Question: What is the Jewish perspective on genetic sex selection of children? Would the latitude (if any) given to genetically select against diseases apply to selecting for desired properties like intelligence or height?
Few questions are more pressing than those surrounding the world of genetic choice and modification. By definition it was a world the rabbis who wrote the Talmud and classic responsa knew nothing about and therefore current Jewish perspectives about it are still in formation. The authors of the CCAR responsa 5768.3 write that ,
Judaism permits us to exercise our technological power over the natural environment, but it also asks us to place appropriate limits upon that power.
In other words, there are situations in which our growing knowledge of genetics can be applied aggressively but others where we should refrain from acting. In particular, where it is a therapeutic response to a disease we should consider employing it. But when the goals is one of enhancement (intelligence or height) or family preference (sex of a child) we should not use genetic options.
Continuing on with Response 5768.3, we read,
We should emphasize that this is not a firm “no” to any and every application of these technologies for ends that are not strictly speaking medical. We recognize that there may be non-medical applications for human genetic enhancement that, when we consider each case on the basis of its own merits, will strike us as legitimate and compelling. We speak here rather of general tendencies: when the aim of genetic enhancement is not to fulfill the mitzvah o pikuach nefesh (saving a life), the “causes for concern” that we have raised would correspondingly become more urgent and predominant in our thinking.
While Reform Judaism is open to modern innovations and their possibilities to increase the presence of kiddusha, of holiness, in our lives, there is good reason to be cautious in our embrace of genetic selection or modification when it moves beyond the realm of saving a human life or directly improving someone’s health. From a Reform Jewish perspective, selecting for any of gender, enhanced appearance or appeal, or greater intelligence, should give us pause.
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Question: Can an atheist be a Jew?
[Administrators note: similar questions exists on JVO at http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=142, and http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id-48.]
This is a recurring question on the JVO http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=142 & http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id-48 . What is striking is that the answers from across the Jewish spectrum are in accord. Is it the traditional ideal in Judaism that one should believe in God? Absolutely. But if you are born Jewish there is no formal test of belief in God that one has to pass to remain Jewish. Have Jews differed in exactly how they understand God, beyond God being one? Certainly. But because there is no public catechism, that is, a single, rigid, statement of what God is and what faith means, there is room for a wide range of understandings about God’s nature.
Converting to Judaism as an atheist would be a different matter, though even here one might be surprised at what a wide latitude there is regarding belief in God. Essentially, as long as one publicly participated in all aspects of prayer and was Jewishly observant in their private life, than one would be considered to be a good Jew. One’s personal beliefs about God remain just that because there is never any public declaration of faith beyond that implied in public Jewish prayer and observance.
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Question: Is is proper to send an e-mail invitation to an unveiling?
[Admin. Note: Similar or related questions are found at:
http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=608 and
http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=666.]
Is it proper to send an email invitation to an unveiling? The short answer is yes. but it's worth looking at the question from two perspectives, that of who comes to an unveiling and as a issue of etiquette.
As has been pointed out in a number of JVO posts about unveilings, an unveiling is not a second funeral. In many ways it is an unusual ritual because even though it is very widely observed, there is no halakhic (Jewish legal) requirement to have one and therefore no formal rules about what needs to be done. All of which begs the question, what is so compelling about an unveiling and what does this tell us.?
Most unveilings in America are done about a year after someone has died. Being together at an unveiling is a very different experience from that of a funeral. At an unveiling the mourners are not in the thrall of an immediate loss and often there has been a winnowing of memory. The meaning of a loved one’s life is becoming clearer and there is a kind of sharing that is different from that at a funeral. An unveiling often has a sense of intimacy and a spirit of continuity, which is its own way of honoring the memory of the deceased.
Which brings us to who should be notified about an unveiling. If either the person who is being mourned or the mourners are active in congregational life than it is appropriate to notify the community at large, either by way of the synagogue’s bulletin or through one of the many kinds of current social media. Email is a very effective way reaching a more intimate circle of friends and family, but one should be wary of the many ways that an email can appear impersonal or even slapdash. If your family is in the habit of sending out notices about family events by way of a general email, then that would be appropriate. If not, out of respect to the person you will be honoring, you should send personally addressed emails. When in doubt always err to the more personal, especially for a ritual as solemn and intimate as an unveiling.
Lastly there is the question of whether or not you need a minion. The ritual of an unveiling ideally includes kaddish and when at all possible, one should gather together a minion. Therefore, if one has a very small family, the notification needs to broad enough to try and assemble 10 adult Jews. In today’s world, email can be a particularly good way of doing this, but again, the more personal the email the more likely it is to speak to people about the importance of their role in helping round out the minion and their importance to you.
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Question: I have a question regarding my status as a Jew and whether it is proper to call myself one. My father is Jewish, my mother is not. I had a bris milah performed by a rabbi shortly after I was born, but was then raised Catholic by my mother.
I always identified with being a Jew and when people ask I answer affirmatively. I have made aliyah to Israel and am studying in ulpan if that makes any difference.
If I am not considered Jewish, I plan to undergo a recognized conversion. What is involved in that?
Thanks for your question Sam and for your commitment to Israel and the Jewish people.
It might be helpful here to make a distinction between the sociological and religious. There are many people whose background is akin to yours and make their home in the Jewish community. In the same way that you have been welcomed into the Israeli community, you would find yourself welcomed into many other Jewish communities. In other words, sociologically you can make a claim to being a Jew. Religiously, the answer is a bit different.
As I’m sure you can find in both the Orthodox and Conservative answers to this question, according to halakha, Jewish religious law, a Jew is someone born of a Jewish mother. Reform Judaism modified this definition in the early 1980’s by widening the circle of descent to both mother and father and adding to it the proviso that the person had to be actively raised in the faith. Although you had a brit, you were not actively raised within Jewish tradition (i.e. Jewishly educated and practicing) and cannot claim Jewish status. But the good news is the sociological counts for something and I am confident, would open almost any Jewish door to you.
In other words, if you wish to be considered Jewish in all realms of Jewish life, particularly with respect to participation in synagogue worship and lifecycle events such as marriage, you would have to undergo conversion. Every rabbi has their own program for this, but it always involves study and participation in synagogue life. For most Reform rabbis conservation itself involves milah (ritual immersion), Hatafat Dam (a drawing of blood, given that you’re circumcised), and then going before a Beit Din, a rabbinical court of three rabbis. That said, because you have demonstrated a clear commitment to the Jewish people and your Jewish heritage, I know you would find rabbis of all denominations eager to help you along this road. One thing you should note is that in Israel only Orthodox conversion will give you formal Jewish status with respect to lifecycle events such as marriage.
Thank you for your question and may you be blessed on your Jewish journey.
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Question: What is the Jewish response to this question in the "New York Times Magazine" Ethicist column, May 19, 2013? It is common practice to decline to give colleagues and students a reference if one has nothing positive to say about them. When someone looks good on paper but is less competent in real life, is it ethical to act against someone to ensure that the work goes to someone who is a better fit?
[There are related questions at:
http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=31
http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=354.]
Before providing a Jewish response, it should be noted that the question posed is not identical to the one that was in New York Times Magazine. The enquiry in the Times was explicit about what action might be taken against the person in question, stating, “But might it sometimes be more ethical to provide a negative reference?” You do not allude to a specific action as a way to “to act against” the person, but given that it is a reference that has been requested, it is probably good for us to first consider the question in terms of either not giving a reference or acting against the person by giving a negative one.
Judaism does not shy against either rebuking someone or stating hard truths, but one must state them directly to the person in question (Maimonides, Mishnah Torah 6:6-7). If one is giving a negative reference, which is essentially a rebuke, you are required to let the person know what will be in it. Otherwise you would be taking the role of secretly delivering negative information about a person, which is really lashon harah, or tale bearing/gossip, which is forbidden [Arachim 15b]. Furthermore, it is presumptuous of someone to assume they can take it upon themselves to make the judgment about who is the best fit in a job. That is the task of the people responsible for filling the position.
As is implied by the question, most of us are inclined to say we will not give a reference rather than tell someone that we are only willing to provide a negative reference. Effectively, one could attempt to intervene in the hiring by offering to write a reference and letting the person know it will be negative. Of course this would most probably result in them withdrawing their request, which amounts to the same thing as not providing the reference. Not surprising, it is easier to choose to decline a request then mention the option of a negative one, but the later would be an appropriate way of attempting to intervene in the situation when one believes the person is not competent.
Would there ever be a circumstance where we would be justified, even obligated to inform someone that they should not hire an applicant? Yes, if a life were at stake (pekuakh nefesh) or if the person was engaged in ongoing financial impropriety that you knew about directly, but then these should have been addressed earlier at your current workplace. The question being posed is framed in terms of competence rather than issues of safety or legality so this would not seem to apply.
Many of us have watched people we judged to be unsuited for a position get it, often over candidates we respect. But if our evaluation is not being directly sought, no person or law is being threatened, and the person in question has declined our offer of a negative reference, then Jewish tradition does not permit us to actively work against them.
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Question: In the story of Purim, why was Esther willing to marry a non-Jewish king? What do we learn from this?
Your question is a fascinating one; why would a nice Jewish girl, who we know is willing to risk her life to rescue her people, violate this most basic of Jewish rules? Alas, the book of Esther doesn’t directly address the question and as with so many issues in the Book of Esther, the deeper we dig, the more complicated the answer becomes.
The rabbis (Jewish textual experts) were clearly bothered by Esther’s marriage to Ahsuerus and they turned to midrashim (sacred stories) for an explanation. In the Talmud we read that not only was Mordecai Esther’s uncle, he was also her husband, so that her “marriage” to Ahsuerus was but a ploy to save the Jewish people. There is biblical precedent for this, because in the book of Genesis we see both Sarah and Rebecca join Pharaoh’s household, as consorts, in order to protect their households (not that the rabbis aren’t bothered by this.) According to this explanation, her willingness to marry the king is an act of self-sacrifice for her people. It is a disturbing explanation, but is one of the choices Jewish tradition offers us.
Another explanation by the rabbis is that she is not acting as a free agent, but is drafted into the king’s household, effectively against her will. We are told how beautiful Esther is and the implication is that she would naturally be among the young women who are “assembled” for the king. We are told that she is “taken” into the king’s palace. Nowhere do we see her seek to go there. Here the answer to your question would be she was not willing to marry the non-Jewish king, but was forced to.
A Reform perspective on your question would encourage us also to examine the text from a literary and historical perspective. Indeed, the rabbis were of the opinion that author of the Book of Esther strives not to offend the non-Jewish rulers of Persia. God is not mentioned in the book and the king’s cruelty and foolishness is dealt with by farce, rather than straight forward declarations (contrast this with Pharaoh in the Exodus story.)
It is unclear what the place of Jews in Esther’s Persia is. On the one hand, Esther is a Persian name and it appears Esther is so acculturated that she can pass for being Persian; at no point does she seem distressed at moving into a non-Jewish environment. When the Jewish people are threatened with extermination her uncle has to point out to her that she too will be killed. It’s as if she’s so at home in Persian society that the thought hasn’t even crossed her mind. By contrast, there are signs that things are not so good for the Jews. We see this in Mordecai command that she hide her Jewish identity and the willingness of Persians to join in attempt to slaughter of Jews.
Esther’s passiveness about her Jewish identity is very alarming, but one of reading the story is that hers is a journey of discovery where she awakens to her people and her capacity for courage. Esther’s willingness to marry a non-Jewish king may be a sign of how assimilated she was and only when her people face a crisis of survival was she transformed.
As was implied earlier, her marriage may also be an an indicator of her powerlessness. In this reading, Esther’s story begins as a tale of slavery and rape and only through her and Mordecai’s wiles, is it transformed into one of bravery and triumph. The other explanation, that she was Mordecai’s wife but had to be a kind of Jewish Mata Hari in order to save the Jewish people, is more than a touch disturbing, but it makes us realize how dangerous a world it was for Jews and what kind of sacrifice it took for Jewish leaders, like Mordecai and Esther, to navigate their way through it. One might also take her initial passiveness as a sad indicator that the women of her day were, by and large, powerless.
In conclusion, there is no simple explanation to your question about why Esther was willing to marry a non-Jewish king. The marriage may be read as a harbinger of many different things. But these many explorations of the question also reflect how sophisticated and riveting the Book of Esther is.
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Question: If ones daughters married non-Jews, can their children and spouses attend the Pesach seder according to Jewish law and custom?
[Administrator's note: See http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=384 for a similar question answered on JVO earlier.]
From an Orthodox perspective there is a case to made against them attending http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=384, but according to Reform custom, the answer is a resounding yes – by all means invite them in. Your question is about one’s own family but it’s important to also look at why Reform Judaism would argue that it’s just fine to invite non-Jews to a seder.
Reform focuses on both the universal aspect of Jewish tradition and the particular. Pesach is about the Israelites gaining freedom, but it’s also about God’s love of justice and human dignity, both of which are violated by slavery. A seder is an opportunity for our neighbors to understand this time honored Jewish perspective, and to see it stated in a powerful and convincing fashion, through text, song, and ritual. The seder is also an opportunity for non-Jews to learn that the struggle for freedom is a constant Jewish concern, and, alas, has not gone away with time. It is also a very personal way to share our tradition and lives with friends, neighbors, and co-workers, so that we can understand each other and better live in peace.
It is harder to make generalizations about how appropriate this is for your own family because everyone’s context is different. Many things shape one’s situation, including how traditional your Jewish practice is, what your attitude is about inter-marriage, and the particular relationships within your family. But in asking the question about attending, one can assume that either you either have a desire to reach out to the inter-married members of your family, or respond to their request for inclusion.
As much as we might believe that sanction or disapproval moves people to change their actions, the reality is that we live in a profoundly autonomous society and people make their own choices. However, inclusion can help promote a sense of shalom beit, family harmony, and perhaps open doors that may lead family members to renew their Jewish practice, introduce their children to Judaism, or gain the support of their non-Jewish spouses. An invitation may not bring them back to the tradition but it will certainly enable a kind of healing to take place.
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Question: My uncle's family is holding a one-year memorial and stone unveiling honoring my uncle... on Yom Kippur! I was not close to my uncle but my mother was, and she is urging me to go to this event. I am thinking I should be at services, including yizkor to honor my father, whom I was extremely close with. They are even planning to make it into a celebration of my uncle's life and have food afterwards. My uncle was Jewish and my mom is, but these family members arranging the event are not. What are the principles I should consider and is there a clear imperative in what I should do? What would Jewish law and thought tell me is the way to proceed?
At first blush this dilemma and goodness knows it is a dilemma, looks like a case of weighing one mitzvah (commandment) against another. To wit:
· Doing honor to your mother by respecting her wishes and going to the unveiling
· Observing Yom Kippur
· Saying kaddish for a parent
· Being part of a minion at an unveiling
But everything about the request from your uncle’s family, that you attend the unveiling, is out of whack. Although they seem to be observing a Jewish ritual, an unveiling, they are doing it at a time that no one, but no one, in the Jewish community would approve of. Perhaps they don’t realize how inappropriate it is to try to honor your uncle by doing an unveiling on Yom Kippur. If they are unaware of this, the best thing to do is inform them, politely but firmly, that it is not at all an appropriate time to hold this ceremony, however non-observant your uncle may have been, and they should make other arrangements. Analogies are always a good thing. No church would conduct a funeral on Christmas, Good Friday or Easter Sunday. Unveilings are not done on Yom Kippur.
Oy, if they do know what they are doing and don’t care. It is always inappropriate to ask a person to violate one mitzvah in order to observe another one, especially if the person making the request has control over when the mitzvah is going to occur, and no one’s health is at stake. It’s important to remember that if they are going ahead, even knowing that doing an unveiling on Yom Kippur is no way to honor their family member, that does not obligate you.
No doubt, the toughest part of this would be to go against your mother’s wishes. On a formal level, Jewishly, one does not have to honor a request from a parent that asks you to violate another mitzvah. Jewish tradition acknowledges that there is something to be said for going out of one’s way to honor a parent’s request, and there are a number of midrashim, rabbinic stories, that illustrate this, but they do not invalidate your principled objection. Perhaps presenting her with the reasons why the invitation is so Jewishly inappropriate will persuade her that going to an unveiling on Yom Kippur does not pay honor to your uncle.
I wish you well on trying to navigate your way on this. It is a very challenging situation.
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Question: I want to know something about Jewish prayer. Do Jews praying have a ritual like 'wudu' (as Muslims do), the washing of their hands, in preparation to pray?
Is it thrice right hand, thrice left hand? Before praying and/or after praying?
Have you an online reference, with a picture, that you could direct me to view?
Arash from Iran
Thanks for your question Arash. The simple answer to your question is no, Jews do not have a ritual for washing their hands before we pray. However, water is used as a part of other Jewish rituals and can also be part of the preparation for Shabbat prayer. Orthodox Jews wash their hands before eating, using a special vessel for pouring it over their hands and then saying a blessing as they dry them, that thanks God for the commandment to wash our hands [before eating.] Some Orthodox Jewish men also go to a ritual immersion bath, a mikvah, to purify themselves in the preparation for the Sabbath.
Reform Jews rarely go to the mikvah before the Sabbath, however it is becoming more common for observant Reform Jews to wash their hands as a part of the dinner table ritual for welcoming the Sabbath.
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Question: I was wondering. I've heard different things from different people, and was told a lot of different opinions. In Judaism, among Jews, what is considered as 'losing your virginity', particularly for a girl? I've always viewed it to be when a girl's hymen is broken by a man in a sexual act, but some people have been telling me otherwise. So my question is, 'What constitutes 'losing your virginity' for a girl?' What would change her status from 'virgin' to not?
Your question is Jewishly important because traditionally the bride’s status changes depending on whether or not she is on betulah, a virgin. On a ketubah, the Jewish wedding contract, it stipulates that the groom pays the bride in zuzim (an ancient monetary denomination) and that the amount is 200 zuzuim for a betulah, a virgin, and 100 zuzim is for someone who is not. The payment is symbolized by the groom giving a ring to the bride during the wedding ceremony. An actual payment of money is only made if the couple divorces. A woman is no longer a betulah (virgin) if she has had sexual intercourse, defined as the insertion of a man’s penis into her vagina. Jewish tradition explicitly states that the status of her hymen does not determine to her standing as a virgin. As for determining whether or not she is a virgin, it is assumed that a woman who was getting married for the first time is a betulah and that only someone who has been married before is not.
In Orthodox Judaism there are many, many, intricate Jewish legal issues that follow from this, but not for Reform Judaism because it has done away with the concept of a payment or bride price. For Reform Judaism the question is, given the realities of our modern world where marriage often occurs at a later age and there is equality between men and women, is there still any importance to a woman being a virgin when she marries? The short answer is no. Instead, Reform tradition turns to two other Jewish concepts, tzinut, modesty, and brit, a covenantal, or mutually committed, lifelong, relationship.
Tzinut or modesty is an important consideration in any romantic relationship between a man and woman. Reform tradition would like couples to consider if the level of physical intimacy between them is commensurate with depth of their emotional relationship. As well, it would consider the relationship to be in harmony with Jewish values if it was helping each of them build the skills that will enable them to form a lifelong commitment, or brit, whether with this person or someone else.
The question behind your question seems to be, “how can I technically remain a virgin even if I’m being very physically intimate with someone?” Reform Judaism would not regard whether or not you’re a virgin as being a terribly important. Rather it would ask you to think about whether the level of physical intimacy you’re engaged in, or considering, is appropriate for both your age and how committed you and your partner are to each other. It would direct you back to the question of tzinut, appropriate modesty between people, and brit, the question of trust and commitment between you and the person you’re involved with. In an age where young adults live independently of their parents for many years before getting married, virginity has become largely irrelevant vis a vis marriage. The vast majority of couples that Reform rabbis marry have already been living together. One assumes there are very few virgins among them. What continues to be important is Jewish tradition’s concern for appropriate boundaries between people and the value it puts upon an individual being able to enter into a lifelong commitment with someone else, which is then formalized through institution of marriage.
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Question: What is the Jewish perspective on trust? Is it ever permitted to betray someone's trust? What type of person should be trusted? Is being trustworthy a mitzvah (commandment)?
One of Hebrew’s words for trust, emunah, is also the word for having faith in God, classically Judaism’s most valued form of trust. Judaism has addressed the question of trust between people in many ways; through stories in the Torah, Midrashim, and halakha, Jewish law. Trust is something to be valued, even treasured, but it can be amorphous and difficult to measure, especially over a short span of time. Consequently, the tradition focuses more on describing the qualities and habits that make one trustworthy, than it does on issuing benchmarks for deciding if a person is worthy of one’s trust.
Joseph is the model of a trustworthy person. He comes into Potiphar’s house as a slave but soon his master, “…put him in charge of his household, placing in his hands all that he owned.”(Gen. 39:4) Joseph proved faithful to Potiphar even in the face of his wife’s attempt to seduce him. He would continue to earn people’s trust, while in prison and again as a trusted advisor to Pharaoh. Joseph was even able to earn the trust of his brothers who once despised him for spying on them.
The rabbis are powerfully aware that where money is involved there is always the possibility for violating trust. When Moses calls for gifts to build the ark of the covenant he also gives a public accounting of the wealth that is received. Trust is something that every person, no matter how high his or her office, must earn. The Psalmist alerts us to the reality that our words are our most powerful tools for violating trust, “O Lord, save me from treacherous lips, from a deceitful tongue.” (Ps. 120:2) The fallout from charming words is all about us. Proverbs reminds us that, “An enemy dissembles with his speech but inwardly he harbors deceit.” (Prov. 26:24) We merit trust through our actions. The Talmud describes in detail the kind of discipline needed to merit trust, “A shopkeeper must clean his measures twice a week…and cleanse his scales after every weighing of liquids” (Baba Batra 88b).
However, Jewish tradition also demonstrates an awareness that too literal an interpretation of what constitutes honesty can make one vulnerable to evil, or result in unintentionally hurting others. After repeatedly being cheated by his father-in-law Laban, Jacob realizes he will never come to a fair agreement for his labor and he must simply take his property and flee. This is an extreme action, but the story reminds us that we must be shrewd in the face of evil. We should always seek to establish trust between ourselves and others, but we must also be aware that it can be used as a weapon against us. So too, if someone tells us they are going to kill themselves, we can betray their trust in the interest of pekuach nefesh, saving a life. Jewish tradition has many examples of white lies that are told in the interest of modesty or of not wounding others. Hillel’s disciples exhorted us to sing “O beautiful and graceful bride” to all brides, however they look.
One should trust people of great integrity, but as cases like Bernie Madoff’s teach us, scoundrels have a talent for fooling people. We only have control over cultivating our own character and working at making ourselves worthy of people’s trust, not whether someone else is trustworthy. However we can, with good judgment, and more than a touch of luck, draw close to people who have demonstrated a trustworthy character. Certainly, Jewish teaching reassures us that there have always been people worthy of emunah, even as there have always been scoundrels. Is emunah a mitzvah? Certainly its components are; telling the truth, being honest in business, and cleaving to our covenants with others, but trust itself is a value to be cultivated, often over a lifetime, rather than a defined action that can be legislated.
(Thanks to Eugene Borowitz and Frances Schwartz who’s fine chapter on emunah in Jewish Moral Virtues was particularly helpful in writing this response)
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Question: Where does the concept of tikkun olam (repairing the world) originate, and is it a mitzvah (commandment) or does it hold the same level of importance as a mitzvah?
Where does the concept of tikkun olam (repairing the world) originate, and is it a mitzvah (commandment) or does it hold the same level of importance as a mitzvah?
Tikkun olam, which translates as repairing the world, is the concept that we are God’s partners in perfecting the world and by being engaged in social action we can repair and transform a broken world. However, the phrase dates back to the early days of Rabbinic Judaism and was employed in a number of different ways. Its earliest use is in the Aleinu prayer, which may originate early as the second century CE. It appears in the line, “l’taken olam b’malchut shaddai” and means “to perfect the world under the kingdom of God,” but in this context, the transformation is by divine means rather human.
Tikkun olam is also found in the Mishnah (ca. 200 CE) where it refers to taking the unusual legal decision of forbidding a man from overturning a get (Jewish divorce certificate) he had granted, in order to preserve his ex-wife’s second marriage and her new child’s legal standing. Here, tikkun olam, refers to the protection of society from an ex-husband’s capricious act. Tikkun olam can even be found in the midrashim (sacred Jewish stories) where it refers to the literal stabilizing of the earth on the second day of creation, when tradition holds that it was almost torn apart.
A fourth meaning of the phrase comes from the sixteenth century mystic, Rabbi Isaac Luria, who taught that God emanated Godself into the world through clay vessels that were unable to contain the divine light and shattered. The repair of these vessels, and with it the elimination of evil, can only be done through the personal practice of mitzvoth, or traditional Jewish commandments, both ritual and ethical. In other words, personal Jewish practice can actually transform God’s heavenly kingdom.
The modern conception of tikkun olam has its origins in a new reading of the phrase from the Aleinu prayer, which was then combined with a radical reinterpretation of Lurianic mysticism. In the early 1950’s Shlomo Bardin, the director of Brandeis Camp Institute in California, taught that tikkun olam, as used in the Aleinu, referred to the obligation of Jews to work for a more perfect world. This interpretation had an enormous impact on American Jewish youth movements, and by 1970 had been adopted by Conservative Judaism’s United Synagogue Youth, as the moniker for their social action activities. Over the next decades, tikkun olam became the catch phrase for Jewish social action, that is to say, efforts to affect public policy and to be involved with a range of tzedakah (charitable activities) and gimilut chasadim (acts of compassion.)
During the next decades, as interest in Jewish mysticism grew, an association between tikkun olam as social action, and the Lurianic sense of that there were human actions that could actually perfect God’s world, began to develop. Today this is certainly the strongest sense of tikkun olam, that we are God’s partners in perfecting the world and by being engaged in social action we can repair and transform a broken world. Ironically, it is the Aleinu that cautions us to be tempered in our belief that our choices are the only way to proceed. The perfection of the world referred to in the Aleinu only comes through God’s hand. It is fine to be inspired by tikkun olam but we should be cautious, especially in political matters, about thinking that it is one’s own definition of tikkun olam, of what constitutes repairing the world, which deserves a hechsher (a Jewish/divine seal of approval.)
Is Tikkun olam a mitzvah? Certainly not in the sense of being a specific commandment, or even series of commandments, that an individual is Jewishly required to do. Tikkun olam, defined as the repair of the world through lobbying, charitable acts, or contributions, is more akin to a motivating concept than a concrete, Jewish, act. But if we use mitzvah in a less formal sense, as a good deed rather than a commandment, than tikkun olam definitely qualifies. It is a mitzvah for Jews to be engaged in trying to bring, if not repair, at least a little healing, to an often broken world.
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N O T I C E
THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.
