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.

Custom part 4

We left off with the situation of sharp differences in the Jewish world between those who followed a strictly source-based approach to Judaism, with only minimal place for custom, and those who saw custom and contemporary rabbinic opinion as the overriding factors in halachah (Jewish Law). The division was very sharp in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, with, in some cases, actual book burnings. Happily, this did not continue for too long. Rabbis who were heirs to  the Tosafist schools began delving into RAMBAM, sometimes accepting the unique views he offered, sometimes finding a way of reconciling his words with what they accepted.
A major figure in forming  a more unified Judaism was Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575). In Sephardic circles, he is simply known as "Maran" (our master). He was both a lawyer, conversant in both Ashkenazi and Sepharadic approaches, as well as a mystic. He wrote extensively in halachah, but also left us a fascinating diary of his mystical experiences. Born in Spain, leaving as a child for Turkey, he eventually settled in Safed, becoming its Chief Rabbi. He wrote a masterful commentary on RAMBAM. He wrote an encyclopedic commentary on the Tur; a major halachic work, which reflects primarily Ashkenazic practice, especially as understood by ROSH (Rabbenu Asher), the author's father. In his commentary called Beit Yosef (The House of Joseph), he records all known halachic opinions, comparing, sometimes criticizing, and coming up with important conclusions and compromises between views and traditions.This work is generally acknowledged as his greatest, but he is even more famous for a simpler work, which has been the common denominator for Orthodox Jews for the last 450 years.
In some of his writings, he expresses the view that RAMBAis always right, and it is his view that should be followed. However, he was faced with the reality that the Jewish world was greatly divided between Maimonists, those who followed the rulings of the Tosafist school, and communities that had still other methods and traditions. He wrote, towards the end of his life, a simple restatement of Jewish law known as the "Sulchan Aruch" (the prepared table). Although the work favored the views of RAMBAM, other views were seen as valid, and would often trump RAMBAM. He takes both Ashkenazic and Sepharadic approaches into consideration, together with a wide variety of customs; provided that he saw them as consistent with sources. The work was concise; early editions were printed with daily divisions, so that it could be reviewed monthly! It didn't stay that way. A younger contemporary of Rabbi Karo was Rabbi Moshe Isserles, an Ashkenazic rabbi of great renown.He liked the work, but felt it was lacking in the full array of Ashkeanzic practice and custom. He wrote a commentary that, unlike most commentaries that are written in the margins, his went right into the text, with notations of where is additions begin and end. Today, although many Yemenite communities are still strict Maimonists, nearly all other communities follow the Shulchan Aruch to one degree or another. Among Sepharadim, the words of "Maran" are sacrosanct, with later rabbis only occasionally differing. Ashkenazim generally follow Rabbi Isserels, but centuries of subsequent writers wrote commentaries on both; making Ashkenazi practice more fluid and flexible. Some would argue that the later commentaries distort, rather than elucidate.This goes on to the present day. As I mentioned in a previous post, RAMBAM rules for a very limited place for custom, and regards earlier authorities as more binding. True to that, Sepharadic rabbis will rarely accept opinions that deviate from the Shulchan Aruch. Ashkenazim will, however, favor a later authority, no matter when he lived, if he is seen as being of great stature. Nevertheless, all discussions are around the same masterpiece; the Shulcahn Aruch. Although we may converse in different languages, halachic discussions have, since Rabbi Karo, been "on the same page". This brought a modicum of unity, into the halachic process.

Who, and What, Is a Rabbi?

Recently, someone called my attention to a piece written by a "rabbi", who had been outed as having a purchased ordination, as well as other shady financial and sexual connections,. He argued that "it doesn't matter. i have an ordination. No matter what I do or don't do, know or don't know, I'm as much a rabbi as anyone else". Really?!?!
In the Torah, Moses is commanded to ordain Elders as judges, and to ordain Joshua as the next leader of the people. This is the basis of the rabbinic court system, outlined in Deut. 17:8-13. This ordination, called smichah, was in practice from the time of Moses, until the 4th century, when brutally suppressed by the Byzantines. This ordination empowered the holder to be part of a court, administering all facets of Torah law, as well as ruling in all doubtful areas of application of the Torah. Although the title "Rabbi" ("teacher" or "master") didn't come in until the first century, the institution is Biblical. When it died out, or, more correctly, was snuffed out, the chain ended. RAMBAM spells out how it can be re-instituted, but all efforts in this direction have, so far, met with little or no success or acceptance.
Even when smichah was in force, there were many scholars, accepted universally, who did not have it. They were teachers, preachers, inspirational figures. They either had no title, or took one that indicated that they were no part of the chain of ordination. Without that formal smichah, many areas of the Torah could no longer be enforced, particularly in the judicial area. Nevertheless, unordained scholars were chosen by communities to give them guidance in accordance with Torah. Being a recognized scholar, having the character traits of one, and being accepted as such by a community made one a rabbi in the post-smichah era.
In 14th century Germany, a great scholar was troubled by the phenomenon of charlatans, passing themselves off as scholars, being accepted as rabbis in smaller communities, where there was no one knowledgeable enough to expose them. He instituted a program of "smichah", albeit not in the classical sense, which would have him, and other recognized scholars, certifying young, would be rabbis, as suitable for employing as such. This became universal in Ashkenazi communities, but generally not accepted in Sepharadic communities until the 20th century.
In the late 18th century, the custom became in East European communities, that a would-be rabbi would receive a "smichah" at his yeshiva upon completing an appropriate course of study. He still would not be considered qualified, until he then apprenticed under an accepted community rabbi, learning how to apply the vast sea of learning to practical, every-day community situations. After a few years, the scholar would give his personal letter of ordination to the young rabbi, thereby qualifying him to serve a community on his own. It is important to note that being a synagogue rabbi was really an American innovation, now followed in many other places. Historically, one was a rabbi of a community, overseeing the school, the mikveh, the kosher food facilities, and more. If there were ten synagogues in the city, he was in charge of all. This is still true in Israel and several other countries.
In the mid and late 20th century, the unfortunate situation arose where many rabbis despaired of the Jewishness of outlying, unknowledgeable communities. Many would ordain rabbis as a favor to help them have a job, avoid military conscription, and other non-Torah considerations.This was particularly true in America, where early twentieth century rabbis often felt that they were dealing with a lost cause. Mainstream organizations began to emphasize hiring only rabbis who had ordination from recognized yeshivot. Although all knew that a private smichah might be as good, or even better, than an institutional one, how would the average congregation know which was real, and which wasn't? As the gap between the knowledgeable and the unknowledgeable continues to grow, especially outside major Jewish communities, the phenomenon of smichot given for two week seminars (!!) or even non Jewish institutions, is becoming more and more a problem. The Universal Life Church, founded in the 1960s more or less as a tax-evasion scheme (ordination free for life. Once it was mail order, now on line), now bestows the title "rabbi" as well! Are these people rabbis? Does this signify knowledge of, and commitment to, the Torah?
In non-orthodox circles, ordination is given on the basis of knowledge of history, psychology, philosophical and theological concepts, rather than halachah (law) which is only taught minimally.
So, as to the "rabbi" I began my story with, I won't consult him on areas of Judaism; I'll limit myself to "I'll have fries with that, please".

Custom part 3

As was discussed in my last post, the Spanish (Sephardic) community was the cultural and spiritual heir to the great Babylonian Jewish tradition. Rabbi Moses Maimonides (RAMBAM) (1135-1204) had received the traditions and interpretations of the Babylonian academies. He had not only collected and codified them, but had dealt with them selectively; which were authentic and which not; what was fact and what may have been influenced by the cultural context. He wrote, among many other things, a great work on Jewish law and tradition, called "Yad Hachazakah" (the Strong Hand) which is studied to this day. In fact, this work comprises a large part of my daily Torah study. He limits greatly the status of custom. He rules that only customs that originated before about 350 ce were universally binding, as they had been promulgated with the approval of the Sanhedrin, which became defunct at that time. He ruled that rabbis after that time had authority only in their own communities, and were powerless to make enactments beyond that. Although there is a Talmudic principle that the law follows the later authorities, as they would have seen all earlier opinions, and, if they  rejected an earlier opinion, we must assume that they had good reasons to do so, in his view that applied only to about 350. After that, scholars must examine all opinions, and accept those that seemed the most logical. He would rule between opinions from after 350 until his time, often rejecting views of his own teachers. He would examine customs that had arisen, deciding which were to be accepted, and which were based on error. Although RAMBAM lived and worked in Egypt, he became the central force not only for the Spanish, but also for North African and most of the Middle Eastern communities. We often use the term "Sepharadic" when discussing these communities, although this is not really accurate, as they were not actually Spanish, but shared a cultural spiritual world view. The method of Torah and Talmudic study in these countries centered on determining the actual intended meaning of these sources, and endeavoring to apply them in a way that was rationally valid, scrutinizing customs that had come in later, rejecting those that seemed baseless, especial;y if contradicted by sources and concepts which were seen as central to Judaism.
Meanwhile, in the Ashkenazic community, a very different approach existed. Whatever appeared in ancient sources, or even ancient customs, were to be observed and venerated.Apparent contradictions must be reconciled. Especially when the Jerusalem Talmud became largely replaced by the Babylonian, they nevertheless felt that the traditions, if not laws, that were enshrined in the ancient ways of the Holy Land needed to be maintained. Often, contradictory customs and interpretations were apparent. Great rabbinical scholars became more and more central to their observance, often enacting new procedures that would encompass a great array of opinions. The opinions and interpretations of recognized scholars became sources in and of themselves.As study of the Jerusalem Talmud waned (only revived in about 1700), it was not always known if a particular custom was ancient; perhaps even going back to Moses, or if it was recent. Individual towns and cities of France and Germany had their own system of customs, which were enforced as law.It must be remembered that the Jerusalem Talmud had put a far greater emphasis on custom than had the Babylonian. This became more and more crucial for Ashkenazic Jewry as it melded the ways of the Holy Land, Babylon, and their own communal ways.A great movement of scholars, called the Tosafists, wrote extensively to reconcile different opinions and customs. This went on for several centuries.Word by word analysis of the Talmud was undertaken.The writings, known as the Tosafot, is  the central work studied in Ashkenazic yeshivot (academies) along with the Talmud. It is essentially a Talmud on the Talmud! It applies keen analysis, interpretation and compromise between communities, on every topic.Many were horrified at RAMBAM's approach in rejecting that which seemed illogical. Everything must be analysed and reconciled. From this point on, Ashkenazi learning became more and more analytical. It was less about what Jewish tradition SAID, but about what were the practical and theological  implications of what was said. Indeed, learning was not only about getting information, but about constructing new models for new situations, without compromising what had gone before. While the independence of these two approaches continues largely to this day, influences on each other's thinking became inevitable, enriching each. That will be the topic of my next posting.