The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions Part 5

In 1538, everything added up. It must be the Redemption! This was the view of Rabbi Berav, and of many others. Rabbi Ben Habib didn't necessarily disagree, but felt that any attempt to act on this feeling was premature, and actually fraught with danger. Now, let's fast forward to the late 19th century. A similar situation arises, with responses remarkably similar to those of 1538.
A wave of attacks against Jews, called pogroms, swept across the Pale of Settlement; those areas of Czarist Russia where Jews were allowed to live. Murder, rape, pillage were daily occurrences well into the early twentieth century. In Western Europe, mobs were running through the streets of Paris crying "Death to the Jews!", as a result of the false accusations against Dreyfus, which I have written about elsewhere. Some Jews, largely assimilated, anti-religious Socialists decided that the Jews needed a State in order to be safe. Groups of young people began migrating to the Land of Israel, then a Turkish province. The religious Jewish community in Jerusalem and other cities was not happy about this, as it was felt that their secular, even libertine ways would weaken the ways of Torah in the Holy Land. Nearly every rabbi in the world was opposed to the new movement. But as things worsened for European Jewry in the twentieth century, more and more Jews sought refuge in the Holy Land; not only Socialist idealists, but people with simply nowhere else to go. The Revisionist leader, Ze'ev Jabotinsky preached across Europe "Jews, put an end to the Exile, before the Exile puts an end to you!" Few realized how prophetic his words would turn out to be. The end of the first World War saw Great Britain in charge of the Land Of Israel. But when the situation deteriorated in Europe, the British clamped down on Jewish immigration with the infamous "White Paper". Millions could have been saved from the Nazis had the British allowed them into the Holy Land. One British "statesman" famously quipped "the fewer Jews left after the war, the fewer problems for Great Britain". Rabbi A.I. Kook had been preaching for decades that the Zionist movement, although secular and even anti-Torah, was subconsciously a response to a religious calling; in fact, he said, it was the beginning of the Redemption foretold in Scripture. Very few rabbis agreed with him. But after World War II, when Jews had nowhere to run (even the American administration refused Hitler's offer at the beginning of the war to take the Jews), two short years later, the United Nations voted to found the State of Israel. (November 1947, taking effect May, 1948). Many religious Jews, including many rabbis, felt that this meant something much more than met the eye. The persecution of the nineteenth century, culminating in the Holocaust of the twentieth century, had now reversed itself. The "birth pangs" had largely passed. Hundreds of thousands, soon millions, of Jews had returned to the Holy Land, with the blessing of the Nations that had formerly oppressed us! Could this be the promised redemption? Some thought this a wildly premature notion. Would Israel even last? An uncle of mine was a reporter. He was covering the vote for establishing the State of Israel at the U.N. He interviewed the Israeli diplomat Abba Eben. He asked Eben if he thought Israel would still exist in fifty years. He sighed deeply and said "I hope so." Many others thought, like Rabbi Ben Habib had thought four hundred years earlier, it might be...it likely is...but let's see how it plays out. Let's pray, do good works, and wait. But some said "no! Jewish history, the very place of G-d in the world, is in our hands! We must act. We must establish facts on the ground". But how? Most rabbis were not just skeptical, but frightened at the prospect of interpreting events in a theological way, when there really was no proof. Others, including great rabbis, felt that not to recognize G-d's working in history was a perverse denial of everything we believe. Each view had, and has, its adherents. What was done? What could, and can be, done is an ongoing question. The parallels with 1538 are unmistakable. The story is still in the midst of working itself out. What was done by each side? That will be my next post.

The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions Part 4

I concluded my last post with an allusion to the concept of "Dochek Et HaKetz" (to push the "end"). Our sages point out that many of the great mistakes of history came about as a result of "jumping the gun". The Golden Calf, for instance, was made because Moses was late in coming down from Mt. Sinai. How late? Six hours! They supposed him dead, and made a ridiculous substitute. The consequences were disastrous. There are numerous other examples.
Beyond that, one of our central concepts is the coming of Mashiach. Yet, the Talmud records a curse for anyone trying to calculate the time of his arrival. RAMBAM  even goes so far as to say not to think about it too much, as it adds neither to our love or awe of G-d, but to believe that when G-d wants, it will happen. (The current folk belief that we are required every moment to beleive he is coming instantaneously, is contradicted by all Talmudic sources).Yet, we find throughout our history, large numbers of people deciding that someone MUST be Mashiach. Disaster resulted. Sometimes entire heresies grew up around failed Messiahs. Jewish tradition is clear. "If you are planting a tree, and someone runs up to you saying Mashiach has come, finish planting, and then investigate." We find NOWHERE in scripture or Jewish tradition that someone is to be BELIEVED to be the Mashiach. If someone seems like he MIGHT be, and he fulfills certain criteria, he may be assumed to be, until proven otherwise. But nothing changes. Only when he has accomplished his task; in-gathering the exiles, building the Temple,, and ushering in an era of peace, may we BELIEVE that he IS the Mashiach. Many have lost their faith, or even their lives, in premature acceptance of a make-believe figure. I have endured much anguish over the years from people claiming that one or another political figure (!!!) is certainly Mashiach, or every time there is a border skirmish in Israel, impassioned cries go up "this is it!! The War of Gog and Magog! pack your bags!". Even the great Rabbi Akiva erred in thinking that Bar Kochba, who lead a rebellion against Rome, was Mashiach. He must be! Everything is lining up! A colleague said to him "Akiva, grass will grow from your cheeks, and Mashiach will not yet have come".
Here we get to Rabbi Ben Habib's central concern. He saw Rabbi Berav's real motivation for renewing smichah, and forming a Sanhedrin, as the first steps in preparation for the Redemption. There can be little doubt that this was, in fact, Rabbi Berav's intention. Everything is lining up! We have witnessed the destruction of Iberian Jewry. That MUST be the pre-Messianic travails spoken of in scripture. Thousands have come back to the Holy Land! Let's get everything ready! Rabbi Ben Habib also thought the Redemption is likely near. But there is nothing to do but pray, perform righteous deeds, and wait. From his perspective, the premature exultation could only lead to chaos. In fact, similar thinking led to the Sabbatian debacle a little more than a century later; a tragedy which has left terrible scars on our people to this day. (I have discussed this in an earlier post, and will  elaborate on this in a coming series). We can well sympathize both with Rabbi Berav's interpretation of history, as well as Rabbi Ben Habib's fears. I titled this series "The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions". What are the ongoing repercussions? That will be my next post.

The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions Part 3

Two of the greatest rabbis of the era were engaged in a struggle over a point of law. But it had gone far beyond that with Rabbi Ben Habib's scathing attacks; not only on Rabbi Berav's stance on the issue, but on Rabbi Berav himself, ultimately making him a fugitive. But why? Some history books will tell you that it was simply personal jealousy and animosity on Rabbi Ben Habib's part. A more careful analysis of the facts, however, will show that his intent was far more noble, with an eye on possible danger for Judaism itself.
Rabbi Ben Habib's concerns, as is evident from his impassioned writings, were as follows:
We don't know if RAMBAM's view is correct. He brought no sources for his view. Besides, even if we accept his view as authoritative, how can you be sure that your group of 100 scholars fulfills his requirement of "all" the scholars in the Land of Israel? But it MIGHT BE valid, which is worse than a flat "no". You will now make a Sanhedrin of DOUBTFUL authority. Once you do, the calendar will no longer be valid, and we will need to go back to the original Torah requirement of the Sanhedrin calculating the calendar monthly. That would be fine if you are sure that it is, in fact, a valid Sanhedrin. But with a doubtful Sanhedrin,you will make a calendar which may or may not be valid. Some will accept your new calendar, some won't. The Jewish People will be divided on which days the holidays are to be observed! We will, in effect, become two religions, two peoples.
Also, if you have a valid Sanhedrin, they can make new ordinances, and repeal ancient ones. This is a major "gamer changer".Here, too, half the people will accept the new ways, half won't.
Besides these factors, this is essentially the work of one man with many admirers. How do you presume to impose your will and opinions, no matter how sincerely held, on the entire nation?
Rabbi Ben Habib's apparent "out of bounds" reference to Rabbi Berav's brief apostasy should be understood in the same context. His actions threatened to totally divide the people, as the Karaite heresy had done eight hundred years earlier. He felt it necessary to de-legitimize the founder of the possible schismatic approach before he succeeded in convincing large numbers of people. Desperate situations call for desperate measures.
Beyond all this lurked something even more frightening, with even more far-reaching possible consequences. It is something which our sages called "Dochek et Haketz" (Pushing the "End"). That will be the topic of my next post

The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions Part 2

Rabbi Jacob Berav saw the re-establishment of the ancient chain of ordination (smichah), and the establishment of a Sanhedrin, the great court of Deuteronomy 17:8-13, as essential for the spiritual rehabilitation of the former conversos, himself included, as well as for the Redemption; personal, national, cosmic. But how does one re-establish a broken chain?
RAMBAM had ruled nearly four hundred years earlier that it COULD be done. Had not the Biblical Prophets foretold the restoration of our Judges? But how? RAMBAM postulates that if all the sages in the Holy Land were to ordain one man, that would restart the chain. To be sure, there were those who opposed this idea, since it lacked sources. RAMBAM himself, in one of the places he discusses this, says "maybe". However, it became an accepted idea IN THEORY. After all, although there were great sages, no one since Talmudic times commanded UNIVERSAL respect and approval. And what was meant by "all" the sages? Was it really "all", or most, or many? And who is regarded as a "sage" in this regard? Any learned person? Only recognized authorities? Only those holding official rabbinical positions?
Rabbi Berav decided that "many" was sufficient. He gathered 100 of the greatest scholars in Safed, lecturing them on his idea. He then requested that they all ordain him. Many were enthusiastic. Many were skeptical, but went along out of respect for their beloved leader. Here, Rabbi Berav made a huge miscalculation. There had long been uneasy relations between him and the Rabbi of Jerusalem, Rabbi Levi ben Habib. He hastened to Jerusalem, presenting Rabbi ben Habib with a certificate of ordination. Rabbi Ben Habib, rather than being pleased, was FURIOUS. He berated Rabbi Berav for attempting such a huge step without consulting others. He wrote letters against the smichah, and against Rabbi Berav personally; even raising the taboo issue of Rabbi Berav's brief apostasy. Someone (we don't know who) informed the Turkish authorities that Rabbi Berav was planning a revolution, with the goal of setting up a Jewish State in the Holy Land and Syria. Rabbi Berav was forced to flee for his life. Before doing so, he ordained four scholars in Safed. His ordination continued through four generations of scholars, the last being ordained in 1590. That ended the great experiment...for the time being.
But why the bitter antagonism? Couldn't it have remained a polite dispute between colleagues? Was it purely personal? Or were far bigger issues at stake? That will be my next installment.

The Dispute of 1538, and its Ongoing Repercussions Part 1

When the Spanish Jews were forced to either convert or leave in 1492, many found refuge in Portugal. However, five years later the Inquisition took hold in Portugal, and again the choice was Baptism or expulsion. (More often than not, refusal of Baptism lead to slavery in Portuguese colonies). Of those who left, most found refuge in North Africa, or the Turkish Empire. The King of Turkey remarked "the King of Spain has impoverished his kingdom, and enriched mine". The new refugees prospered in their new homes. Many rose to positions of importance in the Muslim lands. But many were not interested in wealth, but in spirituality, and especially in redemption.. The Holy Land beckoned. It had been a dream for a millennium and a half. But it was a part of the Turkish Empire. A backwater, to be sure. Since the rise of Islam, it had been considered a part of Syria with no special significance. The Turkish authorities had no problem allowing their new subjects to inhabit that backwater! Of those who settled there, the vast majority chose to live in either Jerusalem, or Safed (Tsfat). Both communities were inhabited primarily by those fleeing Spain and Portugal., Many were, in fact, among the former Conversos, those who had converted under duress, but had since succeeded in fleeing the Iberian peninsula, returning to Judaism,  finding a welcoming home among their brethren in (most)  Muslim lands. Both Jerusalem and Safed had great scholars and mystics. Each community had a great leader; in the case of Jerusalem, it was Rabbi Levi ben Habib. In Safed it was Rabbi Jacob Berav. Both hailed from Castille, Spain. But that is where the similarity ends. The tragedy of the destruction of the once glorious Spanish Jewish community was fresh in their minds. Both had experienced it personally, Rabbi Berav had actually converted in Portugal under duress at the age of 17, but managed shortly thereafter to flee. He had gone to North Africa, and was made Chief Rabbi of a major community at age 18! Rabbi Levi ben Habib believed that although he, and thousands of others, were now privileged to be in the Holy Land, our long exile was not yet over. Return to the Land was in no way part of the Redemption. We had merely gone from the exile of Spain to the exile of Turkey. Perhaps our prayers would hasten the Redemption; our tears at the holy places move G-d to turn history in the desired direction! But there was nothing to do but pray, have faith and wait. Rabbi Berav, on the other hand, believed that the tragedies of Spain and Portugal were the "birth pangs" of something great; the process of Redemption had begun. The parallels with Rav Kook are unmistakable.There were many things to do; both spiritually and practically, that would hasten the already imminent redemption. There was an ongoing dispute between the two men on this subject.
But what COULD be done? First of all, many who had not withstood the test of the Inquisition, felt riddled with guilt, which was probably also "blocking" the redemption. They needed acts of penance, even mortification. But in order to have these things administered, they would need a Beit Din with the full authority of the ancient Sanhedrin; now defunct for over 1100 years! The original ordination (Smichha) had also been gone that long. It seemed hopeless! Moreover, a Sanhedrin would be essential as a ruling body for the hoped-for Jewish State, that must certainly arise before the coming of the Messiah (this can be inferred from many statements in the Prophets). Rabbi Berav was determined to see this through. Ordination must be resurrected, a Sanhedrin must arise. But how? And as one of the two greatest leaders in the Holy Land, was it perhaps his historical, nay, Divine destiny to accomplish this? Was he the Man of the Hour, or the victim of a misinterpretation of history? It would have been a great time for a Prophet to appear, but, alas, none did. What should he do? What he did, and the repercussions, will be the subject of this series.

Custom part 5

Although  the acceptance of the Shulchan Aruch by the vast majority of communities largely solved the problem of radically different approaches in different groups, the centrality  of custom was, and is, still an issue. As I noted earlier, originally customs were geographic, not genetic. If one moved to a different location permanently, one was to abandon his original customs and accept the custom of the place where he now resides. But what happens when people from several different places all settle in the same place; and what would be the status of a place that had NO customs (as Jews had not lived there before)? How would customs be set? Should they be set? Should new customs be made?
There was always a concept that if a group moved en masse to a new area, which had no existing community, the customs of the original residence should be maintained. When German Jews migrated East as a result of the Crusades (a third of the Jews of Franco-Germany were murdered at that time, proportionally equivalent to the Holocaust, but lasting a lot longer) they settled mostly in Poland, which had  few Jewish communities previously. That is how Ashkenazi minhag spread across Central and Eastern Europe. But what about when Jews came to a pace with existing customs, with the new comers becoming the majority? Here we have two very different approaches.
One approach was that they must accept the local custom completely. An example of this is Jews escaping the Spanish Inquisition settled in many places, mostly around the Mediterranean. But a sizable group also settled in Ashkenazi lands, notably Austria, and the portion of Poland known as Galizia; today that would be Eastern Poland and Western Ukraine. (I have searched in vain for information if the Polish Galizia was named for the Spanish region by the same name. Anyone know?) Those who came to Austria maintained their original Sepharadic ways, forming separate organized communities. However, those who came to Galizia,  felt it necessary to adopt their new home's ways. Most Galizian Jews are unaware that they are, at least in part, descended from Spanish Jews. Many Spanish names are preserved in Yiddish names, albeit in a barely recognizable form.  Two examples: A common Galizian woman's name is Shprintze. The name is meaningless in Yiddish, and is fairly unheard of outside that region. It is actually Esparanza! ("hope" in Spanish). The same holds true for the male name "Anshel". It is actually the Spanish "Angel".
Another approach, and far more widespread, was for each person to keep the custom of his father. This is what is most commonly heard today, and is endorsed by many great rabbis. However, there is no classical source for this.
Now, what about America and Israel? America had no ancient Jewish community. The first communities (Newport, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston) were without exception Sephardic, but soon became  the home of many Ashkenazim, eventually becoming the vast majority. Should all American Jews consider themselves Sepharadic? Should they have, but once communities were organized with Ashkenazic institutions, is this irreversible? Should each person keep his family's customs? Each of these views has rabbinic adherents, but the latter is by far the accepted opinion of most rabbis. Israel is even more problematic. It's original customs were the very basis of Ashkeanzi customs. Should it be considered "Ashkenazi territory"? Should the Jews there go back to the full observance of the Jerusalem Talmud, as their ancestors had done until 1200 years ago? (A small group of rabbis actually advocates that.). Or, since there was no organized Ashkenazi community between about 1300 and the late 1700s. is it Sepharadic territory, with everyone required to accept those customs and traditions? (This was the privately held view of Rabbo Ovadia Yosef, which he didn't address publicly for political reasons). Or is it "keep you father's ways"?. Each approach has its adherents, but  here too, the latter is the most common, albeit with the acceptance of a few customs that are universally recognized as "Minhag Eretz Yisrael". These are mostly Sepharadic customs, that became accepted among Ashkenazim in the Holy Land.
My personal approach is anti custom, unless said custom was instituted by a Sanhedrin for the entire Jewish people, or by an accepted community rabbi or Beit Din FOR THAT COMMUNITY ONLY. The fact that we have sanctified folk practices, some even pagan, has often come at the expense of real Torah practices and concepts. Needless divisions hurt us. Lets look more at the Torah, and the Judaism we present our children, rather than at what our great great grandparents may have done.