Jewish appreciation of non-Jewish people’s spirit – the case of Joseph’s brothers’ guilty talk

In this post I reflect on Judaism’s teachings about how to relate to non-Jewish people with a new argument for appreciation.

I write this reflection in the Crown Heights area of Brooklyn, New York. I am here celebrating with all my siblings both my son’s wedding and my mother’s 80^th birthday. While walking around Crown Heights during my visit now, I have noticed an apparently pleasant and easy coexistence between Jewish people and blacks. This is different to what I remember.

When I grew up in Crown Heights, I heard a lot of historical stories about non-Jewish persecution of Jews, pogroms and blood libels. I also felt contempt, animosity toward and fear of our non-Jewish black and Hispanic neighbours. These feelings about people that we had little understanding of were also related to muggings, burglaries and even murder. A young Jewish man named Avrohom Eliezer Goldman was murdered mere meters away from my current temporary accommodation on Montgomery Street[i]. I attended his funeral in 1977 as a seven-year-old boy. I still remember the heart-rending recitation of psalms and the crowd. It was not easy for anyone then.

Putting aside judgement of our community at the time, it is a fact that with one exception[ii], as I grew up, I had a consistent sense of a generalised negative attitude to non-Jewish people. There was no basis for me to admire the virtues of non-Jewish people, their compassion or altruism or how faith might move them to such stances.

This week I learned something in relatively recent Jewish commentaries about the story of the Biblical Joseph’s brothers that supports a more respectful approach (for readers who want more details of the story, see [iii] below).

Years after Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, they met again during a time of famine when they sought to purchase scarce food in Egypt. However, Joseph’s brothers did not recognise him in the Egyptian viceroy he had become, but Joseph recognised them. In this role, Joseph had them thrown into prison, on false charges of espionage, a parallel to their depriving him of his freedom all those years earlier. After three days, he offered to allow all of them, except one hostage, to go home.

It is at this point of the story that Joseph’s brothers finally express guilt over what they had done to Joseph. “They said … but we are guilty, on account of our brother, because we looked on, at the anguish of his soul, yet we did not listen, as he pleaded with us. That is why this distress has come upon us.”[iv]

What led them to this epiphany at this particular time and not before, even during the three days of their imprisonment?[v] It was their reflection on the Egyptian ruler’s statement: “Do this and you shall live, for I fear God. If you are being honest [and you are not spies], let one of your brothers be held in your place of detention, while the rest of you go and take home rations for your starving households.”

The brothers thought: “If this man who is not ‘from our faith’ is moved by faith in God to show mercy for our starving families, who are strangers to him, whose suffering he did not see, should we not feel regret for the way we treated our own brother, whose suffering we did see, as he pleaded with us?”[vi]

Of course, Joseph was not actually a person of another faith. Yet, the fact that the commentary has the brothers acknowledging the way an apparently non-Jewish person’s faith in God guided him to compassion is a source text for greater recognition of the ways that non-Jewish people are moved to altruism. I hope it helps encourage greater appreciation by Jewish people of non-Jewish people.

 

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[i] https://www.nytimes.com/1977/06/14/archives/three-sought-in-killing-of-hasidic-rabbis-son.html

[ii] The case of Dama Ben Netina, a non-Jewish man who excels in honouring his father.

[iii] A summary of the story told in Genesis, Chapters 37-50.
Jacob had twelve sons but favoured his second youngest Joseph. He gave him a special coat. Joseph’s brothers were jealous of him and intended to kill him, but in the end sold him into slavery.

Joseph was taken to Egypt, where he was a slave. He was subsequently falsely accused of seducing his master’s wife and was thrown into prison. Directly, from prison he was surprisingly appointed to high office after interpreting troubling dreams for the Pharoah. As the second highest official in Egypt, Joseph – now with a new Egyptian name, Tzafnat Paneach - orchestrated a program of food storage to prepare for famine.

When all his brothers except for the youngest, Benjamin, travelled to Egypt to access some of the surplus food during the famine it was an opportunity for Joseph to meet his brothers. They did not recognise him, but he recognised them.

Joseph-Tzafnat - accused his brothers of being spies and told them that they would only prove their innocence if they brought their youngest brother Benjamin with them. After imprisoning them for three days, he released nine of them to return home with food to their hungry families but kept one, Simeon as a hostage to compel them to bring Benjamin.

When Benjamin arrived, Joseph contrived to have evidence of theft planted in Benjamin’s bag. This presented an opportunity for the brothers to demonstrate loyalty to Benjamin and complete their repentance for their betrayal of Joseph. When the brothers passed this test, Joseph reconciled with his brothers.    

[iv] Genesis 42:21

[v] Toldot Yitzchot and Maasei Hashem quoted in Tzeda Lederech by Yisocher Ben Eilenberg, in Chumash with 11 Meforshei Rashi

[vi] Be’er Hatorah and both in Chumash with 11 Meforshei Rashi

 

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

 

“Jewish Soul”, Is it a software thing? Yitro

The idea of the Jews being a “chosen people” (1) can motivate us in worshiping God (2) and service to humanity. I don’t think of it as me being better, or more worthy than virtuous people I know and admire who are not Jewish. However, there is a risk that the idea of being ‘chosen’ - if it is taken to mean that there is an intrinsic difference to the Jewish soul - can make some Jews feel less connected to, or to devalue their non-Jewish neighbours (3).

How we choose to understand ethnic identity can be compared either to computer software - that is installed and added on but not essential, or to hardware, in that we regard it as intrinsic to who we are (4). If it is software, the brotherhood of mankind is more plausible than if it is hardware. Jewish scholarship on this question is mixed and complex.  

Image by Steven Depolo, used under 
Creative Commons Licence 3.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0

On the hardware side of the argument is the idea of a unique Jewish soul (5) which, according to a mystical perspective, is “a part of God” (6). However, this needs to be taken in the context of the belief that God is present in everything in existence. Even rocks, according to the mystics, contain a “divine spark” (7), although these “sparks” are deemed to differ between inanimate objects and different peoples (8). 

We should not overstate the concept of the “Godly soul” because, according to its chief proponent, it is quite marginal to the lived experience of the Jew. The day-to-day life of the Jew is an experience of an “animal soul” rather than a Godly one. It is this animal soul that is the true everyday identity of the Jewish person (9). The Godly soul is something “that has been placed within him” (10) but is not him or her (11). It seems more like an obscure “plug in”, than a core element.

On the other side of the argument stands Maimonides (12). Repeatedly, he emphasises that it is an individual’s knowledge and motivations that are key to one’s spiritual standing. “Every person can be righteous like Moses” (13). “Every single person from all inhabitants of the world whose spirit guides him and whose intellect leads him to understand, to separate himself and to stand before God...to walk straight as God created him...he is sanctified [with the greatest holiness],“Holy of Holies”...” (14). 

A Chasidic master put it: “Holiness is not found in the human being in essence unless he sanctifies himself. According to his preparation for holiness, so it comes upon him from on High. A person does not acquire holiness while inside his mother. He is not holy from the womb, but has to labor from the very day he comes into the air of the world” (15). Indeed, whatever faults one might attribute to a non-Jewish idol worshipper’s soul would also describe our Jewish ancestors when we worshipped idols in Egypt, “with no difference!” (16). Clearly holiness is determined by behaviour.

Regardless of hardware or software, the idea of chosenness is linked to service (17). One form of this service is the role of the Jews in bringing an understanding of monotheism to all humans and uniting them in worship (18). This emphasises the importance of humanity as a whole, and sees the role of the Jewish people to benefit mankind rather than one of self-centeredness. This is because “all humans are cherished by God, and the Righteous of the Nations are precious to God without a doubt” (19). Furthermore Jews are urged to approach this concept with humility (20). 

I will end with a quote from one of the Rabbis, who, despite being aligned with the inherent differences approach, still strongly embraced love of all humanity. He wrote:

“The highest state of love of creatures should be allotted to the love of mankind, and it must extend to all of mankind, despite all variations of religions, opinions, and faiths, and despite all distinctions of race and climate. It is right to get to the bottom of the views of different peoples and groups, to learn, as much as possible, their characters and qualities, in order to know how to base love of humanity on foundations that approach action. 

For only upon a soul rich in love for creatures and love of man can the love of the nation raise itself up in its full nobility and spiritual and natural greatness. The narrowness that causes one to see whatever is outside the border of the special nation, even outside the border of [the people of] Israel, as ugly and defiled, is a terrible darkness that brings general destruction upon all [efforts at] building of spiritual good, for the light of which every refined soul hopes" (21).

 

Perhaps hardware or software does not matter quite as much as it would seem, as long as we can embrace all of humanity. 

 

Notes: 

I acknowledge Rabbi Hanan Balk and his essay referenced in the notes below as the basis of much of what I have written above. 

1. Exodus 19:5-6, Isaia 41:8-10
2. Targum Yonasan Ben Uziel to Exodus 19:6
3. Ohr Hachayim commentary to Exodus 22:20
4. Murray, D. (2019) The Madness of Crowds, Gender, Race and Identity, Bloomsbury
5. Zohar, Genesis 170, & 171, Kuzari, 1:41-43, in In Balk H., (2013) The Soul of a Jew and the Soul of a Non-Jew, p. 49, 
6. An Inconvenient Truth and the Search for an Alternative in Hakira, vol 13, http://www.hakirah.org/Vol%2016%20Balk.pdf 
7. Eitz  Chayim gate 5:2, Tanya chapter 1 and 2 by R. Shneur Zalman of Liady (1745–1815), and Nefesh ha-Ḥayyim sha’ar 1, ch. 4, by R. Ḥayyim of Volozhin (1749–1821)
8. Tanya, Shaar Hayichud V’Haemuna, chapter 1
9. cited in the discussion between the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Hilel students, cited in Balk, H.,  p.51 
10. With the exception of the extremely rare super saint or tzadik as defined in Tanya chapter 1
11. The text of the morning prayer Elokai Neshama, my God, the soul that you placed within me...
12. Tanya chapter, 29
13. Balk, H., (2013) ibid, see also his strong approach to the interpretation of the coerced divorce
14. Maimonides, Yad Hachazakah, Laws of Repentance 5:2
15. Maimonides, Yad Hachazakah, Laws of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years, 13:13
16. R. Simḥa Bunim of Przysukha, Kol Simḥa, Parshat Miketz, p. 47 and Mesharatav Eish Lohet, p. 228, quoted in Noam Siaḥ, p. 263. In Balk, p. 47
17. Ohr Hachayim commentary to Exodus 22:20, נשמות ישראל עצמם היו טבועות בקליפה ואם כן יהיה גר זה כאחד מכם באין הבדל
18. Targum Yonasan Ben Uziel 
19. Seforno on Exodus 19:5-6  
20. Seforno ibid
21. Chatam Sofer on Yitro, p. 38-39
22. Kook (Mussar Avikha (Jerusalem, 1985), p. 58, no. 10; Orot ha-Kodesh (Jerusalem, 1990), vol. 4, p. 405. In Balk p.54

Communication without common language – Jewish Reflection on Abu Dhabi Muslim Peace Forum - Vayigash

My translation earphones went silent for a few minutes, as I sat at the Forum for Promoting Peace in Muslim Societies. For three days in Abu Dhabi, from December 2-4, mostly Muslim, but also Christian and Jewish; religious leaders, academics and politicians spoke to the delegates in Arabic, English and French.

The speeches were simultaneously translated into the other two of the three main languages. That worked, until Imam Abdullahi Abubakar (83) from Nigeria spoke in his native language; Hausa.

This Imam had risked his life when he confronted an extremist gunman seeking to kill two hundred and seventy-five Christians that he had sheltered in his Mosque and home. The softly spoken, bearded, black man in the blue turban had told the attacker to kill him first, and succeeded in saving the lives of the Christians.

While many words were spoken at this Forum, it was his heroic deed and our inability to understand him that captured both the spirit and a challenge of the forum, respectively.

As someone who is concerned about bridging the divide between Muslims, Jews, Christians and others, I found  the forum reassuring. It was convened by one of the most accomplished Islamic authorities in the world, Sheik Abdul Bin Bahya.

There were many hundreds of guests, from a vast number of countries from Mauritania to Afghanistan. They were predominantly Muslim leaders, as the main object was change within the Muslim global community. However, many sessions included Christian and Jewish speakers as part of interfaith panels, demonstrating their commitment to dialogue by putting it into practice.

There was also lively, more informal interaction outside the sessions, between religious leaders of the various faiths present. I noticed the acclaimed US Muslim leader Hamza Yusuf deep in conversation with one of the US based senior Rabbis late into the night. A UK based Imam was delighted to chat with me about Muslim and Hasidic spiritual singing. These are just a few of the examples I saw.

On the other hand, there was a lot of potential for dialogue that was not realised. The language barrier was a big factor. The Jewish delegation of more than a dozen rabbis, based primarily in the US and Israel, as well as two women, and similarly, many of the delegates from across Asia and Africa, simply did not have any common language with which to connect. I often felt bad, as I walked past people with unfamiliar cultural dress and we just looked at each other, silently.

Our gracious Abu Dhabi hosts provided us with certified Kosher hot food that was served in a side room. On some occasions, some of us took our food out to the area where others were eating and joined them for meals. On other occasions many of us chose to stay with our fellow Jews during the meals.

One day over lunch we discussed an alternative approach to a tradition that seems to legitimise a view of non-Jewish people as inherently antisemitic. One of the rabbis raised an alternative version of that passage, which applies only to a particular person in a particular time. Perhaps more such internal conversations occurred within each faith group, complementing those held between people with different faiths.

One strategy that facilitated dialogue was the small group breakout session.  I joined twenty delegates in the South East Asia group. We discussed local words that carry the spirit of the forum. In Indonesia they have a word for “religious moderation”: Wasatia.

As part of Wasatia they strategically moved the study of the caliphates from the religious law syllabus to the history section. An evangelical minister from Mindanao, in the Philippines, taught us the word Kapua that combines being a good neighbour with seeing oneself in the other. I offered the term Ahavat Ha’ger- love of the powerless stranger.

On reflection, I think I was too worried about words. The most moving part of the breakout session was heartfelt sharing in Arabic by an older Mufti, also from Mindanao, whose people have finally reached a peace agreement with their government. I did not understand what he was saying but it touched me because I could feel it came from his heart, rather than an artificial performance from his head.

Another highlight was the Koranic singing and message of Farid Ahmed, in a wheelchair, from Christchurch. His wife was murdered in the attack but he forgave the killer. His heartfelt message to the white supremacists was: we don’t hate you!

The forum culminated with the signing of a charter for a new alliance of virtue. It is hoped that this covenant between people of all faiths will enable us to relate to each other as partners rather than as the “other”.

So I am less concerned about how much the words, spoken or unspoken, at the Forum will matter in the implementation of this noble effort. Instead I look beyond the words, to the sincerity in the hearts of those present, and to the deeds already being undertaken by many in that room and beyond it.

This reflection was first published in plus61J.

Postscript: Shortly after my experience in Abu Dhabi I spent two weeks with my parents and four of my children in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Recent alarming Antisemitic violence, including murder and stabbings - perpetrated by many Black individuals - made me feel less safe walking some streets there, but more importantly, highlights the need for engagement between these communities. Yet, the primarily English-speaking Hasidic Jews and Blacks, who live there side by side, have such profound cultural differences that they might as well be speaking different languages.

In the Torah reading this week we read about a plea for the life of a Jewish youth, by the Hebrew speaking Judah to the Egyptian speaking Viceroy. “I beg of you my master, may your servant please speak a matter, into your ears?” (1). This is interpreted as a specific request: can I speak to you directly rather than through the interpreter (2). Judah’s deep respect for the viceroy (3) combined with his sincerity and pathos in making his case would come through despite the language barrier and touch the heart of his listener (4). There must be some implications in this insight, for Jewish and black communities in the New York- New Jersey area at this time. I am still mulling over what is happening and my experience there, however, it is clear that gaps between the communities can be bridged if deeply felt goodwill and respect will be in evidence in the unspoken communication between the vast majority of the members of these communities.

1) Genesis 44:18.

2) Midrash Habiur, manuscript cited in Torah Shlaima on Genesis 44:18, 65, p. 1636; Kedushas Levi, in 2008 Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 100.

3) For example: his comparison of the Viceroy to the Pharaoh in Genesis 44:18, as understood by Rashi (first explanation), Seforno and R. Moshe Dovid Vali, Ohr Olam (Genesis Vol. 2), second explanation, Hamesora Publishers, Jerusalem, p. 364.

4) Kedushas Levi, ibid. [ It should be noted that the Kedushas Levi states  that Judah assumed that the viceroy would understand Hebrew, unlike the approach I've taken to make this point in this article. However this point of his, regarding the emotional impact of direct interpersonal communication, is really an independent insight, that it goes beyond that which is captured in the words themselves..]

Violence and Resilience of the Aggrieved - Leader and Survivor Kathryn Jones (Pinchas)

The other day I felt embarrassed when I reflected on how I had performed in an important meeting. Unfortunately, I had talked too much and listened far too little. On reflection, as I went into that meeting I felt quite anxious about the anticipated outcomes of that meeting but I was too preoccupied with work to deal with the fear. Dealing with our fears and grievances ensures they don’t fester and explode into an avalanche of words, or even violence. In this blog I reflect on my encounter with Kathryn Jones, a tall woman of Muslim faith and Anglo-Saxon-Australian heritage, who is a survivor of sexual abuse as a child and years of crushing domestic violence (1). She is a passionate advocate for thinking based strategies to counter it. However, I also want to explore how violence and fury might arise not out of mere thoughts but rather out of deeply held beliefs and ideals. As an example of the latter, I examine the case of Pinchas (or Phineas) that opens the Torah reading of this week and appears to approve of the extrajudicial execution of a sinner (2). 

Thoughts are powerful. At a recent Islamic Schooling Conference, I heard from Professor Stephen Dobson about one common thread between the Norwegian far-right terrorist Anders Behring Breivik and the attacker of the Mosques in New Zealand. In both cases, there were long simmering grievances that we can assume were never adequately dealt with.

At the same conference I had the privilege of listening to Kathryn Jones talk about resilience. In her book,'Step Up, Embrace the Leader Within', Kathryn writes movingly of her profound pain: “My forehead rested heavily on the prayer mat soaked by the flood of tears…" She felt “worn down, beaten and empty”; (3) as her suffering in her abusive marriage became progressively more acute. Despite her childhood and her more recent pain, when I listened to Kathryn I felt a strong and positive energy emanating from her. In addition to her mentoring work with Muslim women, she is also engaged in interfaith outreach work in schools, with the Abraham Institute in Adelaide, South Australia.

Kathryn typically begins her talk by using a bubble machine that creates a continuous stream of soap bubbles that rapidly and continuously appear and disappear. The bubbles serve as a metaphor for thoughts. “Feelings come from thoughts in the moment...” (4) Kathryn told us. Jewish mysticism teaches that emotions are the offspring of our cognitive faculties (5). However, there is a difference between the traditional insight and Kathryn’s point, in that the cognitive faculties are not the same as the fleeting thoughts in the moment, instead they are our underlying processes of cognition, including understanding and knowing, and also encompass convictions.  

What Kathryn did next really struck a chord with me. She blew up a balloon and kept blowing until the balloon popped in a loud bang. The balloon was a metaphor for our minds, and holding on to all the air inside represents  ruminating and not letting go of painful, shameful and angry thoughts. The pressures that accumulate usually harm the person holding on to those thoughts, and, often enough, also cause harm to others.

I agree with Kathryn that violence often stems from the challenges of the human condition, and that it is wrong to intrinsically link it to any particular faith, as many do in  equating Islam with violence (6). However, religious as well as other ideals and ideas have often led to violence. One example of this is the way that the socialist dreams of the Soviet Union led to the purges, gulags and repression that have had a direct impact on members of my Chabad Jewish community including my own grandfather. The Torah reading this week has another example, in which a violent act, done for the love of God, appears to be condoned.

God rewarded Pinchas for his killing of a prominent Jewish man named Zimri and a non-Jewish woman named Kozbi, who had sex during a broader moral breakdown involving prostitution and idol worship among the Israelites (7). Thankfully, the Talmud tells us that Pinchas' act was disapproved of by the sages (8), which implies that this exceptional case should never be taken as license for anyone else to imitate his act (9). Still, this passage disturbs me. A surface reading of it seems to justify killing someone for what appears to be an inter-ethnic consensual sexual act. However, according to one traditional commentary this actually involved coercion. When Kozbi refused to sleep with Zimri, “Zimri grabbed Kozbi by her plaited hair...” (10). Be that as it may, it is still a confronting story.

Without irony, the Torah tells us that the killer is to be rewarded with a covenant of peace for his act of zealotry. His act of violence against a man who transgressed God’s expectations of the Israelites is said to have restored peace between God and the people (11). One commentary suggests that God’s gift of a covenant of peace was “a protection against an inner enemy, lurking inside the zealous perpetrator of the sudden deed, against the inner demoralization that such an act as the killing of a human being, without due process of law, is liable to cause” (12). We can say that while Pinchas acted out of zealous anger stemming from his deeply held beliefs, rather than from stewing in lingering unprocessed thoughts, he was nonetheless at risk of being haunted by the deed after the fact.

Violence can certainly be driven by outrage against a violation of a religious or secular ideal. In many cases there is a need for tolerance of divergent beliefs, in other cases there is a need to stand up to those who violate standards that are worthy of being upheld. On the other hand there are a myriad of grievances and hurts that cause harm to the people who continue to hold on to them; Kathryn’s example of letting it go is often worth emulating. Perhaps as people resolve lingering anger or resentment, it will be less likely to bubble out in violence, or even just expressions of unreasonable irritability with people, harsh words or sub-optimal ways of dealing with others.

Thank you very much to my son Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel for his editing and assistance with this blog post. 

Notes

1)    Jones, K, (2018), Step Up, Embrace the Leader Within, Busybird Publishing, Victoria, Australia.

2)    Numbers 25:11-15.

3)    Jones, K. (2018), ibid, p. 7.

4)    Jones, K, (2019) Back to the Fitra Mentoring Program - Unbreakable Social Justice Through Emotional Resilience, presentation at the Islamic Schooling Conference, Melbourne Australian, 14.07.2019.

5)    Tanya chapter 6, et passim.

6)    Jones, K. (2018), ibid, p. 8.

7)    Numbers 25:1-15.

8)     Jerusalem Talmud, Sanhedrin 9:7.

9)    Torah Temimah to Numbers 25:13, note 31.

10)  Talmud Sanhedrin 82a.

11)  Ralbag, Be’er Basadeh, on 25:12.

12)  Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Berlin, in Ha’amek Davar, as quoted in Leibovitz, N., Studies in Bamidbar, Pub. Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora, the Joint Authority for Jewish Zionist Education, Jerusalem, p.331. Cf. also Ohr HaChaim Deuteronomy 13:18 for a similar concept in another context.

Turning Between Co-religionists and Others - Reflections on my participation in a Muslim schools conference Balak 2019

A bearded Muslim man, Dylan Chown, was talking to a woman with a face-veil. He paused his conversation with her and turned to greet me warmly.  Dylan then turned back to her and apologised, with real feeling in his voice:  “I am sorry that I was rude to you”. These brief interactions occurred as participants were arriving to the Australian Islamic Schooling Conference. I observed the exchange and thought: this is what Muslims call “Adab”. I had learned at the conference, that Adab was something more than mere manners. Adab might be described as a set of religious, respectful and sensitive practices. The two  ‘turnings’ (towards me and back towards her) can also be used as a metaphor for the challenge of balancing attending to the priorities of our faith communities, while also relating to people outside those communities.   

Afeefa Syeed, the founder of Al Fatih, a Muslim school in the American state of Virginia, spoke about an example of how her students expressed solidarity with oppressed fellow Muslims. They visited George Washington’s cemetery at Mt Vernon, as part of their study of History. They had learned that some of the “slaves” (or, perhaps more appropriately, enslaved people (1)) had been Muslims. They asked to be directed to where those slaves were buried. This request was met with surprise: “why would anyone be interested in seeing that?” The graves were neglected, but the students said a prayer there (2).

This anecdote touched me. Alongside our concerns for humanity, there is a need, and great virtue in solidarity with one’s own community, be that a community based on faith or place. One of the Torah’s villains, the evil prophet and sorcerer Balaam, is described as being “without a nation” (3). Furthermore, this absence of national or communal ties is deemed to be indicative of exclusion from heaven (4).

At the conference an Imam, an Australian Muslim school principal, a Catholic educator (5) and I conducted a breakout session together.  One activity involved exploring quotes from Islamic and Jewish sources with similar messages. One set of these quotes was the following pair:

……..and to parents do good, and to relatives, orphans, the needy, the near neighbor, the neighbor farther away, the companion at your side, the traveler, and those whom your right hands possess. (6)

...if a poor person and a rich person come to borrow money, the poor person takes precedence. ...If it is between one of the poor of your city and one of the poor of another city, the poor of your city takes precedence. (7)

In a similar vein, we heard how the Al Fatih students showed care for their non-Muslim neighbours by adopting and cleaning the road near their school for the benefit of all the locals and passing travellers. 

I told the conference that navigating my ties to my Jewish community and others has challenged me. I cited the verse: “You shall not mistreat, nor oppress the stranger, as you were strangers in [Pharaoh’s] Egypt” (8). As a younger man, I was good at embracing the second half of the verse, with my acute awareness of millenia of persecution of the Jews, including my own grandparents. It was only later in life that I engaged more strongly with the first and main point relating to the treatment of “strangers”. Justice for members of minority groups requires proper conduct not just in deed but even in word and thought.  Indeed the story of Balaam’s curses (9) is a dramatic example of how words, spoken or prevented from being said, matter.

Speaking positive words and thinking kind thoughts about “Strangers” can be difficult when there is conflict them and one’s own community. Afeefa shared an inspiring example of how her students engaged with people who appeared hostile. During the US presidential election many of her students felt concerned about how Muslims were being talked about by Trump. The students were encouraged to seek to understand, rather than demonise Trump supporters. They approached voters on election day, and asked them who they voted for and why. They heard from people who had lost their jobs and experienced other hardships, voting out of pain, not hate.

We were asked at the conference if in the work of Together For Humanity we talk about differences, or just the similarities. I explained that we certainly discuss both. To do otherwise would be dishonest and ultimately not helpful to building trust between communities.

Juggling similarities and differences is key to our work, and was also part of my preparation of the quotes for the conference. I was aware of the Islamic teaching that “...if anyone slew a person - unless it be for murder or for spreading mischief in the land - it would be as if he slew the whole people. And if anyone saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people” (10). There is a Jewish quote that is very similar, but with one significant difference. It compares the saving of a Jewish life to saving the world (11). Fortunately, I was able to find authoritative sources for universal versions of the same teaching, that equated saving any life with saving humanity (12).

There was yet another hurdle for me with these two quotes. One of the Imams I consulted about these quotes pointed out to me that the full verse includes a critique of some Jews failing to fully embrace this teaching. The full verse in the Quran has an additional statement at the beginning and the end, it states: “We ordained for the children of Israel, that if anyone slew a person ...Our messengers came to them with clear signs, but many of them continued to commit excesses in the land”. The Imam pointed out that it was not a comment about all Jews but some.

Notwithstanding the challenges along the way, seeing the quotes side by side was heart-warming for participants in our session, as they could see evidence of common values in our two traditions. This commonality and the goodwill between me and conference participants does not cancel out the differences between faiths and nations, or the many challenges. Sometimes we will upset people in our own communities or people outside them. We cannot be 100% focused on both at the same time. On those occasions we will apologize like Mr Chown did, but we will persevere with doing the right thing by both. Indeed, we must. 

Notes:

1)       Khaldoun Hajaj, in a facebook post on 15.07.2019 challenged my comment about these human being “slaves”. He wrote “my contention concerns the use of the word Slaves. No one is a slave ... some of us are enslaved”.

2)       https://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=524510378

3)       Talmud Sanhedrin 105a. It is a play on words, with the name בלעם (Bilam or Baalam) linked to being בלא עם (Blo- Am, without a nation)

4)       The Maharal, cited in Valdman, C. Y. in his commentary  Yosif Chayim on Ein Yaakov Hamevuar, pub. Machon Torah Mitziyon, Manchester, p. 446

5)       The Imam was Farhan Khalil, the Principal was Samir Halbouni, also a board member of Together For Humanity Foundation, and the Catholic was Kate Xavier, Senior Education officer of Together For Humanity.

6)       The Quran 4:36.

7)       Talmud, Bava Metzia 71a.

8)       Exodus 22:20. 

9)       Numbers 22:2-24:25.

10)    The Quran 5:32.

11)    Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a.

12)    Jerusalem Talmud, Sanhedrin 4:1 (22a),  states: whoever destroys a single life is considered by Scripture to have destroyed the whole world, and whoever saves a single life is considered by Scripture to have saved the whole world. The context of this teaching is a warning to witnesses in capital cases to speak the truth. It is a reference to the murder of Abel by his brother Cain and how this murder destroyed not just one man but practically half of the future of mankind. This context supports the Jerusalem universal version.  There are several additional versions of this teaching that are universal, these include, Pirkei deRabbi Eliezer ch. 47, Eliyahu Rabbah 11, Yalkut Shimoni on Exodus 166, and manuscripts from Parma, Italy in the mid-13th century, and from Cesena, dating to about 1400. See http://talmud.faithweb.com/articles/schindler.html and https://mosaicmagazine.com/observation/history-ideas/2016/10/the-origins-of-the-precept-whoever-saves-a-life-saves-the-world/