What do Jews wish for from Catholics?

My remarks on 24 February 2022, as part of the Synod of Bishops discussion at the Columban Centre for Christian-Muslim Relations, Sydney, Australia

Context

On 24 February 2022, a Muslim Academic Dr. Mahsheed Ansari, and I were invited to speak to a group of Catholics, including a bishop, priests, and others, about the attitudes and behaviour Muslims and Jews wish for from Catholics.  This was an extra-ordinary meeting. Often faith communities talk among themselves about how to relate to others but, on this occasion, the organisers, led by Reverend Dr. Patrick McInerney, went further and asked, “the others”. This is a variation on the questions often asked in Together For Humanity programs: “What do you want people of other faiths to know about yours?” and “what do you want to never hear said about your faith by others?”

The context for this meeting was that, in March 2020, Pope Francis initiated a global multiyear process related to the Synod of Bishops in October 2023. The theme is “For a Synodal Church: Communion, Participation and Mission”. Pope Francis has invited the entire Church to reflect on this theme. All Catholics were invited to take part in the diocesan consultation process to promote a sense of communion and journeying together (1). In Sydney, two non-Catholics were also included in this consultation. The following is an excerpt of my talk.

Concept

I felt daunted by the topic. My work is more about encouraging dialogue and understanding than about the specifics of the Catholic-Jewish dynamic. I am grateful to Rabbi David Rosen, a world leader in Catholic Jewish relations, who took the time to talk to me about this, and I credit him for some of the content of my remarks.

There is much to celebrate about Catholic-Jewish relations in recent years. Let us notice that the human family has come a long way from the time when the approach to religious difference was, “I am right, you are dead”!.

Papal and Vatican announcements, sermons and declarations express positive attitudes and sentiments that are important to Jewish people.

Some of the key elements of these have been:

1.    That Jews should not be blamed for the killing of Jesus.

2.    Calling for mutual understanding, respect for, friendship and brotherhood with Jews.

3.    An abhorrence of antisemitism specifically.

4.    An affirmation of the continuation of the divine covenant with the Jewish people, rejecting the idea that Jews have been cursed by God.

5.    Respect for Jewish interpretations of the Torah.

I want to call particular attention to the declaration that recognises the legitimacy of the Jewish faith as a way of worshiping God, that is not regarded as second rate because of our refusal to accept Christian beliefs about Jesus.

The significance of this point cannot be overstated. It is not for Jews to seek to influence Christian beliefs, nor is it reasonable for us to expect Catholics to embrace relativism. However, we could wonder how it is possible for Christians to respect Jews as fellow believers if Christians affirm the truth of the statement by Jesus “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man comes unto the Father, but by me” (2). Does this not mean that Jews cannot find salvation as Jews?

On 10 December 2015, the Pontifical Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews issued an unprecedented declaration (3). In this document, the Pope addressed document addresses this problem as follows: That the Jews are participants in God’s salvation is theologically unquestionable, but how that can be possible without confessing Christ explicitly, is and remains an unfathomable divine mystery.  

This document also contains the following, inspiring sentence: ‘One can only learn to love what one has gradually come to know, and one can only know truly and profoundly what one loves’.

The main questions – as pointed out by Rabbi Rosen (4) - that arise now are: How have the unprecedented changes occurring within the Church, been implemented? Have they filtered down to the vast number of Catholic believers and changed the deep-seated, centuries-long negative attitudes towards the Jewish people?

We hope that these noble sentiments do not remain words on paper but are instead carried in the hearts of every Catholic, beginning with priests, schoolteachers and other people of influence, and then in the hearts of children and adults.

I acknowledge that many good actions are already underway. Together For Humanity has been invited to many Catholic schools to have dialogue with students and to build bridges in this way. I would not normally presume to offer advice, but since I was explicitly requested to share my thoughts, I offered the following suggestions about what can be done:

1. The teachings – including the Pope’s statement about salvation and divine mystery - need to be communicated widely in simple language that lay people can understand.
   
   
2.  The education and formation of priests is to be done in such a way as to advance these sentiments. This means that learning about interfaith forms a compulsory element of their education rather than an elective. 
   
   
3. The education and professional development of educators in Catholic schools is to be done in such a way as to advance these sentiments.  Again, as a compulsory element.  
   
   
4. Catholic schools are to be supported and directed to ensure these sentiments are successfully implanted in the hearts of students, and to allocate time and money as required to get this result.  
   
   
5. This means ensuring that Catholic students engage with Jewish people by visiting synagogues and Jewish museums, participating in cultural exchange programs with Jewish schools, and inviting speakers into their schools, such as those offered by Together For Humanity. We stand ready to assist and support Catholic churches, schools or other organisations to replicate or adapt elements of our programs as they see fit.

“God did not find a vessel to hold blessings … other than peace”. (5) I commend the Catholic Church for substantial efforts toward peace and brotherhood, and wish them every success.  My prayers are for peace for the entire human family, in Ukraine, the Holy Land - Israel/Palestine, and wherever this blessing is lacking.

Notes  

1)    https://www.catholic.org.au/synodalchurch

2)    John 14:6

3)    ‘For the Gifts and the Calling of God are Irrevocable' (Rom.11:29): A Reflection on Theological Questions Pertaining to Catholic-Jewish Relations, point 36, http://www.christianunity.va/content/unitacristiani/en/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo-crre/documenti-della-commissione/en.html

4)    Rosen, D. Paper not yet published.

5)    Mishna, Masechet Oktzin, 3rd chapter

 

Identity Formed Through Others' Stories and other Interfaith Insights - Webinar for the Sydney Jewish Museum

 

Vrbow, Slovakia, Synagogue ruin in 2008 

According to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, history answers the question: what happened? While memory answers the question: who am I? To know who we are is in large part to know, and to remember, of which stories we are a part (1).  

One story that I am part of is the story of Jewish suffering. My maternal grandfather came from Vrbow in Slovakia that had a thriving Jewish community. My wife and I visited there in 2008, and saw the ruins of the big terracotta synagogue on the main street of the town. The shell of the building remains but the people are completely gone, either murdered by the Nazis or escaped. My grandfather never spoke about what happened there. 

Instead, my grandfather told us at the Passover Seder how he and a group of Yeshiva students danced on a shaky boat as they departed from Vladivostok during the war. In his haunting, deep voice my grandfather would sing the same song at the Seder that the students danced to on the sea. The song speaks of the Jews being persecuted in every generation, with our enemies seeking to annihilate us, and God saving us. 

The prophet Jeremiah tells us that Jews, in the aftermath of the devastation of Jerusalem and its people, would cry out to travellers when passing them on the road: “Look, and see, is there any pain like my pain?!” (2) I know that our Jewish historical pain is great and unique. Yet, if I want to understand and connect with others, I need to learn about their pain and their stories.

In 2001, I started on my interfaith journey, hearing the deep spiritual feelings, everyday anecdotes, religious experiences and personal stories of Muslims, Christians, and Aboriginal people (click here for one example) https://youtu.be/yyXCvOgx3mw. These interactions changed me and my identity. I now identify as both deeply Jewish and as a human being with deep connections to people of other faiths.

Hugh Mckay wrote that we are the authors of each other’s stories through the influence we have on each other, and the way we respond to each other (3). He says that these stories answer another question, where do I belong? My answer is with my Jewish community, as well as with my interfaith intercultural community with people like Mohamed, Calisha and many others Australian Muslims, Arabs and people of many backgrounds. 

My closeness and my work with Muslims has not all been smooth sailing. I sometimes had doubts about what I was doing. I was accused of siding with the enemy. On the evening of 15 December 2014, Sydney held its breath during the Lindt Cafe siege. My colleague, Lebanese Australian Shaykh Wesam Charkawi was praying for the victims on the steps of Lakemba Mosque. I stood beside him and recited psalm 23 in Hebrew. The next day we learned that two hostages were killed. That afternoon, I got an angry phone call from a stranger accusing me of being a traitor to the Jewish people.  

Negotiating questions of loyalty is tricky against a background of conflict. Some Arabic Australian teenage boys struggled with their learning about the Holocaust. I talked to the boys at their school. I was joined by three other men. The Sheikh, Wesam Charkawi, Peter Lazar, a Holocaust survivor and father Shenouda Mansour who is a Coptic Orthodox. The priest told the students that the Sheikh and I were his dear brothers. One of the students from that group asked Father Shenouda, “aren’t you a traitor to your religion by being friends with the Sheik and Rabbi Zalman?” Sheikh Wesam explained to the students that as Muslims, it was entirely appropriate to learn about the suffering of others, including the Holocaust. The survivor, Peter Lazar, then told his story. 

One of the principles of countering prejudice through conditions for the success of intergroup contact (4) is to have the sanction or permission from authority figures on both sides of a divide for interacting with people on the ‘other side.’ At Together For Humanity we always have Muslim, Christian and Jewish facilitators when we bring groups of students together. In this way it is clear that this contact is Kosher. Involvement by the principals and teachers is also very important. 

I sought this kind of sanction in writing from a Palestinian Sheikh, Ahmad Abu Ghazaleh. I asked him to write a rationale for working in interfaith from the perspective of Islamic sacred texts. He wrote a beautiful one page article that ended with a verse from the Quran that essentially said: “Allah does not forbid you to deal righteously and kindly with those who have not fought against you on account of religion and did not drive you out of your homes. Indeed, Allah loves those who act justly”. (5)

 

I wasn’t  too happy with this verse. I told the Sheik that the verse says Muslims should not be belligerent toward those who have not harmed you or stolen your lands. Which means that if one accepts the Palestinian narrative about Israel, then Jews are fair game. He is one of the most gentle and delightful people I know and he said in his gentle voice, Zalman, I can only give you what is written in the book, I can’t make it up.  

This Sheikh did an enormous amount of work for Together For Humanity, talking to thousands of children and teachers alongside a Jewish colleague, Ronit Baras. I count him among the people I am most grateful for having become part of my life. I needed to accept him as he is, and he has done the same for me. 

Notes

1) Sacks, J. (2019)  Covenant and Conversation, Deuteronomy, Maggid, Jerusalem, p. 223

2) Lamentations, 1:12

3) Mckay, H. (2014), The art of belonging, Sydney, p. 22

4) Alport, G, (1954) the Contact Hypothesis. 

5) The Quran, al-Mumtahanah 60:8.

Breaching Spiritual Language Barriers - Devarim

L-R Jarrod McKenna and Aboriginal Aunty Ellen Gaykamangu 

“It’s shame, miss”, said the 10 year old cheeky Aborginal boy to the deputy principal of his school an hour from Darwin. When he first introduced himself to me and my Together For Humanity interfaith team he gave us a false name, then added; “just gamin'”, which in local slang meant that he was playing with me. For me, his name became, “just gamin'”.

Mohamed Dukuly, Jarrod McKenna and I led a game that illustrated inter-dependence. This Aboriginal boy was very generous in the game, giving away most of what he had. The deputy principal, a non-Aboriginal recent arrival from a far away big city, praised him. The minute she did that, he put his hand over his face. She asked the boy why? He told her it was “shame!” She responded that he had nothing to be ashamed of. She was right, about the English word 'shame'.

The next day our team of a Muslim, Christian and a Jew were joined by an Aboriginal elder, Aunty Ellen Gaykamangu. The elder explained to the deputy principal and the students that, for her people, the word “shame” was actually about respect and being humble. The boy did not want to be put above his peers; for him it was important to behave in a way that everyone is shown the same amount of respect. The road to respect for the boy was through an Indigenous spiritual tradition that no doubt has a word for it in their own language. However, Australia is a land dominated by the English language. So, the original idea is now carried by an English word which does not capture its original flavour and spirit.

As a Jewish boy growing up in New York, I spoke two languages, English and Yiddish. While some elements of Jewish spirituality were expressed through Yiddish words we used, a lot of the sacred texts were in Hebrew, which I did not fully understand at the time. There was also a disconnect between our daily conversation which we held in English and religious guidance which was often given in Yiddish. This sometimes diminished its relevance. Even the English some of our teachers spoke had such heavy Yiddish and Eastern European accents, they might as well have been speaking a different language. Things only really clicked for me when I had an American born teacher who I felt I could relate to.

Spiritual language barriers are important because every language carries its own energy. If our spiritual traditions were formed in a different language, there can be an element of alienation between us and the different vibes that pull us in different directions.

I was delighted to find that this tension is alluded to in my tradition, in this week’s Torah reading. At the end of Moses’ life, he explained the Torah (1). This is interpreted to mean that he explained the Torah in seventy languages (2). It has been suggested that this was for the benefit of the non-Hebrew speaking Israelites in the desert (3). However, another approach is that in Moses’ multi-lingual expounding of the Torah he was laying the groundwork for future exiles among different language groups and their “life force”, or spirit. In some mystical way, Moses was breaching the spiritual language barrier to enable Jewish exiles to live their spirituality wherever they find themselves (4). With the support of the Together For Humanity team, Aunty Ellen did the same thing for young “just gamin”.     

1)    Deuteronomy 1:5.

2)    Midrash Tanchuma Devarim, 2.

3)    Levush Haorah on Deuteronomy 1:5.

4)    Kedushas Levi, Parshas Devarim, Ohr Hachayim edition, p. 325.

Dis/Connection and Crown Heights Jews and Blacks - Vayechi

I walked toward the forest in St Ives, this past Monday, as I do most mornings, but this time tentatively. Australia is burning! A place that is usually a refuge for me, teeming with bird sounds, animal life and tranquility, now feels ambiguous, even somewhat threatening, possibly on the verge of igniting with deadly fire. Many Australians have lost their lives, many more their homes or farms and we have lost so many animals.

A week earlier, I walked toward another oasis of nature: Prospect Park, at the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where I visited my parents over Chanukah.  It is usually a calming walk and I often like to go when I visit. This time was different. Religious Jews were being attacked on the streets of New York, one had been murdered in a shop in New Jersey and another was stabbed at home in Monsey. I hesitated as I thought: was I safe? Would I be attacked? 

These two causes call me as I write. Living in Australia, I feel empathy with my fellow Australians. Their suffering and terror stirs my heart to compassion and concern. Yet, I am also a Jew from Brooklyn, and my recent visit is pulling my attention to the simmering situation there.

Navigating between our ties to, or disconnections from, various places is explored in my Jewish tradition. Our patriarch Jacob, born in Canaan, is said to have only truly been alive during his last seventeen years, living in exile in Egypt (1) where he finally found happiness (2).  Yet, his new home was not where he wanted to be buried, among the fundamentally different Egyptians (3), instead he insisted that his body must be returned to the Holy Land (4). Even when Jacob was alive, he considered it important that his family remain apart from the Egyptians (5).

This way of being in a place but not of the place (6), reflects my own experience growing up in Brooklyn, which came back to me on my recent visit. While I was there I caught up with a black friend from Sydney, Mohamed. I showed him around Crown Heights, starting with my childhood home. I showed him a large apartment building with black families near our old home, and reflected how, in the twenty years I lived there, I never learned the names of any of my black neighbours. This wasn't unique to me. This kind of disconnect from our non-Jewish neighbours was a common feature of growing up as a Chasidic Jew in Crown Heights. 

I find it hard to write about my old neighbourhood. It is simple enough to speak about my experience, to acknowledge that I was racist then, and felt fear and loathing of my black neighbours. It is also a matter of historic fact, that in 1991 an Australian Jew, Yankel Rosenbaum, was killed by a black man, part of a hateful anti-semitic mob. I will never forget the terror I felt in 1991 when I returned from Australia, to what felt like a war-zone, and came to be known as the “Crown Heights riots”. In 2020, another black man from Crown Heights is in custody for  stabbing a Rabbi in his home, over Chanukah. But there is so much more to this tension, both past and present, that is contested and sensitive.

Ultimately, this blog post is far too brief to fully explore the painful history or current dynamic between Jews and African Americans in Crown Heights. However, I want to at least take an interest here in the efforts to bridge the divide between the two communities (7). It is good to see role models of inter-communal friendship going to schools and engaging children in conversation. However, as someone who has been using this approach - going to schools as  Muslim-Chrisitian-Jewish panels modelling goodwill, for almost two decades, I have learned that this strategy, while valuable in its own right, needs to be part of a multi-faceted approach (8). One important element that research recommends is ensuring that participants in intergroup contact, in cases where there has been tension, are assured that this contact is sanctioned by authority figures on “their side” (9).

One suggestion I offer to my old community is to utilise religious education to guide children how to truly coexist, while also honouring our religious traditions of being separate. This is not at all simple, but it is eminently doable. It could begin with discussion of behaviour, such as the halachic principle of supporting needy and sick non-Jewish people, not only Jews, as part of 'the ways of peace' (10). It should involve exploration of what it means to be truly ethical in our ways of thinking and behaving toward one non-Jewish or black neighbours, to strive to make them so “beautiful” that G-d Himself would be proud of us (11). The children might be invited to ponder how it came to be that so many Egyptians deeply mourned the death of a Jewish man, Jacob (12). Perhaps, as one commentary suggested, throughout the years Jacob lived in Egypt, he spent time sharing his wisdom with wise Egyptians (13), not just hanging out with his Jewish grandchildren.

Eventually this discussion arrives at the question of identity. Who are we as Jews and human beings? G-d created humans with a common ancestor to prevent discord (14) based on beliefs in superiority (15) or ideas of purer lineage (16).

As for me, like people of various faith backgrounds and none, I must turn my attention to the needs and suffering of my fellow Australians at this difficult time. 

 

Notes:

 A big thank you to my learned and skillful editor, my son, Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel. 

1)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, 81, p. 1724. 

2)     Lekach Tov, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, note: 81, p. 1724. 

3)     Old Tanchuma, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:29, 114, p. 1730, "they are compared to Donkeys and I am compared to a sheep..."  

4)     Genesis 47:29-31.

5)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 46:34, 188, p. 1700. 

6)     See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 20, pg. 235-242 and especially pg. 241.

7)     https://www.wnyc.org/story/attacks-against-jews-crown-heights-stir-old-fears-and-new-dialogue/

8)     Halse, C (2015), Doing Diversity, report on research project, Deakin University, https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/school/principals/management/doingdiversity.pdf.

9)     Alport, G. in Pedersen, A., Walker, I., & Wise, M. (2005). Talk Does Not Cook Rice: Beyond anti-racism rhetoric to strategies for social action. Australian Psychologist, 40, 20-30.

10)  Talmud Gittin 61a. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' elaboration of this concept in The Home We Build Together, Continuum Books. See also statement in the Talmud Gittin 59b. That all of the laws of the Torah are for the sake of the ways of peace.

11)  Kedushas Levi, end of parsha Vayechi, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 116.

12)  Genesis 50:3.

13)  Rabbi Moshe David Vali, Ohr Olam, Genesis Vol. 2, Hamesorah edition, p. 464.

14)  Talmud, Sanhedrin 38a.

15)  Rashi ad loc.

16)  R. Yosef Hayim (1835 – 1909), better known as the Ben Ish Chai, in Ben Yehoyada, ad loc.

Uncompromising Approach to Values Conflict and Solidarity Lech Lcha

“There is nothing cozy, huggy and smiley about peace...” Terrorism survivor- turned peace maker, Gill Hicks told me with steel and restrained fury in her voice [1]. Gill is a double amputee who lost both legs in the London bombing and has made heroic efforts to build peace. It is necessary to face the hard realities of living with difference. 

This week, at a mountain-side Catholic school retreat, 150 teenagers and the Together For Humanity team explored some of the uncomfortable aspects of living with diversity. Participants, in groups of 8, were challenged to lower a thin long stick that rested on their outstretched fingers. Many failed to complete the task that required them to be completely in sync with their peers. When reflecting on their failure, students suggested that it was the differences in height or ways of thinking that was the reason they couldn’t complete the task. One student suggested a harsh solution: to simply remove those who were out of step with the rest of the team. It would be tempting to dismiss that option, but I would prefer to explore it instead.

I told the students that only an hour earlier I was reading the Torah. Abraham acted according to the students’ suggestion when he chose separation in response to conflict [2]. The shepherds employed by Abraham and his nephew got into a values based argument about grazing their sheep on others’ properties. Lot’s (Lut) people, presumably taking their cue from their boss [3], valued maximising wealth over ethical concerns but Abraham’s employees prioritised avoiding theft [4].  Abraham could have managed the conflict and reduced its intensity, but he wanted to avoid even the low level of tension that would inevitably remain [5]. For this reason Abraham parted ways from Lot. This separation from Lot was very upsetting to Abraham [6]. Lot was Abraham’s nephew, and when Lot was orphaned he became like a step son to Abraham [7]. 

Despite the fact that, sometimes, apparent values conflict is a function of prejudice, this is not always the case. In some cases the conflict is actually caused by an accurate understanding of the other! Our values are formed in our own cultural context and function as a set of norms that enable members of the group to get along [8]. Rapid migration and social change coupled with conservative pushback against change leads to people being confronted with strongly held divergent values and norms. For Abraham, it was only when he was free from the spiritually stifling presence of Lot that his spiritual capacity was restored and he was able to receive prophecy [9].

During our program at the retreat, my Muslim colleague, Mrs Calisha Bennet, talked with the students about situations where she as a Muslim woman is meets men and is expected to shake his hand. While some orthodox Jews and Muslims choose to shake hands despite traditions in both faiths to the contrary, for Calisha this is a matter of being authentic and true to her principles.  She explained that she chooses not to compromise her principles, instead opting for sensitively putting her hand on her heart in greeting, feeling empathy for the man with his rejected extended hand and sharing the awkwardness experienced by the aborted handshake.

Michaela Launerts, a teacher at the retreat told us that she shifted from her previous support for constraints on free speech to avoid causing offense to now prioritising robust dialogue about our differences. Michaela pointed out how we live in an age of ‘outrage culture’ where every deviation from one’s own norms is met with howls of indignation, and attempts to shut down opposing views. Instead, Michaela suggested that we should sit with the discomfort for a while and try to understand our opponents perspectives. She insists that most of the things that are important in life involve conflict and robust discussion. Any kind of growth requires one to be challenged, theologically, politically and philosophically.  

In spite of the need to face values conflict, it is vital that there is solidarity between communities. Peace depends on goodwill being shown toward those who believe differently and have divergent values. Returning to the story of Abraham, we see that despite Lot’s rejection of Abraham’s norms and his way [10] when Lot needs help and is taken captive in a war Abraham took up arms to rescue him [11].

As neighbours we must care about each other’s pain and do our part to alleviate suffering, regardless of our disagreements. This sometimes feels wonderful, but this warm feeling is an occasional bonus in this work. We must also show up for the awkward moments. Denial of disagreement is a fragile basis for coexistence. Forced unions can be oppressive and draining. This can be seen in toxic marriages, workplaces and political parties. In those cases emulating Abraham’s offer to Lot – if you go right, I will go left, if you left I will go right – would be far more productive and healthy, provided that communities are always there for each other despite our differences.

Notes

1 https://youtu.be/_MtmLFtb5WM

2 Genesis 13:5-14

3 Genesis 13:10-13, Lot’s observation regarding the fertile nature of the Sodom area appear more important to him than the fact that the Sodomites were very sinful.  

4 Rashi on Genesis 13:7

5 Toras Hachida, Genesis, Lech Lcha, 32, p. 75, 

6 Toras Hachida, Genesis, Lech Lcha, 36, p. 77, see also Ohr Hachayim to Genesis 12:1

7 Genesis 11:27-28, 12:4

8 Greene, J. (2014) Moral Tribes, Emotion, Reason And The Gap Between Us And Them, Atlantic Books, London

9 Rashi to 13:14

10 Rashi to Genesis 13:11

11 Genesis 14:12-16

Some Equivalence between Muslim and Jewish ruled societies? Torah prohibition of Jewish presence in Egypt

I was delighted to find a passage, in a Jewish religious text, that shows appreciation for Muslims and Islam. A respected commentator on the Torah suggests, that in one matter of Jewish law, a society ruled by a Muslim king would have equal status to one ruled by a Jewish king.

This teaching was a wonderful find for me, because I live between two worlds. One is the exclusivist Orthodox Jewish one; the other is one that embraces, and even celebrates, a wide range of beliefs and cultural ways. So when these two meet, it gives me great pleasure.

I had better preempt two kinds of fierce critiques, based on inferences that either Jewish and Islamic faiths are equally true or an endorsement of every aspect of Islam. This text should not be read as either relinquishing exclusive Truth claims for the Jewish faith or wholesale endorsement of Islam, neither of which it is addressing at all; it has a particular context.

However, the teaching does reflect a recognition of the fact that some of the virtues Jews strive for due to the influences of Judaism are also practiced by Muslims due to influences of Islam. Of course this is also the case with people with other sources of guidance, both religious and otherwise. 

With the disclaimers out of the way, let me get into this teaching. There is a contradiction between the fact that Jewish communities and some of our greatest scholars, most notably Maimonides, lived in Egypt, yet the Torah forbids Jews to live there (1).

The context of the prohibition is a series of laws to prevent kings from becoming corrupt, with the hope that the king’s “heart should not be haughty over his brothers” (2). These laws limit the amount of wealth and horses a king can accumulate. It then adds the following statement: "so that he [the king] will not bring the people back to Egypt in order to acquire many horses.(3)".

I was intrigued to read one authority declare that this commandment only applied for a limited time so that the Jews would not learn immoral behavior from the Egyptians, but did not apply for future generations (4). The line of argument that the prohibition has expired is extended in the writings of an early nineteenth century scholar, Rabbi Meir Benyamin Menachem Danon, who was the chief rabbi of Sarajevo in Muslim, Bosnia (5).

Danon argues that the conquest of Egypt by Muslims is a game changer. “When the king of the Ishmaelites [a reference to Arabs as well as Muslims] conquered the land of Egypt and all its inhabitants he turned them toward their religion [of Islam] and manners/cultural norms. With the passage of time, the Egyptians ...became like the Ishamaelites ...” (6). I wonder how Coptic Chrisitans would feel about this teaching, but let’s take Danon in his Bosnian Context. 

Danon’s basis for his argument is in the writing of Maimonides who states that: "it seems to me, that if the land of Egypt were to be conquered by a Jewish king under the guidance of a Beth Din, [a Torah court], the prohibition would no longer apply” (7). Danon essentially argued that it doesn't matter what kind of monotheistic society Egypt would be. He wrote that Maimonides’ reference to a Beth Din is merely descriptive of the typical scenario of a Jewish king going to war, rather than a condition for the law.

One might dismiss Danon’s argument based on the fact that Maimonides ruled that living in Egypt was still forbidden and only tentatively suggests it might be permitted under a Jewish king. If Danon’s view is in accordance with Maimonides’ own view why does Maimonides not state this explicitly? In fact, Maimonides use of the expression “it seems to me” is questioned by two scholars (8) who wonder why he does not simply present his view as law.

I suggest that this tentativeness might offer a hint to Maimonides’ real opinion on the matter. The fact that he was living in Egypt meant that he was personally implicated by this particular law, if he was in breach of it. In fact, it has been claimed that Maimonides would sign his letters, "Moshe ben Maimon, who transgresses three prohibitions each day" on account of his residence in Egypt (9). He could hardly feel comfortable justifying himself, in a novel way. We are taught that “one should not be defensive, in accordance with the proverb that one cannot recognise one’s own faults”, instead one should seek to judge oneself truthfully (10). This ethical principle might explain both Maimonides reticence in justifying living in Egypt under Muslim rule and the tentative language he uses to introduce the monotheistic conquest exception.

Danon’s teaching illustrates a manner of respect between believers that is not merely relativist. Rather, it acknowledges the reality that in some significant ways the religious influences of other faiths on their adherents can lead them to similar outcomes to those achieved through the influence of one’s own faith. There is no need to agree about the big questions of how to get to heaven or please the creator, but for the sake of truth let us recognise the truth about our neighbours, whose beliefs differ from our own, including the non-religious. Surely, this is in keeping with the idea that the Torah’s ways are ways of peace (11).

  

Notes 

1)            Deuteronomy 17:16

2)            Deuteronomy 17:20

3)            Deuteronomy 17:16

4)            Bachaya, on Deuteronomy 17:16, Ritva to Yoma 38 also takes the law to be non-applicable to his time but his reason is that the prohibition only applies to returning to Egypt from Israel, but moving there from other diaspora lands is permitted. This view seemed to contradict both the Jerusalem Talmud, Sukkah 5:1 and Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 51b which state that the massive Jewish community of Alexandria was destroyed because they disobeyed the commandment against settling in Egypt. Maimonides, Laws of Kings 5:8 rules that living permanently in Egypt is forbidden.

5)            http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/4891-danon-meir-benjamin-menahem chief rabbi of Sarajevo in Bosnia, author of "Be'er ba-Sadeh".

6)            Be'er ba-Sadeh, on this verse,  published in Jerusalem in 1846

7)            Maimonides, Laws of Kings 5:8

8)            Torah Temima, Levin, A. in Hadrash VeHaiyun, Shoftim, Maamar 125, p. 150 ff.

9)            Rabbi Ishtori Haparchi (1280-1366), in his encyclopedic work Kaftor v'Ferah, (ch. 5), cited in  Loewenberg, M. May a Jew live in Egypt?,   http://www.jewishmag.com/173mag/jew_live_in_egypt/jew_live_in_egypt.htm

10)          Chida in Nachal K’domim, in Torat Hachida, shoftim, p. 129

11)          Proverbs 3:17

Muslim Atheist Christian Jew and African American Living and playing Together For Humanity (Not in) Retreat

The setting was a cottage in the Blue Mountains, complete with a wood fireplace in the lounge room. The cast of characters included; a 21 year old female African American, a student of criminal justice; a 26 year old Australian, a Muslim man of Lebanese heritage; myself, a Jewish man more than twice their age; three women with young children including a Catholic teacher, of Croatian heritage; an atheist social worker of Hungarian heritage; and a Hijab wearing Muslim of Cocos Island and Anglo heritage; as well as another male teacher, of German and Peruvian heritage. This was the Interfaith, Intercultural Together for Humanity retreat.

Instead of talking about our work, we lived and played our message of building inclusive diverse community. Not only are there foods that the Muslim participants and I are forbidden to eat; for me, even the cooking utensils need to be Kosher. So I used a sandwich-maker to cook Kosher and Halal pumpkin and eggplant, lentil burgers and scrambled eggs. The three males cooked dinner one night, with the youngest, a newly married man, cooking a delicious pumpkin soup. As is so often the case, despite the men’s efforts to clean up during and after cooking, the women unfortunately ended up with the lion’s share of the cleaning up.    

Prayers were done quietly in another room, with people disappearing at various times. Otherwise, religion came up informally. We played a game together called ‘Apples to Apples -Jewish Children’s edition’ that I sometimes play with my kids on a Saturday afternoon. Each participant got 5 red cards that had a word on them that is part of the world of a Jewish child. The play involved selecting one of these cards to match with a green card that contained an adjective. I wondered if the unfamiliar cultural references would make the game fail or provide a glimpse into my world and spark cross-cultural conversation. Fortunately, it certainly turned out to be the latter.

In our game, one of the red cards referred to the festival of Shavuot. The card sparked a conversation about how my family celebrates Shavuot, with a dairy meal with blintzes with mushrooms and cheese, and lots of ice cream. Often, Shavuot afternoon is spent in front of a live wood fire, just as we did in our mountain cottage. Another card referred to queen Vashti, who refused to appear naked before her husband’s drunken friends to show off her beauty. This led to sharing perspectives on women standing up to unreasonable men. Perspectives on gender politics were exchanged, along with personal and family stories, late into the night. We learned a lot about each other’s’ families. Some of it was funny, some of it was sad. While I sensibly went to bed at 11, others talked till 1 am.

Names were the topic of another conversation. One man’s migrant German father was insistent on assimilating his family into Australian culture. Rosario became Sharon or Shazza. And a ‘fat lot of good’ it did for the high school aged son, who was emphatically told he was a ‘wog’, and not Australian. Worse still, despite his grandfather having been a partisan who fought Hitler, the bullying of the grandson included giving him the nickname Nazi! It was even printed on the back of his year 12 jersey.

We had a great bushwalk in the mountains together. But I also went back into the forest alone. My heart was filled with a feeling of connectedness, and my mind was mulling over a disturbing story from the weekly Torah reading, about a man who was put to death for collecting firewood on the Sabbath (1). Like the altruistic bunch in the cottage, according to the sages, this man was an idealist (2). The context of his collecting these sticks was that he was 'in the desert' (3). His people had failed to have faith in God’s Promised Land, so they were condemned to never leave the bleak desert and see the realization of their dreams (4). In that case, they reasoned, there was little point in continuing the practices that lead to a better world. Just throw in the towel and forget about the Sabbath. One man, our wood collector, wanted to be test case for the Sabbath, to show that the practices must continue and he was prepared to die to demonstrate that the Sabbath was still to be taken seriously. He is praised for his effort (5).

There are reasons to be pessimistic about the degree to which the human family is ever going to achieve the “Promised land”, of true acceptance and affirmation of all people, in all our diversity. It often feels more like a long term stay in the desert than an imminent arrival in the lush forests of the Blue Mountains. However, regardless of where we are right now, or what the short term prospects are for achieving our dreams, we can and indeed we must continue to live and play this vision. 

Notes

1)    Numbers 15:32-36.

2)    Midrash, cited in Tosafot, on Bava Basra 119b, Dibbur Hamaschil Afilu.

3)    Numbers 15:32.The fact that the text mentions their presence explicitly despite this being obvious is pointed out by the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, p. 91.

4)    Numbers 13:1-14:35.

5)    This interpretation is based on the Midrash above and the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, 71, 72 p. 91-93.