Counterpoint: Problematic proof texts

The Torah contains a multitude of contradictory statements.

By DAVID FORMAN
david forman 88 (photo credit: )
david forman 88
(photo credit: )
Simhat Torah is fast approaching. It is one of the most joyful holidays in the Jewish calendar, ushered in with great fanfare. Jews around the world put their worries on hold and dance and sing with abandon, passing the Torah, which catalogues Jewish history, beliefs and values, from one to the other. Having just celebrated a new year, we are grateful that we will again start reading this sacred book, which reaffirms the creator's role in our everyday life: "In the beginning, God..." Yet, with all the positive energy that flows from Simhat Torah, it poses a host of challenges, because the use of Torah - or in too many cases its abuse - has led the Jewish people astray in its own homeland. Let me explain. In preaching, there are two types of homiletic techniques: exegetical and eisegetical. Exegesis sees the text dictating to the reader the subject and theme to be explored. Such an approach holds that what was set "in stone" at the divine revelatory moment at Sinai, when the Written Law (Torah) and Oral Law (Talmud) were handed down, is immutable, and thereby only possibly relevant to the modern world. Eisegesis sees the reader interpreting Jewish texts so that he can - not hopefully, but actually - cope with the diversity of the natural order and the breadth of historical experience. Because the Torah has spawned a wealth of literary commentaries - each having its own halachic adherents - it would be incorrect to claim that either the Torah or the Talmud is indisputably absolute. More than not, eisegesis has dominated the interpretive halachic scene. A person who claims that only he possesses the exegetical "truth" ignores the amplification of the Jewish tradition so that it can be applicable to ever changing social and political realities. More so, as Jewish experience underwent change, not only Halacha, but also concepts of God were widened to cope with that change. The personal (almost tribal) God of Abraham was quite different from the national God of Moses, which was significantly different from the messianic God of the rabbis. There was still only one God, but with varied understandings. IN JUDAISM, one can choose his halachic weapon to support his worldview by calling upon those rulings that support either a literary or liberal reading of the tradition. One can opt to follow the House of Shammai, with its strict interpretation of Jewish law, or select the House of Hillel, with its expansive approach. To justify a particular position, especially a political one that relates to the "other," depending on whether you fall to the Right or the Left on the ideological spectrum, both secular and religious Jews hurl quotes from Jewish law at each other as proof texts for their opinions. This approach is problematic, because in the Torah alone there are a multitude of contradictory statements. The first such contradiction occurs in the opening chapters of the book of Genesis where there are two alternative stories of the creation of the human species. As we fly into fits of ecstasy on Simhat Torah, reveling in the celestial wonders of the creation story, which comprises the first chapters that we read on the holiday, we should keep in mind that they first and foremost relate to all of God's creatures as equal in the eyes of the Almighty. Referring to the creation of the human species in the divine image, we are taught: "Why was but a single person created? It was for the sake of peace, that no one could say, 'My ancestry is greater than yours'" (Mishna Sanhedrin 4:5). To understand this in terms of race, we read: "God created Adam from the dust of the four corners of the earth - yellow clay and white sand, black loam and red soil. Therefore, the earth can declare to no race or color of humankind that he does not belong here, that this soil is not his rightful home" (Yalkut Shimoni, 1:3). SO, NOW comes the question: What in God and the Torah's name are those religious settlers from Yitzhar, Havat Maon, Sussiya and Hebron, who claim to be fierce devotees of Halacha, doing? How do they justify their continued harassment of Palestinians? It is one thing to say that they are responding to Palestinian violence perpetrated against them, but it is quite another matter to turn the territories into the "Wild West Bank" because of some xenophobic readings of Jewish texts, where any and all Palestinians are considered descendants of the Amalakites, destined for eternal abuse. The rampage of the settlers from Yitzhar carried out against Palestinian villages in the Nablus area went far beyond meting out any punishment to match the condemnable crime of a Palestinian burning down a Jewish home. While the media suddenly wakes up and reports this incident, and the government responds with harsh statements about Jewish-led pogroms, the fact is that the actions of the Yitzhar population is neither new nor isolated. Unprovoked attacks on Palestinian villages - shooting water tanks, smashing windows, slashing tires, poisoning grazing fields, uprooting olive trees, chopping down grape vineyards and seizing land - are everyday occurrences by too many settlers. No doubt, on Simhat Torah, these same settlers will embrace the Torah as they prance about in wild frenzy, confident that they are implementing God's message by initiating acts of violence against the "other." For them, God is a "man of war" (Exodus: 15:3). The tragedy in all this is that we have let the religious settlers hijack the Jewish literary tradition. We have conceded religious authority to them, not realizing there is more than one way to skin a halachic cat. It all boils down to a single issue: Does one view Jewish law through a universal lens that understands the tradition as being inclusive and adaptable, or through a parochial prism, which interprets the tradition as being chauvinistic and stagnant? The battle lines have been drawn. Do we glorify the nationalistic fervor of Joshua more than we admire the peaceful yearnings of Jeremiah? Do we hold David the warrior in greater esteem than David the psalmist? Do we worship priestly ritual at the expense of prophetic morality? Do we prefer the God of judgment over the God of mercy? I often wonder: What are the settlers from Yitzhar, Havat Maon, Sussiya and Hebron thinking during Simhat Torah when, at the end of the festivities, they return the Torah to the ark and, along with the entire house of Israel, sing the wistful plea of the Jewish people throughout the ages: "The Torah's ways are pleasant and all its paths are peace" (Proverbs 3:17)?