Practicing Judaism in and out of your back yard

Join Geoffrey Stern and Rabbi Adam Mintz recorded on Clubhouse Friday July 30th as we wonder whether the practice of Judaism outside of the land of Israel just that…. practice? We explore a Rabbinic opinion that the land of Israel is so central to the religion of Israel that the religion can only be observed in the Land. In so doing we question whether the practice of Judaism in and outside of Israel is different in kind rather than degree and what this says about the nature and relationship between the two communities?

 

Sefaria Source Sheet Here: www.sefaria.org/sheets/338763

Transcript:

Geoffrey Stern 

Welcome to Madlik disruptive weekly Torah. So it turns out that today is kind of a third in a series and it wasn't an intentional series. But the truth is, if you recall, about two weeks ago, we talked about Tisha B'Av and we talked about how in the second paragraph of the Shema, it does something unique, where it says to the Jews, if you don't fulfill the commandments, I'll cast you out of the land. And we talked about the implications of that. And then last week, we talked about the Shema itself, that iconic call to faith, and what its implications are. So this week, that second paragraph in the Shema that we read, or traditional Jews read twice a day, is actually part of the weekly portion. And it it starts by saying, as we've quoted in the past, "and if you don't keep these commandments, the Lord's anger will flare up against you." This is Deuteronomy 11: 13 - 21, "there'll be no rain, the ground will not yield the produce, and you will perish from the good land that the Lord is assigning to you." And that's kind of where we stopped. But then it does something kind of remarkable. And it says, and I'm using the translation here, the standard [JPS] translation, "therefore impress these words upon your very heart, bind them as a sign on your hand, and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead." And most of you who have seen traditional Jews and seeing what is called the phylacteries, or Tefilin, knows that this is not allegorical, this is actually traditional Jews. And they have samples of these going back to the caves of the zealots of bar kochba, actually, would attach and strap these phylacteries; boxes containing these particular verses onto their arms, and as frontlets between your eyes. But what is interesting is that especially in the English translation, I don't see it so much in the Hebrew, but it connects it "therefore" impress these words. There's a connection between being kicked off of the land and putting these Tefilin these phylacteries on your arms and on your forehead, the third eye maybe. And Rashi picks up on this, and he does see the connection and that's why maybe the translation is true to this. He says that even after you have been banished, make yourself distinctive. The word in Hebrew is "hayu Metzuyanim b'mitzvot" , that the mitzvot the commandment should distinguish you by means of putting on the Tefilin and putting the mezuzah on your door posts, so that these shall not be novelties to you when you return. And then he quotes a verse from Jeremiah, which says, set thee up distinguishing marks, which in Hebrew is "hatzivi lecha tziunim'. So what is actually remarkable, at least to me, and we'll see if Rabbi Adam you are in agreement to me, is, although the commandment of Tefilin had already been commanded, in the Bible, what Rashi is doing either to justify the repetition of the commandment, or to just explain the context of putting it right after the threat of being exiled, he makes a connection and says something that, to me is dramatic. That actually, the command is only if you live in Israel. But if you are outside of Israel, you nonetheless should do what we consider to be basic Jewish traditions of putting on the tefillin so that you won't forget them when you come back, so that you should distinguish yourself. It almost makes the most basic practice of Judaism into literally a practice, practice until you return to the land. Am I reading it correctly? Rabbi Adam.

 

Adam Mintz 

So I want to say that the verse, the Rashi that you picked up is such an important Rashi because the impression that Rashi gives is that the ultimate purpose of performing mitzvot, of doing the commandments is only in the land of Israel. And then everything outside the Land of Israel is just practice. Now, that's almost a scary idea. Because that really means the Judaism is only Judaism in the Land and everything that you do outside the land is only practice. But that's what Rashi seems to say. And he says that the Tefilin specifically, are something that we do outside the land, to remind us of the commandments, so that when we return to the land, we'll be ready to continue performing the commands. The question to me really is does Rashi really mean that? Rashi, who lived his whole life in France, who never made it to the land of Israel.. Do you think he believed that Judaism is only practiced in the land of Israel, that it's only practice outside the land?

 

Geoffrey Stern 

I mean, this is such a radical idea that I just want to just give Rashi's source, so we're very clear about it, he quotes the Sifrei. And in this source sheet, the Sifrei is quoted completely. And it even gives an analogy. It says a king was angry with his wife, and she returned to her father's house, the king said, continue wearing your jewels so that when you return, they will not be new to you. And so, again, I don't think that you can read it any other way. I would say, and I think you'll agree with me, Adam, that, we're looking at an opinion here, the the Sifrei, even Rashi, who's quoting the opinion, this is a thread, this is a way of looking at Judaism, clearly not mainstream. But I'd like for the rest of the day to explore it, because it is so radical. So you ask whether given this, is it possible that Rashi thought he was just playing house, so to speak his whole life? That he never really put on Tefilin, but he was only practicing putting on Tefilin? So I think that in itself raises a question. You know, I love the expression in yoga, where it's a practice, I love the use of the word practice, when somebody is a practicing physician, for instance, you know, maybe what we're doing is we're detracting by asking that question, of the value of practice. And maybe the idea is, and this is what might be radical, that at least outside of Israel, you are constantly trying to get to a further point, if that's what practice is, and maybe that's not so bad. How does that strike you?

 

Adam Mintz 

That is interesting. The idea of practice? Well, let's take it back a step. Your first point, which I think you made at the beginning a couple of minutes ago, which was really good was that actually, the Tefilin follows the fact that were thrown out of the land. So in a sense the Tefilin is a punishment, means you're thrown out of the land. So you have to wear your Tefilin, since you can't really fulfill the commandments properly, at least wear your Tefilin which are practice. Now, if you take it that way, practice is really an important piece of it. But practice is a sad piece, because that's what we have to do, because we're being punished by being thrown out of the land.

 

Geoffrey Stern 

I mean, but can one really take it as a punishment in the sense that I think the assumption is that wearing the Tefilin and keeping the commandments in Israel is something that is completely authentic and sui generis, you do it for its own sake, it has its benefits, and it's only outside of the land of Israel, that it becomes something that is a practice. So I'm not sure I can see it as a punishment. Unless, when you really get a little contrived in saying, well, you have to do it, even though it's really not the real McCoy. But you got to do it anyway, either as a punishment or something to keep you distinctive. I mean, I think what I'd like to take from your question is, let's look at the flip side. What does therefore wearing Tefilin in Israel mean? And again, if part of the wearing of Tefilin is to make you distinctive, and anyone who's ever seen anybody wearing Tefilin, it is very distinctive. If you ever are about to knock on the door, the first thing I always do is look to see if it's a Mezuza to see if it's a member of the tribe, so to speak. So these are two commandments that distinguish the Jew very much in exile. So maybe the flip side of that is, well, then what do you even need them for in the land of Israel? That to me is is, is an interesting question as well.

 

Adam Mintz 

Good. That is an interesting question. Let's take both points that you make. The first point you made is that both mezuzah and Tefilin are visible, highly visible, meaning the mezuzahs on the doorpost, you can identify a house as being a Jewish house. And Tefilin is on the person. We all know that to see a Jew wearing Tefilin, it's distinctive. Wow. Like, that's exactly the right word, Geoffrey. It's distinctive, it makes them special, it makes something different. And I think that's an important idea. Now, according to the way Rashi is presenting it, Tefilin plays a much more minor role in Israel than it does in the diaspora. Because the whole idea of remaining distinctive is not important in Israel, because by definition, we're distinctive in Israel. So that I wonder about that, I wonder what Rashi would say about that. So I don't think we're necessarily going to solve this problem. But I think the crux of the question is a whole other layer? And that is, is Judaism, in Israel and outside of Israel, one and the same thing? Or is there a total distinction between observing these commandments when one is outside of Israel and one is in? Now we all should know that there are commandments that are called "Teluyot B'Aretz", that are dependent on the land. So it's clear that if there is a rule of letting the land life fallow every seven years, the sabbatical law, that only applies in the land of Israel. And this is a very mainstream idea that that commandment is not applicable outside of the land. What this particular train of thought is saying is that really, every commandment when practiced in Israel, is different in kind, not in degree when practiced in Israel, and practiced outside. And I think the fact that we're struggling with how Tefilin is meaningful in Israel and how it is meaningful outside of Israel, maybe tells us that we're not even showing a bias. That Tefilin might mean one thing, Shabbat might mean one thing in Israel, and it might mean something outside of Israel. But clearly, this particular midrash commentary is raising a very important question. Even that is very timely, in a time where the communities living in Israel and outside of Israel, see things so differently. So now you're raised another point. And that is what is the difference between Judaism in Israel and Judaism in the diaspora, Jewish observance in Israel and Jewish observance in the diaspora? You know, there is a theory, Geoffrey, that's become very popular, which is that the observance of commandments is much less important in Israel than it is in the diaspora. Because in Israel everybody's Jewish. So therefore, you don't need  to observe the commandments. It's only the diaspora that you have to observe the commandments. What do you think about that?

 

Geoffrey Stern 

Well, again, it's it's part and parcel of this whole impression that we have. For instance, there are many secular Jews that go to Israel for the first time, and they leave kind of disappointed. They were expecting everybody to be dancing the Hora and wearing a kippa. And even though they're not traditional, they expect Israelis to be traditional. It's as much the question of perceptions of the two communities of each other. And I do believe that there are Israelis who will argue that as you say, once you're in Israel, you you don't have to "work it" so much. Whereas a family like mine living in Connecticut must put its foot down, the kids can't go out Friday night, we have to keep a Shabbat  Friday night dinner in order to retain our character. In Israel, if the kids go out, they're going to be with other kids, and they'll keep Shabbat in this similar way. But you can say the flip side of that argument too that there are Jews living in Israel, that believe that Judaism in Israel is hyper-Judaism, that you are so close to the source that you're able to practice on a higher level. So I take your comment only as one of many different lenses that we see this distinction between Judaism in and outside of Israel, I would just love to add my favorite aspect of this in terms of the one community looking at the other. In vernacular, Hebrew or Yiddish. If you call somebody an Am Haaretz , it typically means an ignoramus. But modern scholarship, academic scholarship has shown that the truth is it was a term formed in the Babylonian exile. We all know the Babylonian exile was one that kind of reinvented Judaism, wrote the Babylonian Talmud, and they would come back to Israel, and they would see the arm Haaretz, the people who were living on the land, the the ones that didn't go into exile, and many of the innovations or higher emphasis on maybe purity, and tithing and stuff like that were not followed by those who had remained in Israel. So it's almost the first instance of the two communities, the Diaspora and the resident community, seeing Judaism differently, developing Judaism differently, and maybe being a little bit presumptuous [pejorative] about how to define each other.

 

Adam Mintz 

Yeah, I mean, I'm with you on all of that. I think that that's all interesting. Now, how that relates to the fact that Tefilin is a reminder, and kind of, from observance to culture, but maybe that's a good job, maybe that's interesting.

 

Geoffrey Stern 

You know, I'm also kind of reminded of the, the Zionist thinkers, and each one of them had their own kind of take on this. But all of them said that the life that the Jew has led 2,000 years in exile was an anemic existence. So if you went to Aleph Dalet Gordon, who was a labor Zionist, he would say how, for 2000 years, Jews did not work with their hands did not toil the soil, because they were not permitted to, but they lived this artificial, anemic existence. And if the Jewish people are ever to become naturalized, become a whole, they need to go back to their land, and rediscover the fullness of human activity. And there were other thinkers, like Achad HaAm who wanted a revival of Jewish culture and language. Ben Yehuda would say the same thing about a people who basically kept alive its language in prayer, but didn't speak it anymore. And so I do think that from their perspective, kind of living in exile was very much this practice and wherever we could we try to retain as much of the aspects of national identity that we could. But ultimately, these aspects of our natural human life, social life would only be true if we came back to the land. So it's kind of an interesting parallel between the religious thinker who's behind this midrash between Rashi's comment, and the secular Zionists who also felt that living outside of Israel was anemic and therefore was pretty much just playing religion, playing culture, playing language,

 

Adam Mintz 

Its interesting, the secular Zionist. Why did they think the living outside the land was anemic? It wasn't because of an observance of mitzvos. They somehow felt as if Judaism, just by the very definition needed a homeland?

 

Geoffrey Stern 

Well, I think with regard to religion, their argument would be similar to the one you made a few minutes ago, which is that because we didn't have a language because we didn't have an economy, because we didn't have all of the accoutrements of a natural life, what we could develop was our religion. And therefore we developed this religion way beyond where it should have been, relative to the other aspects of our lives. And that, therefore, when we come back to the land of Israel, religion has to reassume its, relativity to the other forms of life. And I think from that perspective, yes, that would be where that argument comes from. But again, it seems to me even today, when you have, and I see this, especially amongst liberal progressives, and I count myself guilty, as charged as a progressive, but sometimes it's very different, what a progressive will say, who lives outside of Israel, and one that lives inside of Israel. And the most basic difference is the one that lives inside of Israel probably has a son or a daughter, in the army. And Ben Gurion made the statement that his ideal was one day, we would live in our land, and we would have thieves and prostitutes just like anybody else. And what he meant to say, what he meant to say is, in Israel, all of this ideology that we had, and especially progressive ideology, the rubber has to hit the pavement, it's one thing to talk as a consultant. And it's another thing to run a company, it's one thing to write an ideology, and to talk about universalism. And then it's another when you have your own backyard, and when you're worried about the safety of your children, and you have your own love for the land, and they are conflicts and things are not as black and white. And things are not as clean and crisp and clear. But to the Zionists that was the challenge. That's the challenge of moving from practice, to the actual hard work of, not only building a state, but living a life as a citizen of a country and of a culture, so forth and so on.

 

Adam Mintz 

I think that point is really a beautiful point. And what's amazing is that how we've come full circle from that Rashi that basically says that we wear Tefilin as a sense of a punishment, or as a sense of retaining our distinctiveness, even in the diaspora, to come to this idea of an appreciation of the land is really a beautiful idea. I think Rashi would love that idea. Do you want to open it up, Geoffrey to the audience and see if someone has some thoughts on some of this,

 

Geoffrey Stern 

I'd love to I'd love to hear whether on this subject we're talking about right now or even Judaism as a practice or Judaism, both rooted in land and above time and space. Anybody who's listening? if you are Israeli too, I'd love to hear your perspective on how sometimes you see the difference between our traditions as practiced in Israel, and outside of Israel. But as we wait, I want to go back to those Zionists who argued about this anemic existence. And that I really do believe that those who are super critical of Israel, even those who love Israel, but are super critical of Israel. You know, it's not an argument from the perspective of unless you live in Israel, you don't have a right to criticize. It's more of a perspective of if you don't live in Israel. It's hard for you to understand what it's like in the same fashion, as it's hard to understand what celebrating a holiday is in the land where it took place, from celebrating it as a reminiscence, or as a reminder, and I think that's kind of part and parcel of this discussion today. We're not taking the moral high road, we're just saying that it's clear from this Midrash, that existentially living in the land; being being there. And I can't help but use the metaphor of "not in my backyard", where so many people take a position, but you really don't know what their position is, unless it does happen in their backyard. There's an amazing podcast from the New York Times, that talks about a group of people that petitioned the city to move a public school into their neighborhood so that it could be more integrated. And when the school was ultimately moved, none of them, not one to a T sent their kids there. And these are radical progressives. So I do think this is an invitation for us all, to look into the mirror. And to ask ourselves, and this is moving away from even the Israel situation, if you don't live in the land, if it's not your backyard, is your vision, is your perspective going to be the same as if you are there?

 

Adam Mintz 

I couldn't agree with you more. And I think that's, that's the challenge. And the answer, of course, is that your perspective is different in Israel; good and bad, right? I don't know that you want to say that it's better. It's just different when you're there.

 

Geoffrey Stern 

Hello, Michael

 

Michael Posnik 

Once again, thank you very much, gentlemen. Just a number of things. I don't know if they're all connected. But the first thing that came to mind at the beginning of the event today, was that practice makes perfect. And it may well be that all the practice that's going on here is aimed at a kind of perfection, but the practice itself is moving towards perfection, always. So that's one thing that comes. On the other hand, Carnegie Hall might be compared to Israel in this discussion. The other thing that came to mind was something I was studying with Misha about Nehemia. And when they came back, and Ezra built the wooden tower and read the Torah, to the people, which people you called Am Haaretz which is such a beautiful understanding of that phrase, not dismissive at all, just the people who live there. They cry, the people who are listening to the Torah and it's not clear whether they're crying, to hear the law again, and to be reminded of the law, or they're crying because they neglected or did not have the opportunity to practice or to live in the law.  And Nehemia says to the people don't cry, just listen. I guess that listening is also a very profound practice as well. So again, thank you, just a couple of pieces of something to consider.

 

Geoffrey Stern 

I think that's a beautiful thought. And it takes me back to this concept of, we're not necessarily saying one is better than the other. I mean, this concept of practice. By definition, you mean to say that you're going somewhere you're striving. And if the flip side of that is a certain level of smugness, and a certain level of I've already arrived, then I do think that I don't necessarily take the comment by Rashi as one of punishment as a as much as fact. But I do want to bring one more piece of Talmud that has always fascinated me, and it's at the end of the Tractate Ketubot. And it says that those who live in Israel "Keilu Yesh Lo Eloka", those who live in Israel, it's as if they have a God, and those who live outside of Israel. It's as if they don't have a God, and I think on the superficial level, that ultimately means that in Israel, you're closer to God and outside of Israel, you're far away. But it does say,"keilu" as if, and I wonder sometimes whether those living in Israel, and I see it when they come here, and they come out into the diaspora, and they see how hard Jews in the diaspora work on preserving the traditions work on preserving the identity. And in a sense, there's a sense sometimes of awe, and I think that the two different cultures and can literally benefit from each other, and the culture, you know, outside of Israel, .... and I won't even say Israel anymore, outside of the land of comfort, outside of the land of having arrived as opposed to the land of wanting to arrive, striving to arrive, those people, it's as if they don't have a God, because they're striving for that God, and the ones that feel rooted in the land as if they've already arrived, and they have nowhere further to go. It looks as though they have a God, but maybe they don't. And that to me is what lies at the bottom of this whole concept of belonging and not belonging, of arriving and not arriving, of totally feeling, comfortable. We were in Morocco, and the Moroccan community divides itself into two. One is the "Mityashvim", the people that live there belong there, those were our Jews that arrived with the Romans, and were there before the Spanish Inquisition, and the others are the "Mitgarshim", those who were exiled from Spain and came there. So they have in the same country these two concepts. And I would suggest, and maybe this is the thought that we should take with us, is that we both need a little bit of both, we both need to be able to have that comfort level. But we also have to feel a level of striving and practice trying to get to the promised land. And if we ever get to a promised land and feel we've arrived, we're probably dead in the water. So you always have to have I think both aspects.

 

Adam Mintz 

 Geoffrey you couldn't end on a better note, the idea the necessity to strive, and the idea that if we ever think we get there, then we fail. I wish everybody a Shabbat shalom. We should continue to strive. You know, the summer months, Geoff and I were talking at the beginning of the know, these parshiot we don't talk about them enough because it's the summer but there's such amazing material here. And I think in this paragraph of the Shema, we have the idea of striving. Let's all strive, let's have a Shabbat Shabbat shalom. Thank you, Geoffrey, and we look forward to seeing everybody next week. Parshat Re'ea, be well everybody.

 

Geoffrey Stern 

Shabbat Shalom.