"A Talebearer Reveals Secrets, But One Who Is Of Faithful Spirit Conceals The Matter"

I am not out to get Julian Assange.  Nor am I part of the alleged conspiracy which is seeking to discredit him.  

For those unfamiliar with this enigmatic Australian, Julian Assange is the founder of WikiLeaks, the organization that has gained a boatload of notoriety for exposing state secrets, most notably and recently a cache of classified diplomatic cables which are engendered the ire and hostility of governments around the globe.  Mr. Assange is currently under house arrest in England where he is awaiting possible extradition to Sweden where he awaits trial on the charges of sexual misconduct.  Mr. Assange and his supporters claim that he is the victim of a smear campaign led by the government of the United States (The U.S. government is contemplating bringing its own charges against him for leaking nearly 750,000 classified documents).

In an attempt to gain sympathy for his defense, Assange has made some astounding comparisons.  He has recounted how when he was incarcerated  at Wandsworth Prison in London a black guard handed him a note that read, "I only have two heroes in the world, Dr. King and you.” Mr. Assange added the following commentary, “That is representative of 50 percent of people."  The implication was clear, Mr. Assange is a prisoner of conscious just as Dr. King once was.

But it's the next analogy that took me by surprise.  In the same Times of London interview he compared himself and others being pursued by the Obama administration to the "persecution" of American Jews in the 1950s (presumably for their sympathies for or alleged involvement with the Communist Party). “I’m not the Jewish people,” said Assange, but the Jews are“people who believe in freedom of speech and accountability.”  Did he make this comparison to curry favor with American Jews because of a perception that we share his understanding of what qualifies as freedom of speech and because he thinks we'll man the ramparts of his behalf, launching a lobby campaign to have the U.S. Justice Department drop any intentions of prosecuting him.  I don't really know.  I'm concerned not about what Julian Assange has to say about Jews, but rather what Judaism has to say about Julian Assange and his activities.  The question I want to ask and answer is: Does Jewish law condone or condemn the revelation of classified, private speech?

The majority of halakhic opinions appear unanimous in their criticism of exposing or sharing information that is not for the consumption of others.  Here are just a couple of examples.  Rabbenu Gershom who lived in Spain during the 11th Century issued a decree which called for the excommunication of any person who opened the mail of others (he did rule that it was permissible to open mail which had been discarded (i.e. was in the public domain)).  The Talmud is explicit in its critique of those who divulge information which is deemed private:

"And the Lord called unto Moses, and spoke unto him;.  Why does Scripture mention the call before the     speech? — The Torah teaches us good manners: a man should not address his neighbor without having first called him. This supports the view of R. Hanina, for R. Hanina said: No man shall speak to his neighbor unless he calls him first to speak to him. Rabbah said: Whence do we know that if a man had said something to his neighbor the latter must not spread the news without the informant's telling him ‘Go and say it’? From the scriptural text: The Lord spoke to him out of the tent of meeting, laymor [saying]. (Bavli, Yoma 4b)  That being said, there are times according to some talmudic sources when one's personal private information may be superseded by communal concerns (Rabbi Jonah of Gerondi (cir. 13th century) imposed a duty to publicly disclose another's sins if that person has refused to heed private rebuke).

If I had the opportunity to talk with Julian Assange as he walked awkwardly on the bucolic Georgian estate where he is currently sequestered, ankle bracelet and all, I would probably recite for him that wonderfully insightful verse from Proverbs: "A talebearer reveals secrets, but one who is of faithful spirit conceals the matter." (Proverbs 11:13)

An Argument for Heaven's Sake

Imagine you that you've gone to shul on Shabbat and your Rabbi delivers a sermon in which he or she tells you that you're forbidden according to Jewish law from renting or selling your house to anyone who isn't Jewish, and if you do you'll be put into herem (excommunication) and you'll never again be given an aliyah (be called to the Torah) in the synagogue.  If you’re like me, I imagine you'd respond to such a sermon with shock and a bit of revulsion.  

Such a declaration would be tantamount in our American eyes to racism and religious bigotry of the most nefarious sort.  But that's actually what happened recently in Israel.  Well, not actually.  The declaration wasn't issued homiletically (i.e. in a sermon), but in the form of a letter issued by a group of municipal rabbis. (See www.jpost.com/JewishWorld/JewishNews/Article.aspx?id=198353)  The reaction to this offensive and repugnant rabbinic decree was swift and unequivocal.  Prime Minister Netanyahu condemned it saying, “How would we feel if someone said not to sell apartments to Jews?  We would protest, and we do protest when it is said among our neighbors. It is forbidden that such things are said about Jews or Arabs.” (See www.jpost.com/JewishWorld/JewishNews/Article.aspx?id=198473)  Israelis across the political and religious spectrum have expressed their outrage and condemnation in the same way most of us have here in the Diaspora.   

This controversy, however, raises a larger, more overarching question for those of us who are invested in a halakhic approach to Jewish life.  Have we reacted in a constructive, normative way to the rabbis’ letter?  Dr. Alick Isaacs, my teacher at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, claims we should have responded not by seeking to de-legitimize what those rabbis have to say, that the correct response should be not polemic, but makhloket.  Dr. Isaacs argues for “a halakhic discourse in which the halakha itself is humble; a halakhic discourse that is neither weak pluralist nor strong pluralist.  That is harmonious, is in and of itself a humble system . . .  ultimately interested in perpetuating a sense of our own inadequacy, a sense of our own partiality, and our sense of our real need for every point of view even the ones we don’t like.  We’re talking about a model of radical co-existence.” 

The harmonious model, as articulated by Dr. Isaacs, requires us to accept the fact that repulsive, bigoted rabbinic decrees like the rabbis’ letter fall within the bounds of legitimate rabbinic discourse.  Putting it slightly differently, if we believe in the merits of rabbinic principles like "Elu v'Elu Divrei Elohim Hayyim" - "These and These are the Words of the Living God," then we have to accept that opinions which are antithetical to our own are nonetheless worthy of a place in the halakhic enterprise since they originate - whether good or bad - from God. The appropriate manner in which we should respond to such opinions and rulings Dr. Isaacs argues is by issuing a halakhic counter argument, an opposing p’sak halakha (legal decision) of our own.  This is precisely what my colleague Dr. David Golinkin, the President of the Schechter Institute, has done.  Dr. Golinkin has written a masterful response to the rabbis' letter. (You can read Dr. Golinkin's teshuvah in full here www.schechter.edu/Responsa.aspx) 

To date, 5o Masorti rabbis – coincidentally the same number of rabbis as those who publicly supported the notorious rabbis' letter - have signed onto Dr. Golinkin's responsum.  I'm grateful to Dr. Isaacs for effectively  converting me from being a disciple of the pluralist model to a follower of the harmonious model.  I find the former as far more intellectual integrity and is far more faithful to normative , rabbinic tradition. So while I believe that this makhloket (rabbinic dispute) is "for Heaven's sake," I also believe that Dr. Golinkin's position should be the one that in practice ultimately prevails.

Shame on You Dr. Kissinger

Priceless.  That's how I would describe the look on the faces of my 9 and 13 year-old children. We were watching the evening news and hearing, for the first time, a taped, White House conversation between former President Richard M. Nixon and his then national security adviser, Henry A. Kissinger.  "The Jews," Nixon's voice is heard saying, "are just a very aggressive and abrasive and obnoxious personality."  

My children were stunned.  Living in a rather cloistered, protected environment, surrounded primarily by other Jews they were shocked to learn that a United States president would speak in such disparaging terms about, well, them.  My daughter has been studying the Shoah in her Jewish Studies class at MJDS so her interest in the conversation which was unfolding on the t.v. was acute.  Neither she, nor her younger brother were prepared for what would follow.  

Henry Kissinger, whom they had just learned from news anchor, Brian Williams, was Jewish, told the President that helping Jews leave the Soviet Union was "not an objective of American foreign policy."  He then went on to elaborate, "And if they put Jews into gas chambers in the Soviet Union," he added, "it is not an American concern.  Maybe a humanitarian concern."  "He's Jewish and he said something like that?!" my children asked almost in unison with the same amount of incredulity.  They couldn't fathom how a Jew only 32 years after the close of World War II and the Shoah could make such an outrageous and vile statement.

None of us would have been surprised if we had heard Richard Nixon or Mel Gibson say such a thing, but Henry Kissinger, a Jew who fled Nazi Germany with his family and would probably have ended up in a gas chamber himself?  Explanations and apologia abound.  There are those who argue that Kissinger is the archetypal court Jew, one who rises to high, political station often at the expense of his coreligionists.  The master of realpolitik was being well, just that, going along with the President to get along with the President.  Some claim that he was and still is simply a self-loathing, self-hating Jew.  Others like, Abe Foxman of the Anti-Defamation League have tempered their criticism of  Kissinger by claiming that his efforts to help Israel when the Jewish nation's survival was hanging in the balance should not be tarnished by his repulsive words.  

We will probably never know the reasons why Kissinger said what he said.  It may be due to one or all of the reasons offered by arm-chair therapists.  But this enigma really isn't the important issue.  There have and always will be Jews who rue the fact that they're Jewish.  This is a very sad and troubling phenomenon; one over which we have little or no control.  The more important, over-arching issue is what we do in response to hateful, insensitive and anti-Semitic speech.  Tempering our criticism against one of "our own" even in the face of mitigating circumstances (e.g. he supported Israel when he was in the White House) weakens and casts as hypocritical our tokhekha (reproach and criticism) of others when they spew their hate language.  You can't condemn Mel Gibson, Pat Buchanan or Billy Graham for what they say about us if you're going to give the likes of Henry Kissinger a slap on the wrist.  

So shame on you President Nixon, and shame on you too Dr. Kissinger!

My Name is Massaba . . .

My most emotional moment during ordination came when the Seminary's then Chancellor, my teacher, Dr. Ismar Schorsch, declared before all those assembled at commencement:  "Jacob Herber, you are now to be known as “Harav Yaakov ben Ephraim Fishel v'Rut."  The name change represented my new identity and sacred status among the Jewish people.  I was now - and continue to be - as our tradition claims a "Kli Kodesh” holy vessel of God charged with the responsibility of transmitting Jewish tradition and bringing people closer to God's Torah.

In today's ultra-informal society people may think it a bit Victorian and snobbish that in "official" settings (i.e. within the synagogue or at other Jewish events or settings as opposed to social venues with friends) I prefer to be addressed as "Rabbi Herber," rather than "Rabbi Jacob" (I happen to have a strong dislike for this moniker) or just plain "Jacob."  I've never been one to stand on ceremony, so my name preference isn't rooted in a need to feed my ego, but in my strongly held belief that I represent a long chain of hallowed, rabbinic tradition; a tradition that deserves and needs to be respected.

I never imagined that I would acquire a third name.

One afternoon as I was taking a break from serving on the batei din we had constituted on Nabugoya Hill I made my way back from the village synagogue to its guest house.  I saw off in the distance a group of men carrying a goat which they had just slaughtered over to a tree.  I was hopeful that the goat would be our dinner.  I'd grown tired of the matoke (a banana version of mashed potatoes which is a staple in Uganda) and fish which seemed to be on every evening's dinner menu.  And while I've had goat's milk and cheese before, I've never eaten goat as an entree.  I was excited on both counts, and I didn't want to loose my appetite (or become a vegetarian) by watching the goat get butchered the old-fashioned way.

I was soon disappointed to learn that I would be eating fish again for dinner - this time with chips (french fries) - because the goat wasn't kosher; it had been slaughtered according to Halal (i.e. Muslim rules of slaughter) by the Muslim men who were butchering the goat from afar.

The man who broke the news to me was Muhammad, a Muslim neighbor of the Abayudaya.  In the district of Mbale, Abuyadaya villages are located in close proximity to Christian and Muslim villages.  It's not uncommon to find Christians and Muslims in the heart of Nabugoya Hill filling containers of water from the Jewish village's electric water pump, or for that matter availing themselves of the medical clinic or elementary, secondary or high schools.  Muhammad related to me how in the aftermath of Idi Amin's oppressive regime Christians, Jews and Muslims have learned to trust one another and work together for the betterment of their people.  So much so that Muslim villagers even feet comfortable enough to slaughter their animals within the boundaries of the Abayudaya village.

As we brought the first of our many conversations to a close Muhammad said, "It is quite obvious that you are very interested in Uganda and our people. I would like to give you a Ugandan name.  Your name is Massaba!”  “Massaba?” I asked, “what does Massaba  mean?”  “Massaba was the first man of Mbale, a legendary figure like Adam, from the Bible,” he replied.  Wow!  I was thrilled.  Who needs goat meat when you get named after a mythic personality?!  For the rest of my wondrous stay in Africa I went by new nom de guerre, Massaba!  Even to this day, when Rabbi Gershom Sizomu and I correspond together via facebook or email I sign off with my Ugandan name.  I may not be the primordial man of Mbale, but I’m proud to bear his name.

Cultural Decay at the 92nd Street Y

There are those who claim, like my first rabbinical school dean and teacher, Rabbi Gordon Tucker, that New York City is the greatest Jewish city in the world; greater than even Jerusalem.  New York has a little over 2 million Jewish residents, over 50 synagogues, a plethora of kosher restaurants, delicatessens, bakeries, Jewish bookstores, Judaica shops, and museums, not to mention well-regarded institutions of higher learning like Yeshiva University, Hebrew Union College and my Alma mater, the Jewish Theological Seminary. One of the treasurers of Jewish New York, perhaps even of New York itself, is the 92nd Street Y.  

Like our local JCC, the 92nd Street Y offers aerobics classes, fitness training and pilates.  It provides special holiday programs for all ages.  But the 92nd is best known for his exceptional cultural and educational offerings, most especially its "Lecture and Conversations" series.  Over the course of the year you can purchase tickets to hear such luminaries as E.L. Doctorow, Elie Wiesel, and Tom Friedman. These speakers address a wide variety of subjects not just those limited to areas of Jewish concern.  On January 27th, George Stephanopolous will be speaking on "How To Wield Power in the Modern World - sounds like a talk that shouldn't be missed!

That's what the folks who run the 92nd Street Y must have thought when they recently hosted comedian Steve Martin.  That wild and crazy guy spoke at the Y last week.  Actually, he appeared with friend and interviewer, Deborah Solomon.  Martin and Solomon agreed to do the program gratis.  What they didn't know, what the folks at the 92nd Street Y didn't tell them head of time, was that the Y had sold tickets for the event nationwide and telecast the event on closed-circuit t.v..  They also took questions via email from this national audience, another detail they failed to share ahead of time with Mr. Martin and Ms. Solomon.

Martin and Solomon thought that it might be interesting to focus their interview on the subject of his new novel set in the art world (Martin has a sizable art collection of his own and is known as an expert on the subject).  They never thought that their conversation would lead to controversy.  Midway through their live interview a 92nd Street Y staff person walked on stage and gave Ms. Solomon a note relaying the sentiments of their national closed circuit audience (the one they were unaware of).  It read, "Discuss Steve's career."  After receiving complaints from ticket holders the 92nd Street Y offered a refund to those who expressed dissatisfaction with Mr. Martin and Ms. Solomon's "performance."  

What the 92nd Street Y did is nothing short of a shonda (a disgrace) on so many levels.  Their treatment of Mr. Martin and Ms. Solomon was reprehensible.  The institution repaid their generosity - their appearance b'hofshi (for free) - by selling tickets to a viewership which they didn't know about, and then publicly embarrassing the two by offering a ticket refund (this story has made national headlines).

But what's also disturbing is how this fiasco reflects the sad state of American culture; namely, that more and more people - even the folks who would pay to sit in a room somewhere in front of a screen or t.v. to  watch a 92nd Street Y cultural program - want to be entertained rather than educated or enlightened  It would have been better I imagine, even preferred, if Steve Martin had stood up in front of everyone and  played the banjo while wearing a faux arrow through his head, rather than talk about the enriching quality of art.  More and more of us seem to expect people to perform for us rather than challenge us or make us think.  Unfortunately, it's a cultural trend that doesn't appear limited to the halls of the 92nd Street Y.  Hey, if it can happen at that venerable Jewish institution it can happen just about anywhere.  

Yes Howard . . . It's Easy To Get Excited About a Holiday with the Hasmoneans

This morning my son, Adin, woke me up to remind me that Hanukkah begins tonight. When I asked him why Hanukkah was so special he said, "Hanukkah is about the Jewish people fighting to be Jewish and winning!" 

I couldn't have been more proud!  And more satisfied - all that Jewish day school tuition was paying off!  I should add, by the way, that Adin also mentioned the story of the miracle of the cruse of oil which lasted eight days instead of just one (Bavli, Shabbat 21b) and how he found that "miracle" just as compelling as the other.

My early morning jubilation was quickly mitigated, however, by the New York Times op-ed page where my eye was drawn to the caricature of a spinning dreidel atop an article written by Howard Jacobson entitled, "Hanukkah, Rekindled" (www.nytimes.com/pages/opinion/index.html).  I say caricature of a dreidel because it wasn't a rendering of a traditional dreidel; one with the letters nun, gimmel, hay, and shin embossed on each side.  In the drawing one finds those letters spinning off the dreidel and replaced with the words: "Why it's so hard to get excited about a holiday with the Hasmoneans."  Those words sum up the message of Mr. Jacobson's commentary on Hanukkah.  He opines that few Jews find a connection to the Hanukkah narrative.  "I'm not asking for contemporary relevance," Jacobson bewails, "History is history: whatever happens to a people is important to them.  But Hanukkah - at least the way it is told - struggles to find a path to Jewish hearts."

"Struggles to find a path to Jewish hearts?"  One wonders after writing 1,141 words if Mr. Jacobson really knows anything about the meaning of this holiday which has captured the hearts and minds of Jews in some ways far more profound than the major festivals of the Jewish year (e.g., Sukkot, Passover, Shavuot).  Fighting for political and religious freedom against a foreign occupying power (i.e, Antigonus IV) and against the assimilationist program of a corrupt, Jewish religious leadership (i.e, High Priest Menelaus and other hellenized Jews)  are facets of a compelling story which are beyond our emotional reach?  To the contrary, Hanukkah reminds us of a time when a rag tag group of  Jews refused to abandon their values, principles, their God and defeated the greatest military power of their day to keep the flame of Judaism alive.   

Mr. Jacobson  writes great fiction and was a worthy recipient of this year's Man Booker Prize, but when it comes to understanding the meaning of Hanukkah and how its many relevant lessons reverberate within the contemporary Jewish heart he could learn a thing or two from my nine year-old son!

Wishing you all a very happy Hanukkah filled with the Hasmonean spirit!

The Pardes

The Talmud (Hagiga 14b) warns in great dramatic fashion of the danger of delving into the Jewish mystical tradition.  Four sages entered the Pardes [literally "the orchard."]: Ben Azzai, Ben Zoma, Aher [Elisha ben Abuya] and Rabbi Akiva. Ben Azzai gazed [at the Divine Presence] and died.  Ben Zoma gazed and was harmed [i.e, he went insane]. Elisha be Abuya cut down the plantings [i.e, he became a heretic]. Rabbi Akiva entered in peace and left in peace.

In creating this blog my dream is to enter a Pardes of Jewish discourse; to explore and to discuss the compelling issues facing Judaism and the Jewish  people with both a reverential, yet critical eye.  

I invite you to enter this garden with me in peace and to exit in peace.