I think Judaism is: tikkun and teshuvah.
I can almost hear your objections! What about God, What about Torah, What about Israel, What about Shabbat and Yontif (the Sabbath and Holy Days)? I am not ignoring these, and, if you ask, I will be happy to explore them with you. But we are talking about a one foot Judaism. Hillel, too, did not mention Shabbat. He said all the rest is commentary; now go and study it. I will say no less: Judaism is returning to God and godliness. All the rest is commentary. Come, let us study it.
B’Shalom
WHO IS A JEW?
My dearest Aaron Hershel,
Have I ever thought about sailing to Palestine? Yes, I have dreamed about living in the Holy Land. I would visit the burial places of our ancient mothers and fathers. I would pray at the graves of our teachers. I would let the past infuse me with its spirit. But my work is here with my students.
I share your letters with them and also my responses. They are more interested in your adventures than in my teaching. This we can get anytime, they tell me, but America is something else entirely. They imagine themselves selling horses as you now do. And they asked me to suggest to you that you pack books for sale on the backs of these horses so that you can sell wisdom along with the beasts. So, I pass it on.
I myself have never ridden a horse, though as a child I would imagine that I owned the horses of the Baal Shem Tov, those that could travel great distances in moments. Now that I am old I still believe in the horses of the Besht (an acronym for Baal Shem Tov), but I no longer desire to be anywhere but here.
Your last letter troubled me a little. It follows naturally from our discussion on what is Judaism, but you spoke of discord among Jews over, of all things, who is a Jew. What is the confusion? And what prompts the question? Are Gentiles sneaking into tallitot and tefillin (prayer shawls and phylacteries) and trying to pass themselves off as Jews?
I am sorry. I do not mean to make light of your question. Let me answer it honestly. To my mind a Jew is a person who identifies as a Jew, who makes Jewish culture his or her primary vehicle for celebration and meaning, who upholds the values of Torah, and who practices tikkun and teshuvah.
I will take up each of these in turn, but first let me reply to what you must be thinking as you read this paragraph: What about being born to a Jewish mother?
For centuries this has been the determining factor of who is a Jew. I do not mean to ignore it. I only question its value. Between you and me, and I think I will not share this with the others, what matters to me is not who your mother was, but what you yourself do. So what if your mother is a Jew? So what if your mother is a devout and pious Jew? If you yourself ignore the Sabbath and the Torah, if you deny God and make no effort to be godly, in what meaningful way are you a Jew?
It would be as if Fivel Lipshitz, the tailor’s son who sells firewood from his wagon, were to suddenly call himself a tailor and start sewing suits. The boy cannot count to ten, let alone measure a caftan sleeve. I could imagine saying to him, “Fivel, can you cut cloth well?” No, he would tell me. “Well, can you sew a straight stitch?” No, again, he would say. “Tell me, can you hem a cuff or let out a pair of pants?” No, for a third time. “Then how is it you presume to call yourself a tailor?” My mother is a tailor so I am tailor. Can you imagine such nonsense? And yet that is exactly what we are saying about being Jewish!
Listen to me, Aaron Hershel. Bend near to this page as if I were about to whisper in your ear. It doesn’t matter what your mother is or what your father is. It matters who you are. And just so we are clear, I would rather you marry a Gentile who would live as a Jew, than a Jew who lived as a Gentile.
There, I said it. So? Flog me. But what good is it if you marry a Jew and together you abandon Judaism? Will your children—they should be many, strong, healthy, and wise—will your children be good Jews if they are raised without Judaism? Yes, they will be Jews because their mother’s blood is Jewish. But so what? They will be non-Jewish Jews, Gentiles who have Jewish ancestors.
But if you marry a good woman who admires our faith and our ways, and who is willing to learn and adapt, and who will help you raise children strong in Torah and their faith in God, then you have married well. And if she wished, I would swim to America and make her a Jew myself. And if she didn’t wish? I would embrace your children as my own: Jews from a Jewish father, raised in a Jewish home with Jewish hearts and Jewish heads.
Yes, I think I will keep this just between the two of us. Too strong, maybe.
Back to my definition. A Jew is four things.
First, a Jew is a person who willingly identifies as a Jew. What kind of Jew is a person who says he is a Catholic? Should I count him in a minyan (prayer quorum)? No. If you don’t want to be known as a Jew, fine. (I am speaking in general and not, of course, to you personally, my dear Hershele) Then, to my mind, you are not a Jew. Will the Cossacks care one whit about what you call yourself when they come charging in thirsty for Jewish blood? No. But I am not a Cossack and I will not let them define for me who is a Jew. So they will kill a few Christians along with the Jews. I assure you, they won’t mind.
Second, a Jew is a person who honors the joys and sorrows of life with the traditions of Judaism. When a boy is born there should be a bris (circumcision). When a daughter marries there should be a chuppah (wedding canopy) and a ketubah (wedding contract). When there is a death there should be a shivah (mourning period). These are examples, you understand. There is so much more to Judaism than these. But my point is that being a Jew means rooting your life in, though not necessarily regulating your life by, Jewish tradition.
Third, a Jew is a person who upholds the values of Torah. What values? One God who created one world and one humanity, and who demands that we treat each other, Jew and Gentile, with the utmost respect as beings created in the image and likeness of God, and who placed us in a garden which we were to maintain.
Fourth, a Jew is a person who practices tikkun and teshuvah. A Jew who does not work to repair the rifts in the world, both inner and outer, this person is a poor Jew. A Jew who does not do teshuvah, who does not attend to the present moment and engage it with godliness, this person, too, is a poor Jew.
I will not set forth the details here of how to be a Jew. Indeed, I am inclined to let people find their own way through mitzvot and halachah. But suffice it to say that as much as we call ourselves the Chosen People, it is becoming more and more clear to me that if we are to mean anything at all in this world we must become the Choosing People—people who choose to live by the principles and practices of tikkun and teshuvah: acting justly and compassionately toward all creatures, and cultivating the awareness of all selves as a manifestation of God.
My best to you and your horses.
B’Shalom
GOD
My dearest Aaron Hershel,
You ask me of God, to define the Nameless, to place in your palm the secret of the One who spoke and the world came to be. And here it is: God is All.
I am tempted to stop with this, to close this letter, sign my name, and leave you with this simple truth. Yet I fear you will not understand. Know from the first that all that follows is but an elaboration of the simple fact that God is All.
What does it mean to be All? God is the sole Reality. God is the Source of all things and their Substance. There is no thing or feeling or thought that is not from God, even the idea that there is no God! For this is what it is to be All: God must embrace even God’s own negation.
Listen again: God is the Source and Substance of everything and its opposite. There is nothing outside of God. Thus we read: “I am God and there is none else” (Isaiah 45:5). Not simply that there is no other god but God, as our Moslem cousins say, but that there is nothing else but God, which is what their Sufi masters whisper to the initiated.
It rained heavily during the night, and our village is thick with mud. I walked to the Beit Midrash (House of Learning) this morning and stopped to watch a group of