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.

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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.)

“Not For Your Sake But For The Sake of My Holy Name” – On Redemption, Ideal and Otherwise – Pesach 5774

לֹא לְמַעַנְכֶם אֲנִי עֹשֶׂה בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל כִּי אִם לְשֵׁם קָדְשִׁי

Chapter 36 of Sefer Yehezkel is part of the third and final section of the book, the section dedicated to the Redemption of Bnei Yisrael from the Babylonian Exile. The chapter describes ‘א bringing the people back to the Land of Israel and settling them there. The first half of the chapter speaks about the people returning to the land, first for the sake of the Land, and then for the sake of ‘א. In the second half of the chapter, the prophet refers to Bnei Yisrael being given a new heart, a reference the earlier prophecies of Yehezkel 11 and 18 Therefore chapter 36 must be understood in the context of those prophecies. Additionally, the basic idea of the new heart image is that of undeserved redemption, meaning that Bnei Yisrael are redeemed despite not being deserving of redemption. As such, the image is based on and must be understood against the background of, the narratives of Chet Ha’Egel (Shemot 32), Chet Ha’Meraglim (Bamidbar 14), and Yericho (Yehoshua 7). Only then can the true meaning and value of Yehezkel 36 be understood.

First, a quick look at the second half of Yehezkel 36. Verse 16, “The word of the Lord came to me,[1]” starts a new prophecy, separate from the first half of the chapter. Verses 17-21 describe how Israel’s exile, a necessary response to it’s sins, had the unfortunate effect of “causing ‘א’s holy name to be profaned among the nations.” (36:21). Verses 22-28 describe how, in response, ‘א is going to bring Israel back to His land and cleanse them of their sinful nature. Finally, verses 29-38 describe how ‘א will cause the land to become rejuvenated and the cities of Israel to be built up.

A critical theme of the prophecy is the concept of ‘א replacing Israel’s heart (this idea has roots in Jeremiah 31 and 32, themselves based on themes from Sefer Devarim, but those passages are not necessary for the understanding of this prophecy). This idea itself, in this chapter, has two distinct parts, both found in verse 26: “And I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit into you: I will remove the heart of stone from your body and give you a heart of flesh.” These ideas, the “heart of flesh” replacing the “heart of stone” and the “new heart and new spirit”, are based on two different prophecies from Yehezkel 11 and 18.

Both Yehezkel 11 and 18 are part of the first third of Sefer Yehezkel, discussing how the wickedness of the people is going to cause the destruction of the Temple. Part of this is a series of prophecies enumerating the sins of the people in Jerusalem, as opposed to the people already in Exile. Yehezkel 11 is the end of a prophecy that starts in chapter 8, which states that the sinful nature of the residents of Jerusalem has caused their rejection, and how those already in Babylonia are now the favored people of ‘א. At the very end of this prophecy we find the motif of the “Heart of Flesh”, as well as something reminiscent of the “New Heart and New Spirit”.

17 Yet say: Thus said the Lord God: I will gather you from the peoples and assemble you out of the countries where you have been scattered, and I will give you the Land of Israel. 18 And they shall return there, and do away with all its detestable things and all its abominations. 19 I will give them one heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove the heart of stone from their bodies and give them a heart of flesh, 20 that they may follow My laws and faithfully observe My rules. Then they shall be My people and I will be their God. 21 But as for them whose heart is set upon their detestable things and their abominations, I will repay them for their conduct-declares the Lord God.

In place of the wicked residents of Jerusalem, ‘א will return the exiles to their land where they will follow His laws and once again be His faithful nation. However, the exiles do not seem to be given a choice in this move towards faithfulness. They are going to be faithful servants of ‘א, not because they want to, but because He is going to make them so.[2]

Yehezkel 18 presents a viewpoint radically different from that of chapter 11.[3] Like chapter 11, chapter 18 is essentially an argument for the idea that the wicked will be punished and the righteous will be rewarded.[4] Chapter 18 even takes the form of an actual dialogue between ‘א and the people. However, chapter 18 differs greatly from chapter 11 in its use of the “New Heart” theme.

29 Yet the House of Israel say, “The way of the Lord is unfair.” Are My ways unfair, O House of Israel? It is your ways that are unfair! 30 Be assured, O House of Israel, I will judge each one of you according to his ways-declares the Lord God. Repent and turn back from your transgressions; let them not be a stumbling block of guilt for you. 3l Cast away all the transgressions by which you have offended, and get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit, that you may not die, O House of Israel. 32 For it is not My desire that anyone shall die-declares the Lord God. Repent, therefore, and live!

As opposed to Chapter 11’s conception that, regardless of their evil ways, ‘א will redeem Israel and will simply cause them to be better in order to justify it, Chapter 18 insists that ‘א will punish the wicked and therefore Israel should be better, in which case they will be redeemed and rewarded. This change is clear from the difference in language between 11:19, “I will give them (וְנָתַתִּי לָהֶם) one heart and put a new spirit,” and 18:31, “make for yourselves (וַעֲשׂוּ לָכֶם) a new heart and a new spirit.” Whereas in chapter 11 the change is effected by ‘א, in chapter 18 Bnei Yisrael are called upon to change themselves. This prophecy casts Bnei Yisrael in an active role as opposed to the more passive role from chapter 18, and it makes their redemption anything but assured.

Chapters 11 and 18 depict two very different kinds of Redemption, one deserved and the other undeserved. The deciding vote between them is cast in chapter 36, and the winner is the undeserved redemption of chapter 11. This is clear first and foremost from the return of the Heart of Stone/Heart of Flesh motif in 36:26, “And I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit into you: I will remove the heart of stone from your body and give you a heart of flesh.” This is the image from chapter 11, where the redemption of Bnei Yisrael is passive and undeserved. More importantly, undeserved redemption is a dominant theme in the prophecy of Yehezkel 36. Six verses explicitly reference the idea that ‘א will redeem Israel for His sake and not for theirs. Another five discuss how Bnei Yisrael will have to be cleansed by ‘א after their redemption. Having been given the option of being forcibly redeemed in chapter 11 and the option of earning their redemption in chapter 18, the option chosen in the end is that of chapter 11. The reason for this is presumably the one great event that occurs between chapters 18 and 36: the Destruction of Jerusalem and the Beit HaMikdash. Once the Destruction occurred, it was clear that the people were not going to earn their redemption. At that point, if redemption is going to occur it will have to be undeserved.

To properly understand the meaning of this undeserved redemption one must look at previous such occurrences of undeserved redemption, namely Chet Ha’Egel and Chet Ha’Meraglim. Chet Ha’Egel is a classic example of a transgression that is followed by repentance, where it is clear that the people were forgiven for what they had done. However, they almost didn’t survive long enough to be able to repent. In Shemot 32, ‘א nearly destroyed the people before Moshe could even tell them that they were doing something wrong.

9 The Lord further said to Moses, “I see that this is a stiff-necked people. 10 Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation.”11 But Moses implored the Lord his God, saying, “Let not Your anger, O Lord, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand. 12 Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that He delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’ Turn from Your blazing anger, and renounce the plan to punish Your people. 13 Remember Your servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, how You swore to them by Your Self and said to them: I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven, and I will give to your offspring this whole land of which I spoke, to possess forever.” 14 And the Lord renounced the punishment He had planned to bring upon His people.

In verse 10, Bnei Yisrael deserve destruction to such a degree that  ‘א seems almost excited to destroy them. Moshe needs to present Him with two arguments in order to save them. He first suggests (32:12) that if ‘א does not successfully bring Bnei Yisrael into the land then the other nations will assume ‘א  is weak. Second, Moshe invokes the covenant between ‘א and the Fathers of the Israelite nation. Somehow, between these two arguments ‘א appears to have been swayed by Moshe, and decides not to destroy the people. While only the first of these two reasons matches ‘א’s reasons for redeeming Bnei Yisrael in Yehezkel 36, both of them tell us that this salvation from the wrath of ‘א is completely undeserved by the people.

Chet Ha’Meraglim is one of the archetypal sins of Bnei Yisrael. More than even Chet Ha’Egel, it changes the path of the nation’s future by keeping them in the desert for an extra 38 years. In Bamidbar 14, Bnei Yisrael sinned by not only appointing spies to spy out the land of Israel but, more importantly, by being swayed by the negative report of the spies regarding the land.

11 And the Lord said to Moses, “How long will this people spurn Me, and how long will they have no faith in Me despite all the signs that I have performed in their midst? 12 I will strike them with pestilence and disown them, and I will make of you a nation far more numerous than they!”13 But Moses said to the Lord, “When the Egyptians, from whose midst You brought up this people in Your might, hear the news, 14 they will tell it to the inhabitants of that land. Now they have heard that You, O Lord, are in the midst of this people; that You, O Lord, appear in plain sight when Your cloud rests over them and when You go before them in a pillar of cloud by day and in a pillar of fire by night. 15 If then You slay this people to a man, the nations who have heard Your fame will say, 16 ‘It must be because the Lord was powerless to bring that people into the land He had promised them on oath that He slaughtered them in the wilderness. ’17 Therefore, I pray, let my Lord’s forbearance be great, as You have declared, saying 18 ‘The Lord! slow to anger and abounding in kindness; forgiving iniquity and transgression; yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of fathers upon children, upon the third and fourth generations.’ 19 Pardon, I pray, the iniquity of this people according to Your great kindness, as You have forgiven this people ever since Egypt.” 20 And the Lord said, “I pardon, as you have asked. 21 Nevertheless, as I live and as the Lord’s Presence fills the whole world, 22 none of the men who have seen My Presence and the signs that I have performed in Egypt and in the wilderness, and who have tried Me these many times and have disobeyed Me, 23 shall see the land that I promised on oath to their fathers; none of those who spurn Me shall see it.

Once again, Moshe proposes two reasons for ‘א not to wipe out Bnei Yisrael. Firstly, if ‘א doesn’t bring the people into the land, then He will appear to be weak. He then recited what has come to be known as ‘א’s “13 Attributes of Mercy,” essentially asking ‘א to spare the people because he is merciful, rather than because they really deserve to be spared.

Chet Ha’Egel and Chet Ha’Meraglim are the two classic examples of Bnei Yisrael being saved without being worthy of it, and what they really demonstrate is that undeserved salvation is just another term for a lack of destruction. It is not that Bnei Yisrael are saved so much as ‘א does not obliterate them. This can hardly be described as an ideal. This point excellently made by a final event in Tanakh where a leader argues for the salvation of Bnei Yisrael for the sake of ‘א’s name. The seventh chapter of Sefer Yehoshua begins with the sin of Achan at Yericho, followed by the destruction of Bnei Yisrael at Ai as a consequence. Yehoshua’s subsequent prayer and ‘א’s response are of particular relevance to the present discussion.[5]

6 Joshua thereupon rent his clothes. He and the elders of Israel lay until evening with their faces to the ground in front of the Ark of the Lord; and they strewed earth on their heads. 7 “Ah, Lord God!” cried Joshua. “Why did You lead this people across the Jordan only to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites, to be destroyed by them? If only we had been content to remain on the other side of the Jordan! 8 O Lord, what can I say after Israel has turned tail before its enemies? 9 When the Canaanites and all the inhabitants of the land hear of this, they will turn upon us and wipe out our very name from the earth. And what will You do about Your great name?” 10 But the Lord answered Joshua: “Arise! Why do you lie prostrate? 11 Israel has sinned! They have broken the covenant by which I bound them. They have taken of the proscribed and put it in their vessels; they have stolen; they have broken faith! 12 Therefore, the Israelites will not be able to hold their ground against their enemies; they will have to turn tail before their enemies, for they have become proscribed. I will not be with you any more unless you root out from among you what is proscribed. 13 Go and purify the people. Order them: Purify yourselves for tomorrow. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Something proscribed is in your midst, O Israel, and you will not be able to stand up to your enemies until you have purged the proscribed from among you.

Certain that the people have earned destruction, Yehoshua pleads with ‘א to save them, saying that if Bnei Yisrael are destroyed by the nations of Canaan then ‘א’s name will be a mockery. As opposed to the previous examples, where ‘א then relents and agrees to save the people, ‘א responds to Yehoshua quite harshly, “Arise! Why do you lie prostrate? Israel has sinned!” ‘א tells Yehoshua that the people are suffering because of their transgression, and thus the answer is not to cry out to ‘א but rather to rectify the transgression. “Go and purify the people. Order them: Purify yourselves for tomorrow. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Something proscribed is in your midst, O Israel, and you will not be able to stand up to your enemies until you have purged the proscribed from among you.” Given the choice between saving the people because they deserve it or saving the people for the sake of ‘א’s name, ‘א very clearly tells Yehoshua that the former is preferable.

The tension between Yehezkel 11 and 18, and the resolution of this tension in Yehezkel 36, must be understood against the background of these earlier narratives. The sanctity of ‘א’s name is obviously important enough to necessitate the undeserved redemption of Bnei Yisrael, whether from destruction of from exile. However, Bnei Yisrael earning their salvation is itself a value of great importance. Thus Yehezkel 11 does not present an ideal, but rather a yielding to necessity, a second-class salvation of Bnei Yisrael. Chapter 18 then presents the ideal. Bnei Yisrael are redeemed, thus ensuring the sanctity of ‘א’s name, and Bnei Yisrael also earn their redemption. Chapters 11 and 18 present two different possibilities, and when the possibility of chapter 11 is finally selected in chapter 36, this redemption comes with an asterisk. It’s not perfect. It’s salvation, but it comes at a cost. Between chapters 18 and 36, ‘א has to give up on the repentance of Bnei Yisrael. He has to destroy Jerusalem and the Beit HaMikdash, and when He redeems the exiles, it will not be because they deserve it, but rather only because to leave them floundering in exile would be a desecration of His holy name.

Yehezkel’s job as a prophet was to speak to a people in exile about why they were in exile, and about what they should be doing there. When it comes to redemption, he put before them two visions, one of worthiness and one unworthiness. This split is essentially the basis for Rav Joseph Dov Soloveitchik’s famous distinction between Fate and Destiny.[6] With these words Rav Soloveitchik delineated two very different approaches to the events of history and of everyday life. A person with a “Fate”-mentality wants to know why something happens to them. They are are very passive, and focused on the past. A person with a “Destiny”-mentality takes a very different approach. Instead of asking why this event happened, they ask what they are supposed to learn from this event, how it is supposed to affect their life. Their interest in the cause and reason of the event is not about the event itself, but only for the purpose of know what actions they should be taking in response. They are active and their thoughts are centered on the future. The two redemptions of Yehezkel 11 and 18 correspond to the Fate and Destiny mindsets, respectively. Undeserved redemption is a passive experience. It is what happens when Bnei Yisrael sit in exile and wonder why they have been exiled. The deserved redemption of chapter 18 is an active experience, one Bnei Yisrael have to bring about themselves. Yehezkel tells the exiles that they were sent to Babylonia for a reason, to stop being who they were in the land of Israel and to become better. If they become better, then they will be redeemed. Exile is not meant to be a passive experience. It’s something that happens because Bnei Yisrael create a stagnant and festering society. Then Bnei Yisrael are exiled in order to stop being the nation they were in the land and to become “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” as they are meant to be. The Jewish People in exile will be redeemed, for the sake of ‘א’s name or for the purpose of His historical agenda, but the ideal is for Bnei Yisrael to deserve it.

 

[1] Translations from the Jewish Study Bible, except where emendations were necessary for clarity.

[2] There is a possible vagueness in the phrase “them whose heart is set upon their detestable things” in that it could refer to either the residents of Jerusalem or perhaps members of the Exile that resist the ‘א’s transformation of their state of mind. Based on the rest of the vision it likely refers to the former, but the possibility of the latter can’t be ignored.

[3] This is is true if it is understood as an expansion of 11:21, based on the second reading, or as a stand-alone prophecy.

[4] This is one of the main goals of Yehezkel as a prophet, in contrast to the author of Sefer Melakhim, as per countless shiurim from Rabbis Menachem Leibtag and Hayyim Angel, available on www.YUtorah.org.

[5] The inclusion of this narrative is thanks to Yonatan Mandelbaum, a friend and scholar.

[6] Kol Dodi Dofek