My quest for unity (achdus) may seem Quixotic. I
don't blame anyone for seeing it that way, especially considering that even the
most devoutly observant Jews are more divided than ever.
That was, of course, not always the case. The one defining
feature of the Jewish people at the time of the Divine Revelation at Sinai - which
we celebrate on Shavuos was that we were completely united: K’ish echad
b’lev echad—like one person with one heart. We were ready to accept God’s
laws, designed specifically for His chosen people, the newly minted nation of
Israel.
Unfortunately, that may have been the last time the entirety
of Klal Yisroel was truly united. That being said, there is not the
slightest doubt in my mind that unity is what God prefers. I do not believe He
desires a divided people. While disagreement and debate is inevitable and even
healthy in our understanding of Jewish law, it must not come with the animosity
that so often accompanies it.
This is where Jewish leadership is failing us. Gone are the
days when Rav Kook and Rav Sonnenfeld could sit side by side in mutual respect
despite their profound differences regarding Zionism. Their ideological divide did
not diminish the deep respect they held for one another.
Today’s religious leaders, sadly, would not be caught dead
sitting together with ideological opponents no matter how devout, especially on
the topic of Zionism. One side sees Zionism as pure evil intent on the complete
destruction of Judaism, while the other views it as a positive step toward the
unification of the Jewish people in our own land, and ultimately, the Final
Redemption.
To Be Holy but Human is the title of a book by Rabbi
Moshe Taragin that I am currently reading. It’s a fitting title for the subject
of the book: Rabbi Yehuda Amital, founder and Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat
Har Etzion.
Rav Amital was a from a Hungarian background but was essentially a product of the Lithuanian hashkafah. His early views on Zionism reflected the anti-Zionist stance of that
tradition. But upon encountering the teachings of Rav Kook, he saw a different
path. One he believed to be the right one. Rav Amital maintained deep respect
for his former colleagues. His home was near the Chevron Yeshiva in the Givat
Mordechai neighborhood of Jerusalem. Despite differing ideologies, he respected
that yeshiva even though he believed the religious-Zionist path he had chosen better
reflected the will of God.
What was unique about Rav Amital was his belief that all
Israelis deserved respect, regardless of their level of religious observance.
Any Jew who lived in Israel and contributed to its welfare deserves our
admiration. Nowhere was this dedication more evident than in army service.
Rav Amital felt that serving the Jewish people meant
participating with them for the common good. It was not enough to work solely
on oneself - to improve one’s own religiosity while ignoring the broader needs
of the country. He emphasized that humanity is an essential component of
spirituality. Caring for others and taking action on their behalf was just as
important as enhancing one’s own spirituality through Torah study.
Rabbi Moshe Taragin does a masterful job painting a portrait
of his rebbe and what it truly means to be a great Torah leader. I’m
sure Rabbi Taragin had the same deep respect and awe for Rav Aharon
Lichtenstein, whom Rav Amital appointed as co-Rosh Yeshiva. But he
seemed to favor Rav Amital’s more humanistic approach over Rav Lichtenstein’s
strictly halachic one.
As an example of that diffeerence, Rabbi Taragin recounts a
philosophical question once posed by Dor Revi’i, a fourth-generation
descendant of the Chasam Sofer:
If you were stranded on a desert island and in order to
survive had to choose between eating chazir (pig meat) or human flesh,
what is the correct approach?
The halachic approach would be to choose the lesser of two
evils. Which in this case would mean eating human flesh, a less severe
violation of Jewish law than eating chazir.
Rav Amital reasoned that in such extreme circumstances,
personal morality should take precedence over the strict letter of the law.
When the same question was posed to Rav Lichtenstein, he did
not hesitate: he chose human flesh, as that was the lesser halachic violation.
Rav Amital, by contrast, believed that sometimes our humanity could and perhaps
should override even deeply held halachic principles.
Rav Amital’s sense of the importance of human dignity and
his emphasis on Jewish unity are values we desperately need today. And yet,
they feel more distant than ever, as rigid religious ideologies seem to
overpower any sense of shared humanity.
Imagine what the Jewish world might look like if today’s
rabbinic leadership reflected the spirit and vision of Rav Amital.
I am therefore deeply grateful to Rabbi Moshe Taragin for
publishing his reflections on his rebbe. A man I wish I had known.