(1)Ethiopian Jewry and Talmudic Law

(2)The Model of the Jerusalem Talmud

(3) Since the early days of the Ethiopian aliyah, the topic of religious tension between Orthodoxy and Ethiopian Jewry has been painful and loaded. Since then, the community’s spiritual leaders have felt unable to express their opinion on halakhah and tradition. The tension still exists today as well, and it seems that as time goes on, the anger and conflict increase. On the other hand, we also find understanding and rapprochement between the two worlds.

(4) One year when Yom Kippur fell on Shabbat, the kesim ruled that members of the community should make Kiddush and even take a small bite to eat, in honor of the sanctity of the Shabbat. In doing so, they attempted to compromise between two conflicting halakhot. On one hand, the Beta Israel work the Tataza Sanvet (Laws of Shabbat), which is based on the book of Jubilees, specifies that any individual who fasts on Shabbat is liable for the death penalty; on the other, one who eats on Yom Kippur is liable for karet (untimely death or eternal excommunication). Yet the local religious council was quick to accuse the kesim: “Your acts are leading the public to sin,” “This ruling is an act of heresy.”

(5) I will give another example of tensions surrounding halakhah. In Ethiopian culture, it is acceptable for men and women to exchange greetings by shaking hands or kissing the cheek. Many parents have difficulty adjusting to the fact that their male children who have become religious no longer greet women in these ways, even within the family. The parents scorn this practice and consider those who follow it to be uncultured. Many parents do not understand it, not only because it is opposed to their cultural world, but also because it does not follow the spirit of the Torah, whose “ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace” (Proverbs 3:17).

(6) But in my opinion, the most shocking issue is the debate about giving money for charity during the prayer services on Shabbat. According to Ethiopian tradition, during the morning services on Shabbat, the congregants place bills and coins on the synagogue platform. This is the custom practiced today in a synagogue in Kiryat Gat. According to the kes of the synagogue, Kes Barhan, this practice is based on the principle of not coming to the synagogue empty-handed – “every man shall give as he is able” (Deuteronomy 16:17). Yet this practice has led to complaints, anger, and degradation of the kesim. I have heard people say, “They’re goyim,” “It’s like eating pork,” “I’m embarrassed to pray there,” “They are defiling the sanctity of Shabbat,” and other harsh criticisms.

(7) What will lead to a change in the attitude of the rabbinic establishment toward the Ethiopian community and its leaders? What will lead to an attitude of respect toward their customs and leaders?

(8) I believe that the root of this intense conflict between the rabbis and the kesim lies in their differing worldviews, which may be compared to the worldview expressed in the Babylonian Talmud as opposed to that presented in the Jerusalem Talmud. Many sources in the Talmuds point to differing attitudes toward the nature of the individual. While the Babylonian Talmud adopts a suspicious, skeptical approach toward the individual, as in the first half of the verse in Psalms 34:15, “shun evil,” the Jerusalem Talmud promotes a positive attitude and believing in others – as in the second half of the same verse, “do good.” Below we will give several examples in support of this distinction.

(9) The first example addresses the issue of sleeping in the sukkah. Both Talmuds debate the law regarding taking a nap (sheinat arai) outside the sukkah. The Babylonian Talmud completely forbids napping outside the sukkah, even if one appoints a guard whose job is to prevent one from falling into a deep sleep, if one should happen to fall asleep at all.

(10) The Jerusalem Talmud reaches the same halakhic conclusion, but not out of doubt. Rather, its position is that “taking a nap” cannot be defined, since a person might be refreshed after sleeping for only a short time.

(11) Another example is the issue of blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashanah when it falls on Shabbat. In Temple times, they blew the shofar even when Rosh Hashanah fell on Shabbat. But after the Temple was destroyed, the Sages ruled that we should not blow shofar on Shabbat. Why? The Babylonian Talmud cites the likelihood that a person who is not proficient in blowing the shofar might carry it to one who is proficient in blowing, in order to learn. He thus might be tempted to carry it four cubits in the public domain, which would be a violation of the Shabbat. But the Jerusalem Talmud forbids blowing the shofar on Shabbat for another reason:

(12)They taught that on the holiday of Rosh Hashanah that falls on Shabbat, they would blow in the Temple but not elsewhere . . . Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai taught, “You shall sacrifice”(Leviticus 24:25) – [this means] the place where the sacrifices are made.

(13) Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai is addressing the question of whether it is permitted to make a sacrifice outside the Temple. Based on the biblical citation, he rules against this – one may sacrifice only in the Temple. The Jerusalem Talmud applies the same principle to blowing the shofar on Shabbat – it is permitted only in the Temple. According to the Jerusalem Talmud, blowing on Shabbat depends on the existence of the Temple and sacrificial worship, and not on the suspicion of a possible violation, as in the Babylonian Talmud.

(14) Another example of the differing attitudes is found in the discussion of the sotah (a woman accused of betraying her husband). According to the Torah, the sotah must be taken to the Temple, where her husband’s accusation is verified in a special ceremony. The Mishnah describes the process:

(15)They bring her [the sotah] . . . to the entrance of Nicanor’s gate, where they gave the sotah the water to drink, where they purified the women who had given birth and purified the lepers. A priest seizes her garments – if they tear, they tear, and if they shred, they shred – until he uncovers her bosom and undoes her hair. Rabbi Judah says: If her bosom was beautiful, he did not uncover it, and if her hair was beautiful, he did not undo it.

(16) The Babylonian Talmud explains that the basis for Rabbi Judah’s statement is the suspicion of arousing impure thoughts. In the Jerusalem Talmud, however, in the discussion of waving the meal offering of the sotah, we encounter a different approach:

(17) The priest places his hand under hers and waves it [the meal offering], but this is unseemly. He brings a cloth, but it does not properly conceal. Then he brings an elderly priest. You may even say that they bring a youth who is not drawn by desire at that time.

(18) According to the biblical text, the priest must wave the meal offering together with the accused woman. The Jerusalem Talmud states that this may even be done by a young priest, for “ein yetzer hara matzui le-sha’ah” ([he] is not drawn by desire at that time). That is, because he is involved in performing a mitzvah, there is no fear that he will stray from the goal. There is no need to worry that a person who acts for the sake of heaven will wander into forbidden territory. Likewise, it is not an assumption that a man has no desire for women that makes a woman feel secure that her husband will not be unfaithful; rather, it is the love and trust between them that fosters this faithfulness. In the same way, the Jerusalem Talmud trusts that the priest will not stray because his love for and fealty toward God and the mitzvot overrides any other desire.

(19) According to Rabbi Avraham Blas, this is additional evidence for the significant difference between the two Talmuds: while the Babylonian Talmud reveals a suspicious attitude toward the worshipper of God, the Jerusalem Talmud expresses full trust in the world of the faithful.

(20) A good example that sharpens our understanding of the difference between the two Talmuds is the issue of the beautiful female prisoner of war:

(21)[When you go out to war] . . . and see among the captives a woman of goodly form, and you desire her, and would take her as a wife, then you shall bring her home to your house; and she shall shave her head, and pare her nails; and she shall put the raiment of her captivity from off her, and shall remain in your house, and bewail her father and her mother a full month; and after that you may go in unto her, and be her husband, and she shall be your wife. (Deuteronomy 21:11–13)

(22) Is it possible that the Torah permits a soldier to take a foreign woman, even though she may be already married? Yes, the Torah permits this, as “The Torah only provided for man’s evil inclination.” The question is, at what point was the beautiful woman permitted? Rashi writes (based on the Babylonian Talmud): “beautiful – because his evil inclination desires her for her beauty, the Torah permits it to him, but grudgingly, since it is preferable for Israel to eat flesh of animals about to die, yet ritually slaughtered, than flesh of animals which may not have been ritually slaughtered.” According to the Babylonian Talmud, the beautiful woman is permitted on the battlefield, because “The Torah only provided for man’s evil inclination.” The Jerusalem Talmud, on the other hand, does not permit this:

(23) Rabbi Yochanan sent to the rabbis over there [in Babylonia]: Two things you say in the name of Rav and they are not so. You say in Rav’s name: “A beautiful captive woman – permitted in her case is only the first act of sexual relations.” But I say that it is neither the first nor any later act of sexual relations that is permitted, except after all the required preparations have been carried out – as specified, “After that, you may be intimate with her and possess her” – that is, after the specified deeds.

(24) As opposed to the Babylonian Talmud, which permits intercourse with the beautiful woman during battle, the Jerusalem Talmud forbids the practice entirely. According to the Jerusalem Talmud, it is completely forbidden to have relations with a beautiful war captive. Only after one month, after the prisoner has made all efforts to become repulsive to the man who captured her, if he decides that he still wants her, then he is permitted to take her. A fundamental controversy lies at the root of this issue. One approach is that man is weak in character, and if the beautiful woman is not permitted to him, he will go to her when she is forbidden, and therefore we will permit it – this is the educational approach of the Babylonian Talmud, which considers how to protect man. In contrast, the approach of the Jerusalem Talmud is revolutionary, and expresses powerful faith in man’s powers. This approach asserts that even though the prisoner is in the man’s hands, he can overcome his sexual desire during battle and even afterward, for an extended period. Human beings have strong spiritual powers, and we believe in them.

(25) Through the distinction we have identified between the two Talmuds, we can now argue that the Ethiopian halakhah is based on a principle similar to that of the Jerusalem Talmud, as opposed to the rabbinic establishment, which supports the Babylonian model. This is no controversy between institution and gender, between hegemony and the fringes of society, between strong and weak. Rather, it is a controversy between two Talmuds, found on the same shelf in the beit midrash. According to the Jerusalem approach, we can understand why a man greeting a woman with a kiss on the cheek is not shocking. This is also the way to understand a person who makes Kiddush on Yom Kippur that falls on Shabbat without suspecting him of eating plentifully (I am not arguing that the Jerusalem Talmud permits eating on Yom Kippur that falls on Shabbat). This is also the key to understanding a person who gives charity on Shabbat because he believes that this is a mitzvah, without suspecting him of engaging in commerce, because the money is used only for sacred purposes. The Ethiopian community, like the Jerusalem Talmud, believes in humanity’s goodwill, and that his intention in both cases is to serve God. I am not arguing that we should adopt the Jerusalem Talmud instead of the Babylonian Talmud in a wholesale manner, but we can and should use the Jerusalem Talmud’s approach as an example of how we may relate to differing opinions.

(26) Many rabbis assert that the approach of the Jerusalem Talmud is appropriate for our generation, the generation of the redemption. In this book, I will present a method for building a civilized world founded on the experience of the Jerusalem Talmud.

(27)Can the Ethiopian Jews Continue Their Customs?

(28) Usually, when halakhic questions arise, we refer to halakhic works such as the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah or Rabbi Yosef Caro’s Shulhan Arukh. But a posek halakhah, a rabbi who makes halakhic decisions, cannot rely on texts alone. Reality is complex, and in order to find the appropriate answer he must use good judgment, as we find in the responsa literature. Sometimes, this is not enough, and he must proceed to a third stage in order to answer the question. At this point, rabbis rely on certain fundamental halakhic principles, such as et la-asot le-Hashem heferu Toratekha, kavod ha-briyot, mutav she-yehu shogegin, and ein gozrim. This means that a posek must take into account the entire range of sources in order to find the necessary balance between universal morality and the halakhah, which is based on defined principles. This is particularly true for issues concerning communities that have immigrated to Israel, such as the Beta Israel community. The final result, the practical halakhic decision, may seem like an exception. But on a deeper level, we find that it derives from one root. A person who reads the halakhah with this awareness will understand that the halakhic decisions of Ethiopian Jewry, whether strict or lenient rulings, come from a recognized source and are all firmly founded on the Torah, the Talmud, and the decisions of the Rishonim.

(29) The path I propose is influenced by the Ethiopian values and traditions I absorbed from my grandfather, Abba Gideon (Dejen) Mengesha, of blessed memory. This is the way of all halakhah. For example, the halakhic decisions of the religious Zionist rabbis are influenced by their study of faith and their openness to Western culture, and thus are different from the decisions of the haredi rabbis. Sometimes, cultural difference influences the choice of sources and arguments, and sometimes the interpretation of sources may differ. How is the personal aspect expressed in the halakhic decision? In my view, the answer is, kabbalat ol malkhut shamayim, “accepting the yoke of Heaven.” Where there is yirat shamayim, fear or awe of God, there is room for the personal aspect, because the individual wants to do God’s will. When we see the faithful of Beta Israel, we find that they are rich in awe of God. The existence of varying traditions among the Jews is not a sign of weakness, but rather of greatness – the greatness of a living people.

(30) In the Shulhan Arukh, Rabbi Yosef Caro (the Beit Yosef) attempted to outline a single body of halakhah that drew from a variety of traditions. In his book, he set out the rules that he used to determine halakhah:

(31)The Jewish people rely on three major teachers as the pillars of their instruction – Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi (the Rif), Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon (the Rambam), and Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel (the Rosh), of blessed memory. I have decided that when two of them agree on one point, the law should follow their opinion, except in the few areas where all or most of the Jewish sages disagreed with that opinion, and so the opposite tradition became popular. . . . When we do not have an opinion from these three pillars, we will follow the well-known sages who did write opinions on that particular law. This is the correct path of compromise that avoids the likelihood of failure. If in some countries the Jews prohibited some acts, even though we decide the opposite, they should continue to follow their customs, because they have already accepted the sages’ decision to forbid, and so they may not permit it.

(32) Rabbi Moses Isserles (the Rema) objected to Rabbi Yosef Caro’s methodology in deciding halakhah according to the majority opinion of two out of three. According to the Rema, one should decide halakhah according to the traditions that developed after the time of the Rif and the Rambam, based on the principle of halakhah ke-batrai (following the later decisor), since the Aharonim (rabbinic authorities after the Shulhan Arukh) were aware of the practices of the Rishonim (eleventh to sixteenth centuries, following the Geonim and preceding the Shulhan Arukh), but ruled against them. According to Rabbi Yehoshua Volk Katz, z”l, the source of the controversy lies in the geographic and cultural differences between the Rema and Rabbi Yosef Caro.

(33) Rabbi Yosef Caro lived in Arab countries, where the Jews followed the rulings of the Rif and the Rambam, who agreed on one opinion except for minor details of the law. For this reason, he wrote that we must follow two out of three, so that the residents of those countries would continue to follow their traditions. In contrast, the Jews of Ashkenaz [central Europe], Poland, and Russia, who followed the sages of Ashkenaz and France, did not accept the decisions of the Rif or the Rambam, and so Darkhei Moshe specifies the customs of the Ashkenazic Jews.

(34) The two central branches of contemporary Judaism grew out of this controversy. The Sephardic Jews follow the opinion of the Beit Yosef, while Ashkenazic Jews accept the halakhic decisions of the Rema. Each community followed its own customs and did not deviate from the customs that developed over history.

(35) At this point we ask whether acceptance of the decisions of a certain posek by a community obligates their descendants to follow these practices as well. The Torah commands us to go “to the judge that shall be in those days” (Deuteronomy 17:9); each generation should follow the rabbinic authorities of its time. We must distinguish between two types of customs: those related to location and those related to community. Regarding geographically dependent customs, the Talmud relates that the citizens of Beyshan were accustomed not to travel from Tyre to Sidon on Shabbat eve, even though Friday was market day in Sidon, so as not to interrupt Shabbat preparations. Their children wanted to annul this custom, as they were not as wealthy as their parents. They went to Rabbi Johanan, but he forbade them from annulling it, based on the verse, “Hear, my son, the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the teaching of thy mother” (Proverbs 1:8). The custom of the citizens of Beyshan applied to the local residents, and therefore their descendants were also obligated to follow it. Another type of decree that obligates descendants is the acceptance of Talmudic authority. As the Rambam writes:

(36)Everything in the Babylonian Talmud is binding for all the people of Israel; and every city and town is required to observe the customs observed by the Talmud’s sages, their restrictive legislations and their positive legislations. For all those matters in the Babylonian Talmud received the assent of all of Israel. All of Israel’s sages, or a majority of them, are the ones who enacted the positive and negative legislations, enacted binding customs, made the rulings, and found that a certain understanding of the Law was correct. It was they who received the traditions of the Oral Law concerning the fundamentals of the whole Law, in unbroken succession back to Moses Our Teacher, may he rest in peace.

(37) After the Jews were exiled, they could no longer unite in one place, and thus they split into numerous communities. Just as all Jews were obligated to accept Talmudic authority, each community was obligated to follow the decrees of its own sages: “The laws that a community accepts are binding for them and their descendants.” As Rabbi Yitzhak bar Sheshet decreed, “Every law accepted by the community obligates them and their descendants.” In other words, when a community accepts a law, this is comparable to a communal vow that cannot be annulled. In this manner, Ashkenazic Jews have accepted the leadership of the Rema, while Sephardic Jews have accepted the teachings of the Beit Yosef. The acceptance of the law of these authorities applies to them and their descendants, and cannot be exchanged. But when a Jew from one community goes to another community, how should he behave? This question arose when Ashkenazic Jews came to Eretz Yisrael, where they encountered Sephardic communities that had lived there for many years. Rabbi Avraham ben Yehiel Michael Danzig wrote, “Regarding those who come to Eretz Yisrael, I think that if they settle in a city that has a minyan, even though the newcomers are numerous, they should follow one law. They must follow the stringencies of their new location. The stringencies that they followed in their home location are no longer valid.”

(38) There are many points of friction between the customs of the Ethiopian community and the Talmudic-rabbinic world. This book attempts to carve a path through the thicket of halakhic sources, sometimes relying on an individual opinion, which will lead to acceptance of the Beta Israel as a legitimate, normative stream within the Jewish people. Acceptance of the community is a sign that there are poskim who accept the strength of the Jewish people, and are thus willing to open the door to this community, not as an act of sympathy but through recognition of their right.

(39) The first way to do this relies on theological-philosophical arguments that justify changes and developments in the world of religious philosophy and halakhah. Another way is to attempt to act through the mechanisms of halakhic decision making. There are additional principles according to which we can accept changes in halakhah on a certain point, and in parallel, we can attempt to find halakhic precedents. Even if these precedents were written in a completely theoretical manner at the time, they enable us to formulate new models of religious behavior that can reduce the gap between these two groups. Halakhic decision making is not just a deductive process of reaching practical decisions based on textual study. Alongside the intellectual pursuit that relies on books stand fundamental values that guide the posek on his path. Based on these values, the posek can find an opening and address every problem that arises in the context of its time and place.

(40) I come from within the world of Ethiopian tradition, which I absorbed from the khanokh (spiritual leaders of the Ethiopian community), as well as from my grandfather and family. I am aware of the spiritual needs of this community in the most profound sense. In light of the problems arising among the second generation, I intend to offer a response to the spiritual distress of today, out of respect and deep appreciation. Any person who did not grow up within the world of Ethiopian halakhah, but through study and patience is able to see the positive sides of this world, is graced with greatness of soul.

(41) I hope that in this manner, I will succeed in raising the tradition of Ethiopian Jewry to the level of the “royal table,” and to grant it the status it deserves.

(42)Respect for Particularity

(43) Recently, I had the opportunity to listen to a Torah lesson given by a great rabbi who argued that today’s halakhic reality of multiple customs and traditions is an ex post facto reality. His ideal was conformity of halakhah, in which everyone would accept the halakhah of the great sage of Eretz Yisrael, the Beit Yosef, as recorded in the Shulhan Arukh. In his opinion, Jews from other Middle Eastern countries should change their ancestral customs and adapt them to the laws of the Shulhan Arukh. Ashkenazic Jews should also accept the rulings of the Shulhan Arukh. As for the work of changing customs, the rabbi left this for the Messiah. This approach, which aspires toward a monolithic world of halakhah, left me astonished and angry, for it is likely to plunge us deep into the halakhic politics that led to the destruction of the Second Temple.

(44) During another class given by a young yeshiva scholar, one of the listeners, a woman who had emigrated from Morocco, asked a question about her mother’s custom of lighting Shabbat candles first and then reciting the blessing. The yeshiva scholar replied decisively and with excessive brutality: “Your mother’s practice is based on a mistaken custom, and so you must cease this practice immediately. You should follow the Shulhan Arukh and the decision of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef – first recite the blessing and then light the candles.” I could not remain silent over such an answer. I told the woman that she could continue to follow her mother’s custom, because several traditions exist on this issue. The yeshiva scholar attacked me and dismissed everything I said with a wave of his hand, asserting that I did not understand anything. I deeply lament such incidents. In this context, I would like to cite an interview with Rabbi Uri Sherki, who addresses the attempt to enforce a monolithic halakhic world:

(45) I am from Algiers, which is not in the Middle East at all. In general, I think that one of the central factors in the cultural decline of Sephardic Jewry is the halakhic uniformity imposed on it in the spirit of the expression “Eastern Jews,” or if you will, the spirit of the Shulhan Arukh alone. . . .

(46) This is a crime against how I grew up, against the tradition of my ancestors and rabbis over generations. My beit midrash includes Rabbi Judah Halevi, the Rambam’s Guide for the Perplexed, and the traditions of my ancestors, who were scholars of Kabbalah, philosophy, halakhah, and poetry – and not just liturgical poetry! Rabbi Judah Halevi or Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra wrote poems, and I’m not sure whether they would allow someone in a yeshiva today to write such things. They would probably banish such a person from the yeshiva. This is a very rich world, and the attempt to create uniformity instead of unity has destroyed it.

(47) The Sephardic Jews did not have the polarity of religious versus secular that we find today in the Ashkenazic world. I grew up in a European country, in France, and I knew the terms religious and secular from French. I did not know they existed in Judaism. I knew all kinds of Jews, and I knew there were some who kept many mitzvot, and others who kept only a few. Only when I came to Israel did I discover that Jewish society lived according to such codes.

(48) In the Ashkenazic world, you have to define yourself by a certain ideology. For example, an Ashkenazic Jew who does not wish to follow the mitzvot punctiliously has to define himself as Conservative. For the Sephardic Jews, this need was never felt, because every Jew was accepted for what he was, and therefore a Jew who traveled on Shabbat or on Yom Kippur to the synagogue felt he belonged in the synagogue. . . .

(49) Once Rabbi [Shlomo Zalman] Auerbach was asked whether it would be permitted to conduct an aliyah seminar outside of Israel, even though some of the participants would arrive on Shabbat, and they would push children in strollers without an eruv [a boundary that encloses a large area and makes it into a single domain, to avoid transgressing the prohibition against carrying objects from one domain to another on Shabbat]. He answered, “A woman is drowning in a river, and you’re asking questions?!”

(50) Rabbi Auerbach also thought that halakhah should be decided according to tradition. When he was asked if it was permitted to prepare egg salad on Shabbat – as this involved many actions that might be forbidden – he answered, “It is permitted, because my grandmother used to make egg salad on Shabbat.” He added, “Even if I don’t find a satisfactory halakhic explanation, it will still be permitted, because my grandmother did so.” Such a position is unique in today’s halakhic landscape, as today halakhic decisions are made by the book, not according to tradition, and what your grandmother did is no longer relevant and [is considered] halakhically incorrect.

(51) Rabbi Sherki notes that Sephardic Jews used to follow this custom when the Torah scroll was removed from the ark: “The women would kiss it. Even further, in many Sephardic communities outside Israel, on Yom Kippur, during the priestly blessing of the concluding Ne’ilah service, the women would go into the men’s section and stand under their husbands’ tallitot. Feeling deep emotion at the conclusion of the holy day, the family wanted to be together, and the rabbis chose to overlook this. Today no rabbi would permit such a thing.”

(52)Shulhan ha-Orit was written out of faith in Jewish law and tradition. I live and breathe the entire Jewish people, with all 248 limbs and 365 sinews of my body. I view each stream within the Jewish people as part of one heterogeneous family, and each in its own way is created in God’s image.

(53) No matter what kind of society we have, if alongside the laws and halakhah that it legislates, natural morality is overrun – such a society cannot endure.

(1)Toward an Ethiopian Jewish Halakhah

(2)Preserving the Mystery

(3) The purpose of religion today seems to be similar to that of philosophy: to determine definitions, to search for truth, to address formalism, to decide what is true and what is false. The symbols, the framework, and the institution are transformed from a means of worshipping God into an end. In such a situation, religion becomes irrelevant. As Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “It would be more honest to blame religion for its own defeats.” In his view, “Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid.” Why? “When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion – its message becomes meaningless.” Still, as the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein asserts,

(4) Tradition is not something a man can learn; not a thread he can pick up when he feels like it, any more than a man can choose his own ancestors. Someone lacking a tradition who would like to have one is like a man unhappily in love.

(5) Still, we must remember that a very thin line separates preserving tradition in its dogmatic-symbolic form and preserving it in a more meaningful way. Wittgenstein continues:

(6) Something of the irrational reverence for the past is preserved in the pomp and ceremony of the British monarchy, even though no subject of the United Kingdom regards this form of government as anything more than a medieval relic.

(7) We may certainly preserve the continuity of tradition “as a living and dynamic organism that can only grow by positive acceptance and affirmation of its historical and intellectual legacy.” We must ensure that our world stands on a halakhic approach based as far as possible on objective truth. Still, our relation to the “other” should come through intimacy, from the personal-humane dimension – mentschlichkeit. Any contact with the “other” in the name of the establishment or of “institution,” in the name of halakhah as objective truth, from a perspective of frumkeit (“religiosity” in Yiddish), may arouse antagonism. Those who observe tradition clearly tend to follow this approach, due to its analytic and formal nature, but this approach does not relate to tradition as a living entity that must be passed down to the next generation.

(8) As Leo Strauss writes, “Genuine fidelity to a tradition is not the same as literalist traditionalism and is in fact incompatible with it. It consists in preserving not simply the tradition but the continuity of the tradition.” In fact, this is the significance of Shulhan ha-Orit – to preserve the tradition of the community and to conduct an in-depth analysis of the drastic changes it underwent in the wake of aliyah to the Land of Israel. This is not out of an apologetic approach, not in order to act as an advocate for one tradition or another, but rather to represent the understanding that one cannot criticize the other – not because this is unpleasant, but because it is not right. Further, each side must demonstrate openness and understanding for the other side. If we act in this way, we can redeem tradition from a past that has become stale, and disconnect it from the context of institution and slogans, so that it will no longer be considered burdensome. I hope that this book will contribute to the preservation and continuity of tradition, not in a closed manner that remains unaware of reality and surrounding events, but rather with openness to the world around it.

(9)Unity or Uniformity?

(10) A believing Jew is a person who lives with doubts, uncertainties, and questions. In an ideal reality, religion would never be satisfied with one decision, but would always strive for more. An angel that lives in a perfect, ideal world has no doubts, but humans who live in the pre-messianic world do have doubts. Indeed, doubt is a component of belief. For this reason, any attempt to construct a perfect world through a single decision remains only an illusion. Judaism speaks of a mysterious world full of doubt, and its goal is to enable a life of faith in such a world. The impulse to try to make clear, absolute decisions originates in the scientific world, as science strives to give unconditional, universal answers about life. But it cannot give the individual what Judaism does – the awareness that he lives in a world full of mystery and wonder. As Heschel writes:

(11)Religion . . . goes beyond philosophy, and the task of philosophy of religion is to lead the mind to the summit of thinking; to create in us the understanding of why the problems of religion cannot be apprehended in terms of science; to let us realize that religion has its own scope, perspective and goal; to expose us to the majesty and mystery, in the presence of which the mind is not deaf to that which transcends the mind.

(12) The debate among the spiritual leaders of the Ethiopian community, the kesim, and the rabbinic world focuses on exactly this point. Within the Beta Israel community, religion is understood as a mysterious, spiritual entity, personal and transcendent, not something that can be understood with the mind. Thus their religious world is not expressed in precise definitions or exact halakhot. This is a world of spontaneity, of individuality.

(13) Here is an example that illustrates the conflict between the formal, analytic view of Talmudic Judaism and the more spontaneous, individually oriented biblical tradition. In the nineteenth century, an Ethiopian Jew named Daniel ben Hananiah visited the Land of Israel. When the rabbis in the Land of Israel heard that the Ethiopian community was in a dire state, both spiritually and physically, they decided to send an empathetic letter of solidarity through Daniel ben Hananiah:

(14)Your situation has touched our hearts, and we have decided to take the following steps: when Daniel ben Hananiah returns, call a meeting, listen to him, and learn what he saw us doing and how we observe God’s mitzvot according to the traditions of the Sages. If you conclude that until now, you have not behaved properly, then appoint three or four talented individuals and send them to us, to the Holy City, and we will teach them the practicalities of observing the mitzvot.

(15) The community leaders and priests received the letter. They were enthusiastic, but they also felt a threat to the foundations of their leadership and traditions. Confident of their path, they sent a reply that rejected the attempt at external interference:

(16) We have heard that there are many Jews in Egypt and Jerusalem whose religion and customs are different from ours. It would behoove them to send us knowledgeable representatives who will learn the principles of Judaism accepted among us, and we will show you the path that you should follow.

(17)Division or Unification?

(18) The biggest challenge of the rabbinic leaders of our generation is to enrich religion with spirituality, to grant it a personal and mysterious status. Instead of the lavish attention paid to framework and symbol, we should encourage the confrontation with content, spirituality, and the Jewish world, with the understanding that the mitzvot enable the individual’s encounter with God and with other human beings. In my opinion, this opportunity has been sorely missed. To me and many others, Judaism has been responsible for unifying the Jewish people over thousands of years of Diaspora and distance. The problem is that today more than ever, the religious world divides the Jewish world. Religious and non-religious Jews cannot eat together, they cannot manage a business together, live in the same neighborhoods, or marry each other. Even within religious groups, a hierarchy prevails, with well-defined divisions. Today we might find four observant Jews sitting together but who cannot eat each other’s food, due to kashrut laws. In such a miserable reality, the definition of the Jew becomes external, not one of meaning or value. To which stream does one belong? Haredi, knitted kippah (religious Zionist), secular, “Talmudic,” Reform, Conservative, Ethiopian, Yemenite, Russian, formerly religious, and the list goes on.

(19) Shortly after I completed my studies at Har Etzion Yeshiva, I contacted one of the religious councils regarding a position as a rabbi. The council chairman’s reply came as a shock: “I can’t give you the job, because you are not ‘black’ enough.” I answered naively, “You know that I am Ethiopian. Do you mean that my brown skin is not dark enough?” He continued with a smile, “I’m not referring to your skin color. I mean this,” he said, pointing to the black kippah on his own head. When he realized that I was completely in the dark, he continued, “I’m sorry, but I am faithful to the public that elected me.”

(20) A Judaism that is motivated by self-interest can go astray, and we may now see how the strength of the Jewish people in Israel and around the world has been harmed. A striking example of this damage is the “quiet Holocaust,” meaning the overwhelming phenomenon of assimilation in the United States. If a Jew does not accept Judaism through significant choice, his Judaism has no meaning, even though formally he is a Jew. In other words, the root of the disease lies in the fact that when religion focuses on ideas, the personal and ethical dimensions disappear, and formal faith comes at the expense of interpersonal faith. The world of observing mitzvot becomes a stock exchange, and the connection with God becomes a business. I do not in any way mean to negate the study of ideas or formal definitions, but we must ascertain that personal awareness, so vital to the formation of Jewish identity, is not pushed aside in favor of formality.

(21)Keeping Halakhah Relevant

(22) In encounters I organize with the members of the Ethiopian community, with the first generation and the second as well, I find that the tension between their subjective, personal feeling as true Jews and the halakhic definitions they encountered in Israel has caused them intense frustration. “Everything here is politics,” they say. We must build a spiritual vision, out of power and humility, which will offer an appropriate answer for this sad reality. The Sages in their genius annulled a law in the Torah when its fulfillment became irrelevant and hypocritical. Yet today, the spiritual aspect has moved aside for the benefit of definitions and symbols.

(23) We read in the Torah, “If a slain person be found in the land . . . lying in the field, [and] it is not known who slew him” (Deuteronomy 21:1) – in such a case, the guilt lies with the public. A frightening and impressive ceremony is held in order to provoke shock. The elders of the town nearest to the corpse meet and hold a ceremony called eglah arufah, in which the neck of an unworked heifer is broken. Some fifteen hundred years after this mitzvah was given, the Mishnah (Sotah 9:9) records: “When murderers multiplied, the ceremony of breaking a heifer’s neck was discontinued [since it was assumed that the murderer was known].” We find another example in the laws of adultery. According to the Torah, when a woman is suspected of adultery, she should be given bitter water to drink in order to verify her innocence. But the Rambam states that this mitzvah was annulled. In this context, Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz writes:

(24)This religious ceremony is significant in a society in which murder is a revolting and exceptional occurrence. In a corrupt society in which murder is frequent, there is no reason to pretend that we are repulsed by a murder that we are not able to decipher. In such a society, this ceremony would be hypocritical. . . . If the society is filled with licentiousness and sunken in lust, there is no reason to be shocked by a certain incident in which there is a suspicion of adultery. . . . In a civilized society in which murder is an exceptional occurrence, we should respond with the eglah arufah ceremony in case of an unsolved murder. In a society in which ethical behavior is the norm, we should respond with the bitter waters for an exceptional incident of a suspected adultery. But if the society is corrupt, there is no reason for these ceremonies.

(25)God’s Laughter – Humanity’s Victory

(26) The primary message of this work is reflected in the well-known legend of “Akhnai’s oven.” The background of this legend is a halakhic argument between Rabbi Eliezer and other sages about the method of purification of a clay oven:

(27)On that day Rabbi Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but the Sages did not accept any of them. . . . Again Rabbi Eliezer then said to the Sages, “If the halakhah agrees with me, let it be proved from Heaven.” Sure enough, a divine voice cried out, “Why do you dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, with whom the halakhah always agrees?” Rabbi Joshua stood up and protested: “[The Torah] is not in Heaven!” (Deuteronomy 30:12). What does “it is not in Heaven” mean? Rabbi Yirmiya said: “That the Torah was already given on Mount Sinai, and we do not pay attention to a heavenly voice, because long ago at Mount Sinai You wrote in Your Torah at Mount Sinai, ‘After the majority must one incline’ (Exodus 23:2).” Rabbi Nathan met [the prophet] Elijah and asked him, “What did the Holy One do at that moment?” Elijah: “He laughed [with joy], saying, ‘My children have defeated Me, My children have defeated Me.’ ” (Babylonian Talmud, Baba Metzia 59b)

(28) Rabbi Eliezer calls upon supernatural phenomena in order to convince his colleagues of the validity of his position. In contrast, the Sages, led by Rabbi Joshua, insist that “It is not in Heaven,” while the Holy One laughs over how His children “defeated” Him.

(29) Why does God laugh? I would like to propose a new direction for the interpretation of the reason for God’s laughter, following the question of the Tosafot on this story. The Tosafot note the difference between the argument Rabbi Eliezer conducts with the Sages, and the argument between Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. Both stories record the intervention of a bat kol (heavenly voice). In the debate between Hillel and Shammai, the Sages rely on the intervention of the bat kol in deciding the halakhah, while in the story of Akhnai’s oven, the Sages reject the opinion of the bat kol, stating that “We pay no attention to a heavenly voice.” The Tosafot give their answer. In my opinion, what leads to opposite results in these two stories is mainly the rhetoric, the way the bat kol addresses the Sages.

(30) In the argument between Hillel and Shammai, the bat kol makes its first statement out of respect and esteem for the dissenting opinion. “These and those are both the words of the Living God,” says the bat kol, and then declares that the halakhah is according to Beit Hillel. With this statement, the bat kol appeases the representatives of Beit Shammai. By contrast, in the story of Akhnai’s oven, the bat kol’s statement seems to contain a measure of reproach toward the Sages – “Why do you dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, with whom the halakhah always agrees?” In other words, who are you, anyway? Perhaps it is for this reason that the Sages reply, “It is not in Heaven.” God’s laughter expresses agreement or even embarrassment, because He placed His creatures to a test that led them to disgrace.

(31) Rabbi Abba said in the name of Samuel: For three years the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel disagreed. These said that the halakhah was according to us, and those said the halakhah is in accordance with us. A heavenly voice emerged saying: “Both these and those are the words of the living God, and the halakhah is in accordance with the school of Hillel.”

(32) Since both these and those are the words of the living God, why was the halakhah established in accordance with the House of Hillel? Because they were polite and forbearing (aluvin), and would teach both their own views and the views of the House of Shammai. Moreover, they would place the views of the House of Shammai before their own. (Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 13b)

(33) Rashi comments (there) that aluvin means “forbearing.” The justification that the Talmud gives for deciding the halakhah according to Beit Hillel demands explanation:

(34) The explanations that the Talmud offers for the victory of Beit Hillel recall ad hominem arguments. . . . What is the relationship between the ethical honesty of a sage and the legal validity of his opinions? . . . The concept that “nice sages finish first” comprises an important ethical lesson: not only does God appreciate humility and lead the humble toward truth, but a natural connection exists between ethical qualities and legal credibility. . . . The more respect he gives his enemy and the more humble he is, the higher the possibility is that he will succeed in assimilating his opponent’s assertions. . . . We may propose another explanation of how the positive qualities of Beit Hillel led to decision of the halakhah according to their opinion. Beit Hillel’s practice of considering the other demonstrates greater esteem than Beit Shammai revealed for the importance of the dispute and the principle of “both these and those.” The sages of Beit Hillel were more committed to the process of discussion, and this commitment causes their positions to represent a well-functioning conscious method. This process even serves as a good example for such a method, to a greater extent than that of Beit Shammai.

(35) This book attempts to adopt the method of Beit Hillel, and to consider the other – the Ethiopian Jewish community. This is not an organized Shulhan Arukh that pretends to gather the entire Jewish world under one umbrella; history has taught us that there is no such thing. But I am certain that every Jew will be able to find within tools for serving God.

(1) Between Preservation and Renewal

(2) When From Sinai to Ethiopia was published in Hebrew by Yediot Publishing, no one estimated the extent of its influence on interreligious dialogue within and without the Ethiopian community. It was clear to Yediot, a well-respected publishing house in Israel, that this book was targeted to the Ethiopian sector. But we were greatly surprised that the concepts the book presents attracted the interest of many Israelis, religious and secular, from many sectors. On first analysis, we might ask, why should such a book meet with success, engaging a wide spectrum of groups and ages in such a modern, free society? Apparently, Israeli society is deeply interested in questions about the identity of the Beta Israel community. The questions of identity that engage Beta Israel represent an additional facet of the questions of self that concern many members of Israeli society. In other words, this book addresses the dilemmas of immigrants in carving out a new path in their new home, and in a new age – in other words, it delves into the tension between preservation and renewal.

(3) Between Modernity and Tradition

(4) In the past two decades, the world has taken a dramatic turn, unlike any previous change. Electronic communications technology has transformed people around the world who were previously disconnected from each other into participants in the information age and consumers in the global market. Still, when we say “village,” we mean a small settlement, and when we say “global,” we refer to something that encompasses the entire world. A conflict is created between the small village and the global one. People do not remain in the place where they began their life’s journey, but migrate to wherever they think they will be well-off and comfortable. Today, 20–40 percent of the populations of most Western countries were not born in their country of residence.

(5) The revolution of modernity has led to rejection of an entire world of tradition – a world that upheld the ideal of following ancestral tradition. Human beings now view their environment as subject to their own design, and assert that they are permitted to change it. Individuals do what they think is best for them. The free, modern individual no longer fears threats and bans as practiced in the Jewish world in the past, or persecution and censure as once practiced by the authorities of the Catholic Church. Against this background, we face the challenge of defining the boundaries between local and universal culture. Tensions arise between the aspiration to preserve the culture of origin and the desire to integrate into the new one, between assimilation and integration, between nationality and religion. Questions such as these occupy millions of people in Israel and around the world.

(6) Still, despite the freedom of citizens of the modern world to make autonomous decisions about their lives, the decisive majority prefer to view themselves as part of something continuous, as belonging at the root of their souls to something larger. Many times, it seems that grasping onto tradition is the solution for this existential need. From Sinai to Ethiopia has succeeded in touching on these questions, in a significant manner. From the reactions to the book in Israel, it is clear that these questions interest substantial numbers of people, from all sectors.

(7) Difference, Equality, and Responsibility

(8) The Bible describes the creation of the world, the heavens and the earth, light and darkness, land and water, and animals. Then it tells how God created all of humanity in His image: “And God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them” (Genesis 1:28). In the Jewish world, the concept of the creation of humanity in the image of God is one of the foundations of faith. As Rabbi Akiva would say, “Human beings are beloved because they were created in the image of God, as in the verse, ‘In the image of God He made man’ (Genesis 9:6)” (Mishnah, Avot 3:14). From Sinai to Ethiopia expresses this concept in a straightforward manner: in all the ways of worshipping God there is no one truth, but rather a variety of equal truths. Each person must discover his own way of connecting to the God in Whose image he is individually made.

(9) This book adopts a pluralistic understanding, supporting integration but not the annulment of different cultures. In my opinion, difference between human beings is a priori ontological, just as it is in the natural world. It is in this sense that we may comprehend the blessing Hakham ha-razim (“The Knower of all secrets”) – “One who witnesses 600,000 Jews gathered together should recite the blessing Hakham ha-razim, for just as each of their faces is different from the others, their personalities are also different from each other, and each one has his own individual personality.” This book calls for integration and mutual, egalitarian respect, and a renewed kind of melting pot that is not destructive. Pluralism accepts difference as part of human nature, with each individual facet expressing itself in an equal manner.

(10) In Jewish sources, the individual is considered, first and foremost, as bearing responsibilities, and not enjoying rights. The Torah educates us for personal responsibility in every situation. On one hand, minorities bear responsibility toward the majority. What is considered to be prejudice against minority groups is actually damaging to the personal responsibility of that group. On the other hand, the majority bears responsibility toward minority groups, and what is considered assistance to the weak may in fact be damaging to them.

(11) A Call for Pluralism

(12) The Mishnah asks, why was Adam created alone – why did humanity begin with one person? To teach us, the Mishnah explains, that a person should never say, “My father is greater than yours,” as we are all descended from the same person (Sanhedrin 4:6). We thus have a firm basis to argue that a person who considers himself greater than another is committing a serious error, which borders on immorality. It follows that a person who does not value himself, who considers himself significantly inequal in value to other human beings who were created in the image of God, is also in error, and approaching immorality. The common denominator is that both are harming the image of God. The fact that a person is white, black, short, disabled, Jewish, Christian, or Muslim says nothing about whether he or she is a person who reflects the image of God. Everything is determined by the manner in which a person understands himself as a person created in the image of God.

(13) This is not a call for monolithic religion or society, but rather for multiculturalism anchored in individual responsibility and mutual respect. The call for pluralism does not mean anarchy, as in the verse “There was no king in Israel, and every man did what was right in his eyes” (Judges 17:1), or blurring of the lines that divide groups, but rather preservation of uniqueness along with mutual personal responsibility. The Torah’s dictum “Love your neighbor as yourself” is an expression of this personal responsibility. “As yourself” means that you should be capable of looking at the world through the eyes of the other, just as you have become accustomed to looking through your own eyes. We find an example of this in the relations between non-Jews and Jews in Ethiopia. The Jews of Ethiopia strictly upheld the custom of avoiding contact with non-Jews. Yet at celebrations and public events, they invited their Christian neighbors, just as the Christians invited the Jews to their events, without any bias. The groups sat separately and each group slaughtered according to its custom, but Jews and Christians respected each other. This custom teaches us that the Ethiopian Jews’ customs were based on a moral foundation, according to which all individuals are equal before God. Perhaps this is another reason that many readers have identified with the theological spirit of this book, in which uniqueness is not the opposite of unity, but rather its synonym.

(14) Toward the Next Book

(15) There is a story about a certain rabbi who used to receive a constant stream of followers throughout the day. One day, the shamash asked him, “Why do you sweat so much when you receive people?” The rabbi answered, “Each time I meet someone, I try to strip my emotional clothing and don his, so that I can truly understand him. I do this for each and every person. That is why I sweat.” In today’s reality in Israel, we aspire to achieve a reality in which “Each person takes upon himself the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven, one from another” (malkhut shamayim zeh mi-zeh). According to Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, this means that Jews will accept the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven through their relationships with each other – in other words, their openness to each other brings them closer to God. In this manner, everyone wins. People develop a sense of belonging; they feel that they are contributing and that others trust them. Thus they are educated for strong, healthy interpersonal relations, free of jealousy and competition, firmly anchored within an atmosphere of responsibility and tolerance. From Sinai to Ethiopia was written out of a deep sense of faith in the concept that both sides are the words of the living God, and that there are many channels for worshipping God. How do we create such a theological-social reality? How do we create a society founded on trust and mutual respect? How do we form a society based on pluralism and egalitarianism? How do we form a consciousness based on the deep understanding that human uniformity is contrary to nature and outside of morality? And through this, aspire to human unity? In my next book, we will attempt to contend with these questions.

(1)Finding My Way to Worshipping God

(2) On one of my first days at Har Etzion Yeshiva, a hesder yeshiva combining Talmud studies and army service, I approached the two yeshiva directors with a serious question. Why were the Ethiopian Jews required to immerse themselves in a mikveh? My teacher, Rabbi Yehuda Amital, did not try to win me over with intricate and convoluted halakhic justifications. Rabbi Amital was not surprised by my question, but I was startled by his answer. “If someone comes to me tomorrow and expresses an interest in you for a shidduch, I don’t want to have to hesitate when recommending you for a match. People here ask questions, and we want you to be an inseparable part of the student body in the beit midrash.” I thought this was an honest answer.

(3) The obligation of immersion le-humrah, on the strict side of halakhah, for the Ethiopian community led to a deep rift in relations between the community and the state. In fact, to this day a holistic solution to this problem has yet to be found, and the community considers it the elephant in the room. My teachers, the two rabbinic directors of Har Etzion Yeshiva, required every immigrant of Ethiopian Jewish origin to immerse himself as a prerequisite for admission to the yeshiva. Personally, I did not have to perform this act when I entered the yeshiva, as I had immersed myself on arrival in Israel. Eventually, I did have the merit to feel an inseparable part of the student body in the beit midrash, as Rabbi Amital described.

(4) Rabbi Lichtenstein gave a more technical and nuanced explanation based on halakhic foundations for why we should immerse, and his explanation was given with great respect and humility. To my estimation, many communication problems between people arise not because of what is said, but because of how it is said. Both yeshiva directors, each in his own way, were attentive to the “how,” giving me the feeling that they recognized that standing before them was a Jew who needed sympathy and tolerance. Indeed, their words fell on attentive ears.

(5) As is said when entering a beit midrash to study, “I thank God for placing me among the students in the beit midrash, and for not placing me among the idlers.” I thank God for granting me the privilege to study and to practice the mitzvot, and to become a full-fledged student in the beit midrash. I was able to grow and acquire an education in the epicenter of religious Zionism. I studied halakhic decision making for many years in a yeshiva that was built on the basis of the Lithuanian yeshiva ideal, and I was ordained as a rabbi by the Chief Rabbinate of Israel. I thus assumed that I should follow in one of the normative paths, either Ashkenazic or Sephardic. However, I thought that opting for the Ashkenazic tradition would be “obeying the letter but not the spirit of the law,” because I was told upon making aliyah that I was considered to be Sephardic. But opting for the Sephardic approach was also problematic. Although in practice I did take upon myself Sephardic customs, this choice did not stem from self-awareness, but rather from a technical reason. In all the institutions in which I had studied at the outset of my educational path, and in my neighborhood, almost everyone came from a Sephardic background. Yet I felt that this was not my path to serving God, and that it did not fit my spiritual world or my soul.

(6) At some point when I was in the hesder yeshiva, I began to feel a pull toward the Ashkenazic hassidic world. The Yiddishkeit appealed to me: sitting around the Shabbat table with friends at a tisch eating kugel and singing the melodies. But in truth, I felt that I could not fully adopt for myself even this spiritual world. For years I defined myself as having two sides – one side was Sephardic halakhah, the other was Ashkenazic soul. Then two things happened that transformed this worldview significantly.

(7) The change took place during my studies at Beit Morasha of Jerusalem and in the Department of Talmud at Bar-Ilan University. A number of factors led me to reexamine how I served God. At one opportunity, I asked my teacher, Rabbi Dr. Yehuda Brandes, director of the beit midrash in Beit Morasha, whether I should follow Sephardic tradition, despite the fact that many of its halakhot did not fit the halakhic phenomenology of traditional Ethiopian Jewry. Rabbi Brandes’s reply surprised me. I expected him to give me a standard answer – “You should follow either Sephardic tradition or Ashkenazic tradition, but you must never grasp the rope from both ends,” as in the statement “Be either like the House of Shammai in their leniencies and stringencies, or like the House of Hillel in their leniencies and stringencies.” I was astonished when he answered, “Who said you have to follow Sephardic or Ashkenazic tradition? You can be a Jew who follows the Shulhan Arukh standard code of law.” I said that I feared I would be following the letter but not the spirit of the law, and he replied, “I have faith that you truly want to serve God. You cannot be following only the letter but not the spirit of the law. Either your priority is the way of Torah, or you are immoral.”

(8) Rabbi Brandes’s reply expanded my horizon and opened up new space for my service of God: serving God not through awe alone, and not through fear, as if I were walking a tightrope. All at once, I felt an easing. I felt that serving God was not a burden or an encumbrance. There was a way to pave a unique path to serving God that reflected my complex inner world.

(9) A second encounter cemented my new spiritual framework. While writing my master’s degree thesis, under the professional and compassionate advisorship of Rabbi Dr. Daniel Sperber of the Department of Talmud at Bar-Ilan, I was exposed to a new interpretation. Up to that point, I had thought that the “red line” for an Orthodox Jew was the Shulhan Arukh. In other words, following the decisions of the Shulhan Arukh was a clear sign of what I call a “Talmudic Jew,” one who observes the mitzvot, while one who questioned its authority removed himself from the ranks of Talmudic Jewry. Professor Sperber answered me, “Why do you think that? The Yemenite community has always followed the Rambam in its halakhic decisions, and not the Shulhan Arukh. Yet the Yemenite Jews have been accepted without a shadow of a doubt into the realm of Talmudic Judaism. Although at the outset, major rabbis did not agree with their method, over the years their customs and traditions have earned approval and have even become assets. Today, no one would question that this group belongs to Talmudic Judaism.”

(10) “If so,” I asked Rabbi Dr. Sperber, “what should I learn from this?”

(11) “Who says that the red line is the Shulhan Arukh?” he responded.

(12) “So what do you think is Judaism’s ‘red line’?”

(13) “The Talmud,” he answered, “because the Talmud is accepted by the entire Jewish people. We have reason to think that the Talmud should become the red line.”

(14) This surprised me even more. Then I understood the breadth of the space that had opened before me. Paradoxically, the replies of Rabbi Brandes and Rabbi Sperber were not foreign to me at all. On the contrary, I felt that they offered me an answer to an inner vacuum, and quenched my thirst. “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?” Now! Suddenly I felt that I had the tools, the way, and the personal pace with which to meet my God.

(15) When I first thought about writing this book, naturally I consulted with Rabbi Dr. Sperber. He gave me his support and encouragement to pursue the process of recording and preserving the traditions of the Ethiopian community. He even directed me on how to proceed. After writing the first draft, I showed it to him. Professor Sperber emphasized the particular customs of the community, and based on this, he supported the radical halakhic decisions in my project. On the other hand, he did not hesitate to warn me of points that he felt might be damaging to the community.

(16) When I began to write this book, I contacted Rabbi Shabtai Rappaport, head of the Beit Midrash of the Jesselson Institute for Advanced Torah Studies at Bar-Ilan University. I received his blessings, and throughout the writing process, he guided me in a pleasant and professional manner, offering cheerful encouragement and broad knowledge on a variety of topics. My conversations with him contributed greatly to this composition.

(17) When I finished writing, I sent the draft to Rabbi Yehuda Brandes. I asked him to read the work, and I anxiously awaited his comments. His comments were edifying and very practical. Rabbi Yehuda represents those talmidei chachamim who are expert in halakhah but maintain a deep connection to the present reality. Finally, Rabbi Yehuda advised, “This is a very important work. Its importance cannot be underestimated. It must be published and publicized.”

(18) Personal need along with the support of my rabbis for this step provided the impetus for this work, From Sinai to Ethiopia: The Halakhic and Conceptual World of the Ethiopian Jews. I have no doubt that many members of the Ethiopian community will find it meaningful. I am certain that every Jew will find it valuable; some may even find it a path toward serving God.

(19) May we be privileged to learn and to teach, to observe, perform, and fulfill the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, as we say, “Cleanse our hearts, that we may serve you in truth.”

The Sanctity of ShabbatEthiopian Halakhah According to the sacred books of the Ethiopian Jewish community, the sanctity of Shabbat is very great, and exceeds that of all other mitzvot and the holidays. According to Ethiopian tradition, the angel responsible for Shabbat is named Sanbat, and he was created before the creation of the world. He rules over the sun and the rain, and guards all those who take shelter in his shadow. Thousands of angels submit to his authority, and he will show us the way to Jerusalem when the time of redemption arrives. Shabbat is not one of the days of the week – it is beyond time. Past and Present in Talmudic Halakhah The list of sacred dates in the book of Leviticus begins with the commandment of Shabbat, and among all these, Shabbat is the only one that is included in the Ten Commandments. The prophets connect observance of Shabbat to the fate of the children of Israel, the kingship of the House of David, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem. “The Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings state that Shabbat is equivalent to all the other mitzvot in the Torah.” The sanctity of Shabbat exceeds that of all other sacred acts, its blessing exceeds that of all others, and thus it was sanctified and blessed at the beginning of Creation. It is the source of blessing for the other days of the week, and thus Israel was commanded to keep the Shabbat in seven of the weekly Torah portions: Be-shalah, Yitro, Mishpatim, Ki Tisa, Va-yak’hel, Emor, and Va-ethanan. This is to teach us that all seven days of the week depend on Shabbat. We recall Shabbat daily when we introduce the Psalm of the day by declaring, Ha-yom yom rishon be-Shabbat (meaning “Today is the first day of the week” – literally, “Today is the first day of Shabbat”), yom sheni be-Shabbat (the second day of Shabbat), and so forth. Shabbat is the basic principle of faith in God, that He created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. A person who does not keep the Shabbat has no faith, and so the Sages compared one who violates Shabbat to an idol worshipper and heretic who denies the entire Torah. The Torah gives three reasons for observing Shabbat: Commemoration of the Exodus – “Observe the Sabbath day to keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. . . . And you shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God bought you out from there by a mighty hand and by an outstretched arm; therefore, the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day” (Deuteronomy 5:11, 14). Commemoration of the creation of the world – “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. . . . For in six days, the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day, wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and hallowed it” (Exodus 20:7–11). Social purpose – “Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall rest, in order that your ox and your donkey shall rest, and the son of your handmaid, and the stranger, may be refreshed” (Exodus 23:12). These reasons have a modern educational message: negating dependence on the material, and placing the life of the spirit at the center of human aspiration. Thus both the Beta Israel and Talmudic Judaism grant Shabbat a special status. But we may identify significant differences between Ethiopian halakhah of Shabbat and Talmudic halakhah – for example, in the laws of heating food on Shabbat and saving lives on Shabbat. For the Beta Israel, these two acts are completely forbidden. Shabbat is absolute, and cannot be overridden for any other mitzvah in the Torah. But in Talmudic law, both saving lives and circumcision must be performed on Shabbat. The Recommended Custom in Israel As we have seen, the two communities both relate to Shabbat equally – the sanctity of Shabbat and its importance are equivalent for the Beta Israel and Talmudic Judaism.

Erev Shabbat – Friday AfternoonEthiopian Halakhah In Ethiopia, preparations for Shabbat began on Thursday – the Beta Israel washed clothes, cleaned house, ground flour for baking dabu (challah), and cooked food. On Friday afternoon, the family ceased all housework and outside work, and everyone went down to the river to wash their clothes and themselves. They dressed in white and returned to their villages. They did not leave any fires lit in the house. After sundown, everyone gathered in the synagogue for Shabbat services. The kohanim arrived at the synagogue first, before the rest of the community. After the Shabbat service ended, the participants returned home and recited blessings. They did not recite Kiddush on Shabbat eve – this was done only in the morning. They ate the Shabbat meal and went to bed. The kohanim woke up when they were called to prayer, and then the rest of the community joined them. Past and Present in Talmudic Halakhah The Sages limited work on Fridays so that individuals would be free to prepare for Shabbat, and not begin Shabbat at the last minute. This was based on the verse regarding the manna, “And it shall come to pass on the sixth day that they shall prepare that which they bring in, and it shall be twice as much as they gather daily” (Exodus 16:5) – from this the Sages derived that it is a mitzvah to prepare on Friday everything that is needed for Shabbat. “Even if one has many retainers at his service, one should try to prepare personally something of the Shabbat needs, so as to thereby honor it. . . . One should not say ‘I will not compromise my dignity’ where preparations for Shabbat are involved, for it is to one’s privilege to honor Shabbat.” Even a Torah scholar who has other people to prepare Shabbat for him should make a personal effort to prepare something for Shabbat. The Talmud names several great scholars who participated in Shabbat preparations. Rabba salted fish; Rabbi Hisda chopped vegetables finely; Rabbah and Rav Yosef chopped wood for the fire in the oven; Rabbi Abbahu and Rabbi Zeira kindled the fire for cooking. Rabbi Hunah and Rabbi Pappa prepared the Shabbat candles, and Rabbi Nahman cleaned the house, cleared away the weekday items, and brought in the Shabbat items. The Recommended Custom in Israel No matter where we live, Shabbat has a special sanctity. For this reason, everyone prepares for Shabbat in advance.

Beginning of ShabbatEthiopian Halakhah In Ethiopia, there was no defined time for beginning Shabbat, as most people did not own clocks. Preparations began in the morning and continued until dusk. People began Shabbat at sunset. Past and Present in Talmudic Halakhah According to the Sages, the Jewish day begins on the preceding evening, in accordance with the verse “And there was evening and there was morning, one day” (Genesis 1:5). This means that Shabbat begins on Friday evening. Some say that it is a mitzvah to add time from the weekday to Shabbat, at the beginning and at the conclusion. This mitzvah is called tosefet Shabbat (addition to Shabbat). The book of Nehemiah documents Shabbat as beginning before the onset of darkness: “And it came to pass that, when the gates of Jerusalem began to be dark before the Sabbath, I commanded that the doors should be shut, and commanded that they should not be opened till after the Sabbath” (Nehemiah 13:19). We find additional documentation of this in the writings of Josephus, who states that Caesar Augustus commanded the provincial governor not to require the Jews to appear in court on Shabbat or on Friday afternoon after the ninth hour. During the Tannaitic period, tosefet Shabbat was limited to the time immediately preceding sunset, and was defined as any additional period. The custom practiced by the majority today in Israel regarding the time when Shabbat begins is as follows: in Tel Aviv and most other cities in Israel, twenty-two minutes before sunset; in Haifa, thirty minutes before sunset; and in Jerusalem, forty minutes before sunset. According to Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, ztz”l, in Jerusalem as well, one should begin Shabbat twenty minutes before sunset, and no earlier, as specified by the Sephardic sages of Jerusalem of previous generations. According to Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, the custom of welcoming Shabbat forty minutes before sunset is a later custom practiced following the arrival of Ashkenazic Jews in Jerusalem. The earliest time at which one may welcome the Shabbat is plag ha-Minhah (seventy-five minutes before sunset), and the latest time is just before sunset. In many cities in Israel, a siren is sounded before Shabbat begins. This custom commemorates the ancient practice of blowing the shofar in the Temple to declare the beginning of Shabbat. In Israel, the Shabbat times are publicized in calendars and newspapers. The Recommended Custom in Israel The Ethiopian Jews should follow the times practiced throughout the Jewish world. In all matters related to observing sacred times and related issues, they should follow the practice of the general Jewish community.

Lighting CandlesEthiopian Halakhah On Friday before Shabbat, the Beta Israel did not light fires or candles for Shabbat (before Shabbat began, they did not begin any labor that was forbidden on Shabbat, so that it would not end after Shabbat had begun). Further, they did not make use of fire on Shabbat, even if it was lit before Shabbat. Still, in several locations in Ethiopia, people left a candle or fire lit for the purpose of light only. After this fire went out, it was forbidden to touch it. But they did not light candles to welcome Shabbat. Past and Present in Talmudic Halakhah This issue became one of the well-known points of contention between the Pharisees and the Karaites, based on their differing interpretations of the verse “You shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations upon the Sabbath day” (Exodus 35:3). According to the Sages, it was forbidden to kindle fire on Shabbat, but it was permitted to leave a fire lit if it had been kindled before Shabbat. The Karaites, by contrast, asserted that the verse meant it was forbidden to leave any fire lit during Shabbat, whether candle, fire in the oven, or on a gas hob. The Karaites thus sat in complete darkness on Shabbat eve, they had no fire lit for warmth in the winter, and they ate only cold food. The rabbinic world did not stop at verbal debates with the Karaites, but instituted decrees and customs “to restrain the Karaites.” Two mitzvot are based on this approach: the blessing over lighting the candles, and the custom of eating hot food on Shabbat. The Talmud even states that we must light candles for Shabbat, although it does not specify the blessing to recite. The Geonim debated whether one should recite a blessing over candle lighting. Possibly, rejection of Karaite practice was one of the reasons for requiring the blessing. Today, the custom is to light candles in order to honor Shabbat and also for enjoyment of Shabbat. Preparing the candles and lighting them before Shabbat are to “honor Shabbat,” while eating and other activities done by their light are considered “enjoyment of Shabbat.” In ancient times, on weekdays the Jews ate their evening meal before dark, and afterwards the members of the household went to sleep until dawn, so there was no need for nighttime illumination. But on Shabbat the situation was different, because they had to eat the Shabbat meal after dark. Today, since we use electricity for lighting, most rabbis permit the use of electricity instead of candles. It is preferable to light candles, since this serves as a special sign that the lights were lit in honor of Shabbat. But if candles are not available, one may recite the blessing over electric lights. This mitzvah is a requirement for each household, and it does not matter which person in the house lights. But the custom is for the husband to prepare the candles while the wife lights them, since she is busy with preparations, and the candles are part of “honoring Shabbat.” The Recommended Custom in Israel Lighting Shabbat candles has become a very special mitzvah for the Jewish people, one that is much loved by those who perform it. The candles bring calm and peace to the home, create a special spiritual atmosphere, and lead to family togetherness. Lighting candles is a clear sign of a Jewish home. Thus Ethiopian Jews who find it very difficult to light Shabbat candles may continue the custom of not lighting, but those who understand that this practice has special import, particularly the younger generation, should light, especially since the actual lighting takes place before Shabbat begins.