Shiur: Nisan 2019 – HaḤodesh HaZeh Lakhem: Politics of the Calendar

 

I. Establishing the Calendar

1. The Economist, “Rulers of Time”

In the modern era, measurement of time provides a way to underline the clout of central government: both India and China, despite their size, have a single time zone, which keeps everyone marching in step with the capital. It also offers an opportunity for emphasising independence and non-conformity. Hugo Chávez turned the clocks back by half an hour in 2007 to move Venezuela into its own time zone—supposedly to allow a “fairer distribution of the sunrise” but also ensuring that the socialist republic did not have to share a time zone with the United States…

In theory, modern technology offers liberation from temporal tyranny, by allowing people to use whichever system they prefer. The internet runs on “universal” time, a global standard used by astronomers and other scientists, based on a network of atomic clocks. As modern as this sounds, it is really the latest incarnation of Greenwich Mean Time, with all its attendant imperialist cultural baggage. But smartphones and computers can seamlessly translate between time zones and calendar systems, allowing people to use whichever they like. There is no reason why e-mail clients or web calendars could not allow the use of the French Revolutionary clock and calendar systems, say, alongside Muslim and North Korean ones.

In practice, however, time zones and calendars are more than just arbitrary ways to rule lines on time. They do not merely specify how to refer to a particular instant or period; they also dictate and co-ordinate activities across entire societies, in particular by defining which days are working days and national holidays. These have to be consistent within countries and, in some cases, between them: just ask Saudi Arabia, which in 2013 moved its weekend from Thursday/Friday to Friday/Saturday, to bring it into line with other Arab states. The need for such coordination means there is no escape from centralised control of clocks and calendars—which explains why the tendency to politicise them is timeless.

2. Exodus 12:1-2

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in Egypt, “This month is to be for you the first month, the first for you of the months of the year.

3. Mekhilta, Masekhta DePascha 1

“This month is to be for you…”as opposed to Adam HaRishon who did not count from it. Does “for you” mean as opposed to how Adam HaRishon counted, or perhaps “for you” means as opposed to how the non-Jews count? When it says “the first for you” that means “for you” and not for the non-Jews. Why does it [the second] “for you”? “For you,” as opposed to Adam HaRishon who did not count from it.

 

II. Changing/ Maintaining the Calendar

4. The Economist, “Rulers of Time”

North Korea is shifting its time zone this week to reverse the imposition of Tokyo time by “wicked Japanese imperialists” in 1912.

4. 1 Kings 12:26-33

Jeroboam thought to himself, “The kingdom will now likely revert to the house of David. If these people go up to offer sacrifices at the temple of the Lord in Jerusalem, they will again give their allegiance to their lord, Rehoboam king of Judah. They will kill me and return to King Rehoboam.”

After seeking advice, the king made two golden calves. He said to the people, “It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem. Here are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.” One he set up in Bethel, and the other in Dan. And this thing became a sin; the people came to worship the one at Bethel and went as far as Dan to worship the other.

Jeroboam built shrines on high places and appointed priests from all sorts of people, even though they were not Levites. He instituted a festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, like the festival held in Judah, and offered sacrifices on the altar. This he did in Bethel, sacrificing to the calves he had made. And at Bethel he also installed priests at the high places he had made. On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, a month of his own choosing (אשר בדא מלבו), he offered sacrifices on the altar he had built at Bethel. So he instituted the festival for the Israelites and went up to the altar to make offerings.

6. Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 2:8-9

It once happened that two [witnesses] came and testified: We saw it in the morning [of the twenty-ninth] in the east, and in the evening [of the thirtieth] in the west. Said Rabbi Yohanan ben Nuri: [It’s impossible for them to have seen the new moon in the morning, since the new moon is only visible in the west at evening, thus] they are false witnesses. However, when they came to Yavneh, Rabban Gamliel [who knew through astronomical calculations that the new moon should have been visible on the evening of the thirtieth] accepted their testimony. On another occasion two witnesses came and testified: We saw it in its expected time [on the night preceding the thirtieth] but on the night of its intercalation [the thirty-first] it was not seen, and Rabban Gamliel accepted their testimony. Said Rabbi Dosa ben Harkinas: They are false witnesses. How can they testify that a woman has given birth when on the next day her belly is still [swollen appearing to be] between her teeth? Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: I approve of your words. Rabban Gamliel sent him [Rabbi Yehoshua] a message: I decree upon you that you come to me with your staff and money on the day which according to you will be Yom Kippur.

Rabbi Akiva went [to Rabbi Yehoshua] and found him in great distress [that he was ordered to violate the day that was Yom Kippur according to his calculation], he said to him, I can bring you proof that whatever Rabban Gamliel has done is valid for it says: “The following are God’s appointed holy days that you will designate in their appointed times” (Leviticus 23:4), whether they are designated in their proper time, or not at their proper time, I have no holy days save these.

He [Rabbi Yehoshua] came to Rabbi Dosa ben Harkinas who said to him: If we question the ruling of the Bet Din of Rabban Gamliel we must question the ruling of every Bet Din from the times of Moshe up to the present day as it says: “And Moshe ascended with Aharon Nadav and Avihu, and the seventy elders of Israel” (Exodus 24:9). Why weren’t the names of the elders specified? To show that every group of three [sages], that form a Bet Din, is considered as the Bet Din of Moshe and Aharon.

He [Rabbi Yehoshua] took his staff and his money and went to Yavneh to Rabban Gamliel on the day of Yom Kippur according to his calculation. Rabban Gamliel rose and kissed him on his head and said to him: Come in peace my master and my disciple, my master in wisdom and my disciple because you have accepted my words.

 

III. The Calendar Today

7. Rav Shagar, Bayom Hahu, 346

I don’t know how to depict this redemption, but Rebbe Naman’s words inspire me to think that, perhaps, if we stand vulnerable before God… this will enable a shift, something transcendent will reveal itself, something that is beyond difference. I am not talking about tolerance, nor about the removal of difference. The Other that I see before me will remain different and inaccessible and, despite this, the Divine Infinite will position me by the Other’s side. Again, how this will manifest in practical or political terms, I do not know. But Yom Yerushalayim will be able to turn from a nationalistic day, one which has turned with time into a tribalistic celebration of Religious Zionism alone, into an international day.

8. Rav Menaḥem Froman, Ten Li Zeman, 119

The event of the new moon (ḥidush) was, for the Sages, the most intense instance where we encounter the creator and renewer of the world. Revolutionary Marxism went to war against religion, primarily because it saw it as an anti-revolutionary force. Religious faith can lead us to conservative conclusions. Religion can sanctify the status quo as the handiwork of the Creator. However, we might also come to the exact opposite conclusion. If a person believes that the world is created (“meḥudash,” “made anew,” in medieval terminology), then he believes that the world could be radically remade anew.

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Rav Shagar and Heidegger: Some Speculative Archaeology

Rav Shagar and Heidegger:
Some Speculative Archaeology

Introduction
Some investigation into Rav Shagar’s familiarity with Martin Heidegger deserves clarification. He mentions Heidegger throughout his various writings, in a variety of contexts. Some of his important ideas resonate with, and perhaps even derive from, Heideggerian ideas. Prof. William Kolbrener’s forthcoming review of Faith Shattered and Restored highlights the Heideggerian resonance of Shagar’s shorshiyut, “rootedness” (my thanks to Kolbrener for the sneak preview). R. Zach Truboff has suggested to me that Shagar’s baytiyut may well derive from Heidegger’s zuhaus-sein, neither really translatable but meaning something like a way of existing built on familiarity and identification, potentially called “at-homeness” or “the feeling of being at home.” Shagar’s long-running concern with the meaning of death for a Jew’s existence certainly also echoes Heidegger, something Prof. Admiel Kosman notes in his essay “Bakashat Elohim Be’idan Postmoderni” reviewing two of Shagar’s books (Akdamot 21, 2008). So clarifying what he might have known about Heidegger and when is paramount.

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Primary Literature

The first thing to note when considering what Rav Shagar might have read from Heidegger is that Rav Shagar does not seem to have read extensively, if at all, outside Hebrew (and probably Yiddish, though I haven’t confirmed that). So any Heidegger he read would have been exclusively in Hebrew translation.

We can thus begin with what Hebrew translations of Heidegger were available during his lifetime, between 1950 and 2007. Part of Being and Time was already translated into Hebrew by Alexander Barzel in 1964, but it seems like a full translation is still unavailable (this seems to have been some sort of limited production for Hebrew University students). The Origin of the Work of Art was translated by Shlomo Tsemaḥ in 1968 (Devir publishing). In 1999, a collection of Heidegger’s essays spanning from 1929 to 1959, entitled Ha-Yeshut Ba-Derekh was published, translated by Adam Tennenbaum (who would later translate a new Hebrew edition of The Origin of the Work of Art, published in 2017).

Notably, 1999 is only 8 years before Shagar’s death, so it is unclear how much influence Ha-Yeshut Ba-Derekh would have had on Shagar’s oeuvre. While some texts clearly influence Shagar dramatically in only a short period of time. For example, Eric Santner’s The Psychotheology of Everyday Life was published in Hebrew only in 2005, yet it shows up in several sermons and his student Yishai Mevorach, in the introduction to Teologiah Shel Heser, notes that Shagar encouraged him to read it. Mevorach was the editor who put out essays where Shagar uses Santner, so that may be circular, but other students have told me that Shagar encouraged it as well. Regardless, many of Shagar’s more Heideggerian works were written well before this.

 

Secondary Literature

Those three works are all of Heidegger was that translated into Hebrew in Shagar’s lifetime (several more translations have been published since then). So what about secondary literature? If there wasn’t much Heidegger in Hebrew, then what did people write about Heidegger in Hebrew? Perhaps unsurprisingly, not a lot. In 1960, Yitzchak Klein wrote a dissertation at Hebrew University on the idea of fundamental ontology in Heidegger’s philosophy. In 1970, Ran Sigd wrote his dissertation on the idea of authenticity in Existentialism which discusses Heidegger. While Shagar does not cite Sigd’s dissertation, he read and cites Sigd’s book on Existentialism, which presumably is essentially the same. In 1988, George Steiner’s Martin Heidegger was put out in a Hebrew translation by Schocken Books. Shagar actually cites this edition in the essay “My Faith” (Luhot u’Shivrei Luhot, 416 n.23; Faith Shattered and Restored 30 n.24). Parenthetically, this is the lone occasion when Shagar actually provides a citation for his usage of Heidegger. In all other instances, Shagar simply throws Heidegger’s name out in the middle of whatever discussion he is having without providing any reference.

1990 saw two dissertations written on Heidegger. The first was by written the aforementioned Adam Tennenbaum at Tel Aviv University, focusing on the idea of truth in the philosophy of the “young Heidegger.” The second, quite significantly, was written by Shagar’s student Eliezer Malkiel at Hebrew U, and focused on Heidegger’s understanding of immanence and redemption. Now some work on Shagar’s similarity with Heidegger can be found in Tomer Danziger’s 2012 Hebrew University thesis on death in Shagar’s thought. He doesn’t do much in the way of historical work, but he does note Kosman’s article, and he reached out to Kosman who directed him to Malkiel. Kosman said that Malkiel and Shagar learned Heidegger together one one one, which Malkiel confirmed, but Malkiel also said that this had been over twenty years ago, and he could not attest to Shagar’s specific vision of Heidegger’s philosophy. We should note, however, that the only Heideggerian texts available in Hebrew at the time were part of Being and Time and The Origin of the Work of Art.

In 1994, Avraham Ansbach wrote a dissertation called “Beyond Subjectivism” (Hebrew) at the Hebrew University, which presumably became part of his Existence and Meaning: Martin Heidegger on Man, Language, and Art (Hebrew), published by Magnes. This dissertation is important because of a story I recently heard from another of Shagar’s one-time students, Ishay Rosen-Zvi. Rosen-Zvi studied under Shagar at Beit Morashah, which Shagar helped found in 1990. Shagar ran the beit midrash there until 1996, when he left to found his own yeshivah together with Rav Yair Dreyfuss. In discussing the fact that Shagar did not read widely, if at all, outside Hebrew, Rosen-Zvi told me the following: When he studied under Shagar, Shagar had been very excited about Heidegger, but had been unable to find much to read on Heidegger (which fits with the state of the translation and secondary literature as I have described it). However, Shagar had a student who studied at Hebrew University and heard about a “thesis” written being written there in Hebrew on Heidegger. Shagar, Rosen-Zvi says, made sure that his student got him a copy of the thesis, and was very excited to read it. Given that only two dissertations were written at Hebrew University between 1990-1996 (Shagar’s time at Beit Morashah), and one of them was by Shagar’s student Malkiel (likely the student in the story), it is likely that the dissertation under discussion was Ansbach’s.

1998-2007 saw 13 theses and dissertations that focused on Heidegger to some degree or another, as well as a Hebrew translation of Timothy Clark’s Heidegger. As there’s nothing more to say about any of them individually, I will simply list them all in an appended list below.

 

Summary – Citations, Availability, and Speculation

So, based on all this, what can we say about Shagar’s resources for understanding Heidegger? There are essentially three categories of texts.

The first is those cited by Shagar, which is essentially just George Steiner’s Martin Heidegger. That is the only text on Heidegger that we can know Shagar read.

The second category is those texts potentially available to Shagar, even though he does not cite them. This is two Hebrew translation, The Origin of the Work of Art and the collection of essays called Ha-Yeshut Ba-Derekh, as well as part of Being and Time, 20 or so theses or dissertations, and potentially Timothy Clark’s book (though it was published the year Shagar died, so it’s very unlikely he read it).

The third category is the texts we have reason to think Shagar read, even though he does not cite them. The first of these is obviously Malkiel’s dissertation on immanence and redemption, as the two were close and studied Heidegger together (Edit: my thanks to Dr. Aviezer Cohen for confirming that Shagar had and read a copy of Malkiel’s dissertation). The second, based on Rosen-Zvi’s (admittedly 20-year old) testimony, is Avraham Ansbach’s dissertation, “Beyond Subjectivism.” Third, and perhaps most speculatively, is whatever Shagar studied together with Malkiel. As this was sometime around the beginning of the 1990’s, it would likely have been The Origin of the Work of Art, and perhaps the portion of Being and Time that had been published in Hebrew for students of Hebrew University, where Malkiel studied.

So that is it for our speculative archaeological study of Shagar’s library. Further work would involve checking these works inside to see what matched up with Shagar’s fragmentary discussions of Heidegger, and perhaps getting accessed to the unpublished Shagar archives to see what he might cite there. Hopefully someone else can take up that task.

 

Secondary Literature – 1998-2000

1998

Chavi Karel, מושג המוות של היידגר : קריאה פסיכואנליטית ופמיניסטית, MA thesis at Tel Aviv University

Hayyim Luski, ברור חלום הקיוםהיידגר, ביקורת פרויד וחשיפת ה– DASEIN כמציאות אונירית בהקדמה (לבינסוואנגר) : חיבורו הראשון של מישל פוקו הצעי, MA thesis at TAU

2000

Michael Robeck, אונטולוגיה ומתמטיקה במחשבתו של מרטין היידגר, Dissertation at Hebrew University

Tali Wolf, שאלת ההוויה בהגותו של היידגרמקיום אותנטי לחשיבה, MA thesis at TAU

Yoel Perl, אזור הבינייםמפגש בין האונטולוגיה ההיידיגריאנית לפסיכואנליזה של פרויד ווינקוט, MA thesis at TAU

Idan Dorfman, שפה ועצמיותמהיידגר ללאקאן, MA Thesis at TAU

2001

Sigal Tzoref, חינוך להתייחסות למוות בהתאם לרעיונות הפילוסופיים : של מרטין היידגר ושלוש נובלות של גוזף קונראד, MA thesis at Ben Gurion University of the Negev

2004

Idanah Langenthal, חלל, מקום ובית במשנתו של היידגר, MA thesis at TAU

2005

Amir Konigsburg, הבנה והוויהמושג ההבנה בפילוסופיה של מרטין הידגר, MA thesis at HU

2006

Uri Etzyoni, ביחס לאבסולוטי בחינה השוואתית : הלדרלין והמשורר, קנט והגאון, המיצב של הידגר, MA thesis at TAU

Dror Pimental, כתיבה והוויה : קריאה דרידיאנית בהיידגר, Dissertation at HU

2007

Amit Kravitz, אי ההבנה של אי ההבנה : היידגר וניטשה על שופנהאואר וקאנט, MA thesis at HU

Timothy Clark, מרטין היידגרמבוא, Resling

Yoel Perl, שאלת הזמן בפסיכואנליזה בראי הזמניות של היידגר, Dissertation at Bar Ilan University

Shiur: The Funny Thing About Mitsvot – Adar Bet 2019

The Funny Thing About Mitsvot: Humanity, Divinity, and Irony

I. Take life lightly!

2. Rav Menachem Froman, They Make Hasidim Laugh, §27-28

27. Take life lightly! Clap your hands, run, dance! […] Stop being a Jew like me, who recites the Shema and takes the Mishneh Berurah and Shulan Arukh so seriously. Because truth be told, it’s also written that the Shema has to be recited with an intentional heart. And what exactly is an intentional heart? Lightness; it’s when your heart carries you through your Shema!

Let’s stop being like those who bear the cross of the Torah with such gravity! Let’s stop being like those who can’t take the Torah lightly. That’s what leads to heresy. That’s why the majority of the Jewish people no longer keeps the Torah. What is it I need? To dance the Torah, to jump the Torah! What’s missing is Purim. That’s what’s holding back my service of God.

Years ago, I suggested to my wife that we change our last name from Froman to Purim. Instead of saying, “Rabbi Froman will today meet with Arafat, representatives from Hamas, etc.”, they’d say it was Rabbi Purim! It would sound completely different! Then no one would take what I do too seriously…

28. […] In classical Judaism, all of the commandments commemorate the exodus from Egypt, but now we have reached a new era, an era of laughter and freedom. Until now, all the commandments were very serious. Passover is about pathos. The Torah has lots of pathos, it’s very serious. Now, we have a new era, a new Torah, the Torah of the land of Israel, the Torah of the Messiah. All the commandments commemorate the laughter of Purim, not the pathos of Passover.

To be or not to be is a serious, weighty question. However, Shakespeare wrote in the very same play that the whole world is a stage, that everything is a game. Do you hear me asking the most important question there is in life, whether or not to be? This question is just a joke, it’s a game… it’s just a game…

There is something that takes priority over the question of whether or not to be. It even takes priority over saving a life, which is so important that it overrides Shabbat. What is this thing that takes priority over saving a life? Being before God. Before God. Being before God in this world and the world to come, being before God and knowing that everything we have done in our lives is a joke. Life, death, it’s all a joke before God.

II. Do the Mitsvot, But with a Wink

2. Rav Shagar, Faith Shattered and Restored, “Living with Nothingness,” 103 n.35
Translated by Elie Leshem, with minor changes.

This spirit of lightness is expressed through the injection of faith with a humorous dimension. As Rabbi Nahman wrote, the power of humor lies in its capacity to illuminate the limitations of our world in relation to the divine infinitude.

 

3. Rav Shagar, Shiurim Al Lekutei Moharan, on Lekutei Moharan I:6

Rebbe Naḥman claims that the very concepts in which we live, concepts of sin and reward and punishment, in a certain sense corporealize God. They lack spirituality in comparison to the infinite, necessitating a “World to Come” teshuvah to make up for the lower, earthly, teshuvah. Rebbe Naḥman essentially demands that we do teshuvah for the forms of religiosity in which we perform the commandment of teshuvah, which he claims is plagued by corporealization of God. A person must act, but he must not turn this action into an ideology, a something, an object. He knows that his teshuvah necessarily fails, and this recognition elevates his repentance.

This means that every significant decision, like the mental (nafshit) act of repentance, must come from an inner silence. This lets a person drawn on his inner life, which cannot be put into words. Despite this, when the spiritual (ruḥanit) act emerges in the world it loses its innerness, requiring “repentance” to turn it into a true spiritual act. What does this mean? Imagine a person who decides to repent. He is forbidden from thinking that this decision expresses the absolute divine truth. If he thinks this, he has corporealized the divine. He must make the decision, but by nature of being an act in the world, it belongs to the category of “kingly honor” (kevod melakhim). It is by definition corporeal, so he must simultaneously repent for his repentance. He thus elevates and spiritualizes the repentance, returning it to its lofty source.

Rebbe Naḥman’s approach recalls how Soren Kierkegaard described the concept of irony. The spiritual character is different, but there is a degree of similarity between the idea of repenting for your repentance and Kierkegaard’s image of the ironic individual, who speaks seriously, but with a wink. This wink does not mean that he is lying, but expresses a dual perspective on reality. He sees with both his eyes at once: one perspective recognizes the seriousness of holiness, while the second, aware of the seriousness of holiness, feels uncomfortable with the inflexibility hidden in this seriousness; spirituality is not a “thing,” it is free and light by definition. This second perspective, the gaze, frees a person from his first perspective on holiness, thereby initiating it anew. The role of irony is to spiritualize human comprehensions of reality. The ironic individual wants to maintain his world while nullifying it (bitulo). He is the believer who takes his life seriously, but understands that sometimes you need a sideways wink in order to look at life seriously.

4. Rav Shagar, Shuvi Nafshi, 27-28

The religious act is inherently flawed by virtue of being an earthly act. Any religious statement must be nullified as it is being said, simply in order to make it sayable.

In order to give teshuvah the elevation it deserves, we have to do teshuvah while simultaneously doing teshuvah for that act of teshuvah itself. The act of teshuvah is in and of itself a sin in relation to the divine infinitude. It is therefore forbidden to get caught up in the motivation for the teshuvah, seeing it as an absolute motivation. It’s earthliness makes it necessary to do teshuvah for the teshuvah.

This is how Rebbe Naḥman elevates the teshuvah itself to the supernal teshuvah, the teshuvah of the world to come, which not our real world, but the teshuvah of the ideal world that does not yet exist. The doubled gaze enables a person to do teshuvah even if this teshuvah is earthly and insufficient.

 

5. Rav Shagar, Tsel Ha’Emunah, 57-58

The test of religiosity is not keeping the mitsvot, nor even suspending them or not keeping them, but how you relate to their suspension. A person can trust (bitaḥon) in the mitsvot and cast his lot upon them, but he must ask himself what happens when God rejects his performance of the mitsvot. Is the mitsvah itself the goal? What about when it doesn’t receive its light from the will of God? […] God’s laughter reveals the unusual combination of the person who trusts (bitahon) and the God who knocks his trust out from under him. […] This is a comical event, which reveals the total nothingness, the joke, of the person who thinks its so serious and important when he does a mitsvah. It’s as if God “pranked” the person; someone with a sense of humor will laugh along and even enjoy it, but someone who doesn’t will see it as a painful rejection. This necessary humor comes from recognizing the precariousness of human existence, the nothingness of humanity in contrast with the divine infinitude. […] Performing the act as a mitsvah is what makes it divine and absolute, for the mitsvah is what reveals God speaking to a person. […] Doing them any other way, no matter how lofty and important the motivations, remains within the human confines of “reasoned decision,” without connecting to the divine. […] The Jewish person celebrates doing mitsvot because that is where he finds God addressing him.

 

III. Freeing God from the Mitsvot

6. Yishai Mevorach, Teologiah Shel Heser, 102

It’s as if God is bound in the bonds of a person’s religious language and religious way of life. A person’s faith language carries with it a meaning that limits the words of faith – words like “God,” “divinity,” “holiness,” “commandment” – to the narrow sense of their religious form of life. The rabbis expressed this “framing” in homilies (midrashim) that depict God observing the commandments.[1] This congruence between religious life and God’s life creates an intimacy in the relationship of the believer and his god. Additionally, it testifies to the narrowness of the god’s world, constricted within the believer’s way of life.

Only a “secular believer,” sensitive to the enigmatic nature of his language, can encounter the infinite force of the divine, while he is forced to constantly turn his gaze up and down, backward and forward, because the word he speaks lacks any meaning or sense when he says “God.”[2] This understanding opens up a path to secular faith, to faith that encounters religious language and feels how it is full of force exactly by virtue of its lack of meaning.

[1] “Rabbi Avin bar Rav Adda said that Rabbi Yitzḥak said: From where is it derived that the Holy One, Blessed be He, wears phylacteries? As it is stated: “The Lord has sworn by His right hand, and by the arm of His strength” (Isaiah 62:8). Since it is customary to swear upon holy objects, it is understood that His right hand and the arm of His strength are the holy objects upon which God swore.” (Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 6a, Koren translation and commentary)

[2] “One may not expound the laws of forbidden sexual relations before three people, nor the account of Creation before two, nor the Divine Chariot before one, unless he is wise and understanding from his own knowledge. Anyone who looks into four things is worthy of not having come into the world: what is above, what is below, what is before, and what is after. And anyone who has no consideration for the honor of his Maker would be better off if he had not come into the world.” (Mishnah Hagigah 2:2)

Rav Shagar Goes Beyond the State: Rosenzweig’s Non-Statist “Jewishness” and the Primordial Torah

Rav Shagar Goes Beyond the State:
Rosenzweig’s Non-Statist “Jewishness” and the Primordial Torah

More thesis notes.

In the last post, I focused on a passage from Rav Shagar entitled “Not Yet,” wherein Rav Shagar said that Religious Zionism has to shift its focus from the state to the community. While not rejecting statist Zionism in toto, Shagar withdraws all Religious value from the state and relocates it within the classical body politic of the Jewish Diaspora, the community.

Shagar does not give us a full depiction of what this non-statist religious community would look like. However, Shagar often argued that the Religious Zionist community should adopt the Haredi community’s minority posture, wherein they do not define themselves based on the space in which they live or the other groups with whom they interact. In several of these passages, he appeals to Rosenzweig for a philosophical formulation of this mode of existence, and in the derashah “Love and Law,” he describes this as how Judaism looked before the emergence of Rav Kook’s religious Zionism:

What was the spiritual situation before Rav Kook’s teachings? What was that “religious Jewishness” that we mentioned? […]

Rosenzweig taught that Jewishness manifests as commitment and being rooted in the covenant, which are the fundamental acts of Judaism. According to this definition, the Jewish exile is when you create of a sheltered, a-historical, family space, without being concerned for surroundings or engaged in the rules of history. The Jews “lack the passionate attachment to the things that constitute the primary… ‘objects’ of other historical peoples and nations, attachments that ultimately constitute their vitality and endurance as peoples and nations: land, territory, and architecture; regional and national languages; laws [=state laws], customs, and institutions.” Their land exists only as a holy land for which they yearn, and their holy language is not their first language, not the language that they speak in their daily lives. Jewishness is bound up and connected only and entirely in itself. “Our life is no longer meshed with anything outside ourselves. We have struck root in ourselves.” “And so, in the final analysis, [the Jewish nation] is not alive in the sense the nations are alive: in a national life manifest on this earth, in a national territory, solidly based and staked out on the soil. It is alive only in that which guarantees it will endure beyond time, in that which pledges it ever lastingness, in drawing its own eternity from the sources of the blood.”

The Jew being connected only in himself, of the nation in its very existence, creates a two-fold relationship with the “outside.” Other nations and cultures, either do not exist from the Jew’s perspective, the “outside” does not enter his horizon at all…”

The Jews are always at home, because they are never in a home; their home is their blood. As Rosenzweig lays it out, the critical distinction between the Jewish people and other peoples is that the Jewish people don’t have a state, or all the laws, customs, and institutions that come with it. Rav Shagar argues that the Religious Zionist community should adopt this sort of posture within the state of Israel. The state should be a geo-political space in which they live but with which they do not identify.

This is the same sort of existence Rav Shagar attributes to Haredism (if not to contemporary Haredi communities, which fail to live up to his idealized “authentic” or “rectified” Haredism). They live in the state but do not attribute religious value to it. Their religious lives are entirely separate from the state, and they follow its laws, speak its language, and participate in its institutions only incidentally. (Notably, Rav Shagar also attributes to them an understanding of holiness as bound up in the past, which he finds philosophically formulated in  [Stephane Moses’s] Walter Benjamin).

Similarly, Religious Zionism needs to reorient itself around the community as the locus of religious life, following the laws of the Torah community, bound up in “the infinite Torah” (seemingly the primordial Torah of the Kabbalah). They need to become, and embrace being, a minority within the state of Israel, defined more by their Jewishness than by their Israeliness. To the degree that they do identify with the state of Israel, this will be in contrast with and perhaps even in contradiction to their religious identities. As Rav Shagar says, being a Religious Zionist means living in multiple worlds, having a split, “schizophrenic” identity, and affirming contradictory values.

Rav Shagar’s Turn to Rosenzweig: Post-Liberalism and the Futurity of Redemption

More thesis notes.

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Part of my thesis focuses on Rav Shagar’s turn to Rosenzweig in context of struggling with the state of Israel’s violent actions, “Violence in the struggle over the land [that] contradicts our tradition in a deep way,” most particularly the Disengagement from Gaza and the northern Shomron. Rosenzweig was famously a non-Zionist (in contrast with the anti-Zionist Benno Jacob) and believed that redemption was something we experience as inherently set in the future, rather than as something achievable in the present. The Jewish people cannot achieve redemption, they must wait for it patiently. In this, Rosenzweig self-consciously rejects the ideas of human progress and of the modern liberal state (note: “liberal” here does not have the same sense as in contemporary politics) as an entity capable of elevating human existence (cf. Yehoshua Arieli, “Modern History as Reinstatement of the Saeculum”). In this sense, Rosenzweig is a “post-liberal” thinker, in that he consciously rejects the liberal, modern framework. He is not ignorant of the possibility that people could redeem themselves, he is aware of it and believes it to be false. It is this post-liberal sensibility that Rav Shagar takes up in the passage I discuss here.

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These two ideas, 1) the futurity of redemption and 2) the inability of people to redeem themselves are obviously connected. From one perspective, people cannot redeem themselves because redemption is a state that exists beyond history. From another, redemption lies beyond human history because people are incapable of achieving it.

Religious Zionism was built on the the idea that Jews can in fact bring the redemption rather than simply “yearning” for it, or “entreating” it, in Rosenzweig’s language. Hence the importance of the religious, redemptive nature of the contemporary state of Israel, because it is already the first step in the process of achieving redemption.

Most of the time when Rav Shagar appeals to Rosenzweig in context of Zionism, he presents Rosenzweig’s non-Zionism as one extreme, with Rav Abraham Isaac Kook on the other, enabling him to choose a middle position that he identifies with Rebbe Nahman of Bratslav. However, in an essay entitled “We did not Win in Amona” (Nekudah 288 (Adar 2006), 34-37; Nahalekh Baragesh, 330) he seems to embrace Rosenzweig’s position more whole-heartedly. He still does not propose moving out of Israel or anything, but he does talk about adopting an exilic existence within Israel (something for which he argues in a variety of contexts, and which his student, Yishai Mevorach, develops dramatically in his book, Yehudi Shel Haketsei). Moreover, he embraces the interlocking Rosenzweigian elements of 1) the futurity of redemption and 2) the post-liberal sense that people cannot redeem themselves. While Rav Shagar does not go so far as to say that redemption cannot be achieved by people, he does delay the religious nature of the state, seemingly indefinitely. Strikingly, the relevant section of the aforementioned essay is entitled “Not Yet,” the phrase Rosenzweig uses to denote the futurity of redemption.

In this text, liberal vs. post-liberal ideologies of redemption and progress are framed in terms of bitahon, a word referring both to the religious sense of trust in God and the secular self-confidence of human-driven progress and security. Rav Shagar criticizes the Religious Zionist community for replacing the former, religious meaning with the latter, secular one. Religious Zionists are too liberal (again, not in the sense of contemporary political discourse), believing too strongly in their capacity to create a redemptive state (cf. Dov Schwartz, “Religious Zionism and the Idea of the New Man” [Heb], Yisrael 16 (2009):143-164). They ought to reject this modernist ideology and “throw their lot upon the Lord.” While the appeal to Psalms and Haredi ideology might seem to echo pre-modern, pre-liberal ways of thinking, it is the conscious adoption of these approaches against modern, liberal ideology that makes Rav Shagar post-liberal.

Notably, this text also presents us with Shagar pretty clearly identifying Rosenzweig (and Cohen) with what the Haredi community, something he does in other contexts as well. Ultra-Orthodox, Haredi Judaism is an intensive, minority culture which does not identify with the state of Israel in any religious sense, nor does it believe in human-driven redemption. While explicitly calling for Religious Zionism to remain Religious Zionism, rather than turning toward Haredi Judaism, Rav Shagar still critiques these elements that make Religious Zionism what it is, and argues for the adoption of a more Haredi/Rosenzweigian cultural posture. This leads him to a messianism that exists as dreams, and a Zionism that is most certainly not their fulfillment.

 

The final section of “We did not Win in Amona,” entitled “Not Yet,” is translated in full below.


Not Yet

We have to be faithful to our path; that is the meaning of covenant today. We must adhere to the Religious Zionist path, even in a world of betraying and being betrayed. I call upon us to be Haredim for our path; in my opinion, this is the correct meaning of being “National Religious Haredi” (hardaliyut). It’s not about moving away from the original Religious Zionist Torah, which takes the path of “Tiferet,” the path of combinations, integrations, and shades. Zionism, higher education, social sensitivity, modesty, and faithfulness. Our becoming-Haredi needs to be a becoming-Haredi into religious Zionism. Abandoning this path is itself corrupting the covenant (pegam habrit). Violence in the struggle over the land contradicts our tradition in a deep way. Moreover, a violent struggle just invites the next struggle. Hate nourishes hate. They make us evil, and we make them evil. The holy “Shlah” interpreted the verse “The Egyptians mistreated (vayare’u) us” to mean that the primary sin of the Egyptians was making us evil (ra’im). In my opinion, the only to change direction and start a revolution is the opposite approach. In war, everyone loses, while mercy and patience win even when they lose. In the present situation, any other fight ceases to be a religious fight, and is nothing other than a gross internalization of the crude aspect of the secular Zionist ethos.

We must build Judea, but as a community, not a state. We will remain faithful to the state, and as such to the nation of Israel, but while pointedly maintaining our unique approach and thus our distinctiveness. We will see in isolating ourselves (to a degree) in our community an exile in the midst of redemption, exile within the land of Israel. “After the Disengagement,” said one of the rabbis of Judea, Samaria, and the area around Gaza, “we will go out to exile with a book of kinot in our hands.” However, it is an exile of yearnings, of what is “not yet.” It is an exile that means recognizing the dream that is not yet realized, and that we are not willing to give up on it. This is as opposed to an exile of alienation and estrangement, alienation that comes from an inability to accept the fact that the dream cannot be realized here and now. Like relationships between the sexes, wherein the laws of modesty require us to maintain boundaries (mehitsot), which are sometimes thin and even transparent but always firm and tangible, so two we must maintain the boundary between secularism and religiosity. It will not lead to alienation and rejection of the covenant, but will preserve the “not yet.”

Ultimately, we are unaccustomed to this response. We Religious Zionists committed almost entirely to the Zionist activism of redeeming ourselves under our own power and the ethos of totally rejecting the exile. The confidence (bitahon) of the Religious Zionist is something different, it is the confidence that “he gives you the strength to create wealth” (Deuteronomy 8:18). All we must do, they taught us, is believe that it is not our power but divine providence. It is this belief that distinguishes between forceful violence and action that never loses track of the weak and weakness and grace. However, this activist confidence must pass through the confidence of “Cast your burden upon the Lord” (Psalms 55:23), which is the inner ability to relinquish and set aside; it is this confidence to which we are called at this moment. This confidence enables us to give up on victory today. In other words, we are forbidden to forget the exile. The ethos of rejecting the exile, the confidence in the IDF that replaced the confidence in God, is what I think made the state violent and forceful. We must internalize the exile into the state itself. There were and are Haredi Israelis, and non-Orthodox thinkers like Hermann Cohen and Franz Rosenzweig, who for this reason opposed the very idea of a Jewish state. They claimed that authentic Jewish existence is exilic existence, and that Jewishness is inherently opposed to history and politics. The answer, they claim, must be establishing a state without rejecting the exile. It should be a dialectical, I would even say Hegelian, process, that internalizes the exilicness into the state and thus elevates it to the next phase of political existence, a state of justice and mercy.

In the past, Religious Zionism has resolved this tension by sheltering beneath the wide-spread wings of the secular Zionist state. This often involved intentional ignorance and self-deception, such as have been laid bare by ongoing events. The problem began when Religious Zionism tried to take the burden on itself. The shelter is broken now, and the tension between spirit and force emerges with full intensity. The current solution, fitting to the spirit of the age, is communalist. It’s a solution within the framework of what they call the citizen society, which involves suspending the identity between religion and state. This does not mean that we’ll stop being Religious Zionists and loyal patriots; Hatikvah will still send a shiver down our spines and connect us to two thousand years. However, alongside this feeling of loyalty we will know that the state cannot now fulfill our dreams. Its is exactly from a place of relinquishment, of separation without alienation, that we will be able to receive much deeper empathy for our path and our dreams.

Rav Shagar’s Kookian Critique of Kookian Religious Zionism

Rav Shagar’s Kookian Critique of Kookian Religious Zionism

As I write my MA thesis over the next 8-12 months or so, I will probably post short notes here, mostly as a place to work out and write down my own thoughts.

 

So part of my thesis focuses on Rav Shagar’s critique of the mainstream Religious Zionist approach to the state of Israel. In this context, it is notable that he critiques Religious Zionism, which builds its redemptive political theology off the writings of the Rabbis Kook, by returning to some of the foundational redemptive and political texts of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook.

In context of the state’s direct or indirect contribution to violence, Rav Shagar references this piece from Orot:

Orot, Orot HaMilhamah §3

(Translation by Betzalel Naor)

We left world politics due to a compulsion that contained an inner will, until a fortunate time will come, when it will be possible to conduct a nation without wickedness and barbarism – this is the time we hope for. It is understood that in order to achieve this, we must awaken with all of our powers to use all the media that time makes available – all is conducted by the hand of God, Creator of all worlds. However, the delay is a necessary one; we were repulsed by the awful sins of conducting a nation in an evil time. Behold, the time is approaching, the world will be invigorated and we can already prepare ourselves, for it will already be possible for us to conduct our nation by principles of good, wisdom, rectitude, and clear divine enlightenment. ‘Jacob sent to Esau the royal purple.” Let my master pass before his servant. It is not worthwhile for Jacob to engage in statecraft when it must be full of blood, when it requires an ability for wickedness. We received but the foundation, enough to found a people, but once the trunk was established, we were deposed, strewn among the nations, planted in the depths of the earth, until the time of song arrives and the voice of the turtledove will be heard in our land.

This piece from Orot essentially suggests that violence was necessary to originally establish the Jewish people (hence the conquest of Canaan), but as soon as it was no longer necessary, the Jewish people were forced into a powerless, inherently non-violent position in exile. This forcing, however, was inherently desirable because of the way it removed any need for the Jewish people to be violent. This enables them to wait out the violent period of history, after which they will be able to return to power and history without being violent.

This passage notably frames politics as either violent or non-violent, and the Jewish people have to strive to have their state be non-violent; otherwise, exile would be preferable.

 

The second passage is the source of the loftiest framing of the redemptive state as “the foundation of the throne of the God in the world.” However, it also makes broad statements about the state as a political entity and the Jewish state in specific.

Orot, Orot Yisrael §7

(Translation from The Jewish Political Tradition, vol. 1, 480)

The state is not the supreme happiness of man. This [denial is true] of an ordinary state that amounts to no more than a large insurance company, where the myriad ideas that are the crown of human vitality remain hovering above, not touching it. [But] this is not the case regarding a state that is ideal in its foundation, in whose being is engraved the . . . ideal content that is, truly, the greatest happiness of the individual. This state is truly supreme in the scale of happiness, and this state is our state, the state of Israel, the foundation of God’s throne in the world.13 Its entire aim is that ‘‘God be one and His name one’’ (Zech. 14:9). For this is, truly, the supreme happiness.

Of course, this sublime happiness is in need of extended elaboration so as to shine in [these] days of darkness. But it does not on that account fail to be the supreme happiness.

So the state as a political entity, Rav Kook says, has functional value but cannot help humanity achieve its ideals. It’s essentially neutral. This is in contrast to the Jewish state, which is meant to achieve these human ideals, and thus embody “the foundation of the throne of the God in the world.”

While that depiction is of course deeply redemptive, it’s worth noting that it’s not essentialistic. Thus when Rav Shagar says that the contemporary state of Israel is being violent, he’s not going against this piece so much as using this piece to criticize the actual state of Israel (and how Religious Zionists view it). This piece proposes the redemptive nature of the state of Israel as a realistic concept that the actual state of Israel can, and according to Shagar does, fail to achieve.

However, this is only true if we ignore the last two lines, which Rav Shagar notably does not quote. They’re incredibly essentialistic, and Rav Shagar is only able to root his critique in Rav Kook’s words by leaving these specific words out. There is thus a subversive element to his use of Rav Kook here.

Where Rav Shagar goes beyond Rav Kook is his statement (based on Eric Santner, who is working off Karl Schmidt, Walter Benjamin, and others) that the modern sovereign nation state is inherently violent, and therefore the state of Israel is as well. Whereas Rav Kook here posited the state as a neutral entity and the Jewish state as a positive entity, Rav Shagar posits the state and the Jewish state as unavoidably negative. Thus Rav Kook’s redemptive vision is inherently unachievable, and we must look for a different model of collective redemption. If the first piece we looked at dreamed of an end to violent world politics, Shagar seems to be skeptical of that possibility.

(The Rav Shagar pieces referenced here are all in the derashot “חוק ואהבה” and “מלכות שלעתיד לבא” in the book ביום ההוא.)

Hanukkah 2018 Shiur – Where do we draw the line between Judaism and the Outside World?

 

Sources:

I. The Weather Outside is Frightful – Franz Rosenzweig’s “Apologetic Thinking,”

Translation from “Philosophical and Theological Writings,” eds. and trans. P. Franks and M. Morgan

  1. Judaism in­deed has dogmas, but no dogmatics. […] The community does not wish to be only a spiri­tual community, but wants rather to be what it actually is in contrast to other communities connected by spirit/intellect alone: a natural com­munity, a people.

  2. The Guide of the Perplexed, however, would dis­appoint one who approaches it in the expectation of finding a system. […] The defense is directed against the attacks of philosophy, not or only peripherally against other religions, by which the defense could therefore have been taken over. The apologetic nature of the funda­mental attitude yields the completely unpedantic character, which still today is a fresh breeze for the reader and strikes him as in no way “scholastic”; this thinking has what systematic thinking cannot have so easily: the fascination—and the truthfulness—of thought reacting to the occasion; but therefore a limit is also set for it which only systematic thinking removes: exactly the limit of the occasional; only systematic thinking determines the circle of its objects itself; apologetic thinking remains dependent on the cause, the adversary.

  3. And in this sense Jewish thinking remains apologetic thinking. […] One did not become a Jewish thinker in the undisturbed circle of Judaism. Here, thinking did not become a think­ing about Judaism, which was simply the most self-evident thing of all, more a being than an “ism,” but rather it became a thinking within Judaism, a learning; thus ultimately not a fundamental but rather an or­namental thinking. Anyone who was supposed to reflect on Judaism had somehow, if not psychologically then at least spiritually, to be torn at the border of Judaism. Therefore, however, his thinking was then de­termined by the power which had led him to the border, and the depth horizon of his gaze was determined by the degree to which he had been carried to, on, or across the border. The apologetic is the legitimate force of this thinking but also its dan­ger.

  4. Why is the word “apologetics” particularly afflicted with such a bad odor? In this regard, it is probably similar to the apologetic profession par excellence, that of the lawyer. Against him, too, exists widely the prejudice that considers lying, as it were, his legitimate task. It may be that a certain professional routine appears to justify this prejudice. And yet, defending can be one of the noblest human occupations. Namely, if it goes to the very ground of things and souls and, renouncing the petty devices of a lie, ex-culpates with the truth, nothing but the truth. In this broad sense, literary apologetics can also defend. It would then embellish nothing, still less evade a vulnerable point, but would rather make precisely the most endangered points the basis of the defense. In a word: it would defend the whole, not this or that particular. It would not at all be a defense in the usual sense, but rather a candid exposition, yet not of some cause, but rather of one’s own [self].

 

II. But the Fire is So Delightful – Rav Shagar’s “Translation and Living in Multiple Worlds”

Translation by Levi Morrow, forthcoming

  1. For better or worse, we are citizen of multiple cultures and we live in more than one world of values. We are not able to deny this situation, nor would we deny it if we could. Denying it would be self-denial, leading to deep, radical injury to our religious faith itself. Rebbe Naḥman’s approach to translation is therefore not only desirable, but also the only option for elevating the translation that is already happening anyway.
    I see great importance in this characterization because we do not first experience the true problem of the encounter between Torah, religious life, and the Greek language – affecting us through the media, academia, literature, and much more – when we come across this language in our university studies after years of learning in yeshiva. Rather, much earlier, in the religious education that we received, in the foundation of our faith, and in the limited constructs that we make its content. We therefore need a substantial religious-spiritual-Jewish alternative, without which it is impossible to avoid internal contradictions that bear a heavy price.
  2. The multiple, split identity model puts together different worlds without recognizing compartmentalized truth-values or different realms of truth. We should describe the Religious Zionist soul as a soul that lives not in one world but in many worlds, which it likely cannot integrate. It does not compartmentalize them – Torah versus Avodah, faith versus science, religion versus secularism – but rather manages a confusing and often even schizophrenic set of relationships between them.
    A new type of religiosity has therefore developed nowadays, one that cannot be defined by its location on any graph; it is scattered across many different (shonim), you could even call them “strange” (meshunim), centers. This religiosity does not define itself with the regular religious definitions, but enables a weaving of unusual identities, integrating multiple worlds – in a way that is not a way. It presents a deep personal faith that, in my opinion, carries the potential for religious redemption
  3.  As per Rebbe Naḥman, the deep meaning of preserving the covenant (shemirat habrit) is eros. This is the significance of the small jug of oil with the seal of the high priest: the harmony of an individual with who and what he is, without locking himself into a specific identity; he can be who he is, whoever that may be.