What is the "holiness" that the Torah demands of us?

The opening verses of yesterday’s Torah reading contain a commandment to “be holy” – a fundamental religious concept whose nature is extremely difficult to define. Holiness tends to conjure up images of detached and other-worldly men with white beards performing spiritual meditations and acts of intense piety. But how true is this of the Torah’s idea of holiness?

In his commentary to this passage, Rashi highlights a negative dimension of holiness: “in every place one finds a barrier against immorality one finds holiness”. Also noteworthy in this context is Rambam’s theory that Biblical Hebrew is referred to as Lashon Hakodesh (the holy language) specifically because it contains no explicit terms for sexual practices or organs.

A more positive depiction of holiness emerges from the writing of Ramban who instructs: “Sanctify yourself in what is permitted for you”. For Ramban holiness implies moderation – and requires a person to avoid excesses even when enjoying pleasures which are not subject to a prohibition.

Building upon these explanations, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch offers a profound analysis of what the concept of Kedusha - holiness truly represents within Judaism.

“Kedusha is attained through mastery over all of one’s powers and faculties and over all the temptation and inclinations associated with them – to be ready to do God’s Will.

Self-mastery is the highest art a man can practice. Self-mastery does not mean neglecting, stunting, killing or destroying of one’s powers or faculties. In and of themselves, the powers and faculties – from the most spiritual to the most sensual – that have been given to man are neither good nor bad…The Torah sets for each of them a positive purpose and negative limits. In the service of that purpose and within those limits, all is holy and good. But where a person strays from that purpose and exceeds those limits, coarseness and evil begin.”

Such holiness is not easily attained, however, and this is where some degree of abstention from physical pleasures may be in order.

“As in any other art, virtuosity in this, the highest moral art can be attained only through practice – training one’s moral willpower to master the inclinations of the heart. But this training is not to be undertaken in the realm of the expressly forbidden, where any slip would result in wrongdoing. Rather, moral resolve must be tested and strengthened in the realm of the permitted.”

To give one example, it would not be wise to test one’s resolve by arranging a delicious-smelling non-kosher feast for a time when one will be ravenous. A more advisable method to train oneself in self-control would be, for example, to leave the final mouthful over from one’s favourite food, or to forgo that final piece of pizza that one doesn’t really need – but would normally crave all the same! In this way, concludes R’ Hirsch, by learning to overcome inclinations that are permitted but related to the forbidden, “one gains the power of self-mastery and thus makes all his powers and faculties subservient to the fulfilment of God’s Will”.

What is striking is how, in the common perception, holiness is so strongly associated with self-deprivation and conspicuous acts of piety.

To what extent might such conceptions of holiness – particularly among Northern European communities – have been influenced by Christianity with its idealisation of renouncing all worldly pleasure for a reclusive monastic existence? Or is perhaps the Christian view itself – which is also found in Eastern religions – merely an embodiment of a natural human assumption that association with the spiritual realm involves the negation of physicality rather than its elevation and refinement?

While these two notions of holiness may at times appear to overlap and share some common elements, the fundamental distinction between them lies in their contrasting goals. The Christian version seeks to renounce worldly pleasures as an end in and of itself, believing that by being less physical, one automatically becomes more spiritual and therefore more connected to God. Judaism, by contrast, demands total mastery and control over all aspects of one’s personality. Temporary deprivation is not idealised but is at most a stepping stone – a means through which a person can be trained to achieve that mastery and self-control. Furthermore, as R’ Hirsch points out, the commandment of holiness is very clearly addressed to the entire nation rather than to an elite monastic class. A very real goal that every individual can pursue – and to some extent attain – which their lifetime.

First posted to Facebook 1 May 2022, here.

Blood, Forgiveness and Fundamental Christian Misunderstandings

A regular claim which emerges from missionaries who seek to persuade Jews that our Torah truly reflects their religion centres around the institution of korbanot which we are about to start reading. This claim argues that, since the Torah requires sacrificial blood on the altar in order for a sinner to achieve forgiveness, in the absence of a Mikdash we are left devoid of any means through which to have our sins removed. This then paves the way for the subsequent claim that the blood of their saviour vicariously “paid the blood debt” for our sins and thereby facilitates our forgiveness. 

The Jewish response to this argument allows us to appreciate some of the fundamental differences between Jewish and Christian theologies, and may also help us to understand the true nature of korbanot.

For Christianity, sin creates some form of “debt” which must be repaid – if not through animal sacrifice then by some alternative – “without shedding of blood there can be no atonement” (Hebrews 9:22). The Jewish prophets, by contrast, take a very different approach to the process of divine forgiveness. As we will read from Yeshayah on the upcoming Ta’anit Esther: 

“Let the wicked one reject his path, and the man of iniquity his thoughts, and he shall return to God, Who shall have mercy upon him, and to our God, for He will freely pardon”.

It is highly difficult for us to imagine that the grievous sins which we may commit can be so freely forgiven. Our instinct is to imagine God in our own image and likeness and presume that He too cannot forgive without repayment. To such a theology – which is adopted by Christianity – Yeshayah forcefully responds “for My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts [higher] than your thoughts”. If you return to Me and truly change your ways then your sins will be forgiven. As Jews, we seek to elevate and build ourselves in God’s image by “walking in His ways” rather than lowering Him by attributing our human flaws and frailties to His divine processes. Thus we are taught in Hilchot Teshuva (10:2):

It is forbidden for a person to be cruel and refuse to be appeased. Rather, he should be easily pacified, but hard to anger. When the person who wronged him asks for forgiveness, he should forgive him with a complete heart and a willing spirit. Even if he aggravated and wronged him severely, he should not seek revenge or bear a grudge. This is the path of Israel and their upright spirit.

Rather than a form of appeasement or repayment of a ”sin debt”, korbanot are better understood as a means through which “lehakriv” – we come closer to God. Judaism Reclaimed develops this idea further based on the teachings of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch and the Kuzari, who explain (based on a Talmudic teaching) how each corner of the altar symbolized a different aspect of a person’s relationship with God which might have been harmed through sin. Crucially, it is only “careless” sinning – based on an overall weakening of our relationship with God – which is repaired through a korban.

There is a fascinating flip-side to this Jewish-Christian divide on the subject of forgiveness of true evil, which relates to the need to forgive all people – even those who are thoroughly evil and whose repentance is questionable or even completely absent. With the “blood debt” of sin now believed to be forgiven vicariously and automatically for all of humanity, the lines between good and evil now begin to get blurred.

A famous article by Simon Wiesenthal describes how he could not bring himself to forgive – on behalf of all Jews – a concentration camp guard who had admitted to involvement in the torture and murder of thousands of Jews. All Christians he subsequently discussed this with thought this unwillingness to forgive to be wrong and ungodly whereas Jews agreed with his decision to refuse forgiveness to this guard, who lay on his deathbed fearing imminent divine retribution.

In contrast to the Christian approach which emphasises universal forgiveness, the paradigm of evil in the Torah is represented by Amalek – a nation which the Torah instructs must be eternally recalled and opposed. In his commentary on the Torah, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch understands the Amalekite ideology and ethos to be the antithesis of Jewish morality. When the nation who embodies the Torah’s moral and spiritual values took its first step in history, Amalek rushed to “massacre your stragglers, all those who trailed after you when you were faint and weary”.

We are tragically only too aware of the evil of an ideology which takes delight in torturing and massacring those who are weak and defenseless. As opposed to the Pope, and nations who have absorbed the Christian value of forgiving and reconciling with evil, Judaism maintains powerfully that “ohavei Hashem sinu ra - those who love God despise evil”.

Parashat Zachor, which we will mark this coming Shabbat, reinforces the message that the ideal society which God wishes us to build will only be possible once the “memory of Amalek” – with its values of death, destruction and oppression – are removed from humanity

First posted on Facebook 17 March 2024, here.

A time to forgive, a time to refrain from forgiving: the Jewish

“As a concentration camp prisoner, the monotony of his work detail is suddenly broken when he is brought to the bedside of a dying Nazi. The German delineates the gruesome details of his career, describing how he participated in the murder and torture of hundreds of Jews…explains that he sought a Jew from whom to beseech forgiveness. Wiesenthal silently contemplates the wretched creature lying before him, and then, unable to comply but unable to condemn, walks out of the room…all the Jewish respondents thought Simon Wiesenthal was right in not forgiving the repentant Nazi mass murderer, and the Christians thought he was wrong.”

The above excerpt from Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower is particularly poignant in a week which sees heads of state from across the world arriving in Jerusalem to mark 75 years since the liberation of Auschwitz. (herehere). 

While I don’t consider myself to be consumed by religious extremism or hatred, this fascinating article brought home to me that Judaism accepts and even requires the identification and hatred of evil. Those of us who have grown up or are currently living in countries influenced by Christian thought may instinctively find ourselves contrasting this Jewish concept with the fundamental Christian teaching that all people, no matter how evil, are worthy of love and forgiveness. The article vividly depicts how this contrast is viewed from the Christian perspective:

“A Catholic nun who is struck by the hatred Israelis bear for their enemies, Johanna, tells of an Israeli Hebrew teacher “who was very close to us. She told us how her young son hates Saddam... She said it with such enthusiasm. She was so proud of her son.” “I realized,” Johanna concluded, “that hatred is in the Jewish religion.” She was right. When Queen Esther had already visited defeat upon Haman—the Hitler of his time, attempted exterminator of the Jewish people—and had killed Haman’s supporters and sons, King Ahasuerus asks what more she could possible want…Esther said, “If it pleases the king . . . let the ten sons of Haman be hanged on the gallows.”

Can we identify a religious principle which underpins this required hatred?

The paradigm of evil in the Torah is represented by Amalek – a nation which the Torah instructs must be eternally recalled and opposed. In his commentary on the Torah, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch understands the Amalekite ideology and ethos to be the antithesis of Jewish morality. Amalek does not hate nations that are its equal in power and armament, but rather regards their military preparedness as a sign of respect for their sword. Amalek fights them but honours them since they share its principles. But Amalek harbours deadly hatred for those whose spiritual and moral values idealise a society which transcends and refuses to be dictated to by the power of the sword, which teaches that the powerful are duty-bound to assist, rather than exploit, the weak. Thus, when the nation who embodies these values took its first step in history, Amalek rushed to “massacre your stragglers, all those who trailed after you when you were faint and weary”.

Judaism Reclaimed identifies a chilling similarity between this ideological depiction of Amalek and the belief system presented by Adolf Hitler in Mein Kampf. Hitler develops (perhaps selectively) an understanding of Friedrich Nietzsche’s theory of master and slave morality in which the superior, Aryan “ubermensch” was being compromised by the “slave morality” of those who insist on idealizing acts of kindness and mercy toward others (identified as Jews and those influenced by “Jewish morality”). It was, he claimed, the Jews’ perpetuation of the “slave morality” to serve the weak (spread via the Church, democracy, and Western civilization) that compromised the master race’s inherent entitlement to dominate humanity.

Jewish teachings are full of examples of how nothing stands in the way of true and genuine repentance. Rabbinic sources seek to demonstrate the extent of this principle with their depictions of bloodthirsty biblical figures such as Nevuzzeradon and Menashe being accepted as righteous converts and penitents. Nevertheless, in opposition to Christian theology which calls for even the most evil oppressors to be forgiven indiscriminately as a form of imitatio dei, Judaism believes that the ongoing existence and pursuit of such an ideology of evil is understood to challenge God’s sovereignty in the world, and certainly His core moral teachings. Thus, the ideology of Amalek and those who adhere to it, cannot be loved, forgiven or in any way reconciled with.

Further reading: The Virtue of Hate, by Meir Y. Soloveichik, here,

First posted on Facebook 18 January 2020 here.