Unstigmatizing the Convert

Parshat Mishpatim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

During one of the classes I teach on weeknights, our topic turned to the different kinds of love mentioned in the Torah. One insightful participant commented that if G-d tells us to look out for different kinds of people on account of His own personal feelings of love for them, we have an obligation to go above and beyond where our normal emotions take us.

In our efforts to emulate G-d, we are meant to copy His ways in our treatment of the orphan, the widow, the poor and the ger.

Shmot 22:20 states " Do not hurt the feelings of a foreigner or oppress him for you were foreigners in Egypt." Later on in the parsha, we hear (23:9), " Do not oppress a foreigner. You know how it feels to be a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt."

The Sefer Hachinukh counts the instruction in 22:20 as two commandments — not to oppress the ger with words and not to oppress him with money.

Whether a ger refers to a convert or someone who is literally a foreigner who has come to live among you (Rashi) is a subject of debate. Regardless, the Torah's point is minimally commanding us to respect persons of all different nationalities who want to live peaceably with the Jewish people.

This is a sentiment we can all appreciate.

The Or Hachaim warns Jews not to feel superior to converts on account of their not being direct descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. Isn’t it true that the direct descendants of the forefathers reached the lowest spiritual levels in the depravity of Egypt? No one can point fingers at the past without revealing skeletons in their own closets.

On the other side of the equation is the mitzvah to love the ger (Number 431 in Sefer HaChinukh), a concept that is repeated a few times in the Torah (Vayikra 19:34, Devarim 10:19).
 
One of the reasons the Sefer Hachinukh advances tighter restrictions against pursuing the ger's money is because he, as a foreigner, has no close relatives to bail him out. Furthermore, we do not want him treated in a way that will cause him to return to his former ways.
 
A number of years ago I was present at the conversion of an adult male. One of the rabbis said something to the man that has stuck in my memory. "You realize that in accepting to convert in this manner, you are committing to be in the top 10 percent of observance,” the rabbi explained. "Most Jews are born into this and might choose how they want to go about expressing their Jewishness. But you are asking to join our ranks, and in turn we're asking of you to commit to the highest level of observance."
 
I know many converts — in many cases, I can't even tell they were not Jews from birth. Each one has a beautiful soul, and understands far better than I do how special it is to be a Jew.
 
Many years ago, I was the gabbai for a minyan where a Hispanic convert prayed. When he was asked his name for an aliyah, he always said his name, proudly concluding with "ben Avraham Avinu" — son of Abraham our forefather. His natural father is not Jewish, but through converting, he is now the son of Abraham.
 
I can't speak from personal experience about whether being a convert has a stigma. I would think that based on what the Torah tells us about how we are to treat "gerim," there would be no need for the converts today to be referred to as "ben Avraham" with the "Avinu" dropped. But I never hear "ben Avraham Avinu" any more.
 
Yes, there is a rule that a kohen may not marry a female convert — but this has nothing to do with the convert personally, as much as it has to do with how we view kohanim, and a reality check of the convert's past. But beyond this restriction, converts are considered complete Jews in every way, in the same manner of every Jew who is not a kohen or levi.
 
We should admire gerim — individuals who have left their former lives behind to embrace Judaism. The Torah, after all, tells us we are to love them.
 
I like to think that the righteous converts would be heralded, put on a pedestal, pointed at for all to see "This is how a Jew is supposed to live."
 
May we merit to overcome our inhibitions and stigmas; may we truly fulfill the mitzvot of treating converts properly. They are the best of us, and we ought to learn from them.

A Holy Nation

Parshat Yitro

by Rabbi Avi Billet


In their fundamental theology, untainted by modern, liberal thinking (the good kind), other major religions of the world claim that those who do not subscribe to their belief system, who do not accept their version of "faith," have no share in the world to come.

The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life published interesting findings at the end of 2008. The subtitle of the survey results reads "Most Christians Say Non-Christian Faiths Can Lead to Salvation." While the "salvation" term does not speak of any understanding of Judaism, it is the belief in the soul's final resting place which is intriguing, for in a sense, those surveyed are using their hearts and minds to challenge their religion's dogma.

There is a debate amongst responders, however, insofar as what element of different religions brings about this heavenly result. Is it based on one's actions or one's beliefs? For those surveyed, it seems the jury is still out.

With this background, Judaism seems to be light years ahead in forward thinking, as the question of belief versus actions is no question whatsoever.

The original source (to the best of my knowledge) is the Tosefta Sanhedrin 13:1, which says "The righteous of the nations have a share in the world to come." While I don't believe the Tosefta coined the phrase "Chasidei umot ha'olam yesh lahem chelek l'olam haba" in that exact language, the term is used across the spectrum of commentators, including rishonim and acharonim, to indicate its intent regarding those people Yad Vashem honors, for example, the so-called "righteous gentiles."

Some contend that the true "righteous gentile" is a non-Jew who has accepted and lives according to the seven Noahide laws. Others suggest their righteous deeds alone are merit enough.

While I do not want to enter the discussion of "who is better?" simply because I believe no one is, I do believe our actions, most importantly, play a role in defining one's "righteousness." Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel teaches in Avot 3:17, "Study or discussions need not be the focus, because action is the focus."

In the verses leading up the spectacle of the Sinai Revelation, God tells Moshe to tell the people, "Now if you obey Me and keep My covenant, you shall be My special treasure among all nations, for all the world is Mine ('ki li kol ha'aretz'). You will be to Me ('v'atem tih'yu li') a kingdom of priests and a holy nation..."

There are two entities that "belong to God:" All of the world, and this Israelite nation. As a result of being a "special treasure," Israel has the opportunity to become a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. The implication is, however, that other nations are also considered a treasure.

Every religion has their own version of their own exceptionalism. Some ignore others' claims, and some choose to be offended by others' claims to be God's Favorite. Does it really matter, in the scheme of things, if everyone wants to think they're the best? As long as people allow others to believe as they want, to practice as they want, and to live in harmony, I don't see the harm of each group thinking they are God's chosen people.

Rabbi Obadiah Seforno writes on these verses, "You will be my special treasure, and that will distinguish you from the rest. As all the world is mine, and there is no doubt that the righteous of the nations of the world are very precious to me, your becoming a kingdom of priests is what will put you ahead of the pack. You do this through understanding and teaching every sect of mankind to call out in God's name... The Talmud (Sanhedrin 92a) says 'Just as holiness lasts forever, the nation of Israel, which is also holy, will last forever.'"

Godweb.org (a Christian website) succinctly states what prominent Christian theologians have stated in the last century about Judaism: "As the first of the world's great monotheistic traditions and the source from which the others have sprung, Judaism has an importance that far exceeds what is suggested by mere numbers… Christians have much to learn from Jews, as the Hebrew Bible is the foundational document for their own faith."

We will continue to tout the moniker that God gave us. At the same time, we must act in a manner that helps us earn the title of "Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation." The key lies in the actions we partake of, which stand as testimony to the world of what kind of people we are.

Shammai says in Avot 1:15 (two mishnehs before Rabbi Shimon Ben Gamaliel quoted above), "Say little and do much." Actions do indeed speak louder than words.

If we are to serve God and humanity in the role of this kingdom of priests we must continue to do more to deserve the title. As Rabbi Morris Joseph wrote in "Judaism as Creed and Life," "We therefore affirm, not that we are better, but that we ought to be better." This is our duty and mission, and the goal we must continue to set for ourselves.

Elevating Religiosity

Parshat B'Shalach

By Rabbi Avi Billet

Every time I hear a "Hillul Hashem" story involving so-called religious Jews going to prison, I contemplate what the term "religious" means. I will not be one to say that people are perfect and don't make mistakes. And perhaps, some people are in the wrong place in the wrong time, and are drawn in for the unfortunate ride.

And, of course, there's always room for teshuva.

But when the media refers to a person, going to or in prison, as "a religious Jew," who demands kosher food, and the need to have a minyan, or to attend his son's bar-mitzvah or his grandson's bris, I can't help thinking that there's something very very wrong with this picture. While in oppressive regimes and anti-Semitic cultures it was common for a Jew to be put in prison under false pretenses, in the United States it is extremely difficult to present such an argument.

And so I arrive at the conclusion that these are not really religious Jews, because a religious Jew is supposed to live a life that will never end him up in prison.

Perhaps the flaw lies in the fact that a rote and systematic form of "religious practice" does not speak for the soul of the human being, does not answer for how a person feels, and how his Jewish practices are supposed to enter his heart – past the surface, to create a Jew who is "tocho k'baro," whose inside (what causes him to do the things he does) reflects his outside appearances of a noticeable kippah and tzitzis, perhaps even a beard.

This is an extremely important lesson that the Israelites learn in the events leading up to the splitting of the sea.

The Torah tells us that "As Paroh approached, the Israelites saw the Egyptians marching at their rear, and they became very frightened ("Va'yi'r'oo me'od"). The Israelites cried out to God." (14:10) The source of their fear is the Egyptian army, which causes them to cry out.

The story plays out – Moshe rebukes and encourages the people then splits the sea, the Israelites cross the sea and are chased by the Egyptians, and the Egyptians finally recognize God and how He has defeated them as the walls of water come tumbling down upon them.

Then the Torah tells us the words that have become so familiar because they are part of the Shacharit service. As the Egyptians lay dead at the seashore, "The Israelites saw the great power that God had unleashed against Egypt, and the people were in awe of God ("Va'yi'r'oo ha'am et Hashem"). They believed in God and in His servant Moshe" (14:31). The Hebrew word for "fear" in 14:10 is the same Hebrew word for "awe" in 14:31.

The problem the people faced initially was that while they were ready to cry to God when things seemed not to go their way, their fear was misplaced. They feared Egypt, when they were supposed to fear, revere, and stand in awe of God.

Only after they witnessed the miracle of their physical salvation were they able to recognize that their fear, until that moment, had focused on the wrong object.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch writes "Fear and belief are the two basic qualities that are always to pulsate in the heart of the Jew who stands before God. There is only one Being Whom we should fear and trust at the same time, and that is God, the one sole God, Who is as loving as He is just, as just as He is loving, and equally omnipotent in the exercise of His love and justice… Just as this moment attests to God's hand acting omnipotently with mercy and with justice, so, too, it is everlasting testimony to the authenticity of the mission of His servant Moshe."

Moshe was and remains our guide to living and leading a proper life. Fear of God is essential, while fear of the Egyptians is wrongly focused. Perhaps the only good quality of fearing Egypt is that it caused our ancestors to show how "frum" they were – to cry out to God.

If fear of authorities will cause our co-religionists to live lives that are only "Kiddush Hashems" (sanctifications of God's name), perhaps it would be good enough. Sadly, and too often, it is not enough of a deterrent to prevent illegal activities.

This is why we need to take the fear of God to a new level. We will not likely witness miracles of the nature of the splitting of the sea. But like the people who believed in Moshe, God's servant, we too can reopen the 5 books of Moshe, learn from our master teacher, and arrive at the kind of fear of God that gives meaning and purpose to our lives.

Religion is not a checklist. The Torah we study, the acts we perform, and ultimately the faith we have, are meant to mold our characters and teach us how to be model, law-abiding human beings.

Home, Family, and a Rulebook

Parshat Bo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In the midst of the tumult surrounding the last of the plagues we are given our first dose of the mitzvot. The Israelites in Egypt were instructed to take what is commonly translated as a "hyssop" branch, dip it into the pre-gathered blood of the lamb, and paint the doorposts and mantle before staying indoors for the rest of the night. (12:22)

In 12:24 we are told to "guard this thing as a statute for you and your children forever," but the Talmud (Pesachim 96) clarifies that this statement refers to the commandment of the Paschal lamb, which rounds out the end of 12:21.

The rest of the fifth aliyah, which concludes with 12:28, speaks of the conversation that will ensue with your children one day when you continue to practice these everlasting laws when you'll be living in the land. Perhaps these verses are a hint to the practice that is arguably most widespread in Jewish life: having a seder on Passover.

The Torah's narrative returns to the tale of the final plague before concluding the chapter with more instruction surrounding how the holiday is to be observed. "It must be eaten in one home. Do not bring any of its meat outside of the home…" (12:46)

The set of rules essentially concludes with the most important of all. "There shall be one law for the native and the proselyte who lives among you." (12:49)

There are two points in this depiction of the first seder that are extraordinarily compelling.

The first is the focus on the family, and on what goes on indoors, inside the protection of the home. While it is understood that in Egypt, on that evening, it was dangerous to go outside, sometimes we are confronted with the reality that every venture outside of the home is dangerous. I speak not of physical danger from a "supernatural destroyer" or even from law-breaking citizens. Frankly, we are all at risk every day of being involved in an automobile accident, G-d forbid, yet we know this will not prevent us from going outside.

When we leave our homes, and when we bring outside influences into our homes, such as certain magazines, advertisements, and different kinds of media, we lose the protective strength of the walls of our home.

The Jewish family is meant to be a unit which certainly "eats" together, but which also learns and grows together. Everything that is brought into the home that does not strengthen the walls has the potential to weaken the family bond and the Torah foundation that is meant to tie it all together.

The meat of the Paschal lamb is not to be taken outdoors because some things cannot survive outside of the home. Rabbi Menachem Recanati, the author of a Kabbalistic commentary on the Torah, writes that the meat remains in the home so that "the blessing will remain there,” since “blessings only remain on modest things."

The essence of the Jewish home is governed by modesty. Modesty in how we behave, how we think, how we talk, how we relate to others, how we view ourselves in relation to G-d, and how much we allow outside influences (non-Torah oriented or Torah-originated) to dictate who we are and how we live our lives.

The second lesson to be derived from the first seder is that there is one rulebook, and that all are equal in the eyes of the law. This is not to suggest that there is no room for accommodation and for doing what we can to make others comfortable. However, in a sense, the Torah is suggesting that once we give everyone the same rulebook, and once everyone is on a level playing field, there is no room for affirmative action. No one gets a free pass on account of ignorance, and no one gets privileges on account of being members of a particular group, unless it is expressed otherwise in the rulebook.

"One law for the native and the proselyte" means all are treated equally, and everyone must play by the same rules. Education is available to all. What do we do with the education opportunities? Participation is available to all – governed by a set of rules. In what way do we choose to capitalize on our participatory opportunities? Weddings, bar/bat mitzvahs, brisses ought to have a shared significance across the spectrum of Judaism. When the perspective is lost as to how these events are to effect our lives, impact our Jewish experience, and further commit ourselves to Godliness, we begin to wonder when, where and how we lost our way. Bar and Bat Mitzvah, for example, have become an industry, where the significance of responsibility and accountability to God, Torah and the Jewish people is largley misplaced.

May we merit to see a time when all the Jewish people follow the same rulebook, when the choices that are made are understood for what they were meant to be.

The seder is one ritual that still has it right, because the focus is on the family unit. It brings everyone together, under one roof, to share a tradition that goes back thousands of years, that remains a link to our heritage that crosses all boundaries.