Contemporary Jews Research Articles

Paulus und die antike jüdische Schriftauslegung

Summary The relation between Paul’s exegesis and that of his Jewish contemporaries still triggers a number of questions today. This contribution first illustrates the form and function of ancient Jewish exegesis, followed by the Pauline reception and application thereof. It can be shown that Paul was familiar with the contemporary methods and patterns of argumentation of Jewish exegesis. He derived his Hellenistic education in the first place from the Hellenic Jewish Diaspora communities in the Second Temple period. Nevertheless, one cannot simply claim that Paul must have received a formal Jewish education. Rather, one has to place him in a broader tendency of ancient Jewish philosophy which exhibits a keen interest both in Hellenistic as well as eschatological questions. Pauline exegesis is not original; yet its premises and results are. It is here where Paul arrives at a radically new interpretation of Torah and the Prophets. He combines early Jewish tradition with Christian appropriation: past, present, and future are approached from the central perspective of Christ’s cross.

Monuments to the Truth of Christianity: Anti-Judaism in the Works of Adam Clarke

The prevailing historiographies of Jewish life in England suggest that religious representations of the Jews in the early modern period were confined to the margins and fringes of society by the desacralization of English life. Such representations are mostly neglected in the scholarly literature for the latter half of the long eighteenth century, and English Methodist texts in particular have received little attention. This article addresses these lacunae by examining the discourse of Adam Clarke (1760/2–1832), an erudite Bible scholar, theologian, preacher and author and a prominent, respected, Methodist scholar. Significantly, the more overt demonological representations were either absent from Clarke‘s discourse, or only appeared on a few occasions, and were vague as to who or what was signified. However, Clarke portrayed biblical Jews as perfidious, cruel, murderous, an accursed seed, of an accursed breed and radically and totally evil. He also commented on contemporary Jews (and Catholics), maintaining that they were foolish, proud, uncharitable, intolerant and blasphemous. He argued that in their eternal, wretched, dispersed condition, the Jews demonstrated the veracity of biblical prophecy, and served an essential purpose as living monuments to the truth of Christianity.

The Radical New Perspective on Paul, Messianic Judaism and their connection to Christian Zionism

The Radical New Perspective on Paul distinguishes between two subgroups of believers in Christ in Paul’s time: gentile believers and Jewish or Judaean believers. The same distinction is utilised in supporting contemporary Messianic Judaism, which presupposes an ongoing covenantal relationship between God and contemporary Jews that exists over and above Christianity. Many proponents of Christian Zionism, a Christian movement that envisions the Jews’ return to the land of Israel, utilise aspects of both the Radical New Perspective on Paul and Messianic Judaism in support of their beliefs. Ironically, while the Radical New Perspective on Paul is a certain product of post-holocaust theology, Christian Zionism can be perceived as a perpetuation of a kind of imperial theology that brings injustice to Palestinian people, especially in view of a post-imperial South African context. While none of these connections are inevitable, to point out the relationship between these approaches to identity serves to rethink some of the preconceived notions behind them, as well as some of the (unintended) consequences that arise from them.

Musical Jews: Listening for Hierarchy in Colonial Algeria and Beyond

The scholarly literature on Muslim-Jewish relations in the Maghrib has long been divided between what Shlomo Deshen (1989:123) has called the integrationist model and the conflict model.1 The first evokes an image of Jewish integration within the Maghribi social fabric, with crosscutting person-to-person ties overcoming ethnoreligious insularity. The second evokes an image of Jewish marginality and insecurity, with ethnoreligious categories and their institutional instantiations profoundly shaping the fate of Maghribi Jewish communities living under Muslim-majority rule.2 Although more recent generations of scholars have been wary of making such sweeping judgments, the traces of such ambivalence (Bilu and Levy 1996) remain, with many contemporary researchers leaning toward a deep version of the integrationist model while positing a colonial production or intensification of Jewish marginality.3Such a state of play between two contrasting interpretations is by no means limited to scholars of Muslim-Jewish relations in the Maghrib. In Jewish Studies more generally, what Salo Baron (1928:526) critiqued as the lachrymose theory of Jewish history came to be countered by research that has highlighted examples of successful Jewish integration into a wide range of societies, eventually followed by a neo-lachrymose response that has highlighted Jewish marginality in Muslim societies in both the medieval and modern periods (Cohen 1994:9, Beinin 1998:14-19, Stein 2002:328). The Mediterranean itself has sometimes been presented as a prototypical space of contradictions, including tense cohabitation between peoples (Bromberger and Duran 2001:746 as cited in Miliani 2011:179). And in anthropology more widely, there is a lasting rivalry between interpretations of inter-ethnic relations that emphasize horizontality and symbiosis and those that emphasize verticality, with a strong temporalizing tendency in recent work that identifies the modern state as central to a shift from the horizontal to the vertical.4 Thus the longstanding debate about Muslim-Jewish relations in the Maghrib is a localized version of a broader theme.This article revisits the debate regarding Muslims and Jews in the Maghrib through a musical case study. For many contemporary Jews and Muslims living in the Maghrib and its diaspora, Jewish specialization in the musical arts in the modern period is evidence of Jewish belonging within the North African social fabric. Particularly in Algeria, where Jews tended to be conflated with the French settler population in colonial law and in post-independence nationalist and metropolitan memory (Shepard 2006, Katz 2015, Mandel 2014), Jewish musical prominence can be taken as a sign of Jews' at-home-ness in Algerian society in the not very distant past, and as the recognition of this fact by many contemporary Algerian Muslims (Bougherara 2002, Swedenburg 2005, Miliani 2011). In this way, the sound of Algerian Jews performing the Arabic-language classics conjures a picture of belonging and co-participation that counters the longstanding notion that Jews were not truly indigenous to Algerian society.Yet, there are ways in which Jewish musicality can be read along the grain of the idea of separation rather than against it. As is the case in many societies, professional musicianship has long been looked upon as a dubious occupation in Algeria, the wider Maghrib, and the Middle East and North Africa region at large (Pananti 1818:266-267, Broughton 1839:22, Nieuwkerk 1995, Racy 2003, Ciucci 2005). This is in keeping with the classic paradox pointed out by Allan Merriam (1964:133-143), who showed that for many societies, music-making is of great importance to the general population but constitutes a low-prestige occupation. Subsequent ethnomusicologists have extended Merriam's observations in several ways, including into the realm of ethnicity. Some scholars have pointed out that this low-prestige occupation is often taken up by members of outsider groups, either through a labor market mechanism (Nettle 1983:426-427) or through a projection of the sense of the collective's musical self onto its margins (van de Port 1999, Kapchan 1994). …

A History of Antisemitism in Canada by Ira Robinson

Reviewed by: A History of Antisemitism in Canada by Ira Robinson Leonard Dinnerstein (bio) A History of Antisemitism in Canada. By Ira Robinson. Ontario: Wilfred Laurier University Press. xiii + 287 pp. Until now a comprehensive study of antisemitism in Canada had not been written. Ira Robinson has filled this void with a survey that covers the subject from its beginnings in Christian Europe until the present day. The experiences of Jews in Canada, similar to those in much of the Christian world, mixes a long history of persecution with varying degrees of acceptance at different times in history. Since the end of World War II, significant changes in laws and societal attitudes in Canada have resulted in greater tolerance and legal protections for minorities. Despite the new atmosphere and opportunities, pockets of antisemitic fervor still exist and are mostly seen in attacks on Zionism and Israeli policies towards Arabs in their midst. Currently, the Canadian population exceeds 35 million; Jews constitute somewhere between 1 and 2 percent of that total. The first Jews arrived in the middle of the eighteenth century. In 1831 they totaled 107 persons in all of Canada. Eighty years later their numbers had increased to only 16,401 or 0.31% of the population. Historian Irving Abella observed, "if there was a golden age of Canadian Jewry, one could make a strong case for the period before Confederation, particularly the 1830s and 1840s" (22). Ninety percent of these Jews came from Great Britain. By the 1890s, most of the new immigrant Jews hailed from the Yiddish-speaking areas of Eastern Europe, especially Russia and Poland. That wave ended by the late 1920s; not until 1948 did new legislation pass allowing the displaced persons who survived World War II to enter Canada. About one quarter of today's Canadian Jewish population traces its origins to this last group. Antisemitism in Canada paralleled its development and manifestations in the United States. The mass migration that began in the late nineteenth [End Page 321] century continued in both countries through much of the 1920s, and antisemitic attitudes and behavior intensified as the decades advanced, peaking in the middle of the 1940s. Jews settled mostly in urban areas in and around Montreal, Toronto, and Winnipeg. The Canadian parliament granted Jews some civil and legal rights. Nevertheless wherever they went, they were shunned socially, discriminated against in education and employment, and viewed as pariahs willing to do anything to make money. They and their children endured both physical and verbal abuse. While Robinson offers a variety of reasons for other Canadians despising and distancing themselves from Jews, I believe that the main causes for fearing, hating, and attacking them stems primarily from church teachings and Jews' rejection of Jesus as a savior. Differences between the vigorously outspoken hostility toward Jews observed in Quebec and the more subtle expressions of similar attitudes in Toronto are explored, but the author is not sure whether the depth of antisemitic feelings was any worse in French speaking areas than in English speaking parts of the country. After the end of World War II, for reasons not easily explained, episodes of Christian bigotry began to decline. Not until the 1980s, however, did in-your-face hostility cease to plague the nation's Jews. Today Jews enjoy complete legal equality, but antisemitism has not disappeared. Contemporary Jews in Canada, especially descendants of those who arrived after World War II, have a passionate attachment to the state of Israel. They also have a heightened sense of hostility to anyone who questions the purposes and designs of Israel's policies toward the Arabs or who does not appreciate the virtues of Zionism. While a number of Holocaust deniers might be kooks, many are either delusional or antisemitic. On the other hand, some people who despise Jews, but who are too embarrassed to publicize their venomous feelings, mask their bigotry behind legitimate critiques of Israel. Nevertheless, Canadian Jews suspect the motivations of Holocaust deniers, people who oppose Zionism, and anyone who questions Israel's right to exist. Robinson is aware of these attitudes and devotes two chapters to exploring the various opinions and nuances in these conflicting beliefs. People interested...

Goethe and Judaism: The Troubled Inheritance of Modern Literature by Karin Schutjer

Reviewed by: Goethe and Judaism: The Troubled Inheritance of Modern Literature by Karin Schutjer Jonathan M. Hess Karin Schutjer. Goethe and Judaism: The Troubled Inheritance of Modern Literature. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2015. 264 pp. Schutjer's monograph tackles a topic that has been a subject of debate for more than a century and puts forth a powerful, original, and sophisticated argument grounded in both careful, conscientious close readings of texts by Goethe [End Page 293] and a deep sense of historical context. Over the decades, numerous scholars have cataloged, categorized, and studied Goethe's various statements on Jews and Judaism, typically evaluating them in biographical terms to argue whether Goethe was anti-Semitic or philo-Semitic. Schutjer certainly integrates biographical approaches into her study, but she steers clear of the pitfalls of linking Goethe to later forms of anti- and philo-Semitism or studying Goethe in the shadow of the Holocaust. Indeed, her study is the antithesis of the sort of scholarship that cherry-picks statements to make a polemical case about Goethe's relation to Jews and Judaism. Schutjer studies the dynamic and systematic role that reflections on Judaism played in both Goethe's worldview and his massive literary oeuvre, laying bare the central role that Goethe's ideas about Judaism played in his work as a whole. Rather than simply indicting Goethe for his anti-Jewish views (he was, among other things, a clear opponent of Jewish emancipation) or seeking to acquit him of prejudice by stressing his long-standing interests in the Hebrew Bible, Schutjer explores how Goethe's conception of the modern world was inextricable from his conception of Judaism. The contradictory elements in his comments on Jews and Judaism, in other words, are certainly important in their own right, but they also shed light on major tensions in Goethe's own thinking more generally. Goethe finds in Judaism—or, rather, as Schutjer demonstrates, his own, at times idiosyncratic, understanding of Judaism—an attractive, distinctly modern posture toward the world that he deems more attractive than that of Christianity. Yet Goethe also engages in a struggle with Judaism precisely because he finds so much affinity with it, casting Judaism as an object of competition, a force that must be cleared from the playing field to make way for his own, Goethean vision of modernity. Approaching Goethe in this way, Schutjer is able to make sense of Goethe's pro-Jewish tendencies as well as the elements in his oeuvre that seem anti-Semitic, making clear how Goethe could oppose political emancipation for his Jewish contemporaries at the same time as he celebrated Judaism—particularly the Hebrew Bible—for a type of freedom and heterodoxy he contrasted with Christianity. Goethe found himself attracted to the Jewish ban on images for its opposition to dogmatic metaphysics; he discovered in the Hebrew scriptures a type of diasporic nationhood and peoplehood linked to a book rather than a state that he deemed particularly relevant for modern Germany; and perhaps more than anything else, he was fascinated by Judaism's activism and striving focused on the immanent, historical world. In this context, Schutjer does not just concern herself with Goethe's worldview. Her analysis cuts to the heart of Goethe's literary work, showing how all these elements of his fascination with Judaism come together in the topos of "wandering." Through exemplary discussions of major and minor works by Goethe, Schutjer demonstrates that Goethe's encounter with the Hebrew Bible, from his youth on, decisively shaped not just the topos of wandering but his entire literary program. This is a new and bold argument, and it is one that Schutjer formulates with eloquence and elegance. Her work is extremely well grounded in Goethe scholarship, as one would expect. It also draws on a deep familiarity with scholarship on the Hebrew Bible and biblical criticism as well as the text of the Bible itself. When Schutjer argues, for instance, that the peculiar form and texture of the Hebrew Bible, and Genesis in particular, provided an ongoing source of fascination and inspiration for Goethe's experimental literary style, she makes this claim with a deep literary appreciation of Goethe's work...

Lionel Trilling’s Jewish “Reverberation” of February 1944

Abstract In February 1944, the Contemporary Jewish Record published the responses of eleven young Jewish intellectuals under forty to questions about their identity as Jews. The most “visceral” and rancorous response, rationalizing his “minimal” Jewish involvement, came from Lionel Trilling. The fact that Trilling, nearing age forty, responded at all and responded so viscerally seemed out of character. Trilling in his writing and persona was known as gracious, reserved, balanced. He had barely addressed Jewish concerns since 1931. As the author of acclaimed works on Matthew Arnold and E.M. Forster and close to becoming the first tenured Jew in Columbia’s English department, he seemed to have transcended anxieties as a Jew he had expressed earlier in his writing. This essay will try to explain the disparity between what Trilling seemed to be in 1944 and how he responded. To do so, it will analyze the long-fuse to Trilling’s 1944 outburst and then the outburst itself. It will judge Trilling and like-minded Jewish contemporaries within the three cultural-historical contexts of the mid to late 1920s, the 1930s, and the early to mid 1940s. In these contexts, Trilling and the Zionist writer Ludwig Lewisohn were adversaries. Their prolonged, ultimately nasty feud will be signified.

Liberalism, Post‐liberalism and the Fact‐Value Divide

AbstractJewish and Christian thought of the modern and contemporary period is frequently described as either liberal or post‐liberal. In lieu of this widely accepted categorization, this essay narrates developments in modern and contemporary Jewish and Christian thought in wake of the impact of the fact‐value dichotomy on theological and ethical discourse. This essay demonstrates the negative ramifications of this logical distinction on Jewish and Christian thought and shows how these negative repercussions can stimulate an immanent critique of this logic and a new paradigm in Jewish and Christian thinking.

«Felicidad, bienestar, gloria y honor»; la imagen pública que Samuel ha-Leví proyectó en la Sinagoga del Tránsito

Samuel ben Meir ha-Levi Abulafia is a prominent figure in the history of Iberian Jews. He acted as the treasurer of Castilian king Pedro 1st, and funded the Toledo synagogue known as Synagogue of the Transito. The foundation of a building of such size, beauty and luxury must have meant one of Samuel ha-Levi’s major personal and political achievements, and must have been perceived as a main deed by his contemporary fellow Jews. In the context of the complex medieval patronage system, foundations were meant to symbolize nobility and prestige within the power scene of society. The analysis of the symbols utilized by Samuel ha-Levi in the synagogue he founded shows the way in which he viewed himself, as well as the way he wanted to be viewed and remembered. This essay, based in the analysis of the synagogue and its epigraphy, intends to examine the public image that Samuel ha-Levi attempted to project.

GLOSSA ORDINARIAANDGLOSSA HEBRAICAMIDRASH IN RASHI AND THEGLOSS

An assiduous interest in the plain sense of Scripture and shared interpretations of particular biblical passages can be observed in certain twelfth-century Jewish and Christian commentaries composed in northern France. While Hugh of Saint Victor and Rashbam engaged in independent endeavors to shed light on thesensus literalisand thepeshatof Scripture, Andrew of Saint Victor attributed his knowledge of particular rabbinic interpretations to encounters with contemporary Jews. Yet points of convergence in Jewish and Christian exegesis can be observed even before the work of the Victorines and Rashi's disciples. The purpose of this study is to examine the midrashic interpretations transmitted in northern France around the beginning of the twelfth century in both theGlossa Ordinariaand Rashi's biblical commentaries. Interpretations are found in both corpora on occasions when their late-antique sources, such as Midrash Genesis Rabba and Jerome'sHebrew Questions on Genesis, themselves transmit similar insights. By analyzing an exposition found in both Rashi and theGloss, the narrative of Abraham in the fiery furnace, this study seeks to clarify the nature and extent of this relationship. It thereby enables a more detailed understanding of the ways that midrash reached twelfth-century Jews and Christians and of how Rashi and theGlossensured the wide dissemination of these interpretations.

On Faith and Fanaticism: Converts from Judaism and the Limits of Toleration in Late Imperial Russia

On Faith and FanaticismConverts from Judaism and the Limits of Toleration in Late Imperial Russia Ellie R. Schainker (bio) She was a convert from Judaism in the imperial Russian provinces assailed by her family and friends for communal betrayal. Brought to life in the Ukrainian artist Nikolai Kornilovich Pimonenko’s painting Zhertva fanatizma (Victim of Fanaticism; 1899), this converted Jewess was inspired by an actual female convert in a shtetl (Yiddish: small town) in the Pale of Jewish Settlement in late imperial Russia who converted to marry her Christian lover and was then tormented by her former coreligionists. Although contemporary Jews decried Pimonenko’s art as antisemitic for casting the former Jewess as an innocent victim of Jewish wrath and aggression, they also appropriated the sketch and another like it for circulation on postcards with the accompanying Hebrew words ha-meshumedet (the Apostate) and ha-bogedet (the Traitoress), thus renarrating the events to cast moral blame on the neophyte and legitimize the collective ire of the Jewish community.1 More than a controversial episode in the artistic representation of Jews, Pimonenko’s illustration is the product of a long history of storytelling about conversion as a conflictual boundary crossing. It gives figural rendering to a wide-ranging conversation over the course of the 19th century about Jewish violence in the face of conversion. The popular press and jurists alike mediated this conversation in the late imperial period to mark Jews as both religious and social “fanatics,” whose violent intolerance toward apostate kin rendered them undeserving of imperial toleration. In particular, conservative voices in the late imperial press linked stories of conversion-inspired violence to the medieval ritual murder accusation to generate a new blood libel myth in which Jews ritually sacrificed their converted family members. [End Page 753] Click for larger view View full resolution Postcard of Nikolai Kornilovich Pimonenko’s 1899 painting Victim of Fanaticism, printed by a Jewish publisher active in Berlin and retitled in Hebrew ha-meshumedet (The Apostate). Similarly, the German title reads Baptized Jewess in Native Village. Credit: Collection of Prof. Shalom Sabar, Jerusalem. Violence as a concept long framed the relation of the state and imperial subjects to conversion as a boundary crossing during the long 19th century. Many Jews narrated conversion as Christian violence against vulnerable Jewish children; and conversions for many converts and their clerical and administrative allies were often understood as endangered by the violence of Jewish families and communities who sought to physically repress deviant behavior. Violence in these stories not only consisted in the infliction of physical pain but also inhered in the language of dispute over the violation of confessional and communal boundaries. Claims of physical harm referred either to direct or to structural violence—at times religious coercion and at times perceived assaults on religious truth, thus causing despair and humiliation.2 The stories of aggression told about Jews expanded the scope of violence in the Russian Empire to everyday forms of conflict, suggesting that minority groups like the Jews were usurping the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of violence. Beginning in the mid-1860s and the era of reform, conservative voices in the Russian press, in line with some jurists, harnessed these stories of violence to create a narrative of gendered violence in which Jews were designated as [End Page 754] inherently fanatical. This discrediting discourse came on the heels of the 1863 Polish insurrection and ensuing Russification campaigns in the northwestern region. In addition, the 1864 judicial reforms provided public, civil channels for cantonist converts from Judaism to challenge their coerced baptisms in the pre-reform army and for prosecutors to indict relapsed converts and their alleged Jewish enablers on charges of leading neophytes astray or of “seduction” (sovrashchenie).3 In this late imperial discourse of Jewish violence, the female convert as victim was used to construct an ethnoconfessional political order that set “fanatical” minorities apart from the rational, tolerant, and civilized imperial order. The female victim symbolized the vulnerability of religious truth to heterodoxy, especially because women were identified as vessels of religion across faith communities. In addition, exclusion and humiliation often breed intimate and domestic violence. Thus gendered violence served...

One of the Days of the Son of Man: A Reconsideration of Luke 17:22

And he said to the disciples, will come when you will long to see of the of the Son of and you will not see it. (Luke 17:22)Luke 17:22 a puzzle that has confounded interpreters for generations. There are several pieces to the puzzle but no clear way of fitting them together without apparently leaving out a piece or two. The main difficulty revolves around what the disciples will desire to see but will not see, one of the of the Son of (µ?αν τ?ν ?µeρ?ν το? υ?ο? το? ?νθρ?που). Scholars describe phrase as unusual,1 enigmatic,2 highly problematic,3 and a crux interpretum.4 A. R. C. Leaney's assessment still holds true today: Luke 17:22 is a verse for which no satisfactory explanation has been given.5 Any interpretation of phrase must account for two significant problems associated with it.First, it not readily apparent how the phrase to be synchronized with the other temporal designations in 17:22-37. We can list them here:* Days will come (v. 22)* One of the of the Son of Man (v. 22)* The Son of Man [in his day]6 (v. 24)* But first it necessary (v. 25)* In the of Noah (v. 26)* In the of the Son of Man (v. 26)* Until the Noah entered the ark (v. 27)* In the of Lot (v. 28)* But on the Lot leftSodom (v. 29)* On the that the Son of Man revealed (v. 30)* On that (v. 31)* On night (v. 34)The basic problem that one of the of the Son of seems to align itself temporally with the of the Son of (v. 26), which, according to the analogies of Noah and Lot (vv. 26-29) should occur before the of the Son of Man (vv. 24, 30). This creates the scenario where one of the of the Son of cannot refer to the of the Son of Man (i.e., the parousia) because it part of a period that should precede the day. This requires a significant interpretive decision. How does interpret the phrase in relation to Luke's other temporal designations?Second, the phrase presents the idea of multiple days of the Son of but unprecedented in the rest of the New Testament, which speaks of the parousia only as a singular day.7 It not as though Luke unfamiliar with idea of the parousia, since he uses elsewhere in Luke-Acts to refer to it (e.g., Acts 2:20). Furthermore, he uses in the immediate context (17:24, 30, 31). Why, then, does Luke break consistency in 17:22? Why does he write days if he supposedly means day? In view of the unanimous agreement among the New Testament writers concerning the parousia, Luke's uncommon expression suggests that he not referring to the parousia.In study, I challenge two interpretive decisions that I believe led to the problems discussed above: (1) that the days in one of the of the Son of are a temporal period, and (2) that Luke 17:22-37 about the parousia. These interpretive decisions are difficult to sustain when the evidence examined. I argue here for two alternative interpretations: (1) The days in one of the of the Son of are a collection of similar yet distinct days.8 In other words, the days refer to a set of individual that can all be classified as a day of the Son of Man. The one, then, distinguishes a specific day of the Son of from another day of the Son of Man. (2) Luke 17:22-37 best understood as describing the events surrounding the destruction of Jerusalem (ca. 70 CE).9 Consequently, I argue that the of the Son of (17:26) was a period prior to the destruction of Jerusalem when Jesus and his witnesses suffered and were rejected by this generation, Jesus's wicked and unperceptive Jewish contemporaries (17:25). The day of the Son of Man, then, entailed a revelatory theophany of Jesus as the glorious and suffering-yet-vindicated Messiah in order to condemn this generation (17:24, 30). …

Two Pious Men, a Trusting Innkeeper, and a Neglected Son: Three Lucan Parables

In 1990 the book appeared that I co-authored with Leonard Swidler, Gerald Sloyan, and Lester Dean: Bursting the Bonds? A Jewish-Christian Dialogue on Jesus and Paul. (1) It was the product of a decade of Jewish-Christian dialogue within the context of Temple University's graduate program in religion, which took me along with a number of faculty members and graduate students on a remarkable journey. Through our interactions with each and with colleagues in Germany, we explored the various points of contact between our two faiths over time and space. We engaged with each not only as scholars but also as people of faith trying to use our academic knowledge and spiritual insights to build a deeper sense of community and purpose. Leonard Swidler's commitment to dialogue as an approach to life forced me to engage with the texts of my Jewish tradition and his Christian tradition as living voices rather than artifacts and souvenirs. He invited me to enter into a dialogue with the past, so to speak, and to join in an ongoing conversation. He asked me to take care to allow a shared tradition and my individual perspective to engage each with acceptance of our differences and respect for our sincerity. The tangible result of this process was the dialogue I had with Swidler concerning Jesus that appeared in Bursting the Bonds? In honor of this I would like to return to a few Christian texts--three parables from the Gospel of Luke--and try to apply the principles I learned over a quarter of a century ago. I approach these texts today, as a contemporary Jew, trained as a Reconstructionist Rabbi, with a doctorate in religion, who has spent the bulk of his career as a chaplain. Above all, I also come to this material as a student of Swidler to whom I offer this as a gift of thanksgiving. A Jewish claim to the New Testament in the context of dialogue is not as outrageous as it might seem. The New Testament, though holy to Christians, is also significant for Jews. From a historical viewpoint (and identification with Jewish history is a central touchstone for modern Jewish life), the writings of the Apostles, which cherished the memories of Jesus and his followers, provide a powerful, albeit not necessarily complimentary, witness to Jewish life in the first-century Greco-Roman world. The New Testament connects Jews to their own Jewish past, not as sacred writings but as historical evidence. However, the discussion needs to be more than a debate among historians. In terms of interreligious relationships, Jews have an existential interest in the way the church reads its scripture, particularly those texts that focus on Jews and Jewish beliefs. In them in particular, as part of the emergent church's striving for self-definition, the differences between Jesus and his Jewish contemporaries are highlighted. The New Testament, reflecting its authors' need to ground their innovative new way, casts light and sows confusion at the same time. Thus, Jesus of Nazareth appears both as a teacher embedded in the Jewish tradition and as a critical voice outside the community. Furthermore, Jews understand that the New Testament is part of the canon of Western culture. Its themes, its stories, and their influence on the philosophical, spiritual, economic, and political aspects of the world in which Jews dwell make the New Testament part of the Jews' cultural baggage. As members of a cultural and religious minority, self-aware Jews sense that they are stakeholders in the majority-Christian-based culture. New Testament stories, images, and vocabulary are an undeniable part of the Jewish experience in the West. While the rabbinic tradition appears as the exotic other to Christians, New Testament traditions affect the way in which Jews interact with the world and with each other. With this in mind, I want to look at three well-known parables from the Gospel of Luke: the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (Lk. …

The Importance of a Navigational Perspective in the Study of Contemporary American Jews: Response to the Sklare Lecture

One fissure in the social scientific study of contemporary American Jews involves how scholars understand the relationship between the individual and the shared or social realm. In this essay I contrast a more normative, tradition-oriented approach to studying American Jews and their Jewishness exemplified by Sylvia Barack Fishman to the person-centered, meaning-oriented, navigational approach I employ. Our contrasting approaches reflect different views about what it means to “transmit Jewish culture to the next generation.” The nature of the interface between individuals and the social context has changed in some profound ways. Most notably Jewish individuals are less tethered by the kinds of external constraints regarding Jewishness that functioned in the past, leaving them with more latitude. Furthermore, in these new circumstances, the social terrain itself has changed, resulting in an array of options and possibilities that is wider, and also less successfully characterized by nomenclature like “Jewish” and “American” that many employ. So what does it mean to speak about “Jewish cultural transmission” when the “Jewishness” that is to be conveyed has changed, not to speak of the processes and possibilities of social learning? Here I describe a navigational perspective that is able to encompass both the moves of individuals and the changing terrain and array of opportunities that have emerged.

The politics of food: kashrut, food choices and social justice (tikkun olam)

Engagement in social justice (tikkun olam) has in recent decades become an important focus across all major Jewish denominations. This article explores how notions of tikkun olam inform the food choices of an increasing number of contemporary Jews and how these can be understood as innovative forms of consumptive practices that shape Jewish identity beyond the traditional dietary laws (kashrut). Examining halakhic responses to animal cruelty in the production of meat, vegetarianism and new initiatives that promote certification for ‘ethical kashrut’, I argue that, despite internal criticism, these practices can give Jewish consumers responsibility for the ethical production of food but also some control in a highly industrialised process that has led to alienation between the production and consumption of food.

The Image of The Other in Jewish Interpretations of Alenu

The image of the non-Jewish Other stands at the center of the ancient Jewish prayer, Alenu. In it, the Other is contrasted with the Jews as the only worshipers of the true God. Alenu juxtaposes the correctness of Israel’s religion with the erroneousness of the Other’s religion. Jewish interpretations of Alenu, over time and across various geographical locations, form an interesting bellwether of Jewish approaches to the Other in general. The earliest versions of the prayer – in the Hekhalot Literature and in the Rosh ha-shanah liturgy – did not shy away from the severe image of the Other. The medieval commentators too continued the trend of acknowledging the anti-Other content of Alenu in a straightforward way and several medieval versions even amplified the negative image. Beginning with the early modern period however, and the commencement of even partial acceptance of Jews into non-Jewish society, all of the commentaries attempted to diminish that negative image to one degree or another. Contemporary Jewish commentaries produced for popular audiences (and some produced for academic audiences) softened the image of the Other in their interpretations of Alenu and all of the prayer books produced for contemporary American Jews that were surveyed similarly played down the negative depiction of the Other in this prayer. All of these trends in the way Jewish interpreters viewed the non-Jewish Other reflected the Jewish perception of non-Jews in the various periods.

The Jewish Gospels: The Story of the Jewish Christ. By DANIEL BOYARIN. Foreword by JACK MILES

G race , humour, and accessibility mark this book. Jack Miles in his foreword notes its challenge to readers who think of Christology as a new Christian phenomenon. Boyarin argues, by contrast, for a Jewish Jesus who kept the laws of diet and purity, but was also seen by some of his Jewish contemporaries to fit pre-Christian Jewish expectation of a divine yet also suffering messiah. ‘The job description—Required: one Christ, will be divine, will be called Son of Man, will be sovereign and savior of the Jews and the world—was there already’ (p.73); ‘the idea of Jesus as divine-human Messiah goes back … to Jesus himself, and even before that’ (p.7). Assessments of pre-Christian expectation on these lines hardly form a majority position in critical scholarship, but sponsors of broadly similar views have included J. A. Emerton, J. C. O’Neill, J. J. Collins, and Joel Marcus. In antiquity and the Middle Ages related views marked Christian apologetic exposition of the Old Testament and rabbinic literature. The piquancy of this book lies in endorsement of a view of this kind by an heir of Jewish tradition and a rabbinic scholar, who presents Jesus himself as a fully observant Jew with a mastery of halakhah. ‘Jesus kept kosher’, to quote the title of chapter 3—but it was not, as in older apologetic for Judaism and in some ‘liberal Protestant’ histories, through a paganizing Christian error that Jesus was called divine. This Christology of divine status is here presented as one trend of authentically Jewish thinking, pursued within the intermingling rather than separation of Christians and Jews which Boyarin emphasized for the whole period down to the fourth century in his Border Lines (2004). He is close to M. Idel’s book Ben: Sonship and Jewish Mysticism (2007) in willingness to view Christian doctrinal developments within the long-term context of a manifold Jewish mysticism. The argument of The Jewish Gospels , however, is based firmly on earlier rather than later mystical and apocalyptic texts.

Classical Rabbinic Literature and the Making of Jewish Ethics

Classical Rabbinic Literature and the Making of Jewish Ethics

Quasi et ipsi nunc lapident iustos et occident prophetas: reflexiones críticas respecto de la motivación histórica del sermo XIII de Cromacio de Aquileia

Judaism and its followers are a usual target of the invectives of Chromatius of Aquileia. In fact, with reference to common stereotypes from aduersus Iudaeos literature, his Sermones and his Tractatus in Mathaeum offered an extremely depreciating image of the Jewish religion and its members. Nevertheless, several scholars have asserted that sermo XIII involved a reaction to the Jewish presence in the city, based principally on the fact that Chromatius linked the contemporary Jews to the stoning of the prophets and the murder of the Just. The aim of this paper is to reconsider this interpretation. I will maintain, on the one hand, that the crimes denounced by Chromatius in sermo XIII did not transcend the cliches of the aduersus Iudaeos literature; and on the other hand, that the imputation of these crimes to the contemporary Jews is not sufficient evidence to accept that the homily was historically motivated, since the attribution of the sins committed by the Jews of the past to the Jews of the present is...

“Perhaps We'll Meet Again”—Moshe Sharett's Military Service

Moshe Sharett served as an officer in the Ottoman army from 1916 to 1918. His large corpus of letters to his family from his various encampments during his service illustrate not only his own experience but that of many of his Jewish contemporaries from Palestine, and give some insight into the situation in the Yishuv at that time. He also gives invaluable information about life in the army and its activities in Palestine, Syria, Jordan, and Macedonia.