From Istanbul to Boston

ELOHIM- ONE GOD OR MANY GODS?

2012-02-07T09:45:00.000-08:00

בְּרֵאשִׁית, בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים

In Hebrew, for masculine singular nouns, plurality is indicated by the ending im. Thus, for example, yeled “boy” becomes yeladim “boys.”

The Bible uses many terms for God, such as El, Shaddai, YHVH, Elohim--they are all in the singular except for Elohim, which is in the plural. The question is this: how can God, conceived as being the only divinity in the universe—hence, monotheism- have a plural ending? Ancient Rabbis had to deal with this problem and said that the reason for the plural in Elohim is because of all the attributes (e.g. merciful, caring, loving) that are ascribed to one God. On the other hand, is it possible that the term Elohim is a vestige of polytheism in biblical Israel? I would say, yes.

To test whether or not the editors of the Bible considered Elohim a plural or a singular noun, we need to find whether the verbs attached to this name, are in the singular or in the plural. If they are in the plural, we would know that in the past Israelites believed that Elohim referred to many gods. If the verb is in the singular, then we would have to conclude that the term underwent a change, and a plural noun was now considered singular. We have an example of that in English, too. The word “media” is the plural of “medium.” Yet, we often say, “the media says,” not “the media say.” “Media” is now viewed as singular.

Let’s test the use of the word Elohim in the Bible: In the overwhelming cases, the word Elohim is accompanied by a singular verb. For example (see Hebrew title above): the Hebrew Bible begins with b’reshit bara elohim, “When God began to create…”-here the verb bara (“created”) is in the singular. That means the editor of this passage conceived of Elohim as one God. (For other examples, see, Gen. 1: 3; 22: 1; 25: 11; 50:24, and many others).

However, there are a few passages where Elohim is accompanied by a plural verb: when Abraham says to king Abimelekh, “When God (Elohim) made me wander…(hit’u) (Gen. 20: 13) ,” the verb “wander” is in the plural. Similarly, we read, “It was there that God (Elohim) revealed (niglu) himself to him [Jacob]” (Gen. 35: 7). Here, too, “revealed” is in the plural, implying the existence of many gods. (For other examples, see Ex. 22:8; Deut. 5:23; II Sam. 7: 23 and others). The medieval commentator Rashi was aware of this problem but tried to solve it by saying, “all references to godliness and authority are in the plural.” I would argue that these are vestiges of ancient polytheism that crept into the text.

There is no doubt in my mind that at some point in biblical times, Elohim was considered in polytheistic terms, “gods.” A good example is found in the Book of the Covenant, in one of the laws dealing with debt-slavery. According to a sub-section of this law, if the slave wishes to remain with his master for the rest of his life, because “he loves” him, then his master “shall take him before the gods (Elohim)” (Ex. 21: 5) and pierce his ear with an awl. Traditional Jewish commentators say that here the word Elohim means “judges.” So, the owner is taking his slave to the court. Some modern commentators believe that the reference is to the local sanctuary where the master presents his slave before God, perhaps, for an ordeal. For me, this texts simply means that the master brings his slave before the household gods, hence Elohim (see, for instance the reference to the household gods that Rachel had when she left her father’s house, the terafim, Gen.31: 34), and then pierces his ear at the doorpost of his own house with an awl.

This short analysis shows that biblical Israel went through a period of transition from polytheism to monolatry (“there are many gods but only one god for us”) and finally to monotheism (“there is only one God”). The process continued in medieval times into the modern. Old God concepts are not working any more. We need to search for the best explanation of what God means today in order to meet the needs of our own time.

(For details about God concepts in Judaism, see my book, Finding God (with Daniel Syme), NY: URJ Press, 2002, or, The Many Faces of God , NY:URJ, 2004, or , more recently, “What is God’s Real Name?” in my book, Did Moses Really Have Horns? NY: URJ Press, 2009, 12-24).

Rifat Sonsino

ISRAEL TRIP-DEC. 2011

2012-01-05T05:25:00.000-08:00

We just returned from a week stay in Israel a few days ago. We went only to Jerusalem, a city made holy by our memories, not for tourism but to spend time with the family, and celebrate my daughter Debbi’s 40th birthday and her 10th wedding anniversary to Ran, her Israeli husband. My wife Ines, Debbi, Ran and our two grandchildren, Avi and Talya, came along. It was a great trip, though very short. Here are some personal impressions.

This time I found a greater alienation between the secular and the fundamentalist religious groups. Jerusalem is turning into a “haredi” (extreme religious) city. One top Israeli executive told me, “Seculars Jews have already given up.” This may be an exaggeration but there is a kernel of truth in it. The month of December was marred by attacks on women’s civil rights: an eight year old girl was hit by extremists because she was not dressed modestly; some Orthodox soldiers refused to listen to the singing of female soldiers; a woman was asked to sit in the back of the bus but she refused. Many leading Rabbis condemned this anti-women attitude by saying, “Israel does not belong to the religious alone.” A number of secular Israelis raised banners in Bet Shemesh that read, “This will not be another Teheran.”

There was quiet between Israelis and Palestinians during our stay, but animosities are still present. One day I went to Abu Shukri, a well-known restaurant in the Old City, which displayed a Palestinian flag on its wall. I ordered pita, humus and “Israeli salad.” The waiter told me, “We don’t serve Israeli salad here,” only “Arabic salad.” That was curious because in our hotel the same salad was labeled “Israeli,” even though many Israelis call it “Arabic.”

The Palestinians I met in Jerusalem seemed content living among Israelis. The Palestinian life-guard at our hotel, a student at the University, told me that he had many Israeli friends and that the problem was with the extremists on both sides. I walked the streets of the Old City without fear. Yet, when we took the train from the Center of Town towards the Hebrew University, we were told to get out of the train outside of the Damascus Gate because of a “suspicious object.” A police robot quickly discovered that it was harmless, and we boarded the train again. A passenger told me, “We live every day with miracles here.”

Because of Christmas and Hanukah, Jerusalem was full of tourists, more than ever before. Consequently, traffic between mid-mornings to around 8 pm. was terrible. A trip from Har Hatzofim to Talpiyot that usually takes about 15 minutes by cab often took us more than an hour.

The economy of the country seems to be doing well. We saw lots of people shopping at stores and local Malls. The new Mamila Mall is magnificent. The Western Wall was full of tourists as well as local Israelis. We visited the tunnels by the Western Wall- an archaeological marvel. You see under a glass walk, ruins that go back to the First and Second Temple.

The best time, however, was spent with the family. We walked by the Tayelet, went to the Hebrew Union College on King David Street, visited the Hebrew University, walked through Ben Yehudah Street, bought gifts at Geulah, attended an Orthodox service on Shabbat Eve, and ate almost every night at our son-in-law’s parents’ home. Quite a treat. We also got together for a great meal with our Israeli family and friends at Abu Gosh, an Arab village between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.

And we returned happy but tired. Our grand-children are ready to go back. We too.

Rifat Sonsino

Jan. 5, 2012

MAIMONIDES-THEN AND NOW

2011-07-05T06:13:00.000-07:00

In contemporary culture today, the name Maimonides stands for the mainstream Jewish Orthodoxy. Chabad (Lubavich Hasidic) sends in regular messages on line with special references to Maimonides’s books for daily study. A prominent Orthodox private school, called Maimonides, continues to have a great academic reputation in Boston, MA.
That was not always the case in the medieval period when the great philosopher lived, first in Cordoba, Spain and then in Fustat, Egypt. Moses Maimonides (1135-1204; called for short, Rambam) was deeply influenced by the teachings of Aristotle, and attempted to show that Judaism, too, with some restrictions, could be understood in light of Greek philosophy. Through his books, such as The Guide to the Perplexed, and the Commentary to the Mishnah, the rabbi-philosopher spoke of God as pure intellect, and insisted that God’s attributes were metaphors, which were understood and expressed only by our limited human minds.
Though Maimonides had many supporters, some of his contemporaries strongly disagreed with his rationalistic interpretation of Judaism. Soon, an anti-Maimonidean movement developed in southern France and Cataluña, which shook the foundations of the Jewish communities in the Mediterranean basin. Spearheaded by the Ravad of Posquieres (12th cent) and supported even by some of the great rabbinic luminaries, such as Solomon b. Abraham of Montpellier and Jonah b. Abraham of Girondi, the anti-Maimonidean movement declared the Rambam a heretic, and was instrumental in having his books publicly burned in Montpellier, southern France in 1233. As time went on, however, this negative attitude against Maimonides abated, and, in our time, few remember the fierce intellectual battles that medieval rabbis fought about this great Jewish-Spanish philosopher.
In our time, a new intellectual battle is raging between the Jewish rationalists and anti-rationalists-each claiming that it best represents the Jewish tradition. Regrettably, the anti-rationalists appear to be denigrating the other possible approaches in Judaism. This would be a big mistake, because there is room within our tradition for both approaches, and no one should claim that it has the ultimate truth. As a rationalist myself, I would be very sad if this reality is ignored in the modern Jewish world.
Rifat Sonsino

THIRTY CONVERSIONS IN BARCELONA

2011-06-20T10:04:00.000-07:00

I have been in the rabbinate for more than four decades but never before have I participated in a group conversion of 30 individuals (24 adults and 6 children, ages 4 to 12) until now. This historic event took place in Barcelona, Spain on June 8 and 9, 2011.

The entire project was coordinated by Rosina Levy of Bet Shalom of Barcelona, a small congregation I have been helping out on and off for the last four years with its programs and services, and which now belongs to the European Region (ER) of the World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ). When word got out that Bet Shalom was ready to present its candidates to the ER’s Beth Din (“rabbinic court”), other liberal Jewish communities around Spain asked that they be allowed to send in their own as well.

A duly authorized progressive Beth Din of three rabbis and a lay secretary came in from London. The European custom is that the local Rabbi (in this case, me) is not an official member of the court. However, I was invited to attend all the sessions and became a full member when one of the rabbis had to return to London for Shabbat services.

The candidates came from many parts of Spain: Barcelona (the majority from Bet Shalom but a few also from Atid), Asturias, Galicia, Seville, Cordoba, and Madrid. They were prepared for this transition by local teachers for a period of a year or more, and the men had to bring a certificate of circumcision as required by Jewish law and the European custom. (In the States, some Reform Rabbis do not require this procedure from adult males). The participants demonstrated proficiency in Jewish history, customs, religious festivals, and life-cycle events; and they were all involved in their own synagogue life.

It is estimated that there are about 20,000 to 25,000 Jews in Spain today, most of them coming from North Africa, France and surrounding countries, but there is a great pool of local people with vivid Jewish memories going back to the times of the Inquisition. Now these people want to reclaim their Jewish identity and wish to become officially part of the people of Israel.

After the exams, we issued two types of certificates: a formal conversion certificate but also, upon request, a certificate of return. We heard incredible stories: their parents, and more often their great or great-grand parents, told them that they carried Jewish blood, that it was the family tradition to cover the mirrors during the period of mourning, that many lit candles on the Sabbath Eve, some knowing exactly what they are doing, others attributing the practice to vague family traditions of ages gone by with no particular knowledge of their significance.

The culminating event took place on Friday, June 9, in the afternoon, when all the candidates (with the Beth Din supervising the procedure) went to the beach for the tevilah, the ritual immersion, with women on one side and men on the other of the pier. It was drizzling that day in the morning but fortunately for us, when we arrived at the beach, the rain stopped and the sun appeared for a short while. There was a mad dash into the tepid waters. After reciting the blessings together, they all came out triumphantly proclaiming their new Jewish identity.

That night, during the Sabbath service, I, as the officiating Rabbi, gave each Jew-by-choice his/her certificate, and the next day during the morning worship I called them up to the Torah for their ever first aliyah. There was joy and celebration in the congregation. They could not thank us enough for confirming what they felt a very long time. And we, at the rabbinic court, were thrilled to make this happen a reality for them. For next year, many are already planning an adult Bar/t Mitzvah.

This conversion program not only propelled Bet Shalom onto the front lines of progressive Judaism in Spain but is now a model for other small congregations, which have learned what can be accomplished with enthusiasm, dedication and the support of the European Region of the WUPJ. This made me really proud.

Rabbi Dr. Rifat Sonsino, Emeritus

Boston College, USA

GOD'S LOVE; A RELIGIOUS NATURALIST PERSPECTIVE

2011-05-01T06:50:00.000-07:00

Every so often the question of God’s nature comes up for discussion. There are those who believe that God is a personal God, namely, a supreme being that has intelligence, emotions, and will in an absolute form. God knows you, loves you and responds to your prayers. Most of these people also maintain that God is all-powerful, all-knowing and all-good. These individuals are classical theists, by definition. (Limited theists believe in a personal God but one who is not all-powerful). And there are others who depart from this view and subscribe to a variety of other non-theistic God concepts.
One of the problems, which was debated for centuries between the theists and non-theists, whether Jewish or not, has to do with God’s love and God’s involvement in human lives. Does God love me? Does God interfere in my life? How does God respond to my prayers? Theists say, yes, God watches over us; others argue, no, God has nothing to do with “loving” anyone. In particular, the question of prayer is of immediate concern for many people, and has already been raised in many biblical passages. On the one had we have, “I turned to the Lord, and He answered me” (Ps. 34: 7), and, on the other, “How long, O Lord, shall I cry out and You not listen” (Hab. 1: 2).
Here below is my religious naturalist response to this question:
I view God as the energizing power of the universe. I do not expect that God would know me or love me or even interfere in my life the way my parents did. All I want from God is that I be given the sustaining tools of a meaningful life, the wisdom to accept my limitations and the skill to overcome them reasonably within nature’s possibilities. I don’t pray for miracles or look for perfection in life. I hope for wholeness and contentment. I am grateful just to be. There is plenty of God’s love just in this recognition.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

THE EARTH DOES NOT BELONG TO US

2011-04-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

The Torah portion, Behar (for May 14, 2011), just one chapter long, appears in Lev. 25:1-26:2, and deals with two related subjects: The Sabbatical Year and the Jubilee Year.

The law regarding the Sabbatical Year is mentioned three times in the Bible: Ex. 23: 10-11; Lev. 25: 3-6, and Deut. 15: 1-10. There are significant differences between them, and talmudic law tries to reconcile these passages (e.g., BT Git. 36a).

According to biblical law, during the Sabbatical Year, all agricultural work stops and the “after growth of the harvest” is to be given to or shared with the poor (Ex. and Lev.); Deuteronomy adds that all debts are to be canceled. At the end of 49years, during the Jubilee Year, the land is to lie fallow, all landed property reverts to the original owners, and all Hebrew slaves receive their freedom.

It is not known if the Sabbatical Year was observed during the First Temple, but there are references (for example, Neh. 10:32; I Mac. 6: 49) that it was kept during the Second Temple. Presently, some Orthodox Jews in Israel are very punctilious about it. Others, using a legal fiction, “sell” the land to a non-Jew, and continue to work on their lot as before. The last time a Sabbatical Year was observed was, according to one calculation, on the Jewish year of 2007-08. The next one will be on 2014-15.

There is no reference anywhere that the Jubilee Year was ever observed. The prophets do not mention it and the historical texts do not record it. Most likely, it represents an ideal setting: though it does not make economic sense, its ethical as well as ecological message is sound. The text tells us that the reason why slaves must be freed during the Jubilee Year is because all human beings are God’s creatures: “It is to Me that the Israelites are servants” (Lev. 25: 55), and, therefore, no one should lord over the other; also, the rationale for returning the land to its original owner is that the earth ultimately belongs to God, not to us: “the land is Mine, you are but strangers resident with Me” (Lev. 25: 23).

We are all passengers in this world. Whatever we accumulate here is left on earth, either for our children or for our community to enjoy. In the meantime, we are told to live our life fully and creatively, to pursue meaning and high purpose in our endeavors, to leave a legacy of good will and to preserve the earth for those who will follow us.

This is quite a challenge and a wonderful opportunity for each one of us.

Rifat Sonsino

rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

THE EVIL EYE

2011-03-10T06:04:00.001-08:00

In my home I have a Turkish blue eye charm/bead (called Nazar Boncugu in Turkish) that sits on one of my shelves casting a protective gaze upon the entire house. Does it help? I doubt it, but it does not hurt either.

This is obviously an old superstition found all over the world: an envious glance can bring harm to the person or object. How do you protect yourself against it? You get a blue eye amulet that mirrors back, and stops the harmful look, the so-called, “evil eye.”

In Hebrew, the evil eye is called ayin hara or en raah (in Yiddish it is “kayn aynhora”). According to the Rabbis, whereas a benevolent eye (“ayin tovah”) is praiseworthy, "an ayin hara, (an evil eye), the evil urge and hatred of another human being take one out of the world.” (Av. 2: 11). According to another, ninety nine people die of an evil eye, and only one through natural causes (BM 107b). You can protect yourself against this malicious curse, by repeating ever so often, beli ayin raah (“without the evil eye” [having power over you]). In a popular Jewish joke, a Jewish patriarch who was on the witness stand was asked by a District Attorney: “How old are you? He answered, “I am, kayn aynhora, eighty one.” Similarly, when counting people, you are expected to say, “Not one,” “Not two, “Not three” etc. in order to avoid the disastrous effects of the evil eye.

This meaning of “evil eye” represents an extension of what the original word for “eye” meant in biblical literature. Ayin, (pl. enayim), simply refers to the physical organ of sight. Whereas, a person with tov ayin (lit. good eye) is considered a “generous person” (Prov. 22: 9), one with ra ayin (lit. evil eye), is “miserly” (Prov. 28: 22). One can have eyne gavhut, a haughty look (Isa. 2: 11), or shah enayim (lit. “lowly eye”) “humility”(Job. 22: 29). Being consumed by an attitude described as raah enekha (lit. an eye set on ill will), simply meant being “mean” to another person (Deut. 15: 9). God’s eyes (eyne YHVH) are placed upon the land of Israel as a promise of protection (Deut. 11: 12). It is not at all clear what the Bible implies when it states that Leah, Jacob’s wife, had “weak eyes” (rakot). (Gen. 29: 17). Did she lack luster (Sarna), or did she have lovely, delicate eyes (Speiser)?

The Hebrew word, ayin, (pl. ayanot), also means, “spring” (of water). Example: “An angel of the Lord found her [Hagar] by a spring of water (eyn ha-mayim)” (Gen. 16: 7). This may be an extension, maybe a figurative way of speaking of an “eye.” It is interesting to note that in Akkadian, inu(m) means both “eye” and “spring” or “source.”

The human eye is our window to the universe. What we see is a reflection of our personality and provides a frame of reference for our approach to life. Some see things in color; others consider the world a dark place. Those who find shadows everywhere use amulets and other defense paraphernalia against the corrosive impact of the evil eye. It is, however, better to have a positive attitude in life and face the world with optimism, courage and determination. In the long run, the talismans do not work.

Rifat Sonsino

rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

March, 2011

CLOSURE- IS IT POSSIBLE?

2011-02-22T07:02:00.000-08:00

Recently, the Boston media announced that it was a citizen’s tip that led to the arrest of a sports utility driver who killed a graduate student in a hit-and-run accident about three months ago. The victim’s brother said,” I am happy about the arrest. It will not bring my brother back but at least it will help us reach some closure.” My question is this: can the arrest of the culprit really bring “closure” to the family at all?

In psychological sense, the term “closure” has a long history, and comes from the Gestalt school in Germany which was concerned with the organization of mental processes. It was actually Max Wertheimer who, in 1923, coined the term, and now is part of our ordinary language.

I do not really understand the concept of “closure,” for it implies that one can simply whitewash memories of a sad event. I don’t think that is possible. We can understand and often accept the death of a person who lived a long and fulfilling life, but there is an element of unfairness when we lose someone in a tragic way. The more horrific the event, the deeper our anger and grief. I don’t think parents can ever get over their pain when they bury a child; this becomes even worse when it happens as a result of a senseless killing. There was an outrage in Israel, mid-February, when the newly appointed Jordanian minister of Justice, Hussein Mjali, called for the release from an Israeli prison of Ahmed Dakamseh, a Jordanian soldier, who had murdered seven Israeli school girls and injured six others near the Israeli-Jordanian border in 1997. I can empathize with the anger of the Israeli citizens over this insensitive request.

Total closure, I maintain, does not exist. The Talmud says, “only after twelve months does one begin to forget the dead (Ber. 58b). The impact of the event, however, stays with us for many years to come. Does that mean that we cannot go on living? Yes, we can and often do, and with progressively diminished pain and anguish in our hearts. If we are fortunate, with time, we can experience the softening of the edges of our grief, slowly and haltingly. No, there is no such thing as closure. There is only the dulling of the pain, and most of us go on living because we have fewer choices. Fortunate are those sufferers who have the support of family and friends who can empathize with them during their ordeal, and help them move forward through the path of life.

May God spare us of these kinds of pain, and give us the strength to help those who are going through the valley of the shadow.

Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org
Feb. 2011

PUNCTUALITY

2011-02-08T09:50:00.000-08:00

I rely on people’s words, and expect that they will be fulfilled on time. Thus, for instance, I don’t like it when someone shows up late at a meeting, or sends a letter (or email) way after its due date-- unless, of course there is a good excuse.

I believe that, in the great scheme of things, we live in an orderly world. Seasons come after one another, just as day follows night. We could not function if we were left guessing all the time. The Book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that God “brings everything to pass precisely at is time” (beito, 3: 11), and the Book of Proverbs praises the “word rightly timed” (davar beito, 15: 23). Timeliness was also stressed by the Rabbis. One sage taught, “If a fig is plucked at the proper time, it is good for the fig and good for the tree” (Gen. R. 62.2). This kind of world is dependable and reassuring.

I am an organized person who plans things ahead. Rarely do I leave things to the last moment. I respect people’s time and word, and expect the same from the others. When I was a congregational Rabbi, my weekend talks were often prepared early on Mondays or Tuesdays, and the outline of my High Holiday sermons was penciled by June or July, even though the festival would be celebrated around Sept/October. In synagogue life I could never predict what would happen towards the end of the week: a funeral, an unexpected meeting, an illness. So, I would leave myself plenty of time for surprises and unplanned events. I also conducted religious services on time, began meetings promptly, and taught classes as scheduled. Even now, at the University I expect my students to turn in their assignments as indicated in my syllabus.

Regrettably, many people I know have a hard time managing their time well, and function with the mentality of “mañana” (Spanish, for tomorrow). They are perennially late, or promise and do not fulfill, or leave things to the last moment. Their thinking is, if I can do it tomorrow, what bother today? I have a hard time dealing with this type of behavior.

I have been accused of having an A-type personality. I gladly accept this accusation, but believe it is better this way than interacting with unreliable people and their vague promises. Being “on time” is simply a matter of courtesy and respect for others. In the “Merry Wives of Windsor,” Shakespeare wrote, with a bit of exaggeration, “Better three hours too soon than a minute late”. Similarly, The French King Louis XVIII is reported to have said, “L’exactitude est la politesse des rois” (“Punctuality is the politeness of kings”), a trait we should all try to emulate. I believe things ought to be done, as the Good Book says, “beito, “in its time.” And not leave people constantly wondering if they will ever happen or not.

Rifat Sonsino

rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

Feb. 2011

THE "EAR" AND "HEARING" IN THE BIBLE

2011-01-26T05:32:00.000-08:00

The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible (1962) makes an interesting observation: “In the Bible, the key word for man’s response to God is ‘hearing,’ rather than ‘seeing’” (Vol. 2, p. 1). The reason for this may be because, according to biblical teaching, humans “cannot see My face” (Ex. 33: 20), even though a few have done it without providing a clear description of the divine (e.g., Ex. 24: 11; Isa. 6:1). The watchword of the Jewish faith is: “Hear, O Israel, the Eternal (YHWH) is our God, the Eternal is unique” (Deut. 6: 4).
The term ozen is used in the Bible to identify the human “ear” as part of the human body. It is the organ for hearing (Deut. 29:3). Just as humans have oznayim (dual of ozen), “ears,” (e.g. Gen. 20:8; 35:4), so do animals (e.g. Am. 3:12; Prov. 26:17). Figuratively speaking, God, too, has “ears” (Num. 11:18:“ozne YHWH” lit. “the ears of the Eternal”), for, as the psalmist points out, “Shall He who implants the ear not hear?” (Ps. 94: 9). On the other hand, idols, which do have ears, cannot hear and pay attention (Ps. 115: 5).
One can have “heavy ears” (Isa. 6: 10), refusing to hear God’s message or be deaf: “deaf, though it has ears” (oznayim lamo”) (Isa. 43: 8).
To “incline the ear” means to pay attention (Ps. 45:11; Jer. 7: 24). “Stopping the ear” refers to willful ignorance (Pr. 21: 13). An “uncircumcised ear” implies disobedience (Jer. 5:21). To “uncover the ear” has to do with showing respect for the other (I Sam. 20: 2) or to “disclose” the truth (Ruth 4: 4). To “pierce” someone’s ear is symbolic of servitude (Ex. 21:6; Deut. 15: 17). For God to give ear (ha-azina) means to listen to prayers (Ps. 55:1; 80:2). Even nature is called upon to give ear (ha-azinu) as witnesses to one’s pronouncements (Deut. 32:1; cf. Isa. 1: 2).
One can speculate that one of the main reasons why the Bible speaks so much about “hearing” is because most biblical Israelites had an “oral” culture and did not know how to read and write; they got their information by listening to oracles, prophetic speeches or priestly instructions (“Torah”). One scholar claims that “Ancient Israel before the seventh century BCE was largely non-literate” (Schniedewind). Literacy was most likely limited to those in the higher echelons of society, such as priests, scribes and wisdom teachers. The earliest known piece of writing in ancient Israel (in Hebrew/Canaanite) are the Gezer Calendar and the four ostraca found at Tel Arad (both from the 10th cent. BCE). Some of the oldest examples of biblical literature include “The Book of Yashar” (Jos. 10: 12-13), “The Song of Moses” (Ex. 15) and “The Song of Deborah” (Judg. 5). The Bible makes reference to written documents too: For example, “a bill of divorce” (sefer keritut) (Deut. 24: 1) and a scroll written by Barukh, Jeremiah’s secretary (Jer. 36: 4); it also requires that kings read the Torah (Deut. 17: 19), and mentions king Hezekiah reading documents (“sefarim,” II K. 19: 14)—all activities reflecting the actions of the intellectuals in society--, but it never refers to a “school” or to ordinary people reading or writing. The level of literacy increased as times went by. Already, the first century Jewish historian, Josephus, tells us that during the First Revolt against the Romans, the rebels in Jerusalem “carried the fire to the place where the archives were deposited, and made haste to burn the contracts belonging to their creditors in order to dissolve their obligations to pay their debts” (Jewish War 2. 247).
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org
Jan.2011

"FEET" IN THE HEBREW BIBLE; METAPHORS AND EUPHEMISMS

2011-01-11T08:12:00.000-08:00

In the Hebrew Bible, the ordinary word for a human foot is regel. The plural is the dual form, raglayim. The word raglim (plural of ragli) means “foot soldiers” (cf. Jer. 12: 5), and the word regalim simply refers to the three pilgrimage festivals, Passover, Weeks (Shavuot) and Tabernacles (Sukot).
When Abraham welcomed the three guests in Mamre (without knowing they were divine beings), he told them to “bathe your feet (rahatzu et raglekhem) and recline under the tree” (Gen. 18: 4). Human toes are called etzbaot raglayim (lit. fingers of the feet; cf. II Sam. 21: 20). Animals too have raglayim: At the end of the forty days of the Deluge, Noah let out a dove, but it “could not find a resting place for its foot” (l’kaf ragla) ( Gen. 8: 9).
Raglayim is also used metaphorically. Tables, for example, have “feet.” After the Exodus, God told Moses to ask the Israelites to set up a portable sanctuary, the Tabernacle, and, among other items, to build in it a table of acacia wood with four rings attached “to the four corners at its four legs” (arba’ raglav) (Ex. 25: 26). Even God has “feet.” When Moses and his entourage went up to Mt. Sinai, one biblical myth states, “they saw the God of Israel; under His feet (raglav) there was like the pavement of sapphire” (Ex. 24: 10; cf. Ps. 18: 10). During the medieval times, many philosophers rejected the idea of divine corporeality. Maimonides agreed with Onkelos (2nd cent. CE), the author of the Aramaic translation of the Bible, who rendered the 3rd pers. suffix as “its” (i.e., “its feet”), referring thus to God’s throne, and not to God’s feet.” Similarly, he adds, “God’s feet” in Zech 14: 4 refers to causation, namely, to “the wonders that will then become manifest at that place” (Guide, #28).
The psalmist spoke of the “foot (regel) of arrogance” (Ps. 36: 11) and of God laying the world under “the feet” (raglav) of human beings (Ps. 8:7), as symbol of domination. In the rabbinic period students “sat before the sages,” as a sign of respect. (See, Ethics of the Fathers, chap. 5: 15; Cf. Luke 10: 39 [“Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet”]; Acts 22: 3; Sitting “at the feet of teachers” is also mentioned in the Zohar 1/4a; 2/55b).
At times, “feet” refers, euphemistically, to “genitalia.” During the period of the Judges, the courtiers of the king Eglon of Moab thought that the king was “relieving himself (mesih et raglav, Judg. 3: 24) in the cool chamber,” when in reality he had already been killed by Ehud, the Benjaminite. (The verb mesih, from the root suh, literally means, to anoint oneself after washing). During the monarchy, an Assyrian representative insulted the Judean soldiers by saying that they “drink their urine” (me raglehem; literally, the water of their feet (II K. 18: 27). At the end of the book of Deuteronomy, among the curses listed as punishment for not observing the commandments, we are told that during a foreign invasion, each woman shall eat “the afterbirth that issues from between her legs” (miben ragleha)” (Deut. 28: 57). The prophet Ezekiel accuses the Judeans of copying the idolatrous ways of the gentiles by saying, you “spread your legs (raglayih) to every passerby, and you multiplied your harlotries” (Ezek. 16: 25).
Most likely this is also the kind of euphemism used in the following texts: In the book of Ruth, we are told that when Ruth met Boaz, her future husband, in the threshing floor, she “uncovered his feet (vategal margelotav) and lay down” (Ruth 3: 7). While some scholars claim that she slept chastely, others more convincingly argue that she actually had sex with him. Similarly, during the period of the Judges, when Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, drove a tent peg through the skull of Sisera, the Canaanite general, the poet says, “between her feet (ben ragleha) he sank” (Judg. 5: 27). Some scholars think the general died after she slept with him. More problematic is the case of the circumcision of Moses’ son. In an obscure passage, we are told that on the way down to Egypt, God tried to kill “him” (Moses? or, Gershom, his son?). So, “Zipporah [Moses’ wife] took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched his (whose?) leg (raglav)with it” (Ex. 4: 25). One biblical scholar maintains that Zipporah took the bloody piece of skin that she had removed from her son’s penis and touched Moses’ “feet” (that is, Moses’ penis) in order to save her husband’s life by “tricking the homicidal deity into thinking that Moses himself had just been circumcised” (M. Coogan).
The term “feet” may have also been euphemistically used to refer to the private parts of angelic divine beings. In his famous vision, the prophet Isaiah relates that he had seen seraphim (winged divine beings) attending God in the Jerusalem Temple. Each seraf, he added, had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his “legs” (raglav), and with two he would fly” (Isa. 6: 2). Were these seraphim covering their own genitals? G. B. Gray says, yes: “their feet, i.e., their nakedness.” The New Oxford Annotated Bible (2001) agrees: “Feet, genitals.”
Thus, a simple word, meaning “foot” in the Bible, may, by extension, refer to animals, objects, and even to God.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

WHAT DOES THE BIBLICAL TEXT REALLY MEAN? METAPHORS AND EUPHEMISMS

2010-12-07T06:46:00.000-08:00

The Bible was written in an archaic language, and, therefore, it is, at times, difficult to figure out what the authors/editors meant to say. Often, the Bible uses figurative language and even euphemisms that are different from ours. In the next few postings I would like to explore a few examples.
But first, a definition. A “metaphor” is a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a similarity, such as, “My life is a dream,” or, “He is drowning in money,”; whereas “euphemism” refers to the substitution of an inoffensive noun or verb for one that could be offensive or unpleasant, such as, “he passed away” for “he died.”
Let us start with the various meanings of the Hebrew word yad, “hand.”
a) In its basic meaning, yad refers to the human hand, such as, “When Joseph saw that his father was placing his right hand (yad yemino) on Ephraim’s head, he thought it wrong” (Gen. 48: 17)
b) By extension, yad is also used a metaphor for “power” or “strength,” such as, “When Israel saw the wondrous power (ha-yad ha-gedolah) which the Lord had wielded against the Egyptians, the people feared the Lord” (Ex. 14: 31)
c) At times, yad can mean “side,” “along,” such as, “The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe in the Nile, while her maidens walked along ( al- yad) the Nile” ( Ex. 2: 5)
d) In some cases, yad can mean “place,” such as, “The men of Ai looked back and saw the smoke of the city rising to the sky; they had no room (yadayim, lit. ‘hands’) for flight in any direction.” (Josh. 8: 20)
e) In a few places, yad means “monument,” in the sense that a hand points to and marks, such as, “”Saul went to Carmel, where he erected a monument (yad) for himself” (I Sam. 15: 12), or, ” I will give them [i.e., Sabbath observing eunuchs who were high government officials], in My House, and within My walls, a monument and a name (yad va-shem), better than sons and daughters.” (Isa. 56: 5) (Note: the well-known Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem today is named “Yad Va-Shem”).
f) In addition, some scholars have suggested that yad has also been used as euphemism for “latrine” and “genitals,” and point to two possible texts. The first one is in Deuteronomy, which reads, “You shall have a yad outside the camp, where you can relieve yourself” (23: 13). Some sources translate the word as “place” or “area,” in the sense of “designated area” for defecation (NRSV; see also Onkelos, Sifre). In the Dead Sea Scrolls, “hand” is used in relation to latrines: “There shall be a distance between all their camps and the ‘place of the hands’ (m’kom yad) of about 2000 cubits” (The War Scroll, 7/7), and, “You shall make latrines (m’kom yad) for them outside of the city” (Temple Scroll, 46/13). Consequently, the Jerusalem Bible translates the passage in Deuteronomy as, “You must have a latrine outside the camp.”

The other word is found in an obscure passage in Isaiah 57:8: addressing the idolaters among the Israelites, the prophet says, “You have loved bedding with them [the pagan objects], you have looked upon the yad.” Some interpreters render the last word as “place” (Metzudad Tzion), others, as “symbol” (Anchor Bible, McKenzie), or “you have chosen lust” (NJPS), and some, influenced by the context, translate it as “phallus,” (e.g., You have looked on their manhood” (New American Bible), or “You looked upon with lust on their naked bodies” (New International Version, 2010).

This survey clearly indicates that a simple Hebrew word meaning “hand,” has been used in the Bible by extension metaphorically as well as, possibly, euphemistically.

Next I will study the word, “feet.”

Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

AN ETHICAL DILEMMA: DID MY STUDENT CHEAT?

2010-11-14T09:45:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, after I administered the mid-term exam, one student confidentially told me that she had seen one student surfing the net for the correct answers. (I do allow laptops in the room). She did not want to be a snitch but felt that such action was unfair to the rest of the students. I have been teaching at Boston College for the last 10 years, and I have never before experienced anything like that. I was really hurt, because I felt the “cheater” had abused my trust.
I thanked the student and said that I needed to think about what course of action to take next. I then contacted my colleagues on the faculty and asked for their input. I also put my dilemma on Facebook and solicited advice. The responders were all over the map: you should give a new exam to the whole class; ask the “cheater” to come forward; force the accuser to identify the culprit and let the accused defend him/herself; forget about it inasmuch as you did not witness the infraction.
To force the accuser to reveal the name of the “cheater,” I felt, would jeopardize her standing in class. On the other hand, could she be a liar? Wanting to make sure that the allegation was correct, I questioned the accuser whether the “cheater” was on her side of the room or on the other side, and how did she see that someone was in fact looking for answers on the web? She told me that the student was sitting towards the front, and that she could see the monitor from the back. Later on, she even volunteered to reveal the name of the culprit, but I felt that this accusation would force the alleged “cheater” to confront her later on, an event that I was determined to avoid.
During the next class, I told the students that I was informed by a student that someone had cheated during the exam, and if that person were to show courage and identify him/herself to me alone, I would give that person an F, and the whole thing would be forgotten. But if within 24 hours no one would come forward, I would have no other alternative but to give another exam, because the first one was tainted. Regrettably, no one confessed.
So what did I do? Because I did not personally witness the cheating incident, I gave everyone a short quiz instead of a new exam. I was not happy with this solution, but I felt it was the best compromise. However, I am still sad that someone in class wanted to take an easy way out and burdened everyone else with a new quiz.
What would you have done?
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

ABRAHAM'S "CHEESEBURGER"

2010-10-27T06:41:00.000-07:00

It is well known in many Jewish circles today that the mixing of dairy and meat products is prohibited. In other words, you cannot have a cheeseburger! One can eat dairy and then meat, some say immediately after, others by waiting up to two hours. But if you wish to eat meat first and then dairy, you have to wait up to six hours. (Some wait only two hours.) Yet, the biblical text clearly states that when three angels came to visit Abraham, he “took curds and milk and the calf that had been prepared” (Gen. 18: 8), and stood by them “as they ate.” The word “curd” here (hemah in Hebrew) is most likely a type of modern yogurt; “calf” (ben bakar in Hebrew) could refer either to the entire calf (Josephus says he served them “a roasted calf”), or part of it (some rabbinic sources say he served them only tongue with mustard, a delicacy). What is going on here?
Ancient sages were very much aware of the problem of Abraham serving dairy and meat products together in contravention of the laws of Kashrut, and tried to resolve it in a variety of ways: First, they dealt with the issue of angels eating food. A few ancient sources---(like Tobit {12:19; an Apocryphal book of the third cent. BCE}; Josephus {the first century CE historian; Antiquities 1: 11/2}, Targum Jonathan as well as some later rabbinic commentators {e.g. BM 86 b; Rashi})--- specify that the angels did not eat, but pretended as if they were eating; one Talmudic source, however, says that the angels actually did eat, thus following the local custom (BM 86b).
Second, with regard to the mixing of milk and meat, rabbinic sources came up with a few fancy answers:
a) The mixture of milk and meat was forbidden only after the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, and, because Abraham lived before that period, it was perfectly legitimate (Etz Hayyim).
b) Abraham served the angels milk and only then did he offer them meat in accordance with the dietary laws, for, even though not commended, Abraham followed all the laws of the Torah (Kid. 4: 14).
c) Abraham served the angels milk and meat together because he thought they were gentiles who were not bound by Jewish law (Likute Sihot, Vol 5, p.193, n.63).
d) The Meam Loez, the famous Sephardic commentary written in Izmir, Turkey, in Ladino, by Rabbi Jacob Kulli (1864), claims that Abraham stood by the angels, making sure that each guest chose to eat either dairy or meat, and would not mix the two.
In reality, the rule against mixing dairy with meat is not biblical, and Rabbis had a hard time justifying it on the basis of a law that prohibits “boiling a kid in its mother’s milk” (Ex. 23:19; 34: 26; Deut. 14: 21). The original meaning of this law is unknown. Maimonides suggested a pagan background. But the Rabbis, for reasons that are not clear to us, turned this prohibition into a major component of the laws of kashrut that bind many observant Jews today.
Bottom line: our biblical law is unaware of this rabbinic rule, and the sages used an obscure text to justify it. Consequently, many Jews feel guilty today when they consume the two together.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

ISLAMOPHOBIA IN AMERICA

2010-10-20T05:55:00.000-07:00

There is a raging Islamophobia in our country these days. Coming out of the 9/11 tragedy in NYC, and spurred on by the attempt to build a mosque close to ground zero, many people are developing an emotional fear of all Moslems who, they believe, are bent on taking over the USA. The situation is worse in Europe.
Recently, Bill O’Reilly, during a show of the “View,” claimed that “Moslems killed us on 9/11,” prompting two of the women panelists to walk out in disgust. He then apologized, and the participants returned to the stage. Also, in October, a hard-working Pakistani man by the name of Pir Khan, appeared on Chanel 5 in Boston, complaining that his life has been turned upside down because of a false claim that he had funneled money to Faisal Shahzad, a terrorist who tried to blow up a car in Times Square. Pir was arrested but released in July for lack of evidence. Now he faces deportation, and his landlord wants him out of the house. His wife, a Caucasian woman, is also devastated by the turn of events. How does one restore this man’s good name?
It is true that, of the many terrorists who have attacked us or have attempted to cause damage in our country, the majority have been Moslems. (The Oklahoma bomber was not). However, to think that every Moslem is a suicide bomber is an absurdity and a dangerous generalization. I grew up in Istanbul and still have good friends there. I can assure you that my Turkish friends who happen to be Moslems are not terrorists.
These days it is becoming very uncomfortable having an Arabic sounding name in the USA. Many jump to conclusion that the fellow must be wearing a bomb on his chest. From now on, I think, I am going to call myself Robert because I don’t want people to think that Rifat is a blood-thirsty fanatic. But maybe when they hear that I am a Rabbi they will change their mind.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

REVAMPING THE HIGH HOLIDAY LITURGY

2010-09-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

I have been part of synagogue life since I was a little child. I remember attending High Holiday services with my father when I was barely 6 years old; as a teen-ager I led such services as the hazzan kavua of my Orthodox synagogue, and officiated as a Reform Rabbi for more than 40 years. Even though I am still inspired by many sections of the liturgy, I find others dull, repetitive and, at times, even irrelevant. Perhaps, for the next year and beyond, especially now that the Reform Rabbinate is planning to create a new High Holiday prayerbook, we need to rethink the entire liturgy for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Here are my reflections on this important issue:

1. In many of our prayers, God should be portrayed as a companion, a “co-creator” (Plaskow), or an energy that continues to sustain us. Not everyone in the congregation subscribes to a personal God (theism). We need to make room for the diversity of theological positions in our midst.

2. The reading of the Binding of Isaac (Gen.22) as the Torah portion for the first day of Rosh Hashanah is highly problematic. No matter how one interprets it, for me, the belief that God demands the sacrifice of one’s son as a test for faith and loyalty is theologically repulsive. Instead, I would read the two stories of Creation (Gen. 1 on the first day and Gen. 2 on the following day) not only to indicate the different views on this subject, but also to enable the preacher to talk about the continuous creativity in our time.

3. Even though Yom Kippur is a day of heshbon hanefesh (self-examination), I find the multiple repetition of Al Het (“For the sin we have committed”) and the series of confessions a bit too much. Once is enough.

4. After acknowledging our limitation as humans, and that we are “of little merit,” we then need to stress our ability to overcome our daily challenges. To portray human beings as gnats is not helpful. How many times do we have to repeat that we are sinners? Shouldn’t we encourage people to use their inner strength to do good? Yom Kippur service tends to be a downer. I want people to leave uplifted, re-energized, hopeful. We should have more prayers, like the one entitled “We Rejoice” (p.320/1), that enable us to express our gratitude for what we have, reinforcing our ability to improve ourselves and our society.

5. The Afternoon and Neilah services on Yom Kippur are repetitious and boring. The Avodah service, which recalls the rituals of the ancient priests during the Day of Atonement at the Temple of Jerusalem, is totally irrelevant today. Instead, we should organize study sessions, and struggle with biblical, rabbinic or contemporary Jewish texts that contain insights into how we could change for the better.

6. Some of our prayers cannot or should not be uttered in these days, such as, “You are just, whatever befalls us” (p. 270). After the Holocaust, I cannot say that any more.

7. Sephardic Jews don’t recite the Unetane Tokef (“let us proclaim the sacred power of the day”), which is theologically questionable in our time, with all the primitive imagery it contains as it compares humans to sheep while going under the shepherd’s staff. Instead, we should read more great poetry, either by the famous Jewish-Spanish bards of the medieval times-at least they wrote sublime verses-, or those written in the modern period.

I realize that this proposal is quite drastic, but if we want to pray with integrity and conviction, we need to have the tools available to us on one of the holiest seasons of the Jewish calendar. Just think about it!

Rifat Sonsino

rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

RELIGION: A RATIONAL APPROACH

2010-09-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

Recently, the famous British mathematician and physicist, Steven Hawking announced in his new book, The Great Design, that the world’s appearance can be explained by the laws of physics and without any reference to a “benevolent creator who made the Universe for our benefit.” Some people are very upset by it, because, they believe, it contradicts the teachings of the Hebrew Bible on this subject. In reality, when Genesis speaks of “God created,” it really means “God brought some shape to it,” and it was only in the medieval period that the question of “creation out of nothing” became popular- but I digress.
I am not at all upset by Hawking’s assertions, and my God concept is not affected by it. As a religious naturalist, who assumes that the universe is energized and sustained by a divine power, I pay little attention to the question of how the universe came into being. I leave this discussion to the scientists. I do not believe in a personal God who cares for individuals, who is involved in history and who seems to operate as a capricious deity, responding to the whims of humanity. For me, the laws of nature reflect the workings of God, and I simply try to adjust my life to these laws.
Hawking is not alone in his position. There are many people in this world who are searching for a meaningful religious experience that is reasonable and rational, one that gives equal weight to the emotions and to the mind. I attempted to expound this way of thinking in my book, Six Jewish Spiritual Paths (Vermont: Jewish Lights, 2000) where prayer is viewed primarily as an introspective activity whose only role is to change the individual and not the world around him/her, where religious ritual is viewed as the primary means to establish personal discipline and to connect one to his/her community and tradition, unencumbered by the specific will of God as reflected in biblical or rabbinic laws (God , I am sure, has other tasks than worry about what I eat, drink or wear!), where religion ultimately means a search for meaning and purpose in life, leading to a high moral life in society.
A couple of weeks ago, Glenn Beck, in his “Restoring Honor Rally” in Washington, DC, asked people to return to God. By that he meant, the traditional theistic view of God. Well, he does not have the exclusive rights to the divinity. As a religious person, I too, invite people to return to God, but to a God concept which is in consonance with science and to a God who, as Einstein allegedly said, does not play dice with the universe. If you are such a person, especially now that we are about to embark on the Jewish High Holidays when religious feelings are at their highest, please join me in my religious quest, with a rational approach. And if you have an interest, please check out my detailed discussion in my book on Spirituality. You may like it.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

TWO WEDDINGS IN BARCELONA

2010-07-05T07:25:00.000-07:00

During the month of June, I went to Barcelona for the third year in a row in order to help out my small Reform congregation, Bet Shalom, with services and lectures, and to officiate at two weddings of temple members, both dear friends. We stayed about two weeks in this fascinating city.
The first wedding (she originally from Uruguay and he from Colombia) took place in one of the suburbs of Barcelona on a Sunday noon time at a luxurious restaurant/function hall. The weather was absolutely beautiful, dry, sunny and in the 70s. Friends of the couple had come to set up the Huppah the night before because the florist was unaccustomed to doing a Jewish wedding. However, they realized that the canopy could not be left alone overnight for fear that it would be destroyed by young people who usually come to the hall on Saturday nights. So, they took it down and set it up again the next morning at 8 am. The outdoor wedding ceremony was scheduled for 12 noon, but knowing Spain, I was sure it would start much later. To my surprise, the bride, in her late 20’s, arrived at 12. 15 pm; she emerged out a fancy car and walked down the aisle accompanied by her father. She looked radiant. The clergy (that is, the Cantor and I), the groom, 31, and the wedding party were already waiting under the Huppah.
Once the religious ceremony was completed, we all adjourned to the gardens for cocktails. For many people in attendance this was their first Reform Jewish ceremony. I received lots of complements from many Orthodox Jews who were present about the egalitarian nature of the Reform Jewish ritual. They specifically liked the fact that I used both Hebrew and Spanish during the liturgy. This wedding ceremony did wonders for my congregation because it proved to the Orthodox that our religious ceremonies are within the broad spectrum of traditional Judaism.
The cocktail hour lasted until about 3 pm, and then we were invited in for lunch. The food was outstanding, considering the fact that there were about 180 in attendance. In between meals, we had Israeli dancing and Latin music by a DJ. People went wild. Around 5 pm, not one but three consecutive desserts were served. Each table was then asked to make a toast for the groom and bride. The wedding cake showed up around 6 pm. Then a band of Mariachis came to entertain the crowd, surprising both the bride and the groom. (It was arranged by the groom’s parents). This was followed by more music, including rock’n’roll, American style. We did not leave the party until 9 pm. It was a long day but a beautiful one.
The second wedding took place the following Sunday late in the afternoon in one of Barcelona’s fancy mansions. The couple, in their 40’s, decided to have an extended cocktail with tapas following a religious ceremony in an open patio-garden. Again, the weather cooperated. For the majority of the guests this was their very first Jewish wedding. They were fascinated by the beauty of the ritual and by the tone of informality I created during the service. A jazz band entertained the guests, and a friend of the couple sang a few songs in English, but also one or two in Ladino. The bride and the groom exuded much happiness. The food was superb. We all took part in Israeli dancing and spent many hours talking to friends. I was approached by a lot of people who were curious about Judaism and Jewish wedding customs. I also answered questions regarding Israel and the Palestinians, and was delighted to find out that I was among people who were very supportive of Israel. This is note-worthy, because the Spanish tend to side with the Palestinians.
Just before I returned to Boston the local papers revealed that during the Second World War, General Franco ordered that a list of all Jews living in Spain be compiled, and this list of 6000 names were ultimately turned over to Himmler in Germany. This second wedding proved that Israel does have a few friends in Spain now, but could use lots more.
Rabbi Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

THE KIDNEY STONE AND MY GOOD FORTUNE

2010-06-02T06:18:00.000-07:00

There is a Jewish saying, “You have to have “Mazel”(“Good luck”) in life.” Sometimes when you are in the right place at the right time, good things happen; but also under the same circumstances terrible events may strike you unexpectedly. I experienced this two weeks ago when I had to pass a kidney stone.

It came out of the blue. While I was working on an article at home, I felt a sharp pain on my side that I could not shake off. I tried to walk; it did not go away. I tried to lie down; it would not subside. It would ease off a bit, and then come back with a fury. I was in a daze, not knowing what to do. Is this an emergency? Will it go away? I called my doctor but could not reach her. When the pain arrived again, in the third cycle, I said to my wife who, lucky for me, was at home at the moment to take me to the local hospital because I could not bear the pain anymore. Within a few minutes, the ambulance came, and they wheeled me into the emergency room.

There my luck worked like a charm. One of the attending nurses asked me, “Are you Rabbi Sonsino from Needham?” “Yes,” I said, “I lived in Needham for 25 years.” He added, “Then you must be the father of Deborah Seri who tutored my son; she did such a great job!” Subsequently, when another nurse identified herself as a student at Boston College, where I teach, I could not believe my fortune, knowing that I would be well taken care of by two professionals who had some personal connection to me.

My pain continued. They gave me morphine to help me out. I started to invoke all the deities I knew, from the Babylonian Marduk down, to no avail. Not that I really expected any assistance, anyway. Nature has to take its course. (The Rabbis teach, “don’t depend on a miracle”). After a cat scan, it was confirmed that I did in fact have a kidney stone that was going down through the tubes in my body and two more that were lodged in the kidneys. After sedating me a bit more, they sent me home with their good wishes that I pass the stone soon. To my surprise and pleasure I passed the stone the next morning without much fanfare, and returned to life as if nothing had happened. One of my colleagues later on reminded me (facetiously, of course) that this was the real meaning of the Hebrew expression "gam ze yaavor" (“This too shall pass”)!(The doctors will “zap” the other two soon).

That day I realized for certain that I need to give thanks to God for my good fortune, for every healthy day I have, and to try to enjoy life to the fullest, because you never know what the day will bring.

Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

BEING AN ADVISOR

2010-05-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

With life experience one develops a wider perspective on many issues. You have been there, you have done that, and now you should be ready to share it with others. It is a truly noble attitude and generous commitment. However, the advice must be genuine and disinterested. It should also inspire conduct.
It is beneficial to heed people with experience, whether they are above you or beneath you, for wisdom can be found in any age. According to the Rabbis even God took counsel with the angels when God decided to create the first human being: “Let us create man” (Gen. 1:2).
I have a friend who was very successful in business and decided to become an advisor after his own retirement. He sits with an executive of the company, looks at the operation of the institution, and gives him/her free recommendation as to how things ought to be handled in order to produce better results. But not everyone pays attention to good counsel.
In the Bible, after the death of King Solomon, his son, King Rehoboam faced a rebellion by the northern tribes. They told him, if you ease our burden we will serve you well, if not, we will part company. Rehoboam first consulted with his senior advisors who told him to go easy on the northerners, whereas the younger counselors suggested that he needs to stand up and show them who the real king is.Rehoboam ignored the old and preferred the young. The northerners did not like Rehoboam’s response, seceded and set up their own Kingdom of Israel in the north.
In the rabbinic period, the Sages, having deposed Rabbi Gamaliel II, nominated Rabbi Eleazar b. Azariah (2nd cent. CE) to become the new head of the Sanhedrin. Before accepting the offer, however, he said he needed to consult with his wife; she told him not to take the position but he ignored her advice, and ended up keeping his new post just a short while.
It is exhilarating when your recommendations are welcome and they bring good results. On the other hand, it is frustrating when you give your best advice but the advisee ignores your counsel. There is no way to force him/her to accept your word. Thus you see failure in front of your eyes, when it could have been success. But, as the old saying goes, “you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.” You end up saying to yourself, why don’t they just listen to experience?
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

SELF-RELIANCE

2010-05-11T06:28:00.000-07:00

As far back as I can remember, my mother, of blessed memory, used to drill into my head the notion that I needed to be my own boss. “Don’t depend on others,” she used to say. “People are fickle,” and then added, “they always follow their own interests.” Her attitude was colored by my father’s sad experience as an official of the Jewish community in Istanbul, Turkey where he worked as the executive secretary of the Chief Rabbinate. In his position, he had to depend on the will and wish of other board members to carry out any program for what my mother considered a meager salary.

There is no doubt that it is better to stand on one’s feet and forge your own destiny. You don’t have to rely on other people to pursue your personal plans, or deal with the whims of individuals who at times can play games with your life. If you succeed, you are entitled to glory; if you fail, you cannot blame anyone else but you. Besides, all acknowledge that your own needs come first. If you cannot meet them adequately, you cannot be helpful to others. Doesn’t the flight attendant tell all the passengers, “In case of an emergency, please place the oxygen mask on your face and then put it on the face of your child?” An older Jewish sage seems to have echoed this instruction when he stated, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” Another one wrote, “when a person eats at his own table, his mind is at ease” (Avot d’Rabbi Natan, 30). In other words, it is better to rely on your own resources than to depend on the charity of others, including your children.

So, for many years, I followed my mother’s advice, and tried to be as independent as possible. Years later, when I started to get tired of being the number-two Rabbi in my previous synagogue, I looked for a temple where I would be the only or senior Rabbi, only to find out that I now had 1500 bosses!

That realization made me re-think whether being your boss is at all possible in life. In our interaction with others, we all depend on other people’s good will to accomplish anything of value. An old Rabbinic Midrash states, “There is no barber that cuts his own hair” (Lev. R. 14: 9). Instead of acting on our own, I believe, we are better off working cooperatively with others. Do you think the President of the United States, the most powerful person on earth, can function alone? He, too, needs to listen to his advisors, and, at times, even work with adversaries in order to bring to fruition any kind of plan. It is good to have confidence on one’s ability; it is praiseworthy to come up with good ideas and show leadership in our line of work, but nothing will occur if we do not find reliable individuals who will help us succeed. Who is fortunate? He who finds a good advisor who is also a dependable friend. I have found such people, and I am blessed.

Rifat Sonsino

rsonsino@tbhsneedham.org

MY CONGREGATION IN BARCELONA

2010-04-29T06:02:00.000-07:00

For the last two years I have been helping out a small Reform congregation in Barcelona, Spain with its religious services and educational programs. They have been in existence only four years, but have made tremendous progress in the face of great difficulties.

Splitting from a fifteen-year old liberal congregation called Atid, the leaders of the new group, called Bet Shalom, set up a house of worship in what can best be described as a large garage in Gracia, a lovely Barcelona neighborhood. They number about 40-60 people but are highly enthusiastic. They do not have a full-time Rabbi, nor can they afford one.

I found them on line when I read a blurb about their existence. The fact that I speak Spanish was of great advantage to them. Not only did they welcome my help but also invited me to visit them. So, in 2008, Ines and I spent the month of June in Barcelona leading services, offering adult education classes and participating in a religious dialogue with the city’s non-Jewish clergy. Also, I was able to bring them a Torah Scroll (generously donated by Temple Beth Israel of Sharon, PA). I even did a wedding and converted six of their members to Judaism, using the nudist beach as the Mikvah.

Their dedication and hard work are note-worthy. They attract young people in search of a liberal understanding of Judaism. In their crammed little space, they meet regularly every Shabbat evening, and, following lay led-services, serve an elaborate Shabbat meal for everyone in attendance. They also offer adult education programs and Introduction to Judaism classes for prospective converts. Impressed by their enthusiasm, I decided to help them out even further. So, last summer, during the month of June 2009, Ines and I returned to Barcelona for fifteen days to lead services, teach classes and broaden their scope of contacts with many liberal Jewish institutions around the world.

So far, 2010 has been a year of great accomplishments for Bet Shalom. Through the efforts of my colleague, Rabbi James Glazier (who spend a few months with them last year), my personal contacts, and their own list of accomplishments, the congregation has been formally admitted into membership by the European Region of the World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ). Furthermore, a number of their prospective converts underwent a formal Giyyur (conversion) under the auspices of the European Bet Din of the WUPJ. One of the congregants, Dr. Felipe Ojeda, a prominent surgeon trained by me in Jewish law and customs, was recently certified as the first Reform Mohel in Spain by the Berit Mila Program of Reform Judaism -the first ever in Spain!

This coming June (2010), Ines and I plan to make our third trip to Barcelona. I expect to do all the rabbinic work as previously, plus I am looking forward to officiating at the wedding of two of their leaders. Now the congregation is at a point where they could use the services of a rabbi, perhaps on a part-time basis, who will come in periodically to lead them in their mission. I cannot continue to do this work far away from the States.

Who will it be?

Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D.

TRANSLITERATING HEBREW; THE SILLY “CH”

2010-04-06T07:12:00.000-07:00

This past week, in a class dealing with Jewish weddings, one of my students at Boston College was reading an English text that included the Hebrew word huppah (pronounced as “hoopah” meaning, “[wedding] canopy”). He innocently pronounced it as “tchoopah” because the transliteration in front of him had “chuppah.” I smiled and corrected him. He is not alone. Most Americans, upon seeing the letters “ch”, pronounce it as “tch” like “Churchill” or “charity.” That is why I find the rendition of the Hebrew letter het (ח) as “ch” absolutely silly!

Hebrew is a west-Semitic language, which contains a number of letters that cannot easily be transliterated for lack of equivalencies. To resolve this problem, many systems have been devised to reproduce as close as possible the sound of Hebrew letters into English or other European languages. Among them the one created by the Society of Biblical Literature or the Academy of the Hebrew Language is well known to scholars and popular writers; none of them, however, is adequate or totally correct. They are often cumbersome and not always user-friendly.

Today, most Jews, unless they are of Arabic speaking countries, do not pronounce the letter het, a strong guttural coming from the back of the throat, differently from any another hard “h” like the English “hot” or “Humphrey.” Its sound would be close to the German “ch” as in “buch” [pronounced as “booh, meaning “book”] or “Achtung” [pronounced as “ahtoong, meaning “attention”), and in Spanish, like the “j” in Juan.”

Many American publications follow the German method, and transliterate het as “ch.” But this method often ends up being funny for a western reader. For example, the Hebrew/Yiddish word for “friends/company” is hevre, and is often romanized as “chèvre;” but that means “goat” in French. The Hebrew word for “festival” is hag, but it is usually transliterated as “Chag;” this sounds like the song my granddaughter, almost three, sings, “Toot toot chugga chugga big red car.” The Hebrew hai means “life” but when rendered as “chai” it reminds me of “Çay”[pronounced as "tchai"], a Turkish word meaning “tea.” Recently, in a discussion about Jewish circumcision, one of my students kept saying “tchi-toosch,” until I realized that he meant hittukh (meaning, “cutting”), because the text he had in his hand read “chituch.” I don’t think you can say with a straight face “chidush” for the Hebrew word hiddush (“novelty”). This is absurd.

So, I am, once again, starting a campaign to drop the silly “ch” from the system of transliteration. I tried before but was not able to get the attention of key people in the publishing industry. Using “h” for the letter het may not be the best solution but at least an American reader will be able to read it closer to the way in which it is pronounced by a Hebrew speaking person today. In my work, I render the letter "het" as "h" and the latter "kaf'/khaf" as "kh." Hence, for instance, I prefer Hanukah to “Chanukah” (it is not ‘tcha-nukah); hayyim (“life”) to "chayyim,” "barukh" to "baruch,"or hasid (“pious”) to “chasid.”

Hopefully, I made my point. Please drop the silly “ch!”

Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

RESPECT FOR TEACHERS

2010-03-18T08:16:00.000-07:00

At Boston College I am usually called, “Professor” or “Rabbi.” (Once, I was even called “Father”--Well, I teach in a Catholic College!). However, recently, one of my students wrote me an email addressing me as “Hey.” In another case, a student sent me a note that began with “Dear Rifat.” I was surprised and taken aback. Who are these bad-mannered individuals who dare to address a teacher “Hey” of by his first name? What kind of an upbringing did they have from their parents and other adults? Newspapers often report on how some students disrespect their instructors in the public schools. There is even as association called National Association for Prevention of Teacher Abuse (NAPTA); that is, for abuse by students.

I grew up in a community that demanded high respect for elders and teachers. When I was in High School in Istanbul, we used to stand up when the teacher walked into the classroom. Even in Law School, when the professor entered the lecture hall, the entire class stood on its feet. We never addressed our teachers by their first name. Later on, when I was at the rabbinic seminary and then at my graduate school, we always called our professors by their title. Even now, after so many years, I still call my former teachers, some of whom are my age and a few younger than me, by their academic titles; never by their first name. That does not mean that I liked or loved all my instructors. In fact, some I did not care for, others I feared, and a few I could not stand. But there were others, maybe five or six, who had tremendous influence in my life, and I am who I am because of them. But I always treated all my mentors with respect. That is what I was taught.

Rabbinic literature urges every individual to find a mentor: “Get yourself a teacher” (Avot 1:6). “Revere your teacher as you revere Heaven,” says another source (Avot: 4:15 end). Ancient Rabbis place a teacher on a higher plane than a parent. Thus, they argue, if one finds a lost article belonging to a parent and another to a teacher, the teacher’s article must be returned first” (BM 33a). Though the honor due a teacher is a given in rabbinic literature, the sages also state that the teacher needs to earn this trust and respect: “Let the honor of your disciple be as dear to you as your own,” states one Rabbi (Avot: 4: 15a).

As a teacher I try to emulate the best of my mentors, because I realize that by teaching I am also molding my students’ character. What a high responsibility! I hope you too will always remember your favorite teachers, and bless their name every day.

Rifat Sonsino

FACEBOOK AND OTHERS

2010-03-02T07:14:00.000-08:00

Many people have asked me, “How come you are on Facebook?” “Aren’t you afraid of giving important information about your private life to the world at large?” Here is my answer: I had no intention of getting into Facebook until the leadership of the Central Conference of American Rabbis (Reform) began to use it in order to give out a few details about last year’s national convention in Israel. If I wanted to know what was happening at these meetings, I had to go to Facebook. I did, and stayed. Similarly, I signed up for Twitter in order to find out what was going on during the popular uprising in Tehran last year. It was uncensored, immediate and heart-wrenching. (I no longer spend much time in Twitter unless there is a major event around the world). I also use Skype to communicate with my friends and family in Spain, Israel, Turkey and Argentina.

A social network such as Facebook comes handy because it allows me to connect with people I care but live far away from me. (I live in the Boston area). That is how I learned about the birth of my cousin’s twins in New York; that is how I comment on aspects of Jewish life to my friends in Barcelona; that is how I respond to queries raised to me from Buenos Aires; that is how I touch base with my Law School friends in Istanbul and Luxemburg. It is quick, personal and effective.

In the biblical world, and until recently, friends and family members lived in the same neighborhood for a long time. People rarely moved- if ever- unless forced by nature or enemies. When the Bible states, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Lev. 19:18), or when Ben Sira writes, “Help your neighbor according to your ability” (29:20), the reference, I believe, is to your next-door friend, or at least, to the member of the same community. It does not mean to your fellow human being. That interpretation came much later when the world got larger through travel, relocation or migration. That is where we are today.

Most of us move constantly from one place to another, willingly or by necessity. In my professional career I have already relocated at least six times, not to mention a move from Istanbul to Cincinnati, or Buenos Aires to Philadelphia. Only one of my high school friends lives in Turkey now. Just a few of my classmates from Law School have remained in Istanbul. Every single colleague from my seminary days in Cincinnati, OH or graduate school in Philadelphia, PA has moved away, and can be found in different parts of the world. How do you keep in touch with them? If keeping bonds are important to you-as they are to me-you have no other choice but to sign up for a social network to renew and maintain long standing friendships. Just don’t give out your social security number.
Rifat Sonsino

ALMOST JOBLESS

2010-02-14T11:17:00.000-08:00

I have been teaching at Boston College for the last ten years on a part-time basis, two electives in the Fall and two electives in the Spring semester, and I love it. Even while working as a congregational rabbi, I was on the faculty of BC, and after my retirement in 2003, I devoted more time and energy to my teaching. It kept my mind alert and, twice a week, it gave me something to look forward. This Fall, however, I faced a challenge unlike any other. Because of budget restrictions, the College began to review its policy with regard to electives taught by non-tenured professors like me, and I feared my position would be cut.

For a few weeks I contemplated the possibility that I may not be able to teach again. At age 71, I don’t want to work full time, nor do I need it financially. In the past, as a synagogue Rabbi, I counseled many people who had lost jobs, and now, for the first time in my life, I faced the same issue. I asked myself, what will I do every day? How will I keep myself busy? Am I still useful to others? One of my grand-daughters facetiously suggested that I could work at Trader Joe’s. Someone else wanted me to volunteer at a local library. Finally, the dénouement occurred two weeks ago when the chair of my department, with the recommendation of the curriculum committee, asked me to teach Judaica subjects again next year, though one elective less and not all the biblical subjects I loved to cover. Well, c’est la vie! It is better than nothing.

This mini crisis made me think about the countless people who lose their positions and become unemployed every year. How do they pay the monthly bills? How do they fill up their days? How do they deal with rejection and bad luck? It is clear to me that, even though our jobs do not define or describe us, they do give us some structure, and often help create purpose and meaning in our lives. “When you eat the labor of your hands, happy shall you be” says the Psalmist (Ps. 128:2). The ancient Rabbis knew this well too. Work, they taught, confers “honor” to the worker (Ned. 49b). Though some sages argued that the burden of worldly occupation is removed from those who are engaged in Torah (cf. Num. R. Hukkat, 19/26), others more realistically added that the study of Torah has to be accompanied by “derekh eretz” (worldly occupations) (M Avot 2/2; cf. 3/21).

The lesson for a retired person like me is this: continue to work as long as your health allows; try to find satisfaction in your daily profession; be useful to yourself and others, and, just in case, develop other hobbies to keep your mind alert.
Maybe it is time to pick up the old violin again!

Rifat Sonsino

MY RECENT VISIT TO BUENOS AIRES

2010-02-05T05:50:00.000-08:00

During the first half of January my wife, Ines, and I visited Buenos Aires, my wife’s birth place. I had spent three years there, from 1966-1969, as the Rabbi of a nascent Reform Congregation named Emanuel. The last time we were in Argentina was thirteen years ago. Our primary purpose now was to visit family, not to do tourism. The weather was great (it is summer there), much better than the cold and snowy days we left behind.

We found Buenos Aires much changed. It is now a sprawling capital of about 13 million people (out of 36 million in the whole country). Areas we used to consider as fancy are no longer so. For example, Harrods, a large department store downtown on Florida Str. is closed, and the street, no longer open to automobile traffic, is less glamorous. Similarly, the old theatre in the touristic Boca section does not exist, though people still dance the tango in the local cafes located in the small plaza.

Buenos Aires always boasted of delicious food. This is still the case. The “asados” (different cuts of grilled meat) are delicious. The restaurants in the Costanera are doing brisk business serving regulars and tourists. There is a new development called Puerto Madero, which is modern, fancy and attractive. Built on both sides of the Rio de la Plata, it offers the best culinary delights of the city. The new museums, Portabas and Malba, contain some of the most attractive exhibits. (We saw a wonderful display of Andy Warhol paintings). The country still has financial problems. During our stay the US imposed a financial embargo on the Argentinean Federal Bank, but lifted it within a week. The president of the country and the vice-president don’t talk to one another. Food and transportation are less expensive than Boston, but clothing and electronics cost more.

The Jewish community is smaller than my time. It is estimated that there are about 180,000 Jews now in Argentina, with the majority living in the capital. (When I was there, the number was about 250,000). Because of anti-Semitism in the 70’s, some Jews left for Spain, Venezuela or Israel. However, a new structure is emerging that is worthy of note. My colleague Rabbi Sergio Bergman, one of my successors in Emanuel, has created a Jewish Foundation to which three liberal congregations belong, along with a private Jewish school that is highly regarded in the community.
Ines and I attended a Friday night service at NCI-Emanuel synagogue and were very moved by the Sabbath spirit that was created through song and prayer. But the orientation is much more traditional than my time.

Traveling to Buenos Aires on Aerolineas Argentinas was easy and fun, but the return to the States was horrible; repeated schedule changes, alleged mechanical problems etc. We finally managed to leave a day early and spent a delightful sunny day in Miami Beach. It was wonderful to go and visit, but also great to come back.
Rifat Sonsino

INTERDEPENDENCE

2010-01-22T06:30:00.000-08:00

INTERDEPENDENCE
Modern technology has made the world much smaller. IPhones, Facebook, Twitter, instant messengers and other devises enable people to connect with one another around the globe right away. Recently, using Skype, I taught a class from my home in the Boston area, and was able to discuss issues with my students in Barcelona, Spain with great ease. During the last demonstrations in Tehran, the capital of Iran, I followed the developments through Twitter. It was much faster than getting the breaking news from CNN. I guess this is one of the reasons why we no longer write formal letters to each other. It is much easier to send an email. It is instantaneous and pretty efficient

Not only is the world getting smaller but we are now more than ever before linked to one another. In a recent interview with Newsweek, former President Clinton said, “This [is] the most interdependent age in human history” (Dec. 28, 2009). Globalism and international trade relations obligate each nation to rely on other countries. Gone is the day when one State can dominate the world. Even super powers are dependent on others for basic commodities.

Though there is nothing new in this observation, I wonder if this trend makes the study of Kabbalah more appealing to many people in our time. It is known that Kabbalah is going mainstream; many Kabbalah centers are now opening up in many cities, including for youngsters; and not only for Jews but for Gentiles as well. (For example, Madonna, Britney Spears, Demi Moore, Mick Jagger and others).

It is known that Jewish mysticism’s central idea is that all human beings, and, in fact, the entire universe, material and spiritual, is interlinked. “Everything is organically, seamlessly joined to everything else,” writes Rabbi Larry Kushner, a Kabbalah devotee. I am not so sure about our impact on the realm of the spirit, but I am convinced that what I do, whether good or bad, can impact on another human being. This realization places a higher responsibility on each of us. The lesson is: “that which is hateful to you, do not do to others.” But this is not a new lesson. It was already proclaimed by the first century Jewish sage, Hillel the Elder (See Talmud, Shab. 31a; Mt. 7: 12). It is still good in our days.
Rifat Sonsino

LIVING WITH TWO CALENDARS

2010-01-05T07:35:00.000-08:00

“Whoever controls the calendar controls society.” That was the gist of the lesson that one of my history professors once taught us in years past. It was an insight that opened my eyes and has influenced my thinking ever since.

In the Western world, Jews live with two calendars: A secular calendar that starts in January and a religious calendar that begins around the months of September or October. The little pocket diary I use, follows the Hebrew calendar, so I go from September to September. This is not only a calendar issue; it is a mind set. Broadly speaking, in September/October I look forward to the High Holidays; my next goal is Hanukah (around December); then comes Purim (around Feb/March); and that bring me to Passover (March/April) and finally to Shavuot in May/June.

Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan (d. 1983), the founder of the Reconstructionist movement in Judaism, taught that Jews live in two civilizations simultaneously. In the Diaspora, living in a non-Jewish environment, most Jews function by the secular calendar and our religious calendar becomes at best secondary in our mind set. Things apparently are not too different in Israel where the Hebrew calendar dominates. A recent survey shows that 69% of Israelis have no problem living by the western calendar but they prefer that the government does not pay for its implementation.

Conflicts around the calendar abound in Jewish history. In the early biblical period, the solar calendar was replaced by a lunar-solar calendar. In the 10th cent. BCE, when king Jeroboam I seceded from the southern kingdom of Judah and set up the Kingdom of Israel in the north, he appears to have created a new calendar that was in opposition to the Judean calendar(Cf. I K 12: 32-33). After the Israelites returned from the Exile in the 6th cent. BCE, they brought with them a new calendar that began counting the months in the springtime, as did the Babylonians of their time. They even named the months after Babylonian gods (Nissan, Tammuz, Tishri etc). In the 2nd cent. BCE, during the sectarian conflicts that plagued the Jewish community of Judea, a group led by someone called “The Teacher of Righteousness” claimed that he had a major fight with the “Wicked Priest” (most likely Jonathan, the high priest and brother of Judah the Maccabee). As a result of this confrontation, the group withdrew to the Dead Sea area and, following the old solar calendar, created its own Jewish discipline as reflected in many of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Book of Jubilees.

Today most Jews live by the rabbinic calendar that was finalized around the 4th cent. CE. However, many Reform Jews in the US, follow the Biblical calendar, and celebrate, for example, 7 days of Passover instead of 8 days as dictated by the rabbinic calendar for the Diaspora. Thus, on the 8th day of the holiday, I, as most Reform Jews, am already eating bread, while my Conservative and Orthodox coreligionists are still munching on Matzah.

In the western hemisphere, we function by the Gregorian calendar (set up in the 16th cent. CE), and celebrate January as the first month of the year, even though the month is named after the Roman god, Janus who was the god of doors and gateways. So, in the Jewish community, we too wear another hat, and, on December 31, wish each other, “Happy New Year.” May it bring peace and contentment to all of us.

Looking forward Purim, I am,

Rifat Sonsino

A HANUKAH CONTROVERSY

2009-12-13T06:26:00.000-08:00

It is customary to light eight candles during the Jewish festival of Hanukah, one per night. The question is this: In which order should they be lit? On this issue two famous rabbinic schools of the first century CE disagreed. We read in the Talmud: “Beth Shammai maintains: On the first night eight lights are lit and thereafter they are gradually reduced. However, Beth Hillel says: On the first night one is lit and thereafter they are progressively increased” (BT Shab. 21b).

What is Shammai’s justification? They argue that the candle lighting should correspond to the sacrifices offered during the festival of Sukkot with one less each day (cf. Num. 29). The school of Hillel, however, argues that in matters of holiness we must increase and not reduce.

The difference between the two schools has to do with the way in which each views the festival. Shammai considers the whole picture, whereas Hillel wants to emphasize the potential, the ever-increasing power of the mind, of the human will, of God’s blessings. Today, Jewish communities around the world follow the pattern of Hillel. We, therefore, add one more candle each night to the Hanukah Menorah, called, Hanukiyah.

Hillel’s message makes sense to me. When it comes to questions of religion and spirituality, we need to take things one step at a time. Ultimately faith, which is certainty of one’s convictions, requires a leap of faith. For, we are all fallible. However, as we absorb more knowledge about the universe and as we engage in a variety of spiritual exercises, our sensitivity increases, and with that comes a deepening sense of sanctity and wonder for all existence.

The adding of the candles reminds us that religious conscientiousness is broadened slowly. We build one block upon the other. At times, we stumble, we are burdened with questions, we struggle with doubts and with answers that do not satisfy the mind. But, with faith based on a positive attitude, we plug along, and discover glimpses of lights here and there, finding deeper meaning and purpose in our existential condition that we never knew existed before. And that spells human growth.

Rifat Sonsino

HOW HAVE THE MIGHTY FALLEN?

2009-12-02T07:26:00.000-08:00

It seems as if every time we get a newspaper or listen to the news on TV, we learn that another American soldier has been killed in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Their families are devastated, loved ones mourn in profound grief, and we, as a nation, suffer deep pain. We recall the words of King David, “How Have the Might Fallen?” (II Sam. 1: 25), words he allegedly wrote in reference to his beloved friend Jonathan and his father, King Saul, who had died in battle against the Philistines.

In our days, we have just started to learn how appreciate the sanctity of human life, and therefore are capable of sharing the agony of every family member who looses a son or a daughter in war. This is the reason why on Oct. 29, 2009 President Obama flew before dawn to the Dover Air Force Base in Delaware to welcome the 18 Afghan war soldiers who died recently. It is also the reason why Israel is agonizing as it tries to obtain the freedom of one single Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit, who had been abducted by Hamas on June 25, 2006 during a cross border raid, even if it means releasing hundreds of Arab murderess from Israeli jails. Human life counts.

By comparison, a cursory survey of past wars presents such a dismal image of human loss that it is utterly unimaginable for many of us now. Just look at these figures: During our Revolutionary War, 4435 soldiers died, and 6188 were wounded. During the Civil war, the number dramatically went up, for both North and South, to 191,963 dead and 354,805 wounded. At the end of the World War II, they have counted 291,557 US dead with 671,846 wounded. These numbers are beyond belief, but still not as bad as what happened to the rest of the world. It is estimated that between 50 to 70 million people died during this war, with the USSR losing around 26 million, Germany between 6 to 8 million, and Jews alone 6 million.

Some of these atrocities are attributable to some individuals or governments. Stalin alone was responsible for the dead of 17 million of his compatriots in the Soviet Union, and the Chinese cultural revolution of 1965-1968 caused the lives of about 30 million. In our time, starting in April 1994, and for the following 100 days, about 800,000 Tutsis were murdered by Hutu militias. These numbers are unfathomable. It is beyond comprehension in any civilized society.

Ancient Rabbis proclaimed the sanctity of every human being, and declared that “if a man causes the death of a single human being, Scripture imputes it to him as though he had caused a whole world to perish.” And, conversely, “when a person saves another one, Scriptures imputes to him as though he had saved a whole world” (M Sanh. 4: 5). Every human being, I maintain, is sacred, and deserves to be treated as such. No one has the right to take another person’s life, unless it is in self-defense or to stop the carnage caused by this individual. And that includes, the death penalty imposed by governments. Life is sacred and a gift from God. When will we learn this lesson, and internalize it so that it becomes part of our nature? I don’t think we are there yet. Maybe, some day.
Rifat Sonsino

HOW FREE ARE WE?

2009-11-20T07:14:00.000-08:00

Many of us grew up with the belief that we are free to do whatever we want. The sky is the limit, we are told. Yet, others maintain that God, being omniscient, determines everything. All we do is follow our fate. This is not a new issue. It has been debated by philosophers for centuries. And it is not going to go away, because we confront it everyday.
What is the Jewish position on this puzzling question? In many parts of the Bible, the hand of God can be seen not only in miraculous interventions (like, the parting of the Reed Sea) but also in ordinary life experiences. Take for instance the case of Joseph: the brothers may have had a scheme in mind when they sold him to others, but it was ultimately God that had a different pre-ordained plan for him. Joseph is only a tool in God’s hands; he is to become a life saver: “Do not be distressed or reproach yourselves,” Joseph says to his brothers in Egypt, “because you sold me here; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you” (Gen. 45: 5). Here is another example: God “hardens the heart of the Pharaoh” (e.g., Ex. 10: 1), and then punishes him for the king’s evil acts. It is not fair! If God knows ahead of time what we will do, thus controlling our actions, how can we be free to do good or not, and, therefore, be responsible?
The Bible does not deal with this philosophical question systematically. On the one hand it states: “I have set before you life and prosperity, death and adversity” (Deut. 30: 15), yet, on the other, it maintains that “Many designs are in a man’s mind; But it the Lord’s plan that is accomplished” (Prov. 19: 21).
The matter became of greater concern for the early Rabbis and medieval Jewish philosophers. Some Rabbis have recognized the dilemma but left it unsolved: Thus, in the 2nd cent. CE, Rabbi Akiba taught: “All is foreseen but freedom of choice is given” (Avot 3: 19). In medieval times Crescas argued that God has total foreknowledge and therefore humans are not free. Gersonides maintained the opposite: we have some freedom; this is because God only knows things in general, not in their particularity. Maimonides compromised by saying that, everything is produced by a cause, and, consequently, God is ultimately responsible for our actions. So, when we do something, we imagine that we are doing it freely, without realizing that these acts are the workings of the divine providence, which is unknown to the human mind.
Maybe Maimonides is right. We do not fully understand how the world operates, and we act with the assumption that we have free will. In reality, I maintain, our freedom is very limited. At this very moment, I would love to be in Hawaii lounging by the beach, but I cannot be there, because of my family and professional commitments here and now. Similarly, I would love to be able to play the violin like Yitzhak Perlman but I cannot, simply because I do not have his talent.
So, I say, we do have some freedom: I can opt to give to this charity instead of that one; I can go to a lecture or to a movie; I can sign up for this course or another; I can decide to invest in this stock or the other one; but beside these mundane options, our freedom is rather limited by our biology and conscience. But there is plenty in that area to keep us busy and fulfilled. Also don’t forget that no amount of planning will ever replace dumb luck!
Rifat Sonsino
Nov. 20, 2009

HOW I GOT TO KNOW PROF. GERSHOM SCHOLEM

2009-11-05T07:14:00.000-08:00

Gershom Scholem was the founder of the modern academic studies of Jewish Mysticism, Kabbalah. Born in Berlin in 1897, he studied philosophy and Hebrew at the University of Berlin. In 1923 he left for Palestine and became the head of the department of Hebrew and Judaica at the National Library. Subsequently he taught at the Hebrew University until his retirement in 1965. He died in 1982 in Jerusalem at the age of 85.
His writings on Jewish mysticism set the pattern for the study of Kabbalah from a critical and historical perspective. Among his most important books are, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, On Kabbalah and its Symbolism, Sabbatai Zevi; The Mystical Messiah; The Messianic Idea in Judaism. The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber once remarked, "All of us have students, schools, but only Gershom Scholem has created a whole academic discipline!"

When I was a rabbinic student at the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, Ohio, Dr. Scholem came to the College to do research on Kabbalah. He remained in residence just a short time, from March to May of 1966. In the 60’s Jewish mysticism was not an academic subject for which many of us would have signed up. Rationalism dominated the rabbinic curriculum. Consequently, I never had Dr. Scholem as a teacher but his room was adjacent to mine in the dormitory. Being a neighbor, I saw him often in the hall, library or the dining room. Once in a while, especially on a Saturday night, if I did not have something special to do, I would knock at his door, and ask him if he wanted to go out. He was by himself and not always socially busy. So, on a number of occasions we would hit a movie or get a cup of coffee at a local diner.

Dr. Scholem was a very formal individual, always wearing tie and jacket, even when we went to see a show. He was a stern man with a dry sense of humor. He spoke English well, though with a strong German accent. With me, he was friendly and cordial. I don’t remember what we talked about during our outings. But one thing is sure: I had no idea then that I was in the company of one of the most insightful scholars of our generation. It was only later on, when I started to read about Jewish mysticism that I realized how lucky I was to have spent quality time with Prof. Scholem. I wish I knew then what I know now, and could have asked him so many questions that still puzzle me about Kabbalah, but I will have to contend myself with a few wonderful memories I have of him. Well, c’est la vie!

Rifat Sonsino

LIEUTENANT RIFAT

2009-10-13T08:07:00.000-07:00

For a year and a half I served in the Turkish army, and I consider it one of the great experiences of my life.
In my days, being in the army was not voluntary. Every male was drafted either as an ordinary soldier or, if you had a college degree, as an officer. In my case, after I got my law degree from the University of Istanbul in June, 1959, I was sent to a military school in Ankara, the capital of Turkey, as an officer-in-training. I remained there for six months, and assigned to the tank corps. My studies at the academy included strategy, use of firearms as well as boring practices, such as learning how to salute an officer--an exercise that took a whole week! But, being a college grad, I was also given an opportunity to teach classes to soldiers. The subject, if I remember correctly, was Turkish history.
After graduation as a second-lieutenant, I was sent to Babaeski, a small village near the Greek border, and was assigned to the repair shop, an assignment which surprised me, because I knew nothing about repairing a tank. But soon I learned that my responsibility was only to administer the shop, something I could handle easily. I was also given five tanks under my command, and often participated in military exercises in full gear.
I did not live in the military compound, but had rented a room in the only hotel in town. Every morning my Kurdish driver would pick me up and take me to my office. There I made charts, created inventories, recorded the number of tanks that came in for repair etc.
As an ally of the US, we had a number of American personnel who stayed at my hotel, including two sergeants who knew how to fix our USA-made tanks. Once in a while, I interacted with them and practiced my English, but they got drunk so often that my contacts were useless.
In May, 1960, there was a military coup in Turkey, and my brigade commander was one of the instigators. We were ordered to march to Istanbul to take over the main radio station. At dawn I got up, and showed up at my unit ready to launch the invasion. My five tanks were on their way to the city when a jeep showed up next to my lead tank, and the officer on the vehicle ordered me to see the general right away. He told me, “I understand you have a law degree. Correct?” “Yes, my general,” I responded. He then said: “Go back and report to the military court.” I could not believe my luck! I wasn’t going to do any fighting but instead take over the military jail. Thus, I served a whole a year in Babaeski, making sure the prisoners were kept in place and safe. Once in a while, because of my knowledge of rudimentary English, I also functioned as an interpreter to a few American generals. As a Jew, I experienced no anti-Semitism and no antagonism from others, perhaps a bit of jealousy because I was in an enviable position of power.
My military service ended in December of 1960. I was discharged honorably without much ceremony. I took a bus and returned home to Istanbul, ready to leave for Paris, France within a few weeks.
The reason why I consider my military experience of such importance in my personal growth is that, unlike American kids who go away for summer camps, attend a semester-abroad during college, or travel in and out of the country, the military service in Turkey was then the first opportunity many of us had to leave the security of home, and learn how to become independent. It was in the Turkish army, with its discipline, respect for rank and its structured life that I learned how to fend for myself, depending only on my own wits, a lesson that came in handy many times in my life.
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

GOD DOES NOT NEED A NAME

2009-10-01T06:36:00.000-07:00

In Mishkan T’filah, the new prayerbook published by the Reform Jewish movement in the US (CCAR, 2007), God is often addressed in English prayers as Adonai, such as, “Praise to You, Adonai, who sanctifies Shabbat.” I am uncomfortable with this practice, for the simple reason that Adonai is not God’s personal name. I would add that even if we knew God’s real name, it would not be appropriate to address God by using a proper name, for God is incapable of being expressed in words, let alone with a personal name.

Jewish classical texts contain various names for God, but the only one that can be considered as God’s personal name in the Hebrew Bible is YHVH (from the verbal root hvh, an older form of hyh, meaning “to be”), which can be translated as “[God] is;” or, “[God] is present,” or, even “[God] causes to be.” It is found in the Bible more than 6800 times, and was uttered by the priests in the Temple of Jerusalem only during certain occasions. In time, its pronunciation was lost and the Rabbis substituted for it the name Adonai (which means, “My Master”). They taught, “Not as I am written, am I pronounced. I am written YHVH, but I am pronounced Adonai.” So, Adonai is NOT God’s personal name; only YHVH is, and we do not even know how to say it.

In the past, gods had multiple names. Marduk, the national god of Babylonia had 50. Knowing a name implied an ability to relate as well as (so in magic) to wield power over the one or thing that is named. In our time, if God stands for the ground of existence, or, the energy that sustains the universe, or, as the fountain of ultimate meaning (you can add here your own concept of God), God should be invoked simply as “existence,” without a personal name. We do not exert power over God by using God’s proper name.

The word God is a symbol. It stands for something. I agree with Erich Fromm who writes, “The truly religious person…does not expect anything from God; he does not love God as a child loves his father or his mother; he has acquired the humility of sensing his limitations, to the degree of knowing that he knows nothing about God.” For me, in English prayers, using a generic term such as “God” is enough. Let people apply to it their own meaning. The divinity does not need or require a personal name.

Rifat Sonsino
Oct. 1, 2009

TEACHING AT BOSTON COLLEGE

2009-09-20T14:17:00.000-07:00

This is my tenth year at Boston College (BC). When I started to teach in the Theology Department, I was given just one course. Within a year, however, I was already teaching two courses per week, both during the Fall and Spring semesters, one on Bible and the other on Jewish Thought. Even after my retirement from the congregational rabbinate in 2003, I kept my position at BC, and love it.

Boston College is a Jesuit school, and well-known throughout the country. The faculty of the Theology Department is top-notch and highly liberal. There are only two Rabbis on our faculty: Ruth Langer and me. She is full-time; I am only part-time. When, a few years ago, I was asked to teach an Introduction to the Old Testament, they re-named it, “An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible,” in deference to my being an ordained Rabbi. I appreciated that gesture.

BC attracts students not only from the greater Boston area but from many quarters of the world. Most of my students come from staunch Catholic homes; others are only culturally Christian. I have also had a few Jewish students, but most of them have not done well in my classes; they were surprised to find out that what they knew about their religion was not only minimal but mostly wrong.

For many of my students, whether local or foreign, studying with a Rabbi is a new experience. I am usually addressed as “Professor” or “Rabbi.” But a couple of times, by sheer custom, I was also called, “Father.” Then we all laughed a bit!

Some students, not having dealt with a Rabbi before, are puzzled about what to say in my presence. Last year, a foreign student from Australia, asked me whether it was acceptable to mention Jesus to a Jewish Clergy. The question surprised me. I guess in the back of this student’s mind, it was not appropriate to cite Jesus in a prayer, so as not offend his/her religious sensitivities. But we were in class. I quickly answered, “If the discussion requires, there is nothing wrong with mentioning Jesus to a Rabbi. After all, Jesus was a Jew who lived like a Jew and died like a Jew. We are not praying in class, so it is perfectly OK to deal with his life and message.”

One of the great difficulties my students have is how to deal with Jewish diversity in thought and practice. Coming from the Catholic perspective, where the Pope is considered to have the last word on religious matters, they find it very hard to accept there are so many Jewish opinions on almost every topic, be it God, Revelation, the Bible, life after death etc. I tell my students that there has never been a time in Jewish history when Jews did not disagree with one another, yet we have remained one people and shared the same fate. Little do my students know that there is also a great diversity among Christians, even among Catholics of different bent, as witnessed by the academic discourse that is prevalent at BC and other Catholic institutions of higher learning.

What I have found appalling is how little Christians know about Judaism, on which their faith is based, and how ignorant- I would even say, uninterested- many Jews are about fundamental Christian beliefs and practices. Yet, in the USA and other parts of the world, we live side by side, and rarely do we attempt to find out what our neighbors hold sacred. I think this should be remedied, and more comparative religion courses ought to be made available for peoples of all ages. Some of us are doing our share, but it is still a drop in the bucket.

Rifat Sonsino, Rabbi, Ph.D.
Sept. 21, 2009

THE LANGUAGES I CAN HANDLE

2009-09-07T16:19:00.000-07:00

Over the last seven decades, I have managed to learn a number of languages- none of them perfect. Growing in Istanbul, Turkey, we already started with a few: at home we spoke Ladino, which is a Jewish-Spanish dialect spoken by Jews who were expelled from Spain in the 15th century. Over the years, Ladino welcomed words from other languages, such as Hebrew, Italian, Greek, or Turkish. It is now written in Latin characters, but in the past it was written in Soletreo, a Rashi-type script. My father knew how to read Soletreo. Most of my generation cannot. Though our home language was Ladino, we spoke Turkish in the schools and in the streets.

For my first grade my parents sent me to the local Greek elementary school (in the Asian side of Istanbul) where most classes were taught in Greek. For the second grade I went to the community Turkish school, and from the third grade on, I attended the Jewish High School in the European section of Istanbul. (The school covered all grades from one to twelve).

The school curriculum included a number of languages: we began with Hebrew in the 2nd grade (?), French in the 3rd, and English was added to the 9th. While attending Law School in Istanbul, I took private lessons in Greek, Latin, Arabic and Italian. In Paris, France, where I spent a semester at the Institut International d'Etudes Hebraiques (first half of 1961), my French improved considerably to the point that I could take my exams in French.

When I enrolled in the rabbinic program of the Hebrew Union College (HUC) in Cincinnati (Sept. 1961), English became my primary language. From then on, I wrote to my parents and my brother in Istanbul only in English. At the seminary, in addition to studying Hebrew intensively, I also learned Aramaic, the language of some of the biblical texts and the Talmud.

Following ordination in 1966 I left Cincinnati for Buenos Aires, Argentina to become a congregational rabbi, and there I had to learn modern Spanish, really Argentinean, which was an easy jump from Ladino. I also took private lessons in German in order to understand what the Orthodox Rabbis were speaking in Yiddish behind my back. They did not approve of Reform Judaism, and were trying to impede my work there. (I didn’t want to study Yiddish, but I understood it).

In 1969, I came back to the States, and enrolled in a doctoral program at the University of Pennsylvania in the field of Bible and ancient Near Eastern Literature. As part of my studies I had to take all the Akkadian dialects (Mari, Alalakh, Nuzi etc), but also Ugaritic, Arabic, and Sumerian. I never learned Egyptian.

There are many advantages to studying different idioms: You acquire a large vocabulary. You become aware that certain ideas or concepts can be fully expressed only by a particular language (e.g., “Derekh Eretz,” “Joie de Vivre”, Sitz im Leben,” “Spreadsheet”). You also develop a love for the culture of that language. Furthermore, it is much easier to learn a new language when you have studied a few others of the same family. I never studied Portuguese or Catalan, but, with my Spanish, I can understand most of it.

In spite of this wide exposure to so many languages, at times, I wish I could master just one well.

Rifat Sonsino
Sept. 8, 2009

THE CHIEF RABBI AND I

2009-08-24T12:31:00.000-07:00

It is well known that most Orthodox Jews do not have high regard for Reform Jews. They consider the Reformers as assimilationists and even "lesser Jews" because of the Reformers' alleged lack of religious observance and their "devious" theological views. I grew up Orthodox in Istanbul, Turkey in the early 40's. The then Chief Rabbi, David Asseo (z'l), was formerly my Hebrew teacher in the Jewish High School . He knew me well. Yet, when, much later, I visited him, along with other Reform Rabbis of the USA, he excoriated me in front of all of them for "leaving the only true religious path."

This does not have to be the pattern of relationship between Orthodox and Reform Jews today. It is possible to transcend the feeling of animosity between them if there is goodwill and personal rapport between us. My friendship with the present Chief Rabbi of Turkey, Isaac Haleva, is a good example.

Isaac and I were part of Mahazike Hatorah ("Supporters of Torah"), a group of young Turkish Jews who were interested in synagogue life. We attended weekly Judaica classes taught by its director, Mr. Nisim Behar, who later on was ordained Rabbi in the State of Israel. Isaac was just a few years younger than me, but we were both part of the same Havurah, and remained personal friends our entire life.

This past summer, I went to Turkey for my 50th Law School reunion, and on the spur of the moment decided to see my childhood friend, Isaac. I called up the Chief Rabbinate and asked for a few minutes with the Chief Rabbi. I was told that without a prior appointment it was impossible to have an audience with him. I told his secretary, "Just tell him Rifat Sonsino is in town and wants to give him a hug. "Oh, no," said his secretary, "you cannot hug the Chief Rabbi." "Well," I said," just tell him Rifat Sonsino wants to see you." He apparently did, because within a few seconds, Isaac came on the phone and told me to come right over.

Ines, my wife, and I then drove to the Chief Rabbinate located in the Galata section of Istanbul, and proceeded to enter the building. I think it is easier to enter Fort Knox than to go into the Hahambasilik (Chief Rabbinate, in Turkish). There is so much security! Once inside, we walked up a flight of stairs, and came to the office of the Chief Rabbi. The secretary ushered us in, and Isaac, who was meeting with two diplomats, came rushing out to a friendly embrace. I had not seen him in a few years. He looked well, all dressed up in an embroidered blue gown, the traditional garb of the Turkish Chief Rabbi. We spent a few minuted together, reminisced a bit, and I left him with a big hug.

I am certain religious divides can be overcome if there is mutual trust and respect. I don't expect Orthodox Jews to approve of my theological stand. They cannot: they believe in verbal divine revelation at Mt. Sinai. I maintain that the Torah is a human document that evolved over the last 3000 plus years. Orthodox Jews, by definition, are bound by Jewish Law. For me, Jewish practice is part of the Jewish tradition that has, as Mordecai Kaplan would say, "a vote not a veto" on my religious life. What I expect is this: mutual respect, and a recognition that no one has the ultimate answer to our existential questions. We are all seekers of truth. My friendship with the Chief Rabbi of Turkey is a good example of this possibility.

Rifat Sonsino
Aug. 24, 2009

From Istanbul to Boston

2009-08-23T06:23:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends,

This is my first blog. As an ordained rabbi but also as an academic, I plan to write about various issues, including the limits of liberal religion, different biblical teachings, various challenges facing World Jewry, but also about classical music and family, two topics of personal interest. I maintain that dialogue is possible when there is good will and when people respect one another. I plan to write clearly and succinctly.

I welcome your comments.

Best wishes.

Rifat Sonsino