Five centuries ago, the Protestant Reformation made the connection between church and state into a critical issue. The result, after a century of religious war, was the principle of separation of church and state. Boundaries defining that separation are still being challenged and adjusted, often acrimoniously (e.g. abortion rights and gay marriage), but the principle still holds; most educated people in the West support it.

They are strongly disposed to retain separation if only because Christianity’s connection to the state still scares them with its history of inquisition, persecution and repression. Even scarier is modern fundamentalist Islam, which prides itself on complete integration of religion and state. And for Jews, the involvement of ultra-orthodox institutions in Israeli government has not been encouraging; many find it disastrous, for both the religion and the state.

During five centuries of separation, European Christianity has suffered a major decline--but not because of separation. Christianity can live with separation—in fact, it was born into it: separated from and even in partial opposition to the state (as per the injunction to give unto Caesar his due). Only after its first three centuries--after completing most of its formative development--did Christianity become connected to the state.

In contrast, Judaism was born, and developed for a thousand years, as a state religion; and continued as such well beyond the life of the ancient Jewish state. Religious and civil authority long remained coupled within semi-autonomous communities of the Diaspora. Because Judaism developed this way, separation cuts to its very heart. And this has contributed to the strong decline in Jewish religious commitment since emancipation at the end of the 18^th century, at which time separation became total.

Nonetheless, Jews are generally unaware, and would vigorously deny, that separation does harm Judaism. This, especially because Christianity’s separation has been so beneficial to them; and this, most especially because a corollary of separation has been religious toleration. Most Western educated Jews have clasped the idea of separation to heart; they have taken it as gospel as the only enlightened attitude one can have.

The question of separation comes up only because of the existence of Israel. If Judaism’s health requires a Jewish state to which it can re-connect, then the rebirth of Israel as a Jewish state has religious significance; otherwise, however much Jews may need and want a state of their own, that significance is greatly diminished. Those who cannot imagine how Judaism could be reconnected to (a rational, enlightened, modern) government, are both predisposed to deny any harm from separation, and blinded to any religious significance to be attached to Israel.

Orthodox Jews do not as a rule see separation as a serious threat to their expression of Judaism, and accept that it will last until a messiah appears. Their attitude towards Zionism breaks down into three categories. First, are the anti-Zionists for whom it is wrong to redeem the land before the messiah appears. Second, are those for whom Zionism is positive politically, as it may hasten redemption, but neutral religiously. Until the messiah appears, both wish only to be strictly torah observant as per European Jewry at the time of emancipation. They differ mainly in that the first wish to be observant in an 18^th century Eastern European milieu.

The third group of orthodox are messianic religious Zionists inspired by Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Hacohen Kook (1865-1935), Chief Rabbi of Eretz Yisrael who wrote

This Zionism does have a religious meaning because it ascribes holiness to Eretz Israel. Judaism benefits by the union of the people with the land: together, they are a whole, whereas apart, they are broken and unfulfilled. This group’s political activity, manifest in Gush Emunim, is focussed on connecting religion to the real estate, but not to the state.

In contrast to their observant counterparts, secular Jews tend to be more politically active, but in a non-religious context. Moreover, those within Israel actively oppose connecting religion to government--anything that might smack of theocracy. They understand Israel and its redemption only in a ‘normalized’ sense. It means safety, normalcy, pride, nationhood, ethnicity,…, but nothing more—nothing beyond the meanings other peoples have for their states.

For all groups, and the many who share portions of their views, religious practice has nothing to do with government, and religious institutions, should be kept separate from the it. Modern Israel has religious significance to some of them at best only in that it can facilitate the practice of the form of Judaism that evolved during the two millennia in which Jews had no state.

This essay presents a more positive and creative assessment of relations between Judaism and Israel. It sees the modern return from Europe as religiously similar to those from Egypt and Babylon: both occasions of deep religious transformation wrought by survivors of great physical and intellectual trauma. In both previous returns, the core religious content of Judaism was preserved, and served to eventually unite a confused and disunited people.

History indicates that these prior religious transformations were not imposed upon the people. Centuries elapsed during which old forms of Judaism co-existed with new. The people and their religion grew together, slowly and organically. The process was contentious, incomplete, evolutionary, but also valid and vital. This essay is not a call for a transformational change but a call for recognition of one already under way.

All visions of Judaism must be rooted in tradition; but they can differ in the emphasis given different parts of that tradition. Each person is free to make judgments of emphasis. This essay draws on judgments of many varied Jewish thinkers including especially Moses Hess, Yeshayahu Lieberman, Meir Soloveichik, and David Hartman. Its immediate stimulus was a recent paper entitled Redemption and the Power of Man, written by Soloveichik, scholar in residence at the Jewish Center in New York and Contributing Editor of Azure. It was published in the winter issue.

Soloveichik emphasizes fundamental differences between Judaism and Christianity: differences in their interpretations of redemption, and of our power to achieve it. The mere fact that these differences are pointed out and emphasized, suggests that many Jews have assimilated Christian interpretations; and this in turn suggests one reason why Jews are unaware of the religious significance both of Israel and of the separation of Judaism from its government.

Starting with Soloveichik’s comments, I will connect the theological heart of Judaism to its understanding and implementation of redemption, and this to the future of both it and the Jewish State. My conclusions in large part agree with those of Hartman who has written as follows:

Israel cannot but challenge Judaism and the Jewish people in the same way as did the ancient state. And given the character of the religion and people, both formed by that challenge, they must respond. They cannot respond by retaining a ghetto mentality and forms of religious observance warped by exile and persecution. That is why religious transformation is happening already and why it must continue as long as there is a Jewish state.

The essay starts with Soloveichik’s comparison of Christian and Jewish interpretations of redemption. In contrast to Christianity, where the focus is on the redemption/salvation of individual souls, that of Judaism is on the whole of Israel, the people and their land. The religious redemption of Israel requires more than that Jews be just --doing justice and loving mercy--on a personal, one-on-one level; they must also create a just society. In fact, redemption requires a society whose laws have been woven into a single fabric of justice, which connect individual to social behavior.

The weaving of such a fabric has long been perceived to be a basic religious obligation of the Jewish people. This again is in contrast to Christianity. Whereas for the individual Christian, personal redemption ultimately depends, according to St. Paul, not on human will or exertion, but on a God who shows mercy, Jews expect to actively work for redemption. They must seek the meaning of social justice, formulate its laws, and by them.

The quest for social justice, specifically as it has been a religious quest, is Judaism’s intellectual vocation. It was the goal of an ongoing program of legal study and research sustained since the start of the Second Commonwealth by all segments of the Jewish people. But its health and vigor diminished due to and during exile becoming almost moribund by the end of the 15^th century. By the time of Jewish emancipation at the end of the 18^th century it had become fossilized. Now it too needs redemption. This can only happen in a normal environment: a Jewish state where it can be as it once was, a normal and vital part of public life.

Redemption of this program is happening with special force due to Israel’s special struggle. For all her most difficult questions—the rising fraction of Arab population, the weight to be attached to retaining the lands of ancient Judea and Samaria, the weight of Jewish military versus Arab civilian casualties—test religious belief, either directly, or indirectly via moral principles derived from religion. Even Israeli atheists argue—generally with religious fervor--from a moral sense derived, ultimately though perhaps not consciously, from religious principles, most probably Jewish.

Thus, the arguments between Jews, in and out of Israel, over such questions, are fundamentally religious; they are so in fact, even though most often not in conscious intent. Many properties obviously distinguish them from the religious arguments, both judicial and legislative, that took place within the assemblies and academies of ancient Israel and Babylon, but are these properties essential? An answer will require, and will receive, a clear and rigorous statement of Judaism’s essential properties.

The conclusion of this essay is that the impassioned argument about Israel taking place today amongst Jews all over the world is already a beginning of redemption. We are seeing Judaism, as it participates in Israel’s struggle for existence and self-understanding, beginning to regain its ancient vigor in modern forms and fora. This redemption by the people of their religion will become one with the redemption of the people, and of the land. It is happening, with or without being recognized.

In Deuteronomy 30, as part of his final oration, Moses says:

Moses foresees that Israel, people and land, will be redeemed after it repents-- has a ‘turn of heart’—and returns to obedience to the law. It is religiously certain, therefore, that both repentance and redemption will happen. So far, however, neither has, which is one reason Jews do not believe that the messiah has come. Soloveichik points out that differences between traditional Judaism and Christianity concerning the messiah reflects another one concerning

These views of redemption correspond to different responses to the existence of evil and suffering. Soloveichik illustrates the Christian response by quoting John Cardinal Newman’s reflections on a world apparently blindly evolving without guidance, and exhibiting:

Soloveichik comments on this as follows:

The Jew, seeing the same world, does not emphasize that something has gone terribly wrong with humanity , but rather, that we can do better, and are here to do so. Thus, according to Soloveichik,

Soloveichik has introduced and compared concepts of redemption, salvation, and human abilities, in Christianity and Judaism. This serves to delineate the Jewish version of these concepts—a version that assimilation, secularization, and religious syncretism has increasingly blurred in the minds of many Jews in the two centuries since emancipation. That is the purpose of the comparisons: not to understand or categorize Christianity, but to aid in the recovery of Jewish concepts.

This essay will connect these ideas on the one hand to Judaism’s theological foundations, and on the other, to modern Israel’s political and social realities. Thus, through the concept of redemption, modern Israel will be connected to the theological foundations of Judaism—not a very surprising idea in principle, but, nonetheless, one that is neither understood or taken seriously by enough Jews, both in and out of Israel.

A Christian who leads a virtuous life in whatever social circumstance fate has dealt, or who has sincerely repented his sins, is saved; his soul is saved in the hereafter. A Jew, on the other hand, is not much concerned with this kind of personal salvation if only because it is essentially guaranteed: the soul is The portion of God from above [Job 31:2], thus: The dust returneth to earth…and the spirit returneth unto God who gave it [Eccles. 12:7] . Believing Christians are often concerned with the state of the soul whereas their Jewish counterparts rarely are.

In fact, redemption and the Messiah, are far more important to Christianity (which literally means Messianism) than to Judaism; and Soloveichik’s claim, that the theological essence of Judaism [is a] belief that man has been blessed with the ability to become deserving of redemption, an ability that man's sinfulness does not foreclose, as a statement of theological essence, needs some correction. Judaism’s views of redemption and man’s abilities need to be discussed with more theological rigor. The discussion starts with some remarks by Yeshayahu Lieberman that contain strong warnings against common misconceptions and misstatements concerning this topic.

Note: being simple to the utmost degree of simplicity is equivalent to the unity of God.

The Second Theological Essence

Added to Judaism’s certainty in the transcendent God, is a belief: that Jews are chosen to serve God; the Chosenness of the Jews and the obligation of Service to God comprise the Yoke of Heaven. Acceptance of this yoke is why we perform service to God. It is a cause, and as such, it is distinct from its effects, both on those who perform acts of service and those on whom they are performed (the latter being human since we cannot perform acts upon God).

Confusing cause and effect is the intellectual sin of those Lieberman rails against, and is not merely a category error, a ‘theoretical’ mistake. It creates confusion between service to Man and service to God, thereby missing the intellectual essence of Judaism as well as the tone and impact of its practice. Although, as Lieberman points out, it is service to God that allows Jews to break through the bounds of a meaningless natural existence to that which transcends it, the breakthrough is not the purpose—the reason for performing that service. If it were, then Judaism’s purpose would be service to Man.

This kind of distinction can be illustrated by an example taken from human relations. It is similar to that between, on the one hand, giving love because of feelings of love-a purely positive act, love for its own sake--and on the other hand, giving love in order to get something in return, usually love or money. The idea that love given for it own sake results in enriching the giver, even though that is not its purpose, is common wisdom. Conversely, love given for a purpose, sold as it were, as in an act of extortion or prostitution, is commonly understood to be an act that enriches only the poorest of souls. The same principle applies to Man's relation to God; service to God Lishmah--for its own sake--enriches life. On the other hand, it is a poor thing to serve (e.g. to be observant) in expectation of something in return (examples are being religious for the sake of spiritual uplift, or praying for good fortune).

The Goal of Immanence

The ideal of service to God Lishmah is implied in the prophecy that Israel will become a ‘nation of priests’, the meaning of which depends on that of ‘priest’—the essential meaning, that is, as understood when the prophecy was made. Thus, someday every Israelite will perform service to God equivalent in essence to that of an ancient temple priest.

But the prophets made it clear that the priests’ offerings and sacrifices were not what was of essence in their service. Indeed, rationales for specific rituals—why this animal or body part offered for this crime, why that grain at that time for that sin, and so on—are rarely discussed; they are theologically unimportant. A sin sacrifice had become a form of legal indemnity: simply a paying of fines.

Despite this, temple services were religiously continued until forcibly ended by destruction and exile. They were valued, and not merely as tradition or for social and political reasons. This is because temples services had the aura of holiness, and places and acts deemed holy create a sense of the immanence of God. Immanence refers to a sense of the presence and activity of God in the world, a transcendent God (not of, or bound by, or explicable in terms of, the world), but yet always necessary to sustain it (God, not merely the one time creator, the answer to why is there anything rather than nothing at all? --but the sustainer, the answer to why does the world persist from moment to moment, and why in accordance to natural law ?)

The sense of the presence of God is the sense of holiness. And temple priests not only invoked God's presence, they would (or should) have been people for whom immanence was an ever-present reality, ( on their arms and between their eyes ). The hidden and abstract God was real to them, their temple service helped make it real to others, as did their demeanor.

Thus, a nation of priests can be understood as a people infused with the sense of God’s immanence; this will someday be true of the nation of Israel. A sense of God (the source of truth underlying and sustaining the phenomenal reality of mundane life) will shine through and from them (their countenance, and their behavior). Their service to God is their continually conscious appreciation of Its reality.

The Yoke of Mitzvoth is a ritual service to God that substitutes for that of the temple. The meaning given to the rituals, the originals as well as their substitutes, is secondary; primary, is the act of service Lishmah. For that is what makes immanence real to those performing the service-the idea that one is responding to an order, not that one is acting only as if to an order so as to really accomplish some other purpose. The reality of service creates that of immanence.

Modes of Service (1)

Service to God Lishmah is closely associated with 'love' of God Lishmah; for we serve that which we love for the sake of love, for its own sake. The commandment to love God with all your heart and all your soul means living life filled with a sense of God's immanence. Such service leads to an enriched life, both for one's self and for others; we are constituted so that an enriched service to Man (effect) always results from to service to God (cause). This makes it easy to confuse cause (service to God) with effect (service to Man).

This commandment to serve is Judaism's theological essence. It is the goal towards which modes of service act as means. Are all modes of service consistent with this goal-consistent with the essence of Judaism--valid expressions of Judaism? To believe so requires a degree of flexibility rarely found amongst religious Jews. It may well be, however, that that will be unimportant. For ultimately, what constitutes Judaism will be determined by those who hold fast to it because of their perception of its essence. That perception of essence has survived through Judaism's previous major transformation, and it, and only it, is certain of survival through the one just now beginning.

With this in mind, this essay can and will avoid a whole class of difficult, contentious, and divisive questions concerned with the proper mode of service to God. Answers depend on the meaning of revelation, and the authority of tradition--for that is how modes of service are justified: by revelation and tradition. But revelation is distinguished from mere inspiration by authority and tradition, and these are then supported by (claims of )revelation. All in all, a tangled knot of mutual justification: inessential and hence, avoidable.

Study and Research: Judaism's Fundamental Mode of Service

Judaism has, however, a most fundamental mode of service, which is study and research, and its relation to Zionism was understood, and addressed by Moses Hess, the first modern Zionist, in his Rome and Jerusalem (1862), as follows:

Thus, study and research has always been Judaism's most basic religious obligation (mode of service). This work includes, in particular, study of, and research into, Judaism itself: the active and unrestricted creation of Midrash and Halakhah. And this means, in effect, that the open-ended creation of Jewish religious practice is in the hand of all Jews, not just scholars and religious professionals.

Hess continues the passage above by discussing the history and significance of this program:

Here, Hess approaches our theme. He was a Jew who, previously assimilated, had returned to his religion in middle age. Though an early and highly influential Socialist, and known as the father of Socialist Zionism, he had a sensitivity to the meaning of Judaism lacking in later Zionist leaders.

The terrible danger in writing down of the oral law, foreseen by the rabbis, eventually proved true. The Talmud first preserved, but then also severely restricted Judaism's legislative program. The success of Zionism will restore freedom to the development of the oral law.

Research and Social Justice

The national legislative genius to which Hess refers, was directed towards the normal work of legislatures, which is social legislation. Here again, a comparison with Christianity brings out what is unique to Judaism. Christianity's concern with personal salvation focuses its attention on personal behavior: how each of us should interact with our family, friends, and enemies. Judaism's concerns are far more ambitious (too much so according to Christianity): create a just society by discovering its laws and living them.

Whereas we more or less know how persons should behave morally, we do not know that about organizations-businesses, bureaucracies, and armies. What constitutes social morality and justice? That is what social legislation is, or should be, fundamentally about. Moreover, because characteristics of societies change far more rapidly than those of individuals, this task is never-ending. Business law relevant to ancient Israel was insufficient for medieval times and that in turn, for modern times. In contrast, the ancient dictum concerning behavior towards one's neighbor is as valid today as it was when written into the Torah.

Their objectives require that Christianity be more focussed on problems of the heart, and Judaism, on the mind (both heart and mind made up the ancient concept of the soul). The Christian knows what to do to save his soul, and therefore can concentrate on overcoming weaknesses of the heart—what we think of as personal or character weaknesses. Such failure connotes sin and guilt in their normal sense. The Jew has these concerns, but not with the accompanying threat of dire personal consequences in the after-life over hanging him. In its stead is the Jew’s religious concern for social justice—a concern of Christians as well, but expressed with different emphasis: ‘good works’ to relieve tragedy and injustice as opposed to political activism to relieve their causes. Failure in the goal of the Jew is more of the mind than the heart because we cannot do right if we do not know what it is. And therefore sin, in this sense, is associated more with ignorance than weakness—an ancient idea that Judaism shares with Greek philosophy.

The History of Research

Heinrich Graetz, the leading 19^th century historian of the Jewish people, pointed out that social justice was central from the very beginning, becoming fully integrated with religious concerns only after the Babylonian exile. He expressed this as follows (taken from The Structure of Jewish History):

This perfect union began under the leadership of Ezra. Literacy and torah study became religious commandments, and the returning exiles organized what became over the centuries, Judaism’s vast effort of study and research—sages, rabbis, students, academies and yeshivas--directed towards that union. Supported by all segments of society, it formed the intellectual core of Judaism.

During the 800 years following the return from Exile, starting with the men of the Great Assembly, the canonical books of the Bible were determined and the foundations of Jewish law were legislated. In this period the Jews lived in a relatively normal environment, were faced with a normal range of social problems, and solved them with a corresponding range of legislation. During this period of Judaism’s greatest creativity, religion was a vital part of life, personal as well as public.

Creativity began to decline with the writing down of the oral code by Judah the Prince circa 219 AD in preparation for the dispersion of the people into exile. The conditions of exile gradually but increasingly denied Jews the normal range of experience that motivates the creation and testing of social law. Commentary, codification, and elaboration replaced actual legislation, and subject matter became frozen in time.

The final stage of decline began at about 1500, the time of the destruction of Spanish Jewry, an event that helped inaugurate a 300-year period of increasing persecution and social isolation. Confined to their ghettos Jews were squeezed socially, intellectually, as well as physically, thereby completing the distortion and freezing of their legislative enterprise. The ghetto self-defensively drew tight and rigid boundaries around acceptable religious doctrine and custom, and an intense focus on simple self-preservation distorted the Jews’ understanding of the meaning of religious study and research.

The Religious Meaning of Research