With just the right amount of
razzle-dazzle, Martin Goodman takes us through the origins of Judaism and how we got
to where we are today.
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Covenant: God, people and land
|
A History of
Judaism
Martin Goodman
Princeton University
Press
656 pages; $39.95
Here we
are in season 3,517 (give or take) of “Jewish History – The Saga” and it is
time to recap. That is because every generation needs its historians to put the
story in fresh perspective. As English historian E.H. Carr argued, the facts do
not speak for themselves.
Martin
Goodman’s A History of Judaism is not, strictly speaking, a history of
the Jewish people but more of their religion — or as I prefer to think of it,
their civilization. There is an overlap, but they are not the same. While Goodman
covers the calamities and heartbreaks of Jewish life — endemic internecine
divisions, expulsions, Christian teachings of contempt, ghettoization,
inquisition, pogroms, the Holocaust, and Islam’s rejection of a national home
for the Jewish people anywhere in Dar al-Islam — he does not dwell on them. His
primary focus, as the title implies, is on developments within Judaism.
For
Goodman, there can be no Judaism without the covenant, and his history grapples
with how Jewish civilization has interpreted the covenant over time. Judaism
has never been static, yet it has a core. He writes: “At root, certain
religious ideas percolate through the history of Judaism and render
contemporary notions such as Secular Judaism, an affiliation divorced from any
belief in God, problematic.” This claim reminds me of how the eminent
psychologist Carl Jung put it: “Bidden or not bidden God is Present.” For
Goodman, the covenant binds God “specifically to the Jewish people and lays
special duties on them in return.” For me, the covenant is broader: the
contractual relationship between the God of Israel, the people of Israel, and
the land of Israel. It is a triad that expresses the foundational myth of
Judaism.
Goodman’s
book appears just months after the publication of volume two of Simon Schama’s The
Story of the Jews. Schama is a masterful storyteller. He knows a great deal
about a great deal. His readers mostly don’t mind when he goes off on a tangent
because the ride is so vivid. Who cares if Schama takes a few flamboyant
liberties in his combined history of the Jews and of Judaism? But ask me which
book I would recommend for anyone who wants a clear, skillfully synthesized
one-volume work and I would refer them to Goodman’s. With just the right amount
of razzle-dazzle, he takes us through the origins of Judaism, explains the
evolution of its creed, the far-reaching influence of Rabbinic Judaism, the
challenges of modernity and the many, many schisms along the way.
There is
no official starting point to Jewish history. Schama begins around 475 BCE in
Egypt in order to trace the origins of Jewish identity. Heinrich Graetz, the
19th-century historian, begins his multi-volume history of the Jewish people
just as the Israelites settled in the land of Canaan. Max Margolis and Alexander
Marx commence their 1927 A History of the Jewish People in Mesopotamia
at the Euphrates. For Paul Johnson’s A History of the Jews it is Hebron:
“This is where the 4,000-year history of the Jews, in so far as it can be
anchored in time and place, began.” Berel Wein in Echoes of Glory goes back to
400 BCE and the rise of Persia to set the stage for his description of the
rebuilding of the Second Temple.
Goodman,
who is president of the Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies at (but autonomous
from) Oxford, begins A History of Judaism in the first century CE with
Flavius Josephus, born Yosef ben Matityahu — and the best source, he says, for
insight into how the Jews understood their sacred history. Not that he takes
everything Josephus writes at face value. “What really happened matters much
less than what Jews believed had happened,” he argues. He does not dismiss
sacred history as fabricated. However, he thinks some biblical narratives were
“manipulated by later generations to teach moral lessons to their
contemporaries.”
History
gives us the chance to take the long view. “It is an error to imagine that
Jewish identity was secure and unproblematic before the complexities of the
modern world,” writes Goodman. During the First Temple period, they even quarreled
about centralizing the cult of sacrifice in Jerusalem (one would have thought
that the presence of the Ark of the Covenant in Jerusalem would have settled
the matter).
A Shabbat
prayer reads: “Turn us to thee, O Lord, and let us return; renew our days as of
old.” However, the days of old were not all they were cracked up to be.
Solomon’s kingdom splintered after his death (928 BCE), Samaria fell to the
Assyrians in 722 BCE (hence the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel), Nebuchadnezzar of
Babylon overwhelmed Judea in 586 BCE, and the Ark of the Covenant disappeared
from history. When Persia defeated Babylon, Cyrus allowed the Jews to return to
Jerusalem and, under Ezra (458 BCE), to rebuild their temple (c. 515). Many
preferred to stay put by the Rivers of Babylon. Still, writes Goodman, the Jews
of the Diaspora “shared a concern for the welfare of the Jerusalem Temple and
its cult” even while they felt free to develop local forms of piety.
Within
this chronological map, A History of Judaism also serves as a primer to
Jewish practice and ritual. Goodman weaves in, and contextualizes, the Jewish
holidays. The Purim story is set during the early Second Temple period (perhaps
357 BCE), Hanukkah around 164 BCE. Festivals we observe today have their
origins in ancient pilgrimages. “Three times a year, on the great festivals of
Pesach (Passover), Shavuot (Pentecost) and Sukkot (Tabernacles), the Temple was
transformed by the arrival of great crowds of pilgrim,” Goodman writes.
On the
political front, the Jews squandered their political capital and became a Roman
curatorship (in 6 CE). A rebellion (beginning in 66 CE) — its reasons still
debated — led Rome to take Jerusalem in 70 CE, destroy the temple and exile the
Jews. But wait. Goodman throws in this fascinating nugget: “Josephus claimed,
probably correctly, that Titus would have preferred not to destroy the Temple,
but once the building had been set alight in the dry August heat of Jerusalem,
it was impossible to save.” The destruction was unintended: “In the chaos of
the siege a fire started by a lighted brand flung into the sanctuary by a Roman
soldier spread rapidly out of control and attempts by Titus to save the
building were in vain.”
Theology
(what we believe), what we think we know (based on secular learning), and how
we practice the Jewish religion are not necessarily in sync. I always wonder if
those who identify as “Orthodox” realize that Orthodox doctrine holds that God
literally revealed the Torah on Mount Sinai and that the Talmud was (at the
very least) divinely inspired. Modern Orthodoxy provides no wiggle room on the
principle that the Torah is from heaven. To be Modern Orthodox means mostly a
willingness to engage with the world, in contrast to being Haredi and seeking
insularity.
Although
Goodman describes himself as observant, I am guessing he might consider himself
post-denominational. He describes Judaism as a religion “rooted in historical
memory, real or imagined.” The biblical books “were composed by many different
authors” with different motivations “over a long period and it would be naïve
to expect a consistent theology.” The takeaway message for me is the idea that
while our rituals, practices, prayers, and way of living Jewishly were not set
out at Sinai, but rather evolved over thousands of years, this does not
diminish their sanctity.
For those
who believe that Judaism is the best course of life (for Jews, anyway), it is
partly because sages such as Shimshon Raphael Hirsch taught that decency and
respect for the other is paramount (Derech Eretz Kadma L'Torah). “Six of the
Ten Commandments given to Moses by God on Mount Sinai relate to human behavior
in relation not to God but to other humans,” Goodman tells us. You want social
justice? Judaism demands that when harvesting grain, the owner of a field
should leave what’s in the corners for the poor. Among the ancient
civilizations, only Judaism “forbids the taking of interest.” Slavery based on
race as practiced in the New World was emphatically alien to the ethos of
Judaism. Those who wrote the sacred texts wanted us to aspire to
menschlichkeit.
Can
today’s progressive and traditionalist Jews show menschlichkeit toward each
other? It seems that streams in Judaism coexisted during the Second Temple era.
Pharisees emphasized an oral tradition and introduced, probably under Greek
influence, the idea of reward and punishment of souls in an afterlife. The
probably more marginal Sadducees rejected the legitimacy of non-written
traditions and believed that God did not directly intercede in human events.
These camps shared space in the Temple, Goodman writes. Josephus probably
offered a skewed view of the Sadducee in order to make them seem like pure
biblical literalists, posits Goodman. A third (by no means final) doctrinal
camp was the Essenes: ascetic, monkish, believers in the resurrection,
communist-like in their lifestyle, obsessed with the scatological, anti-slavery
and misogynist. Go figure.
With the
destruction of the Second Temple, Judaism enters a new phase. Synagogues take
on new importance though they had been a feature of village life in Eretz
Israel as well as in the diaspora already during the Second Temple period. The
Mishnah (redacted c. 200 CE) and Babylonian Talmud (completed around the sixth
century) set the stage. Goodman posits that the “rabbis in six century
Mesopotamia were well aware of the extent to which the Judaism they practiced
and taught had evolved from the scriptures they believed had been handed down
from Moses.” Creating a diaspora-friendly Judaism required reimagining or
inventing some festivals. Shavuot becomes a celebration of the giving of the
Torah. Simhat Torah comes along to celebrate the completion of the
Torah-reading cycle. The Talmud reframed the message of Hanukkah from one of
nationalism to the supernatural — a day’s supply of pure olive in the
rededicated Temple burned for eight days.
Judaism
like any creed has parameters, but no one can credibly claim that their
particular stream is authentic or the original. Prayers evolve or are injected
with new meaning, Goodman shows. For instance, by the high Middle Ages Kaddish
took on an additional role as a memorial prayer for the dead. Rabbinic scholars
developed halacha citing the Talmud, itself a compendium which dates back to
the Babylonian Exile and codified only circa 500 CE. Responsa (questions and
answers) continues to evolve and contend with legal (Halachic) issues in daily
life.
Goodman
walks us through a host of seminal books and authors putting each into context.
Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki or Rashi (whose day job was in viticulture) wrote
commentaries that elucidated biblical and Talmudic texts. Maimonides (day job:
physician) provided an accessible citation-free Mishneh Torah,
guidelines for how to study, pray, repent — have sex even. Thanks to the
printing press — the social media of the late Middle Ages — Rashi’s commentary
on the Five Books of Moses practically went viral after 1475, and the Talmud
became widely disseminated after 1523. Goodman points out that “The printing of
halakhot began to spread norms and expectations far beyond any specific
locality” so that by the 1500s Jewish law was “codified as never before.”
Religions
have defining garb and fashions. If you define yourself by the style of your
kippa, then consider that only in the 13th century did Jewish men begin
covering their heads in the synagogue. A contemporary trend among some Orthodox
is to wear tzitzit (ritual fringes) that dangle outside their trousers below
the knee.
Schism is
intrinsic to Judaism. The Karaites of the 9th century CE rejected the rabbinic
interpretation of the Torah. Sabbetai Zevi in the 17th century and Jacob Frank
in the 18th century were charismatic figures who claimed to be messiahs and
left the Jewish world traumatized once they were exposed as charlatans.
Kabbalah, mysticism and the Book of Zohar (redacted in the late 1200s)
presented innovative spiritual opportunities but also theological risks.
Among
those who popularized what had been esoteric Kabbalah were the Hasidim. When
Hassidism first appeared, it was vehemently opposed by the Vilna Gaon
(1720–1797) and the rabbinic mainstream who became “Mitnagdim” (opponents)
partly out of fear that some Hassidic rebbe would go down the path of Sabbetai
Zevi. In the late 1770s, Mitnagdim might excommunicate Hasidim. Today Hassidim
and Mitnagdim get along better. In Israel, they campaign for the Knesset under
the same United Torah Judaism banner. Why? Think about Tom Lehrer’s satiric
lyrics: “Oh the Protestants hate the Catholics and the Catholics hate the
Protestants, and the Hindus hate the Moslems and everybody hates the Jews!” In
the same vein, the Hassidim may “hate” the Mitnagdim but everybody hates the
Reform, a catchall phrase among the insular ultra-Orthodox for progressive
Judaism of any stripe.
With
18th-century enlightenment and later political emancipation, Jews could, in
theory, become equal citizens of the Jewish faith or jettison their identity
altogether. How one might both blend in and be Jewish sometimes engendered
radical experimentation — hence the Reform movement which evolved first in
Germany and then in the US. Reform’s revolutionary schemes included discarding
Hebrew, kashrut, and Shabbat. When the extreme was reached the reverse set in.
In the United States, by 1937 the sociology and demography of the Jews in the
pews demanded a more middle-of-the-road Reform Judaism, Goodman explains. Both
Orthodoxy and Reform disapproved of political Zionism yet both streams
contributed leading Zionist personages.
The
Conservative movement sought to steer a middle way and left “open even central
issues about the notion of revelation and observance of halakhah,” writes
Goodman. The movement, he notes, is presently in crisis. Those in the middle of
the road get hit by cars coming from both directions.
Progressive
Judaism has never taken off in Israel where many Israelis are non-practicing
Orthodox and often shockingly religiously illiterate. Israel’s political system
has spawned the institution of the chief rabbinate, nowadays in the firm
control of the ultra-Orthodox. The rabbinate is responsible for marriage,
divorce and conversion (and has narrowly defined “who is a Jew”).
Paradoxically,
the ultra-Orthodox establishment operates a parallel, more insular “Eida
Chareidis” which regards state rabbis as slackers. Money is no problem for the
Eida Chareidis since numerous kosher products, from milk to mineral water,
require the imprimatur of both the state rabbinate and the Eida for sale in
kosher supermarkets. Money being fungible, Eida cash runs into the coffers of
the Peleg Yerushalmi sect which violently opposes not merely service in the
Israel Defense Forces but statutes that require Haredim to register at the
draft office to receive a routine deferment.
One of
the dubious innovations of the Haredi world, as Goodman shows, is the idea
propagated by the Hatam Sofer (1762-1839) that “that which is new is forbidden
according to the Torah” making virtually any innovation strictly forbidden.
Haredim give paramount authority to Joseph Karo’s 1565 Shulhan Arukh or Code of
Jewish Law and its 1864 abridged version. Those who profess to live in strict
adherence to rules laid down over 1,300 years ago or their hardline
incarnations necessarily part ways with Jews who might refer to the Shulhan
Arukh as one of many sources in deciding how to live an observant lifestyle in
the 21st century.
Zeal has its limits and many Haredim have workarounds and dispensations
to access the gadgets and paraphernalia necessary for modern living.
Goodman
wants to end on a positive note so posits that “Rabbinic literature is replete
with stories of rabbis who agreed to disagree.” However, he is also realistic
and leaves the reader with an open question: “Will the violence which in recent
decades has begun to characterize religious disputes between Jews, especially
in the State of Israel, escalate, or will it subside as it has so often over
the past 2,000 years into a grudging acceptance of difference?”
Stay
tuned.
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(c) copyright asserted by Elliot Jager 2018
