Category Archives: The Bible Says What?

Managing our money according to Jewish Values

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In September 2024, 52% adults reported an increase in their cost of living compared with the previous month. Of those whose cost of living increased, 92% said it was because food shopping had increased in price, while 68% said it was because gas and electricity bills had increased in price .
As providing for basic needs becomes ever more expensive, we become more aware of the necessity of managing our finances well.
Maybe Jewish tradition isn’t the first place we might look, but it is rich in models of financial prudence. Take Joseph, who manages in the seven good years to save enough to provide for the seven years of famine in Egypt. Or the Eshet Chayil , who among her many qualities is the economic force in her household, buying wool and linen to turn into garments she will then sell, considering a field before buying it, planting vineyards, bringing food from afar…”
Or Moses who makes a public accounting of all the donations used to build the Mishkan, proving that no money was used inappropriately or wastefully.
Rabbinic tradition too is replete with ideas about how we should approach our finances. Well aware of the deep relationship between material and spiritual wellbeing, the rabbis taught “Im ein kemach, ein Torah.. ” – without flour there is no Torah, without Torah there is no sustenance”
But once our needs are met, we must make financial decisions based on our values. Moses teaches “when you have eaten and been satisfied, beware lest you grow arrogant and say “my own activities made me wealthy”. and you forget God” . After death, the soul is asked several questions, including “were you honest in your business dealings? When we give tzedakah, we must give enough that the recipient can themselves give tzedakah.
Risk management is also considered – emulating Jacob who divided his camp before meeting Esau so as not to lose everything. Talmud quotes Rabbi Yitzchak: “A person should always divide money into three – a third each in land, commerce and cash”
How we manage our money speaks to our values. Talmud records Rav Elai “In three matters one’s true character is seen – in drink, in pocket (financial dealings) and in anger” But maybe it is the word for a coin “zuz” which gives the most important insight. Coming from a root meaning “to move”, we understand that acquiring and storing much money is not helpful to society. Money moves around from one person to another, and this helps each person to have enough, rather than wealth being an end in itself.
Written for “Leap of Faith” in the Jewish News

Of Kings and Priests of Politicians and Prophets

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The Book of Deuteronomy sets out the exemplar of how a king should behave:  We read that a king should be one of their own people, not a stranger. They should not keep many horses, should not send people back to Egypt, should not have many wives nor amass material possessions to excess. And the king should have a copy of the Torah written for him, which will stay with him at all times and which he will read throughout his life, “so that he may learn to revere God, to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching as well as these laws. Thus he will not act haughtily toward his fellows or deviate from the Instruction to the right or to the left..” (Deut 17:14-20) 

The Torah recognises the possibilities of abuse of power and sets limits to the monarchy, making clear that while the king may be the leader of the people, they are still the subject of God. The directive to “not send the people back to Egypt” can be understood as not putting the people back into the servitude from which God had freed them, or maybe that Egyptian sovereigns perceived themselves to be divine, whereas Hebrew kings were categorically human, with their flaws documented. 

Biblical kings often behaved as if they – not God – were the most important. So even King David’s self-centredness is recorded, his callous behaviour around Batsheva, his illegal census taking, designed to show his own military power. There is no such thing as a completely trustable sovereign, bible seems to be telling us. 

Yet the kings of Israel did have an important role in history, evolving a different kind of leadership from that of the Judges who preceded them.  Each of the Judges were individuals whose personality drove them. Each represented not the whole people, but themselves and their tribes. With monarchy something different was established – the unity of the people in a nation state. The sovereign was the leader of the whole, and the existence of a separate priesthood meant that the sovereign’s power was limited to the political arena, the priests regulating the religious one.  With the added phenomenon of prophets arising to speak truth to power, the biblical world balanced communal leadership between three distinct roles. 

What can a modern king learn from bible? Besides the many examples of what not to do, Torah reminds us of the ideal.  Someone of the people who understands them, who does not set themselves apart or amass wealth or power, who allows the people their freedoms. A person who reviews God’s word and follows God’s will. Monarch, Priest or Politician, it remains the ideal for all.  

Abortion and Jewish Tradition

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Discussion about abortion is necessarily complex and frequently freighted with contextual perspectives. Yet an examination of Jewish sources reveals that while indeed this is a complex and nuanced subject, certain matters are clear since biblical times. Firstly biblical law does not treat abortion as murder, but as a civil matter. We find the legal status of the foetus encoded in Mishnah Ohalot (7:6) which speaks of therapeutic abortion even during childbirth:- the life of the unborn child is of less legal weight than that of the mother right up to the point of the emergence of the head, because until that point it is not a “nefesh”.  The mother’s right to life supersedes that of the unborn child.

Our tradition also deals with the emotional well-being of the mother. Mishnah Arakhin teaches that a pregnant woman who is convicted of a capital crime is executed quickly in order not to prolong her agony while she carries the child to term. Commentary on this somewhat grisly text makes clear that the rights of the foetus are not greater than the emotional distress of the mother.  Once again the mother’s needs take precedence over those of the unborn child.

Interestingly both Rabbinic law (which describes a pregnancy of 40 days as “water”) and early Church law – which permitted abortion until the child “quickened” (about 16-20 weeks), were the norm for centuries. Not that anyone doubted that the body belonged to God, and that abortion was a serious matter, but punishments were not severe, nor was the perpetrator deemed criminal.  In the UK, abortion after “quickening” attracted the death penalty only in 1803, and in 1937 earlier abortion was added. After that a succession of laws increasingly limited access to abortion and criminalised those involved. Similarly in the Jewish world some eminent poskim narrowed access to abortion to medically mandated life-saving situations only. In part this was a response to Shoah – Jewish lives lost should be replaced, went the thinking. But clearly something else is in play – the rights of a woman over her own body and her own fertility, accepted for centuries as being in the private domain, were brought into public discourse in order to control them.

Once again the rhetoric is ramping up. But the Jewish view is clear – our focus should be to look after the children and families who are living and who need society’s help, not policing women’s bodies.

Written for “Progressively Speaking” in Jewish News July 2020

Aborto e tradizione ebraica

Pubblicato da rav Sylvia Rothschild il 22 maggio 2022

          La discussione sull’aborto è necessariamente complessa e, spesso, carica di prospettive legate al contesto. Eppure un esame delle fonti ebraiche rivela che, mentre in effetti è un argomento complesso e ricco di sfumature, alcune cose sono chiare fin dai tempi biblici. In primo luogo la legge biblica non tratta l’aborto come un omicidio, ma come una questione civile. Lo stato giuridico del feto lo troviamo codificato nella Mishnà Ohalot (7,6) che parla di aborto terapeutico anche durante il parto: la vita del nascituro ha un peso legale inferiore a quella della madre fino al momento in cui la testa emerge, perché fino a quel punto non è “nefesh”. Il diritto alla vita della madre prevale su quello del nascituro.

          La nostra tradizione si occupa anche del benessere emotivo della madre. Mishnà Arakhin stabilisce che una donna incinta condannata per un crimine capitale venga giustiziata rapidamente senza farle portare a termine la gravidanza, per non prolungare la sua agonia. Il commento a questo testo alquanto raccapricciante chiarisce che i diritti del feto non sono maggiori del disagio emotivo della madre. Ancora una volta i bisogni della madre hanno la precedenza su quelli del nascituro.

          È interessante notare che sia la legge rabbinica (che descrive una gravidanza di quaranta giorni come “acqua”) sia la legge primitiva della Chiesa, che consentiva l’aborto fino a quando il bambino non compiva i primi movimenti percepibili (tra la sedicesima e la ventesima settimana circa), sono state la norma per secoli. Non che qualcuno dubitasse che il corpo appartenesse a Dio, e che l’aborto non fosse una cosa seria, ma le punizioni non erano severe, né l’autore del reato era ritenuto criminale. Nel Regno Unito, l’aborto dopo la percezione dei movimenti fetali, è stato punito con la pena di morte solo nel 1803, nel 1937 è stata poi aggiunta per l’aborto nella fase precedente. Dopodiché una serie di leggi limitava sempre più l’accesso all’aborto e criminalizzava le persone coinvolte. Allo stesso modo, nel mondo ebraico, alcuni eminenti poskim hanno ristretto l’accesso all’aborto solo a situazioni salvavita obbligatorie dal punto di vista medico. Questa è stata in parte una risposta alla Shoà: le vite perdute degli ebrei dovrebbero essere sostituite, si pensava. Ma, chiaramente, è in gioco qualcos’altro: i diritti di una donna sul proprio corpo e sulla propria fertilità, accettati per secoli come dominio privato, sono stati introdotti nel discorso pubblico al fine di controllarli.

          Ancora una volta la retorica si fa strada. Il punto di vista ebraico è però chiaro: il nostro obiettivo dovrebbe essere quello di prenderci cura dei bambini e delle famiglie che vivono e che hanno bisogno dell’aiuto della società, e non quello di sorvegliare i corpi delle donne.

          Scritto per “Progressively Speaking” in Jewish News luglio 2020

Traduzione dall’inglese di Eva Mangialajo Rantzer

The Trees who sought a Sovereign

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L’italiano segue l’inglese

In the Book of Judges we find a fantastical story of a debate between the trees about who should become their king. They first asked the olive tree who refused on account of the oil it produces; then they asked the fig who refused because she produced sweet fruit, and finally the grapevine who refused – well you get the idea. Then they asked the thornbush who responded that if they would honour him they could shelter under his shade, but if not, fire would come that would destroy even the cedars of Lebanon.

The story is told by Jotham, the youngest son of Gideon the judge who had brought Israel back to God after it had strayed into idolatry, but who notably had refused the kingship, saying that neither he nor any son would rule over them, only God was ruler of Israel.

Yet Abimelech, one of Gideon’s sons had other ideas. After Gideon’s death Abimelech committed fratricide to become the first king of Israel. Bible tells us Gideon had seventy sons – only Jotham survived Abimelech’s murderous onslaught by hiding. When Abimelech was made king in Shechem, Jotham stood atop Mt Gerizim and declared the story of the trees to the populace.

What was the purpose? To remind the people that good leadership comes with personal sacrifice, and that those who grab leadership for their own benefit can bring down the whole of society. Three trees were not prepared to give up their fruitful lives to take on leadership, and so the barren yet aggressive thorn was able to assume the title, with the false claim that it could provide protective shade (it cannot). Once in power, if anyone went against it, it could fuel the fires that would destroy them all. 

Civil war scarred the population. Abimelech died after a brief and bloody reign. Jotham’s story is for us all.

Gli alberi che cercavano un sovrano
di rav Sylvia Rothschild
pubblicato il 20 gennaio 2021
Nel Libro dei Giudici troviamo una storia fantastica di un dibattito tra gli alberi su chi sarebbe
dovuto diventare il loro re. Dapprima chiesero all’olivo, che rifiutò a causa dell’olio che produce;
poi chiesero al fico, che rifiutò perché produceva frutta dolce, infine alla vite che rifiutò… beh,
avrete capito. Chiesero quindi al roveto, che rispose che se lo avessero onorato avrebbero potuto
ripararsi sotto la sua ombra, ma in caso contrario sarebbe arrivato un fuoco che avrebbe distrutto
anche i cedri del Libano.
La storia è raccontata da Jotham, il figlio più giovane di Gedeone, il giudice che aveva riportato a
Dio il popolo di Israele dopo che si era smarrito nell’idolatria, ma che in particolare aveva rifiutato
la regalità, dicendo che né lui né alcun figlio avrebbe governato sul popolo, solo Dio era
governatore di Israele.
Eppure Abimelech, uno dei figli di Gedeone, aveva altre idee. Dopo la morte di Gedeone
Abimelech commise fratricidio per diventare il primo re di Israele. La Bibbia ci dice che Gedeone
aveva settanta figli e solo Jotham sopravvisse all’assalto omicida di Abimelech nascondendosi.
Quando Abimelech fu nominato re a Sichem, Jotham si trovava in cima al monte Gherizim e
raccontò alla popolazione la storia degli alberi.
Qual era lo scopo? Ricordare alle persone che una buona leadership viene fornita con il sacrificio
personale e che coloro che afferrano il potere a proprio vantaggio possono abbattere l’intera
società. Tre alberi non erano pronti a rinunciare alle loro vite fruttuose per assumere il comando,
e così la spina sterile ma aggressiva fu in grado di assumere il titolo, con la falsa affermazione che
poteva fornire ombra protettiva (non può). Una volta al potere, se qualcuno si fosse messo contro,
avrebbe potuto alimentare gli incendi che li avrebbero distrutti tutti.
La guerra civile segnò la popolazione. Abimelech morì dopo un breve e sanguinoso regno. La storia
di Jotham è per tutti noi.
Traduzione dall’inglese di Eva Mangialajo Rantzer

following the majority for wrongdoing – plus ca change…

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The bible says “don’t side with the majority to do wrong”

The chapters following the giving of the Ten Commandments at  Sinai are filled with a variety of do’s and don’ts covering debt slavery, treatment of servants, murder, manslaughter, legal compensations etc. and after the injunction against repeating false rumours and being a malicious witness to protect the guilty, comes this statement– “don’t follow the majority for evil”. As a verse it has an interesting life. Talmud uses it to infer the principle of majority in decision making “Do follow the majority for good”, from which comes the idea of majority verdicts in legal trials.

But Rashi argues differently, reading within the textual context he argues that it really means that if one sees many people perverting justice, you shouldn’t just blindly follow them, even if they are the majority actors.

In the febrile atmosphere of Tory elections, Brexit, unbalanced relationships with other countries etc, we have seen the limitations of following a majority decision thoughtlessly, and seen that this can be not just wrong but devastating to our well-being. Friendships have strained beyond repair, family relationships grown tense; trust in our political leadership is low and hostility has grown where we believed there was acceptance of the other in our society.

Bible already knows of fake news: “Shema Shav”, it knows about defending the guilty with malicious testimony, deflection, or supporting them publicly and daring others to continue their quest for honesty or justice. It know that a crowd isn’t always right, that it’s easy to be swept along with the prevailing opinions or find one’s critical voice silenced. Don’t follow the majority to do wrong, don’t side with the largest group simply because they’re larger and louder if their values are not good and their behaviour inappropriate or worse. The bible knows, and shouts out its warning.

Tetzaveh

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“And you will command the children of Israel to bring you pure oil of beaten olives for lighting, to cause a lamp to burn continually (ner tamid)” (Exodus 27:20-12)

This first mitzvah of the tabernacle is interesting for several reasons. It echoes the first words of God at creation– y’hi or – let there be light. And in a narrative dedicated to the clothing and behaviour of the priests, the command here is communal – the responsibility for an eternal light belongs to the people, not the priesthood. The lamp sits facing the ark curtain, prepared and lit by the priests each evening to burn through till the morning. In the parallel passage in Leviticus 24:2-4 the ner tamid clearly has several flames, and far from hanging over the ark as a modern ner tamid does, it is part of a lampstand on the opposite wall to the ark– the seven branched menorah. Indeed during the temple period its other name was the ner ma’aravi, the western light. It is thought that while all the lights burned through the night, only one was kept burning continually (1Sam 3:3)

Why does the bible ask us to keep a small light burning continually since clearly the function of lighting the sacred space is done by the other lights? And why must we repeatedly light more lights?  We often say the ner tamid is a reminder of God’s continuing presence in our world, a small beacon of hope that stays with us as the pillar of fire guided us in the desert. Yet this is not enough. The echo of y’hi or reminds us that we too must play our role in the creation of our world. Every day we must tend to this work. The people must bring the prepared oil – this is our job and no one else’s.

 

written for “the bible says what?” Jewish News February 2019

Bereishit: men and women created equally and mutually

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Genesis has two creation stories, each with a different structure and a different name for God. The first, with the numbered days of the first week, has Elohim create humanity in God’s image at the end of the process, and this humanity is neither singular nor male. “Vayivra Elohim et ha’adam b’tzalmo, betzelem Elohim bara oto, zachar u’nekeivah bara otam” (1:27)

The second, where humanity was created even before the Garden of Eden was made, has one human fashioned from the dust of the earth, and placed into Eden. But it is already clear that one living being is a lonely being, so God creates the animals and birds. The human names them but does not develop a mutual relationship with them, and ultimately God has to create more human beings in the world. To do this, God does not create a new thing, but takes from the existing human to form the being who will be in relationship with it.

How we translate what God takes from the first being is critical to how we understand gender politics. And how it has been translated in the past is a direct outcome of such politics. For God takes מִצַּלְעֹתָיו  – from the side of the first human, and not, as it is frequently translated, a rib from it. This root appears over forty times in bible, and is never translated as anything other than “side” except in this passage, and first found in the Septuagint. If we look more closely we see that the word always describes something that is leaned upon, or (in the case of Jacob) limped upon. So what is bible telling us with this word? When God divides the Adam into ish (man) and isha (woman), the two are equal. One might ask why this understanding disappeared when bible is so clear?

 

(written for “the bible says what?” series for the progressive Judaism page of the Jewish News)

 

Biblical Empathy at the exodus from Egypt

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Bible tells of ten plagues that struck all Egyptian people in the battle between God and Pharaoh, culminating with “God smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt from the firstborn of Pharaoh to the firstborn of the captive in the dungeon and all the firstborn of cattle….there was a great cry in Egypt for there was not a house where there was not one dead.” The Egyptians hurried the Israelites away, giving them everything they asked for – jewellery, animals, clothing, gold, because they said “We are all dead”.

One can only imagine the grief, the terror and anguish of the Egyptians on that night, the night that we celebrate as “leil shimurim – night of vigil”, now Seder Night. As we celebrate and remember the story of our liberation, we are also observing the anniversary of these deaths, and on Seventh Day Pesach we will recall the deaths of the Egyptian soldiers, drowned as the waters closed over them while they pursued the escaping Israelites.

The bible tells the stories unflinchingly, recording the screams of the people facing their dead at midnight, the fear and distress of the Egyptian forces caught on the seabed unable to flee as the waters roll back.  It tells of the real human cost of our freedom. And Jewish tradition picks up this theme so that our observance of Pesach not only tells the story of the Israelites gaining freedom, but also the story of grief and fear experienced by those cast as our enemies.

The book of Proverbs tells us “when your enemy falls, do not rejoice” and rabbinic tradition reminds us to lessen any  joy gained at the expense of others. So we recite only half-hallel for the last six days of Pesach, we take out drops of wine at our Seder while recounting the plagues, and  remind ourselves that freedom  comes at a cost that we must never forget.

 

written for and first published by London Jewish News “the bible says what?” column March 2018

Should we know how much people in public life are paid?

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Right back in the book of Exodus, in parashat Pekudei, we have the example to follow – the text shows Moses providing a detailed account of how the precious metals that had been donated to build the mishkan were actually used. Bible- usually so concise- gives a lot of space to what is essentially the auditor’s report. We learn from here that the use of public money must be transparent and accountable – even Moses must explain – and Talmud tells us “A person should not give a penny to the communal charity purse unless it is under the supervision of a person [as honest as] Rabbi Hananiah ben Teradyon” who famously made up monies from his own pocket when he confused two charities (BT Avodah Zara 17b)

The Nolan principles, the ethical standards for those who work in public life include integrity, accountability, openness and honesty. We know that decision making and public spending that is for the public good must be accountable and honest. Society works best when organised around the free flow of information, and the remuneration of people paid by public money must be part of that flow. Already the exposure of pay gaps that are only down to gender has embarrassed the BBC and their willingness to address this unfairness has been accelerated only since it has been known more widely.

But I would go further than this. On the principle that one should not put a stumbling block in front of the blind it is important to know not only how our public money is being spent, but also who is spending private money in order to buy political capital.  Our media, be it web or print, is increasingly funded by people whose agenda is to shape public opinion rather than objectively report news, dark money is funnelled via undisclosed donations in legal loopholes so that rich businessmen can skew government policy and public opinion in order to become even richer at the expense of the rest of society.

Until we have transparency about how money is spent in the public arena, be it those in public life or the shadowy figures whose money shapes opinions, we risk creating an unethical society built not for the community but for the wealthy. Moses knew it, rabbinic tradition knew it. We know it too. Accountability and transparency are critical in healthy societies. We ignore this at our peril.

Jacob Wrestles with God – and so do we

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The bible says what?   Jacob wrestles with God.

Genesis 32:25

(25) Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.

בראשית ל״ב:כ״ה

(כה) וַיִּוָּתֵ֥ר יַעֲקֹ֖ב לְבַדּ֑וֹ וַיֵּאָבֵ֥ק אִישׁ֙ עִמּ֔וֹ עַ֖ד עֲל֥וֹת הַשָּֽׁחַר׃

What happened at the Ford of Jabok was critical in Jacob’s life leaving  him physically marked for life and with another name. He was alone, yet a ‘man’ wrestled with him till dawn. Who that ‘man’ was is open to interpretation but Jacob is in no doubt – he names the place P’niel because he has met God face to face.

The Bible gives a dubious etymology for Jacob’s new name, Israel, but what is important is the meaning given – one who struggles with God and with other people, and is able to do so.

We take this name for ourselves; we are Am Yisrael, the people of Israel, and our defining characteristic is that we too must wrestle with God and with our world and make something of ourselves in that struggle.

Judaism is a religion of enquiry,  questions are met with more questions, not with definitive answers. Despite the systematizing work of Saadiya Gaon and Maimonides who responded to the doctrines of Christianity and Islam, Judaism remains a religion of deed, and not of creed. We must keep on engaging with ideas, imagining possibilities, wrestling with God and with our world, in order to be truly alive.

This dynamic tradition of enquiry and analysis has kept us going over the centuries, adapting where necessary, accepting knowledge from outside sources and bringing it into our world view. It is the life-source of progressive Judaism, as we keep our minds open to the world and its knowledge while grappling with our texts and their questions.

Jacob at Jabok is a metaphor for us in so many ways – fearful of the unknown future, struggling with the temptation to run back to the familiar, yet ultimately moving forward carrying the wounds of our struggle with us. I’m proud to belong to a tradition that eschews doctrine and dogma, demands we struggle with God and with ourselves, and helps us aspire to be our best selves..

Written for and Published in Progressive Judaism Page London Jewish News November 2017