The Language of Halakha- Vayeira 11/03

Shabbat Shalom,
I want to ask you to take a moment to consider the following: I’d like you to
think of one story in the Torah that for you captures the essence of Judaism. It should be
a story whose message pretty much sums up your understanding and appreciation of
Judaism…

I am not going to take time to ask you for answers. I would like to hear them over
Kiddush. But let me take a guess on some of your stories:
For some of you, Judaism is about a spiritual journey so you might have chosen
the beginning of last’s week reading- lech lekha- Abraham’s journey to a new home.
Or maybe the story you chose is from this weeks parasha- Abraham arguing with
God about the fate of Sodom and Gemmora because for you, Judaism is about standing
up for justice.

Some of you may have chosen the story of Jacob wresting with the angel because
as you see it, Judaism is about wrestling with our faith and beliefs.
Or maybe you choose the story of the golden calf. Judaism’s essence is ridding
the world of idolatry.

Some of you may have had a hard time choosing one story. Instead it is the fact
that Abraham married Sarah, together they had Isaac who married Rebecca and so on and
so on. Judaism is about family ties that extend to an entire people.

Did I guess any of your stories? I am sure there are other stories I haven’t
mentioned. But let me ask, did any of you choose the story from our parasha, akedat
Yitzhak the binding of Isaac…? I am not surprised. While we may be proud of Abraham
for passing this ultimate test of faith, for many of us, his zealousness, his willingness to
sacrifice his own son is a little scary. In an age of suicide bombers it may strike us as the
story of a religious fanatic.

And yet… for thousands of years, this has been one of the fundamental stories
that described and defined people’s Judaism. The contemporary Jewish thinker, David
Hartman, explains it this way: “For many teachers from the time of the Talmud to the
modern period, the akedah, the binding of Isaac, was the dominant paradigm of religious
life and thought. The very survival and continuity of Jewish tradition, it was believed,
required unconditional surrender and loyalty represented by the akedah. To be claimed
by God I must be willing to give up everything I know and cherish as a human being, in
deference and obedience to the word of God.” (Hartman, Heart of Many Rooms, p. 14).

Hartman himself does not fully subscribe to this reading of Judaism. And I
imagine that it does not resonate with many of us as well. Words like “obedience” and
“unconditional surrender to God’s will” may make us uncomfortable. For Hartman’s
teacher, Rav Joseph Soloveitchik, these words do indeed express the very essence of
Judaism. Judaism is about our obligation to serve God. In an essay called Halakhic
Man, Soloveitchik praises Abraham who subdued the pangs of his consciousness and
showed great self restraint in caring out God’s order to sacrifice his son. Soloveitchik
writes that Abraham actually had no right to question God’s word and his willingness to
fulfill the commandment shown forth a in a clear, pure light. (H. Man, p. 143). For Soloveitchik, this is a model of religious piety we must emulate. We too must surrender
our will to follow God’s laws.

As I said, for us, the akedah model of Judaism may not reflect our own theology.
And yet, we can see its significance in the ongoing discussion in the Conservative
movement about the language and the importance of halakha, Jewish law.
Let me take a moment to define my terms.

What is halakha? Halakha refers to “the way” of Jewish living. It is a system of
law that defines, measures, sets limits, gives us norms for actions. What time is Shabbat
candle lighting? When does Shabbat end? How many nights of shiva are observed?
What is the minimum amount of tzdakah we should give? Is there a maximum? These
are the questions of halakha. Halakha thinks in quantity and it tells us how to perform
common acts.

From what I’ve said so far, Jewish life focused exclusively on halakha may sound
a little cold and sterile. But Judaism and halakha are brought to life with aggadah.
Aggadah deals not in quantity but in quality, in meaning: Shabbat times delineate
holiness in time; the laws of shiva allow us to feel God dwelling amongst the mourners;
by giving tzdakah we repair the world. Whereas halakha is definite. Aggadah is allusive.
Halakha decrees. Aggadah inspires. “And the interrelationship of the two,” Heschel
writes, “is the very heart of Judaism. To reduce Judaism to halakha kills its spirit. To
reduce Judaism to aggadah, is to destroy the very source of its inspiration. (God in
Search, pp. 336-40).

Much has been written lately about the importance of halakha for today’s
Conservative Jews. Articles appearing in Jewish newspapers and journals written both
by critics and leaders of the movement explain that Conservative Jews generally want a
traditional Judaism but on their own terms, without obedience to Jewish law. We are less
Halakhic Man and more Aggadic Man. We want the meaning, the warm fuzzies of
spirituality without the guidelines that make them possible. My teacher Rabbi Joel Roth
used to say when it came to two things, Conservative Jews wanted to know and observe
the halakha: death and Pesah! I am not sure if those still hold true. Rabbi Abelson tells
me that Conservative Jews turn to halakha most often for answers to modern medical
ethics. But whether it is hametz or organ transplants, it seems that commitment to an
entire system of halakha has remained the elusive dream of the movement’s leaders.
Now, the Conservative movement is preparing to deal with this failure head on.

At a convention a few weeks ago in Dallas, leaders of the movement decided to establish
a committee to develop new language that will “inspire Conservative Jews to feel the
obligation to Jewish law.” I am pretty sure the committee will not turn to the akedah- to
words like “sacrifice,” or “submit to God’s will,” to develop that language. Instead, they
will likely to turn to a language a championed by Hartman – the language of relationship.
By definition, successful relationships (teacher-student, parent-child, husband-wife) make
demands, involve commitment and obligation. The same can be said of the relationship
between God and the Jewish people.

I do not expect to be on the 15 member commission who will work on the project
for the Conservative movement. And hopefully in the future we’ll have time to examine
Hartman’s writings on the language of halakha. But in light of Beth El’s new personal
trainer program, I’d like to offer another suggestion to speak about halakhic Judaism: The
coach-athlete relationship. If you’ve ever been coached in a sport, you know what it means to be commanded. I was on my HS and college swim team (as you can tell from
my huge physique). Now ask me on any given day if I wanted to get to a pool at 6 in the
morning and swim time trials, 10 100 yard swim at a minute and a half each. Of course
I’d say no. But I had a commitment to the team, a desire to improve my times and a
respect for the coach. So I followed the coach’s orders. I let myself be commanded.
And my times did improve. The same analogy works for Jewish law. God is a coach, the
mitzvot, our workout schedule. Following the schedule, even when it is inconvenient or
goes against my natural inclination will get me into spiritual shape
It is interesting to note that a similar question about the language of mitzvot is
being debated in the Reform movement.

Last Sunday I wandered around the convention center downtown visiting the
Reform movement’s convention. There was beautiful and unique Judaica for sale. But
for me, the most interesting thing was a small paperback I came across about mitzvot. It
has been widely reported that the Reform movement is becoming more traditional- more
Reform Jews are wearing kippot and praying in Hebrew. Some are even exploring
kashrut. But behind this renewed interest in ritual is a reexamination of commandedness.
Reform Judaism has always championed personal autonomy. That is to say, based on my
understanding of Jewish tradition, I have the right to decide what religious practices I
want to perform. On Pesah, for example, I may choose to avoid eating bread but I am not
bound to do so. It is a personal choice. For much of the history of the Reform
movement, then, the word mitzvah in the sense of a commandment, something I am
supposed to do was almost a dirty word. Today, that is slowly starting to change. In the
book I was skimming, mitzvot were spoken of as “sacred obligations.” And the
suggestion was even made that Reform Jews may have to “relinquish their personal
autonomy and conform to communal standards.” This is striking language. The Reform
movement it seems is the initial stage of developing its own language and system of
halakha and mitzvot. Reform thinkers are begining to affirm what the Conservative
movement has long held- halakha and mitzvot in the sense of obligatory deeds are
essential to the very nature of Judaism.

As a Conservative synagogue, Beth El’s very history is bound up with halakhic
Judaism. Our founding rabbi Rabbi Aaronson z”l was a prominent member of the
movement’s law committee. Our rabbi emeritus has been the chairman of that law
committee for over a decade. Together, we must begin to develop, refine and become
comfortable with a language of halakha that like a teacher, parent, spouse, or coach
lovingly makes demands. Ultimately, our task is to create a kehillah k’dosha, a holy
community by living out halakha in the choices we make and the mitzvot we observe
daily. In the words of the siddur, v’dabeik libeinu b’mitzvotekha, may our hearts come to
cleave to God’s mitzvot. Amen.