rabbinic ordination in the authoritative sense of the idea. This means that no rabbinate or rabbis may impose their halakhic decisions on anyone unless they have been accepted by an established community or by the individuals who asked for their opinion. For instance, a rabbi elected in one community has no rabbinical authority in any other one where he is not so acknowledged. Thus the authority of the rabbinical establishment in Israel rests completely on the law of the State.
  But what is the significance of the legislation of the State from the halakhic point of view? What is its binding character? In former times, besides the law of the Torah interpreted and administered by the Sanhedrin, there also existed <i>mishpat ha-melekh</i>, the royal law, which covered the personal status of the king and the management of the affairs of the State, like taxes, criminal law, army and war. There are rabbis who maintain that the law of the modern State of Israel has the authority of <i>mishpat ha-melekh</i>. I do not agree, since, according to the halakhah, <i>mishpat ha-melekh</i> applies only to a king or a dynasty acknowledged by a Sanhedrin and appointed by a prophet, and this is not the case in Israel today. (See Maimonides, <i>Hilkhot Melakhim</i>, I, 3; also <i>Tosafot</i>, <i>Sanhedrin</i> 20b, sub. <i>ha-melekh muttar</i>.)
  Another possible argument for the halakhic legitimacy of Israeli law defining Jewishness is the talmudic principle of Sh’muel that says <i>dina de-malkhuta dina</i>, the law of the State is law. There are actually two trends in the interpretation of the principle. One is found in the commentary of the Rashbam (see <i>Bava Batra</i> 54b), according to which the law of the State is valid law because it is freely accepted by the people; it is an expression of the will of the citizens, and would certainly apply to the democratic legislation of Israel. The other trend is represented by Rabbeinu Nisim, the Ran (see his commentary on <i>Nedarim</i> 28a). He takes the phrase <i>dina de-malkhuta</i>, which literally means “the law of the kingdom,” in the medieval sense, and maintains that the principle applies only to a non-Jewish kingdom. Its laws do not have true legal validity, but we must submit to them because the land belongs to the king, and if we disobey his decrees he will expel us. Thus the principle does not apply to Israel. There the decrees of the king are not necessarily the law, for all Jews are partners in the land. In a sense, even this view ultimately affirms democratic ideology as the source of the law in the <i>Jewish</i> State, where the law of the “kingdom” is not valid if it is enforced and not accepted. It follows that according to both the Rashbam and the Ran, the democratic legislative process in Israel results in halakhically acknowledged law, and therefore its acknowledgment of the authority of the rabbinate in Israel is binding.
  However, halakhah places two limitations on the authority of the State. First, any law that discriminates among citizens is illegal (see Maimonides, <i>Gezelah Ve-Avedah</i> 14:5; Rosh on <i>Nedarim</i> 28a). Second, the principle that the law of the State is binding applies only in the sociopolitical field -- government administration, taxes, roads, war and peace, criminal law, welfare. It has no halakhically recognized validity in the area of religious faith and conscience (see, for example, the responsa of Tashbaz, I, 15:8).
  Both these limitations -- nondiscrimination and inapplicability to religious laws -- were essential for the maintenance of Jewish life in exile. Both bespeak legal understanding and insight far in advance of the times in which they were promulgated, and testify to the courage and determination of the Jewish people in all the lands of their sojourn. Surely there is no halakhic reason why they should be given up in a Jewish State. Could one imagine, for example, that the Knesset, the Israeli parliament, should be authorized to legislate in matters of religious faith and observance, on a religious, halakhic basis? Since the Messiah has not yet come, since we are still without a Sanhedrin of constitutional authority, and since Israel is still not a Torah state, discriminatory laws on the basis of religious ideologies have no halakhic validity.
  From a spiritual point of view, using religious compulsion is not only fruitless, but also counterproductive. It is not by legislation that a Torah state will be established. The only moral path open to us is that of persuasion by communication in the spirit of <i>ahavat Yisrael</i>, love for our people, Israel. Encounter and dialogue among the various ideological groupings are even more vital for our survival in Israel than in the Diaspora.
  
  Tolerance and Peace
  
  What positive results may one expect from a dialogue among the plurality of existing positions? It depends on whether common ethical principles beyond the differing ideologies have the power to move us toward unity and curb the radicalism of the ideologies. Today it is almost forgotten that talmudic and midrashic teaching contains a rich tradition that points the way. Although, by the nature of Judaism, that teaching is couched in religious terminology, it has much to say to secularists as well.
  What happens to the relationship between God and his people when they do not live as prescribed in the Torah? In the Talmud there is a discussion of the subject between two teachers of the Mishna, Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir (<i>Kiddushin</i> 36a). They disagree in the interpretation of these biblical words addressed to the children of Israel: “You are children of the Eternal One, your God” (Deut. 14:1). Rabbi Yehuda explained: “If you behave as children ought to behave, you are called ‘children’; if you do not behave as children ought to behave, you are not called ‘children.’” Rabbi Meir disagreed with him strongly: “Whether they behave this way or that way, once they are God’s children, they remain His children forever.” He adduced an entire series of biblical verses to prove his point. According to Jeremiah they are called “foolish children” (Jer. 4:22). Foolish, yet children! In Deuteronomy (32:20), they are referred to as “children in whom there is no faithfulness.” Faithless, yet children! Isaiah (1:4) calls them, “A seed of evildoers, children that deal corruptly.” They do deal corruptly, but children they are! And for the sake of added emphasis, Rabbi Meir concludes with Hosea’s prophecy: “…and it shall come to pass that, instead of that which was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ it shall be said to them, ‘You are the children of the living God.’” Even the completely estranged children will one day know Him as the living God.
  It is worth noting that while, as a rule, all cases of disagreement between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir are decided in accordance with Rabbi Yehuda, in this case Rabbi Meir’s position is acknowledged as authoritative. According to one of the great talmudic scholars of all time, Rabbi Shlomo ben Aderet (usually referred to by his acronym, Rashba, 1235-1310), this is due to the numerous biblical passages that Rabbi Meir is able to marshal in proving that all Jews, whatever their behavior, are children of God.
  Furthermore, according to the rabbis, Moses and other prophets were punished for their offensive statements about their people. Moses told the Israelites: “Listen ye, rebels” (Num. 20:10). Soon afterward he was told: “…you shall not bring this assembly to the land that I gave them.” The prophet Elijah complained to God: “For the children of Israel left your covenant” (1 Kings 19:10). And a few verses later we read of God’s command to appoint a successor: “And Elisha, the son of Shafat, you should anoint in your place.” Isaiah, too, used language that, in the opinion of the rabbis, was objectionable. During an overwhelming experience of the vision of the Divine, he exclaimed his own unworthiness: “Woe is me! For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips.” But he also added: “And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips” (Isa. 6:5). Soon after these words we read how one of the angels of God “with a glowing coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar,” touched the mouth of the prophet and said:
  Lo, this hath touched thy lips,
  And thine iniquity is taken away,
  And thy sin expiated (Isa. 6:7).
  According to a midrashic interpretation, this was an expiation for the sin of calling his fellow Jews, in the midst of whom he dwelt, “people of unclean lips” (<i>Yalkut Shimoni</i>, Isa., ch. 6). According to another version in the Talmud, King Menashe put Isaiah to death, and he died when the instrument of execution reached his mouth (<i>Yevamot</i> 49b).
  This condemnation of prophetic accusations against the Jewish people was given dramatic expression in the case of the prophet Hosea. The same Hosea who -- as we saw earlier -- prophesied that an Israel completely estranged from God would one day be called “children of the living God” was not always so hopeful or tolerant. The rabbis used this aspect of his personality to explain the rather strange instruction God gave him early in his career: “Go, take unto thee a wife of harlotry and children of harlotry…” (Hos. 1:2). The marriage that Hosea was ordered to undertake had symbolic significance, and its meaning is fully explained in the subsequent biblical text. But the rabbis were not satisfied. How could a prophet be ordered to marry a prostitute for the sake of a symbol?
  This, then, is how they interpret the marriage: God had complained to the prophet saying, “Your children [meaning the children of Israel] have sinned.” To this divine complaint Hosea should have responded: “They are your children; children of [Your] graciousness, they, the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Turn Your loving-kindness to them.” Not only did Hosea not do that, but he said before God:
  “Creator of the universe! The whole world is Yours. Exchange them for another people.” Said the Creator of the Universe: “What shall I do with this old fellow? I shall tell him: ‘Go and take a harlot for a wife and she will bear you children of harlotry.’ After that I shall say to him: ‘Send her away from you!’ Let us see if he will be able to send her away. So will I too send Israel away” (<i>Pesahim</i> 87a).
  The rabbinic aversion to condemning one’s fellow Jews, no matter what their behavior, is conveyed in the following story about two great talmudic sages which is startlingly relevant to contemporary relations between Jewish groups (<i>Midrash</i> <i>Shir</i> <i>Hashirim</i> 1):
  Rabbi Abahu and Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish entered the city of Caesarea. Said Rabbi Abahu to Rabbi Shimon: “Why did we come here, into this country of abusers and blasphemers?” Rabbi Shimon got off his donkey, took some sand in his hand, and pushed it into Rabbi Abahu’s mouth. “What’s this?” asked Rabbi Abahu. Answered Rabbi Shimon: “The Holy One, blessed be He, does not approve of the person who slanders Israel….”
  *
  Does this mean that Jewish unity entails the cessation of all criticism of the Jewish people? Nothing could be further from the truth. There has never been a people on earth as self-critical as the Jews. But there is a world of difference between <i>accusation</i> and <i>criticism</i>. Moses might have said: “Listen! You have rebelled,” but he said: “Listen, you rebels.” The prophet Elijah might have accused the people of breaking the law; but he maintained that he was all alone, because the children of Israel “left Your covenant, 0 God.” In other words, they are no longer the people of the covenant. Similarly, Isaiah might have called the Jews “a people who contaminated their lips with their lies,” but he called them “a people of unclean lips.” Worst of all was Hosea when he suggested that God exchange them for another nation. They all made the same mistake. In their anger, or in the bitterness of their disappointment, they condemned Israel <i>as a people in its totality</i>. It is this kind of accusation that Rabbi Meir was talking about when he explained, with the help of his proofs from the Bible, that no matter how sinful Israel may be, they will forever be called “children unto the Eternal One, your God.”
  What these teachings convey is: This is the Jewish people. No individual Jew can be a Jew without them. There is no other Jewish people; there never was, there never will be. In talmudic style it was stated of them: “Yisrael [meaning any Jew], who has sinned, remains Yisrael” (<i>Sanhedrin</i> 44a). In his prophetic encounter with God, Jeremiah, describing order in nature as the work of the Creator, exclaims:
  If these ordinances depart from before Me,
  Saith the Eternal One,
  Then the seed of Israel also shall cease
  From being a nation before Me forever (Jer. 31:36).
  Thus it is within the comprehensive unity of destiny that the continuous internal criticism of Judaism finds it place.
  However, in order to render criticism authentic, furthering unity rather than undermining it, a high degree of self-criticism is also required. We should accept guidance in this matter from two outstanding rabbinic personalities of recent times. One is a master of the Habad hasidic movement, the author of <i>Zemah Zedek</i>. He describes and interprets a certain type of zealot:
  When such people happen upon transgressors, they immediately become hot and filled with anger, ready to punish them cruelly…. They will not rest until they perform on them evil deeds. They do this because of their own evil nature. Even though they clothe their activity in the garb of “for the sake of heaven,” because the one punished is a sinner, that is not the truth. For in truth He, the blessed One, is full of mercy and loving-kindness. What they do is due to their own evil constitution (quoted in S. Federbush, <i>Ahdut Ha’Am</i>, p. 100).
  How often indeed is zealotry in the name of a “great cause” only a cover under which hatred and violence are released!
  A different type of great talmudic personality, Rabbi Naftali Zvi Berlin, the head of the renowned yeshiva at Volozhin (second half of the 19th century), analyzes the concept of <i>sin’at hinam</i>, “causeless hatred,” in the service of a “good cause.” His comment is attached to a passage in the Talmud (<i>Yoma</i> 9b) that discusses the reasons for the destruction of the First and the Second Temples in Jerusalem. The First Temple was destroyed because of three sins: idolatry, sexual immorality and the spilling of innocent blood. During the Second Temple period, however, the Jews were occupied with the Torah, practiced the mitzvoth (divine commandments) and were charitable. Why then was the Temple destroyed? It happened because of <i>sin’at hinam</i>, causeless hatred.
  However, this requires explanation. Why should people who live in accordance with the values of the Torah hate their fellow men? What, indeed, is causeless hatred? Rabbi Berlin explained it by interpreting two divine attributes. In Deuteronomy (32:4) God is described as being righteous and fair (straight, honest). What need is there to add the attribute of fairness? Does righteousness not include it? He explains that to be righteous is not enough, since it can go hand in hand with a lack of fairness in dealings with other people.
  Such were “the righteous” during the era of the Second Temple. Whenever they saw a person conducting himself in a manner not in keeping with their own opinion of what constitutes “the fear of God,” they would immediately suspect him of being a heretic. This led them to enmity and hatred, even to bloodshed, until finally the Temple was destroyed. God punished these “righteous ones” for their lack of fairness. “Even though their intention was for the sake of Heaven, they caused destruction … and ruination” (<i>Ha’amek Davar</i>, introduction to commentary on Genesis).
  Nothing is more dangerous to society than zeal inspired by honest conviction, whether based on religion or on secular ideologies. How can we control the overflowing energy of honest conviction that may become morally as well as materially destructive? Let us examine the example of B’rooryah, the wife of Rabbi Meir. The Talmud recounts that some hoodlums lived in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood and caused him a great deal of trouble. Finally, in despair, he prayed that they might die. (This is the same Rabbi Meir who -- as we saw earlier -- taught: “No matter how sinful they might be they are still the children of God!”) At this, B’rooryah intervened. “What’s the idea?” she asked. “You think, because it is written: ‘Let sinners cease’ [such indeed is the authorized translation of Ps. 104:35]? But does it really say ‘sinners’? ‘Sins’ is written. [“Let sins cease out of the earth.”] And also pay attention to the conclusion of that verse: ‘And let the wicked be no more.’ Once sins will cease, there will be no more wicked. Therefore,” she said, “ask for God’s mercies to help them repent. Then, indeed, the wicked will be no more.” He prayed for them and they “returned” in repentance (<i>Berakhot</i> 10a).
  B’ruriah suggests that criticism be directed at causes, not against people. But she asks for much more: “Rabbi Meir, pray for them, for those ‘wicked ones’ who are so different from you in their impiety, in their way of life, and who caused you so much suffering.” He could only do so by adopting two ideals that go beyond all differences and personal estrangement. One is the ideal of peace, and the other, well established in Jewish tradition, teaching and living, is <i>ahavat Yisrael</i>, the love of Israel, the love of our people, the Jewish people.
  Without peace there can be no unity; without love for all Israel, unity might be an organizational game, but not a living reality. “Peace, peace, to him that is far off and to him that is near,” says God (Isa. 57:19). And without <i>ahavat Yisrael</i> neither the Torah nor the fear of God can be authentic. In popular tradition the prophet Elijah, who never died, may still be occasionally encountered. According to one story, Elijah told of a meeting he once had with a man who asked him about subjects in the Torah. “Then he said to me: ‘Rabbi! There are two things close to my heart -- I love them very much -- Torah and Israel. But I do not know which one comes first.’ I said to him, continued Elijah: ‘People usually say that Torah comes before anything else. But I would say: Israel … comes first. The Torah was given to Israel; not Israel to the Torah’” (<i>Tana devei Eliahu</i> 16).