Categories
Vol. 68, No. 1 (Winter 2023-24)

A Note from the Editor Winter 2023-24

The current issue of this journal has been prepared and published at a critical and painful time, a watershed moment in the history of the Jewish People and the Jewish State. Israel is at war, defending itself against an existential, genocidal threat in the wake of the attacks and depredations perpetrated by Hamas on October 7, 2023. Those in Israel are living a transformed reality. Those of us in the diaspora cite with conviction the famous epigram of Yehuda Halevi: “My heart is in the East, though I am in the farthest reaches of the West.”

In the pages of this journal, Rabbi Chaya Rowen Baker, Dean of the Schechter Rabbinical Seminary in Jerusalem, shares a deeply moving and thoughtful personal account of the Israeli home front and the experience of Israeli civilians since October 7. We are in her debt for her “Letter from Israel.” Rabbi Rowen Baker previously served as rabbi of Congregation Ramot Zion in the French Hill neighborhood of Jerusalem, leading that flagship congregation for sixteen years. Ramot Zion’s sanctuary is called “Ohel Tuvia”—in memory of Rabbi Theodore Friedman, a past president of the Rabbinical Assembly and pioneer of the Masorti movement in Israel and beyond.

In this issue is reprinted another “Letter from Israel”—this one by Rabbi Friedman—written in the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur War. The parallels are striking and agonizing. Rabbi Rowen Baker points out that the congregation she would come to lead held its first public services in observance of the High Holy Days of 1973. In personal correspondence, she wrote to me of Rabbi Friedman: “I am honored to follow in his footsteps in this way. And pained that it is necessary.” I know this journal’s readership joins me in responding: The honor is ours, and even “in the farthest reaches of the West,” we share your pain.

We are also privileged to include in this issue JTS Chancellor Emeritus Ismar Schorch’s admiring and inspiring remembrance of his father, Emil Schorsch, and his rabbinate. In an essay rich in history, we read of the Schorsch family, including young Ismar, escaping Nazi Germany in December of 1938: “Relatives in London had secured for us visas to England from its chief rabbi, Joseph H. Hertz, who had been given authority to rescue rabbis from Germany. Years later I would quip that the first rabbi to be ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York in 1894 was destined to rescue the child who had just turned three and would eventually become the institution’s sixth chancellor in 1986.” Chancellor Schorsch writes of his father’s depth of determination to become a rabbi: “A deeply religious personality, he believed that surviving the chaos of war destined him to join the forces of those committed to preventing its recurrence.”

Alas, we have not been spared the tragedy of recurrent war.

As Purim and Pesach approach, with their own foundation in genocidal attacks upon the Jewish People, may we be privileged to receive, as Rabbi Rowen Baker explains is now the customary formulation in the Jewish State, besorot tovot: only good news.

Joseph H. Prouser is rabbi of Temple Emanuel of North Jersey in Franklin Lakes, New Jersey, and editor of this journal.

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

Book Reviews (PDF)

Download PDF

Download PDF

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

Reviews Walking the Land: A History of Israeli Hiking Trails; Atḥalta: Musar umesoret beʿeidan shel koaḥ Yehudi; Stories for the Sake of Argument

Walking the Land:
A History of Israeli Hiking Trails
, by Shai Rabineau.
Indiana University Press, 2023.

As an experienced hiker in the United States, I am delighted to review Walking the Land: A History of Israeli Hiking Trails, by Shai Rabineau. This well-written book makes it clear that the history of the marked hiking trails in Israel is far different than the history of such trails in the United States. Here in the United States, we view hiking trails as vehicles for recreation. But in Israel, as the book demonstrates, they have historically been viewed as political statements, and, to some extent, they continue to be viewed in that manner today.

The book begins by explaining that, during the years of the British Mandate, hiking was considered an aspect of yediʾat haʾarets—becoming more familiar with the sacred land. Rabineau points out that the area the early hikers chose to explore was the Judean Desert, and he notes that the reason this area was chosen for exploration was precisely that it was not well known. Paths through the desert had existed for hundreds of years, but they were unmarked and could not easily be followed by inexperienced hikers. Initially, Bedouin were hired to lead treks (masaʾot), although the Jewish leaders of the Palmach soon acquired enough familiarity with the terrain to lead groups by themselves. A series of incidents involving hikers in 1947 convinced Israeli hiking pioneer Hillel Birger, along with a group of Palmach scouts, to mark the first hiking trail in the Judean Desert: the path up the mountain known as Ras Feshkha, which was part of the route from Beit Haʿaravah to Masada. This was the start of the simun shivilim (marking of paths/trails) movement in Israel.

Ironically, the marking of the trail up Ras Feshkha began on November 22, 1947. Just one week later, the United Nations General Assembly approved a plan to partition what was then known as Palestine, and a civil war began between the Arabs and Jews. The marking of the trail was not completed, and the trail itself became a part of the Jordanian-occupied West Bank. Of course, with the establishment of a State of Israel that did not include the Judean Desert, hiking trails had to be established elsewhere. Rabineau discusses the first large-scale effort in April and June 1959 to mark trails up Masada and in the area of Ein Gedi—the portion of the Judean Desert that remained in Israeli hands—as well as the expansion of the effort in 1961. He continues by describing the marking of trails in the Eilat Mountains in the southern Negev in 1963.

When the entire West Bank once again opened to hiking in the wake of the Six Day War in 1967, the simun shvilim movement returned to the northern Judean Desert and marked a network of trails in the area. Indeed, Rabineau states, “the expansion of the Israeli trail network in the northern Judean Desert…established the first large-scale Israeli civilian presence” in the area. Rabineau goes on to discuss the establishment in 1973 of Israel’s third trail network, in the Golan Heights. Here, he points out, the Israel Defense Force’s Northern Command took an active role in selecting the location of the trails, as the area had been heavily mined by the Syrians. Next, he points out, a network of marked hiking trails was established in the Mount Carmel area in 1976. Yediʾat haʾarets, which emphasized hiking by “scouts” and “fit walkers” in “desolate areas,” was no longer the primary motive; rather, the purpose of this new trail network was to enable “families and individual hikers” to explore green spaces closer to home.

After discussing these various trail networks, Rabineau goes on to describe how the Shvil Yisraʾel, which is often translated as the Israel National Trail, was established in 1995. He explains that the concept originated in a newspaper article in which a veteran hiker referred to the Appalachian Trail as the “national trail” of the United States (a characterization with which I do not fully agree) and suggested that a similar trail be established in Israel. Even here, Rabineau points out, the decision of where to route the trail was influenced by political considerations. The final route stays within the 1948 borders of Israel and avoids any “politically contentious areas,” including Jerusalem, although two “add-on” trails, Shvil haGolan and Shvil Yerushalayim, were subsequently established.

Finally, Rabineau discusses the establishment of the Jesus Trail, created for the benefit of foreign tourists, that extends from Nazareth to Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee; the Nativity Trail, which connects Nazareth with Bethlehem; and the Palestinian Heritage Trail in the West Bank. These trails were all established by non-Jewish individuals and organizations and were not designed to cater to Israelis.

Interestingly, Rabineau points out that the standards established for marking trails in Israel were based on those established in Europe—namely, a single colored stripe on a background of two white stripes. (This is not the standard for marking hiking trails in the United States.) Rabineau also discusses the marking of the Israeli hiking trails on topographical maps and the publication of these maps as a guide to hikers. As one who is deeply involved in the creation and publication of hiking trail maps in the United States, I fully appreciate the significance of this effort as essential to making the trails available to the general public.

In sum, I found that the book not only provides a well-written and interesting history of the marking of hiking trails in the Land of Israel but also explains how the role of hiking trails in Israel has differed historically from their role in the United States and elsewhere.

Daniel Chazin, a retired attorney living in Teaneck, New Jersey, is an avid hiker who writes a column on hiking for a local newspaper and has written or edited many books on hiking, including the Appalachian Trail Data Book, 50 Hikes in New Jersey, and 50 Hikes in the Lower Hudson Valley. He also is Scoutmaster of Boy Scout Troop 226, chartered to the Teaneck Jewish Center, and is the Secretary of the National Jewish Committee on Scouting, on which he has served for over 40 years.

Atḥalta. Musar umesoret beʿeidan shel koaḥ Yehudi
(The Dawn
of Redemption: Morality and Tradition in an Age of Jewish Power)
by Mikhael Manekin.
E-vrit, 2021.

When I was a student at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, I remember attending public lectures of Professor Aviezer Ravitzky, who often spoke about Judaism, the value of peace, and the challenge of Jewish power. One source that Professor Ravitzky would often quote is found in Judah Halevi’s Kuzari, a dialogue between a rabbi, a priest, an imam, and the Khazar king. The text that Professor Ravitzky would quote (I:113–14) directly addresses the absence of Jewish power throughout most of Jewish history and its effect on both Jewish behavior and how Jews see themselves. After the rabbi praises the degradation and downtrodden state of the Jewish people, the king responds and says that “This might be so, if your humility were voluntary; but it is involuntary, and if you had power you would slay.”1 As I read Mikhael Manekin’s Atḥalta, I kept thinking of this text from the Kuzari. Is the lens through which we discuss Jewish power tainted by powerlessness? Are texts that were formulated in a reality when Jewish sovereignty was absent relevant to our present when Jewish sovereignty has been restored?

In the first chapter of Atḥalta, Manekin writes that, “[i]n recent years I have been bothered by the question ‘How to be a Jew in Israel’” (16).2 He goes on to say:

I want to be an active Jew, a good Jew. I close my eyes and try to imagine the image of a Jew that I strive to be. I see a person with a commitment to divine truth, a gentle person, thoughtful, compassionate, reticent to use violence, loving other people. I imagine a learned person, attentive, curious and a lover of knowledge. I see a believing person (16–17).

Manekin then describes the dissonance that he feels between his image of the Jew and the reality of Judaism in the State of Israel. “This Jew is from the pre-Israeli past, a Jew who doesn’t find their identity in terms such as ‘national pride’ and ‘sovereignty,’ rather in terms such as ‘humility’ and ‘compassion’” (17).

Atḥalta is a very personal attempt to address the tensions between morality and sovereignty, between a Jewish tradition that emphasizes compassion and humility, on the one hand, and an Israeli Judaism that sometimes makes these and other values subservient to power and sovereignty, on the other. Manekin weaves together his own personal experiences, both as a soldier in the Israel Defense Forces and a member of the Religious Zionist community, along with discussions about Jewish texts, Zionist history, and Israeli political and religious culture.

Toward the end of the book, Manekin formulates what in his opinion is the root of the problem.

In the decision that the sovereign state is a substitute for a king anointed by a prophet, Religious Zionism denies the logic behind the morality of the laws of war in halakhah. The Sages built a ha­lakhic framework that was based upon a suspicion of any war, and therefore required the explicit participation of God in every decision about going to war. This doesn’t mean that they oppose a defensive war, rather, they do not attribute to it any religious meaning, and surely they don’t attribute to it a religious command. On the other hand, the rabbis of Religious Zionism claim that the secular state represents the entirety of the Jewish people, and that its wars are religious wars, since the state is the state of the people (113).

For Manekin, this attribution of divine authority to the decisions of the secular state causes the “religious soldier…to nullify his independence of ethical thought” (113). He emphasizes that “[the] problem is not, as many tend to believe, that religious beliefs are causing the secular state to deteriorate, rather, it’s that the sanctification of secularism is corrupting religion and making it subservient to the changing needs of the state” (113).

Religious values are meant to challenge the secular institutions of sovereignty and not to sanctify them. Once the trappings of secular statehood are sanctified, its policy decisions are no longer to be found in the realm of fallible decisions made by human beings but should be sought in divinely sanctioned actions that in due course attain a status that is beyond both human reproach and reason.

Was the Khazar king correct that “if you had power you would slay?” Is the Jewish people destined to be like so many other nations in the ways of nationalism and war? Atḥalta is a attempt to say “no,” and to emphasize that, despite the vast gulf that may exist between the political and social reality of the State of Israel today and most of Jewish history in the past, many of the values that shaped Jewish thought and law in the past are as relevant as ever in today’s reality of Jewish sovereignty.

Rabbi Michael Pitkowsky, Ph.D., is Manager of Enrollment Analytics at St. Francis College and book review editor for this journal.

Stories for the Sake of Argument, by Robbie Gringras and Abi Dauber Sterne.
FSA Publications, 2022.

Stories for the Sake of Argument by Robbie Gringras and Abi Dauber Stern is a powerful resource that introduces an innovative and aspirational framework for teaching and learning about Israel. Its purpose is to help learners to develop the technical skills, emotional resilience, and content knowledge to engage in healthy arguments that lead to growth in their understanding of and relationship with Israel. This book, and the accompanying resources and facilitator training workshops, should become part of the repertoire of all Israel educators and anyone searching for methods to understand and engage in the most challenging and interesting issues in and about Israel.

The approach taken by Gringras and Stern notes the overarching societal trends such as political polarization and the general decline in civil discourse, along with the increasing anxiety and contentiousness associated with conversations around Israel and Zionism. They challenge the stance that arguing risks healthy relationships, and they offer an alternative to the consensus approach to teaching and learning about Israel. They seek instead to create a culture of healthy disagreement characterized by arguments that are differentiated from debates (intended to persuade) or negotiations (intended to solve), arguments that instead create broader understandings of and clarity on what values and information comprise various perspectives.

To do this, Gringras and Stern provide a collection of twenty-four short stories helpfully tagged as “warmup,” “Israel,” or “allegory”—each including a brief introduction, followed by guiding questions and some background information on the story’s topic. The first story, a warmup titled “Monstrosities,” describes a child’s perspective on her grandfather’s refusal to shake the hand of the synagogue president because of his political views. Readers are prompted to argue about the legitimacy of the character’s actions, and the prompt addresses the costs of choosing to argue versus not to argue and the boundaries of acceptable disagreement. An example of the allegories in the volume is “The Brothers’ House,” in which Jonny lives in the family house, while David lives abroad and disagrees with changes Jonny has made to the house during David’s absence. The argument between the brothers is an allegory about the relationship between Israeli and diaspora Jews. Among the stories in the “Israel” category is “Why the Heck Should I Vote?,” about the factors that inform the choice of a Palestinian resident of East Jerusalem to vote in a municipal election, and “Praying at the Kotel,” about a devout woman’s perspective on women who pray at the Kotel in nontraditional ways. Many of the stories have been adapted as professionally produced animated videos to accompany the texts.

The stories are brief and engaging, are intended to produce disagreement and create opportunities for robust argument among readers. They address challenging topics by inviting readers to take a side and express disagreement while providing a structure and framework that make room for uncertainty, provide opportunity to change positions, and invite readers to ask questions and seek more information, as well as experience disagreement as an experience that unites rather than divides.

This project is the latest contribution to a growing collection of recent educational resources advocating for a Jewish approach to healthy disagreement and civil discourse. Civilly Speaking: A Curriculum on Civil Discourse by Joel Lurie Grishaver and Ira J. Wise, is a six-unit curriculum for middle and high school aged learners to adults to “bring more kind and empathetic discourse—and possibly more peace—to our classrooms and our world.” Facing History and Ourselves offers (2022), a guide for educators to help prepare students to engage in reflective conversations on topics that matter. Additional educational resources include “Jewish Values and Civil Discourse” on and Behrman House’s series of “Hot Topics” guidebooks. The most robust of these curricula is the directed by Sefi Kraut at the Jerusalem-based Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies, which takes a text-based approach to fostering a culture of healthy disagreement and includes curricular resources for a variety of age groups and educational settings, as well as educator training programs. While compatible with these resources, Stories for the Sake of Argument is different because of its focus on Israel content and its intention to create and elevate disagreement as a primary goal.

This resource may best be used by educators as an introduction or anticipatory set to explore contentious or evaded topics within a larger Israel education curriculum. The technical skill of participating in healthy arguments is valuable and transferable. In my experience using this resource with middle and high school aged students, the stories are engaging and largely successful at sparking interest and buy-in about the topics, as well as motivating deeper understanding of the issues. The twenty-four stories in the book address a range of topics and levels of complexity. Educators must carefully choose stories that best initiate disagreement among their specific learners. The process is most effective when there is heat—passionate disagreement—and least effective when there is consensus. This requires that the educator know their audience. Those in educational settings characterized by an ideologically narrow approach to, or high level of anxiety around, Israel education may experience resistance to this approach. Some may critique specific stories or their framing because the presentation of various positions is perceived as unbalanced or because it includes views that are not invited into the conversation in their setting. Stories for the Sake of Argument invites learners to express, hear, and understand a range of views on contentious issues. The learning outcomes are based on the breadth and depth of understanding and caring about the issues, not on the learners taking a specific side. Not all educators embrace this approach. An exploration and argument for this learning approach in the form of a dialogue is included in the Appendix III of the book. The workshops supporting educators to facilitate this curriculum are opportunities to further explore this pedagogical method.

Funded in 2022 by a $1.1 million grant from the Jim Joseph Foundation, the book is the first of a three-part educational project described in Appendix IV as “an innovative educational project aimed at harnessing the energy of interactivity of live disagreement for the health of the Jewish People in general and Israel engagement in particular.” In addition to the book, drivers of activity include the creation of “argument circles” led by facilitators trained in the curriculum and pedagogical approach and the development of a new pedagogy of argument that aims for learners to acquire the information, emotional stamina, and confidence to have healthy arguments about Israel and Israel’s issues.

Stories for the Sake of Argument is especially timely and relevant as Israel is experiencing a political crisis that impacts both Israelis and those who care about Israel—in July 2023, the authors added Democratya, a booklet of four new stories on Israel’s judicial reforms and the protest movement. As educators search for resources to help learners engage with and care about the most challenging questions about Israel and understand the underlying causes and complex issues driving the current political disagreements, Stories for the Sake of Argument is an essential tool for engaging learners in Israel’s current events, as well as in the more enduring questions and topics about Israel.

Mason Voit has served as the Director of Education and Jewish Family Life at the Conservative Synagogue Adath Israel of Riverdale (CSAIR) since 2003. In the field of Israel education, Voit was a post-graduate fellow of the Melton Senior Educators Program of Hebrew University and received an iCenter Graduate Certificate in Israel Education at George Washington University. He participated in the first cohort and served as a mentor in the Qushiyot Israel Education Fellowship of the Jewish Education Project, in the inaugural cohort of the Pardes Senior Educator Learning Fellowship (SELF) and is a recent graduate of the Mandel Educational Leadership Program.


1 Kitab al Khazari, translated by Hartwig Hirschfeld, 1905, https://www.sefaria.org/Kuzari.1.119?lang=en&with=all&lang2=en.

2 All translations from Athalta in this review are mine. There are plans for an English translation of the book to be published.

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

Yashan Noshan - From the Archives of Conservative Judaism (PDF) The Biblical Basis of Democracy (Conservative Judaism 4:4, June 1948)

Download PDF

Download PDF

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

The Biblical Basis of Democracy From the Archives: Conservative Judaism 4:4, June 1948

The Mainstream of Biblical Emphases

THERE is an old saying that the devil can quote Scriptures for his own purpose. This in an oblique way of stating the truth that the Hebrew Bible is not the work of a political sect or a religious denomination, but the distillation of the experience of a people. Hence between the covers of the Bible we may expect to find every variety of opinion from the most radical to the most conservative on all the basic questions of life and thought. For this reason it has been possible for some unsympathetic students of the Bible to find some passages on the basis of which they have branded it as fundamentally reactionary and unprogressive.

Thus the author of the statement in Proverbs: “My son, fear God and the King, and meddle not with those who seek change,” (Pr. 24:21) was certainly not a fellow-traveler of the revolution. The common Biblical phrase by which the king is described as “the annointed of God” (I. Sam. 24:7) has been utilized for centuries as evidence of the divine right of kings. Similarly the existence of Biblical laws regulating slavery were used by apologists until the days of the Civil War in order to justify the institution. Passages of this type led a critic like Leonard Woolf to the statement “Democracy is essentially anti-religious and anti-Christian.”

Nonetheless, this conclusion is based upon an inadequate and faulty reading of the text. The Hebrew Bible, like Judaism as a whole, is a mighty river with many currents and eddies beside the main stream, and these variations must be clearly told apart, their relative importance being carefully gauged. He who reads the Bible with understanding and sympathy will recognize that the passages we have cited do not represent the main stream of thought in Biblical religion. The phrase “the anointed of God” was an old idiom by which the Hebrew thinkers of old never justified the doctrine that the king or dictator can do no wrong. On the contrary the Biblical historians and prophets were overwhelmingly convinced that the kings generally do wrong and would be punished for their iniquities.

Similarly, the regulations of slavery in the Bible make it clear, beyond a doubt, that while the Divine Legislator did not abolish slavery as such, His sympathies were against the institution. Thus, according to Exodus 21:1 pp: the service of a “Hebrew slave” was limited to a six year period. Recent research interprets the phrase as referring not merely to an Israelite, but to the entire migratory population of the Near-East during the second millenium, who were wont to sell themselves into bondage. Yet even the conversion of slavery into limited bond-service does not tell the full story. The Biblical condemnation of slavery reaches its apogee in the Biblical fugitive slave law. Before the Civil War, Congress adopted a law, compelling all American citizens to restore fugitive slaves fleeing from the South. But thousands of Americans violated the law, in obedience to a greater law of God—”Thou shalt not restore a fugitive slave unto his master,” (Deut. 23:16) .

Thus, the main current of Biblical thought and Jewish tradition is fundamentally democratic, and what is more, has helped to mould the democratic ideals of western civilization.

At the outset, it is worthy to note that the words “democracy”, “politics”, and “economics” are all of Greek origin, and an ancient Hebrew would not have understood any of them; yet it is equally remarkable that the basic ideals of our democracy, political, social and economic, are to be derived from the tradition of Israel, rather than from the culture of Hellas. The Greeks may have had the word for it, but the Hebrews had the substance.

Israel’s Historic Experience a Democratic Factor

In the Preface to his translation of Scriptures, John Wyclif stated that the Bible believes “in government of the people, by the people and for the people”—a phrase destined to echo down the centuries. So too the Puritan Fathers were standing in the authentic Hebraic tradition when they declared “Rebellion to tyrants means obedience to God”. These words incidentally were proposed by Franklin, Adams and Jefferson for the Great Seal of the United States.

The reasons that made the Bible the foundation of the democratic ideal are to be sought in the historic experience of the Jewish people. There were two main factors which moulded the life and psychology of ancient Israel and gave it a unique development that has proved of fundamental significance for the world.

The first of these factors was the period of the bondage in Egypt. Every page of the Bible recalls the period of misery and suffering Israel had undergone. The Hebrew never forgot that his ancestors had been slaves, and he was taught to identify himself, in the Talmudic phrase, with the persecuted rather than the persecutors. In the psychology of the Jew a sense of sympathy with the under-dog became deeply ingrained. This spirit permeates the pages of Scripture.

Thus no less than thirty-six times the principle is laid down: “One law shall there be in thy land for the citizen and the alien within thy borders,” — an ideal far from fulfillment in the twentieth century, let it be noted to our shame.

The same motivation comes into play in some of the most stirring and moving passages of Scripture: “Thou shalt not oppress the stranger, for ye know the soul of the stranger, for ye were the strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 23:9) and even more “Thou shalt love him the foreigner as thyself” (Lev. 19:34). With Divine nonchalance the Bible forbids the Hebrew to hate even the Egyptian because the Israelite had been a sojourner in his land (Deut. 23:8) ! The Sabbath, with its insistence upon rest for free and slave, man and beast, was another example of how this great national memory with which the collective experience of Israel had begun, penetrated the life and institutions of ancient Israel.

A second factor which played an equally decisive role in moulding the thought and idealism of Israel was the nomadic period in Jewish history. According to tradition, the Israelites spent forty years in the wilderness. Modern scholars are disposed to believe that the period lasted much longer. Even after the entrance of the Israelites into the land of Canaan, a considerable portion of the people remained in Eastern Trans-Jordan under nomadic conditions.

Students of American history are indebted to Professor Turner for recognition of the importance of the frontier in the development of American institutions. Similarly, Hebrew life and thought was shaped by the desert, which was both a memory of the past and a reality in the present. Doubtless it was idealized, but it was no less potent on that account.

During this nomadic period of Jewish history, there developed an interesting structure of society common to all peoples in this stage. In many respects, it was crude; in some, it was limited, but in others it possessed the seeds of a fruitful development.

The first characteristic of nomadic peoples is that they are fiercely equalitarian; they have no hierarchy of kings and rulers. Each member of the clan is on a par with his fellows — in a time of crisis, such as war, some leader will emerge because of greater sagacity or courage, but he remains at all times primus inter pares. When the crisis has passed and the war is over, he reverts to his previous position in the ranks. There is no hereditary monarchy or nobility to be found in the group. Decisions are reached by the assemblage of all adult males of the tribe. This primitive democratic institution, reminiscent of the New England town-meeting, mutatis mutandis, made all decisions of peace and war, executed judgment in civil and criminal matters, adopted laws and regulations, and was the ultimate source of authority. Its Hebrew name edah or kahal, erroneously translated “congregation” in our Bible versions, should be rendered “commonalty” or assembly”.

The second characteristic of the nomadic stage is the fact that there is a virtual communal ownership of property, or at least of wealth-producing property. The flocks, for example, were not the property of an individual but belonged to the tribe as a whole. The rights to pasture lands and to wells were vested in the tribe as a unit, and private property was virtually non-existent.

Lastly, this communal ownership of property and high sense of equality was accompanied by a strong sense of mutual responsibility. The law of the tribe, then as later, is “one for all and all for one.” We are familiar with the feuds which Arab tribes may maintain for centuries, begun because of an offense committed against a single member. Tribal morality in ancient times was, to be sure, limited to the members of the tribe alone. Within the tribe, however, there was a high sense of mutual responsibility, which took the form of a passion for fair and equal treatment and brooked no interference from high or low.

Now, these traits of the nomadic society, plus the recollection of the enslavement of Israelites in Egypt, were the historic memories which moulded the life and thought of the Jewish people, the effects of which are writ large in the pages of Scripture.

As a matter of fact, however, these two factors alone never would have sufficed to produce the unique heritage of Israel. All ancient peoples have passed from the nomadic to the agricultural and urban stages, but the ideals of the nomadic period have disappeared, leaving scarcely a trace behind. Normally, too, a nation, like an individual, would strive to forget, rather than emphasize a lowly past, and strive to invent an exalted origin instead. We know that the ancestors of the Nazis were by no means the blonde supermen of Aryan pseudo-science, but were, on the contrary, like all the ancestors of the human race, savages who lived in terror of a fearsome environment. To forget the unpleasant is a deeply rooted human characteristic.

The Prophetic Viewpoint on Social Ethics.

That the Jewish people did not forget their bondage in Egypt, and were constantly reminded of the ideals of the desert period was due to the emergence of a group of men without parallel in the history of mankind. It was the Hebrew Prophets who, at every turn, reminded the Jewish people in a more advanced economic and social stage of their development, of the simpler yet nobler ideals that had prevailed in earlier days.

The Hebrew Prophets of Israel were not nostalgic advocates of a bygone past. Israel had those too in the semi-monastic orders of the Nazarites and the Rechabites. The Prophets operated with the past, creatively; that is to say, they retained those elements of the past that were vital, its sense of equality and justice. They rejected those elements that were of purely external character, and hence of no real consequence, like the long hair and abstinence from wine, characteristic of the Nazarites, or the dwelling in tents practiced by the Rechabites. Above all, they deepened such nomadic ideals as family morality beyond the physical to include love and loyalty and extended the ethics of the tribe to include the nation. For them, the tribes did not exist, only the people of Israel, worshipping one God, and the division of the Two Kingdoms was a major crime nationally and religiously. Nor did their expanding loyalties halt at the frontier. Their patriotism went beyond the nation to include the entire human race. Thus the Prophets were the creators of Jewish nationalism on the one hand, and the concept of world citizenship on the other. All too often, it has not been understood that these two aspects of their thought, far from being contradictory, complement and reinforce each other.

If these three unique factors are understood, we shall be in position to recognize why the Jewish people were able to extert so profound an influence upon the concept of democracy. Obviously it is not the forms of democracy that come into consideration, for the Bible is two thousand years old and more. What the Judea-Christian tradition was able to do was to mould the ideals of men, so that when the objective political and social conditions made political democracy possible, men were able to accommodate it to their world-view, which had grown up almost unconsciously in the centuries.

It is important to remember that the Prophets, as legislators, historians and poets of Israel were not interested in political, social and economic questions, per se. Their entire outlook and contribution to democracy stems out of their faith in God as the Creator of the Universe and the Father of Mankind. Since all men are God’s children, they had an equal right to share in the blessings of the world, “for the earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof” (Ps. 24:1). The equality of men demands justice for all.

Since man is created in God’s image, and even the lowliest of men has a spark of the Divine, there is an imperishable spirit in man, who for all his pettiness and weakness “has been made little lower than the angels and crowned with glory and honor” (Ps. 8:6). The dignity of man demands freedom for all.

Justice and freedom were thus God’s will for his children and the inevitable goal of history. For the Prophets, the unbroken succession of events was all a part of a divine process, the Author of which was God, Who was utilizing evil to destroy evil and usher in the good.

Aspects of Democracy Revealed in the Bible.

Human history, therefore, was not a tableau but a drama, nothing static, but on the contrary, dynamic. It was filled with change and movement, ultimately to flower in the creation of the Kingdom of God. This vision of the Kingdom of God that the Prophets had before them, supplied them with a standard of judgment by which they could, on the one hand, criticize the weaknesses and sins of their own society, and on the other hand, enumerate the ideals of the just society of the future. A few of the contributions of Biblical Judaism to the development of the democratic concept may now be indicated. Aside from the primitive democratic political institutions already mentioned, there is a strong and unmistakable undercurrent of opposition to monarchical rule in the Bible. When the Israelites asked the Prophet Samuel for a King, they wanted to be “like all the nations”, but the Prophet delivered to them an impassioned attack upon royalty, in which he described the price that they would pay for the doubtful luxury of a monarch. (I. Sam. chap. 8) . When, nevertheless, the monarchy was instituted because of the need for a strong central government, it should be noted that in Israel, and in Israel alone, there was no such thing as absolutism in government; the monarchy remained strongly limited in its powers. This is clear from the legal restriction upon the king laid down in the Torah (Dent. 17:14-20). Nor was it merely a matter of theory, as the record shows. Perhaps the most “wicked” king of Israel was Ahab, who had married the Phoenician princess Jezebel. Ahab coveted a vineyard adjoining his estate and belonging to a farmer named Naboth. His wife, Jezebel, was accustomed in her home country to regard the king’s will as law. If the monarch wanted something, he had merely to take it by force. But even this, Ahab was unable to do. He offered to buy it and the peasant refusing to sell, Ahab sulked like a frustrated boy. Jezebel came to the rescue, but even she had to respect the framework of Justice. She had to concoct a false charge and have Naboth tried on perjured testimony, and only then could the king confiscate the property. The incident of David and Uriah, whose wife the king coveted, aside from its deep human interest, is another illustration of the fact that in ancient Israel there was no absolute power that the king could invoke. The monarchy in Israel never became absolute as it did virtually everywhere else throughout the world.

The heart of a democracy, as our age has discovered to its cost, does not reside in the ballot box. The great dictators of our day have been past masters of the art of the plebiscite and the election booth. The essence of Democracy is two-fold — the power of the majority to execute its will and the right of the minority to maintain and express its point of view in the face of a dominant and hostile majority. It has not been noted adequately what a signal contribution Biblical thought makes to the doctrine of freedom of speech and the right to dissent. The Prophets of Israel were the great dissenters of all time. They were feared and hated and maligned, they were imprisoned and exiled, but they never were silenced. This was true of Amos, whom the priest Amaziah expelled from Bethel, of Isaiah, who opposed the political alliances with Egypt or Assyria, and denounced the concentration of wealth in the hands of the few and the consequent impoverishment of the many, of Micah, who castigated the political and religious leadership of his day for its corruption, of Jeremiah, who announced the doom of the state. The twenty-sixth chapter of Jeremiah is particularly instructive for it contains the record of the prophet’s trial for treason. During the proceedings, the example of his predecessor Micah is invoked by the defense as proof of the Prophet’s right to declare the truth as he sees it without fear or favor.

There were examples of lynch law when a mob would override the law and murder a prophet (Jer. 26:20) , but the right of a Prophet of Israel to proclaim the truth was never shaken. The right to dissent is a basic contribution which the world owes these intrepid defenders of the right.

There are other fundamental aspects of democracy that go back to ancient Israel. We Americans are justly proud of the ideal of universal, compulsory education. It is, however, a matter of historical record, that the first system of compulsory education for all the male population was established in ancient Israel two thousand years ago at about the beginning of the common era. Yet long before that period, the emphasis upon education, the bedrock of democracy is to be noted in ancient Israel. The evidence appears quite accidentally, and therefore all the more credibly. In the early period of the Judges, the Bible tells that Gideon decided to take vengeance of the town of Succot. He picked up a boy, who wrote down for him the names of the leading citizens. (Judg. 8:14) . In this primitive age, an urchin on the street was able to write, an indication of a relatively high degree of literacy in ancient Israel.

The great affirmation of faith: “Hear, 0 Israel, the Lord our God; the Lord is one. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy soul, with all thy heart and with all thy might.” The text is followed immediately by the injunction to teach the children. No other commandment has exerted a greater influence on the lives of Jews. To it is to be attributed the democratic character of the Jewish religion, which knows no fixed creed, or infallible authority, and which in the Talmud possesses the world’s greatest monument to controversy and independent thought. What came to fruition in the post-Biblical age, has its origin in the Biblical insistence upon freedom resting on a foundation of knowledge, the two indispensable elements of true democracy.

These aspects of democracy, which could be extended in countless directions, do not exhaust the contribution of Judaism to democracy. It is a truism that democracy is at the cross roads. Upon its future hangs the hope of mankind. The problem facing the free nations of the world today is not merely the retention of the external forms of democracy, but rather the deepening of its spirit and the broadening of its character to include other areas beyond that of politics alone. Here the Bible and the vital elements of the Judeo-Christian tradition which derive from it, can offer both direction and inspiration to the modern age. First and foremost is the unfailing insistence upon social justice, which is to be found on virtually every page of the Prophets. This imperative has never been voiced with equal vigor or passion since their day. They opposed the exploitation of the people by the few. They left for us unforgettable pictures of luxury and corruption contrasted by poverty and want. They flayed the corruption in government, the degeneracy of religion and the decay of morality. Most important than all, the Prophets based their cry for justice, not only on the principle of class hatred, raising one group against the other, but rather on their conviction that this was the law of God. The Prophets were aware that an unjust society does violence to the exploiters as well as to the exploited, for they were sensitive to the injury done to the spirit of the former, no less than to the damage wrought upon the body of the latter.

Time and again the Hebrew Prophets emphasized that the great law of the universe was justice. In the words of Isaiah: “The Lord of Hosts is exalted through righteousness.” The establishment of justice is a religious obligation because the physical and mental welfare of men is the prerequisite for their spiritual and moral well-being.

The Torah as a Safeguard for Social Democracy.

Yet the great and glowing utterances of the Prophets, are, strange as it may seem, regarded in Judaism as secondary to the Law, to the Five Books of Moses. In this respect, Judaism has manifested penetrating judgment. For greater than the enunciation of abstract ideals, is the effort to realize them in life. This the Torah sought to do through the first system of social legislation of which we have record. Consider, for example, the status of labor. Throughout the ancient world, virtually all laborers, barring a few craftsmen and day-workers, were slaves. It required a bloody Civil War as little as eighty years ago to free America from the curse of human bondage. In ancient times, slavery was regarded as the permanent bed-rock of the economic system. Thus Plato, in his “Republic”, in which he looks forward to the ideal future of society, regarded both slavery and war as inevitable and includes both a slave class and army which would keep the “barbarians” perpetually at bay. So too, Aristotle, has a reasoned defense of slavery. Because he believes that the fullest development of man requires leisure, Aristotle justifies the slavery of the many, to provide the leisure for the few. The enslavement of the greater portion of the Greek people was the unsavory basis of the brilliant society of the “Golden Age” of Greek culture.

The approach of the Bible to the problem of slavery was poles apart. Moses would probably have agreed with Aristotle that leisure is important to the full unfolding of the human personality. On this promise Aristotle condoned slavery, but Moses established the Sabbath. Through this institution, which Sir William Osler called the greatest Jewish contribution to civilization, every human being, whatever his rank and society, might have one day in seven when he would be free from the exigencies of toil and thus be able to fulfill his higher nature.

We have seen how the entire institution of Hebrew slavery was virtually abolished in Israel by limiting service to a six year period. There were countless other safeguards for the safety and human dignity of the slave, culminating in the Fugitive Slave Law, which forbade the Israelites to restore a slave that had escaped. Thus, the Bible made its contribution to the doctrine that all men have an inalienable right to freedom.

As in so many other instances, this attitude was carried further and deepens in post-Biblical Judaism. According to the Bible, if the slave, at the end of the six-year period, refuses to go free, he was brought to the gate of the city and there his ear was bored through. The great sage, Jonahan ben Zakkai, who lived in the first century of the Common Era, explains this peculiar form of branding the following terms: According to Jewish traditions, all the unborn generations of Israel stood at the foot of Sinai and took a vow of allegiance to the Torah. Hence, this slave too, was a party to the pact and his ears had heard God proclaim: “Unto Me shall the children of Israel be slaves, not slaves unto slaves.” Since, in spite of Divine proclamation, he is prepared to accept human bondage, he deserves to have his ear bored through as a punishment.

The attitude toward property is equally interesting. The Bible does not advocate the abolition of private property, but it recognizes that wealth is not the possession of the individual, but rather a trust bestowed by God, who is the true owner. To translate this attitude into life, specific forms of legislation came into being. In order to overcome the dangers of monopoly, the Bible establishes the institution of the Sabbatical year of release. Every seventh year all debts were deemed cancelled, thus preventing the concentration of wealth in the hands of a few (Deut. 15:1 ff.)

The Bible goes even further in establishing the far-reaching provision for the Jubilee Year. Every fifty years, all property which had been sold during the intervening period, reverted to its original owner, who had doubtless been compelled to part with his land because of ill-health or other reverses.

In order to justify this remarkable law, the Bible lays down a doctrine of far-reaching implications even today. “The earth shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine and ye are strangers and sojourners with Me” (Lev. 25:23) . The land, therefore, remains the property of God.

This principle is emphasized in the related provision that the earth must be left fallow on the seventh year ( Lev. 25:1 if ) . This was more than a means of replenishing the vigor of the soil, a purpose achieved today by the rotation of crops and the adding of nitrates. The seventh year was “a Sabbath unto the Lord”, when the farmer might not harvest whatever grew, but leave it for the poor. By “the year of Sabbath”, the true owner of the soil, who was God, was periodically asserting His title.

These ancient ideals have come back to life in Jewish Palestine. The Jewish National Fund is the land-purchasing agency of the Jewish people. It purchases, at inflated prices, incidentally, every inch of land the Jewish settlements occupy and then offers the Arabs, who sell the land voluntarily, other land elsewhere, if they wish to remain on the soil.

The J.N.F. then leases the land on forty-nine year terms to settlers, who must work the land themselves and cannot sub-let it to others. Not only is exploitation thus prevented, but speculation is ruled out, since the land remains the inalienable property of the Jewish people. Hundreds of settlements have been established on J.N.F. land, in which the principle of free, voluntary cooperation have replaced the competitive drive of our economic order. Thus the ancient Biblical ideals of social justice are being realized in the reestablishment of the life of the Jewish people in its homeland.

The social legislation of ancient Israel was concerned with poverty, which, as the Bible warned us, we always have with us. Welfare legislation is part of any just and forward-looking society. The Bible lays down the duty of help to the indigent, not as an act of benevolence, or condescending grace, out of the goodness of the heart. The Hebrew word for “charity” is Zedakah, which means “rigteousness”. Helping the unfortunate is simply an obligation which falls upon us, and is a direct consequence of the recognition that our more fortunate position does not give us absolute ownership, only a trusteeship over our possessions, which we must share with our fellow-men. No religion has created a richer system of philanthropy through the ages than Judaism. Biblical law, however, did not content itself with urging the practice of charity. It established a system of poor relief through taxation. A farmer was commanded to leave unharvested a corner of his field which belonged to the poor, as did sheaves that were forgotten on the land. As we have noted, on the seventh year, when crops were not sown, whatever grew on the land also belonged to the poor as of right and not as of charity.

An exaggeration often highlights a truth. The Talmud tells that in a certain town, the charity overseers were approached by a man who asked for help, and some money was given him. A day or two later, the Charity overseers decided to visit their ward. To their indignation they found him seated at a table, eating a fowl and washing it down with wine. They were scandalized by his squandering the money he had received; but the beggar was not the slightest bit embarrassed. When they remonstrated with him he calmly pointed his finger to heaven and said: “Am I eating what belongs to you? I am eating what belongs to Him”, and he went on eating.

These and other aspects of the social legislation of ancient Israel are of more than historical interest. In extending the frontiers of democracy to the social and economic sphere, our age may draw inspiration from the prophetic ideals and guidance from Pentateuchal legislation, which attempted on the one hand to minimize poverty and prevent it, and on the other, to relieve those who fell into need.

Democracy in World-wide Perspective.

If democracy is to survive in the twentieth century, it must go beyond the borders of one land or region. It must become world-wide. That great truth was also recognized by the ancient Prophets. Not only were they the first to set forth the ideal of world peace, but they also indicated the techniques for achieving it a contribution which has been overlooked, in spite of, or perhaps because of the familiarity of the passages in Isaiah and Micah. The great obstacle to world peace today lies in exaggerated nationalism. This tendency has reached the peak of degradation and the apex of power in Fascism and Nazism and plunged the world into the most horrible blood-bath in history. The post-war world has by no means escaped the threat of aggressive nationalism. Revolted by this spectacle, many idealistic and sensitive men have tried to find refuge in a kind of cosmopolitanism which will wipe out national differences. They often advocate all men speaking one language (usually their own), one system of government, one world state, and one religion, if any. In spite of its superficial appeal, such a program is both impossible of realization and unworthy of achievement. Such internationalism is not practical because the entire history of the human race shows an ever greater group differentiation among men. At the end of the first World War, the Versailles Treaty created a dozen new nationalities in Europe. The Soviet Union has stimulated scores of peoples within its borders to national self-awareness. Throughout the Orient today, the emergence of nationalism is taking place among the Colonial peoples. Therefore, there is no evidence in the world that nationalism is growing weaker, and the goal of eliminating it, therefore, must be regarded as an illusion that would be dangerous.

Even if it could take place, it would be a grave set-back for human culture. Lincoln once said: “God must love the poor; he made so many of them.” Similarly, God must love variety, because new species are always emerging. If there is anything that nature seems to abhor, besides a vacuum, it is monotony in type variations, tradition and culture. How colorless human culture would be without Hebrew Prophesy, Greek and English drama, Italian music, German poetry. All these elements of world culture fulfill the dictum of Santayana, “A man must stand with his feet firmly planted in his own country, but his eyes must survey the world.”

This is the tragic dilemma to be resolved? On the one hand, aggressive nationalism may well destroy the human race. On the other hand, it shows no sign of abating in intensity, and if it did, the human race would pay for its physical safety by spiritual drabness and monotony.

The Prophets of Israel point to a way out. They looked forward, not to the elimination of nations, but to the moralization of their relationships. In the famous Vision of Peace in Isaiah. ch. 2 and Micah ch. 4, where the hope is held out that men would beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks, it has not been noted that the words “peoples” and “nations” occur six times in four verses. It is the nations that “shall go and say: ‘Come, let us ascend to the mountains of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the Law and the World of the Lord from Judaism.’”

For the Prophets, national loyalty would endure, but with it would come the recognition of the moral law, rooted in God, beyond what men are pleased to call “national sovereignty”. A little-known passage in the Book of Isaiah illustrates the grandeur of the prophetic conception of history and their lively sense of the value of national loyalties. The Prophet Isaiah lived at a time when his little country was being ground between two millstones, the Assyrian Empire in the east and Egypt in the west, wrestling for world supremacy. Yet the Prophet, who loved his people passionately, was able to rise to the plane of vision and look forward to the future day. On that day there would be a highway linking Egypt and Assyria in a bond of peaceful intercourse, both dedicated to the service of the Living God, with Israel the third member in the family of nations. On that day God would bless the people saying, “Blessed is my people, Egypt, and the work of My hands, Assyria, and Mine inheritance, Israel” (Isa. 19:23-25).

The Prophets looked forward to the day when, purged of its militarism and greed, nationalism would become an enriching factor in human life. In this direction, as in so many others, the Prophets indicate the path which mankind must follow, if it is to conserve the values of the past and build an even more glorious future.

The Bible and the New State of Israel

This brief survey has attempted, all too inadequately, to present some of the Biblical contributions toward democracy. Whatever lives, grows, and political democracy, the Prophets would have insisted, must expand to include social justice. So too, they were keenly aware that there can be no freedom in one corner of the world unless it prevail everywhere.

One aspect, the historic contribution of the Bible to the democracy remains to be noted. These ideals did not originate in a vacuum. They were not the lucubrations of philosophers in an ivory tower or the dreams of poets. “All the prophets prophesied either in Eretz Yisrael or for its sake.” These Hebraic ideals emerged out of the problems and struggles of national life upon the national soil. Palestine was the solid reality underlying the search for principles and solutions.

What was true of the Biblical contribution to democracy in the past applies to the expanding frontiers of democracy in the future, without which it cannot survive. Here, also, mere abstract formulations will lack the power to fire men’s hearts and inspire them to action. The Biblical quest for social justice within the framework of freedom and voluntary cooperation is today the heartbeat in the life of the Yishuv in Palestine. In Bialik’s fine utterance, there can be no more heaven above our heads than we have ground beneath our feet. The firm establishment of the State of Israel will represent the fulfillment of the unconquerable hope and desperate need of the Jewish people for security and honor. But it will be even more. It may well prove an indispensable prelude to the triumph of the ideals of democracy the world over.

For beyond all else, the most precious gift of the Prophets for our frightened and confused age lies in their unconquerable faith in the future of mankind. To modify slightly the words of Lincoln, in whom the spirit of the Bible lived anew, “A house divided against itself cannot stand. The world cannot endure permanently half-slave and half-free. I do not expect the house to fall, but I do expect that it will cease to be divided.”

Robert Gordis (1908-1992) was rabbi of Temple Beth El of Rockaway Park, New York, and Professor of Bible at the Jewish Theological Seminary. He served as president of both the Rabbinical Assembly and the Synagogue Council of America. He chaired the Commission on the Philosophy of Conservative Judaism which produced the official statement of Conservative Movement ideology, “Emet Ve-Emunah.”

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

From New York to Zion and Back (PDF) Mutual Lessons for Success in Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care

Download PDF

Download PDF

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

From New York to Zion and Back Mutual Lessons for Success in Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care

For much of the past century, the relationship between American Jewry and Israel mirrored that of a prosperous cousin magnanimously supporting the country cousin, providing primarily financial support to the fledgling country. The practical assistance went one way from the diaspora to Israel, with Israel providing intangible benefits like pride and identity. Jews worldwide were welcome to visit and go home inspired, or even cast their lot with the young state or pre-state by making aliyah, but ki miTsiyon tetsei Torah applied only to very specific areas of Jewish culture.

The twentieth-century thinker Simon Rawidowicz preferred a different model, proposing that Israel and the diaspora are two sides of an ellipse: “equal and critical gravitational centers that shape and define the Jewish people.”1 Even though this model has since been eclipsed by more nuanced approaches, this brief article leans on the dual center model of shared learning.2 It outlines the evolution of spiritual care (livui ruḥani) in Israel, acknowledging the indispensable assistance American chaplaincy had in seeding the Israeli field, and points out differences as well as similarities between the professions as they have developed in Israel and the United States. It suggests how chaplaincy in North America can learn from some elements of the Israeli experience as well, particularly as religious life in the United States changes, as outlined by Wendy Cadge and Shelly Rambo; the Israeli approach of “spiritual, not religious” may become more relevant to American chaplaincy settings, as it already has in Canada, which uses “spiritual care” exclusively instead of the previous term “chaplaincy.”3

A Short History of Chaplaincy in the United States and Israel

Several books and articles have outlined the history of chaplaincy in the United States and/or the roots of spiritual care in Israel.4 This section distills the basic elements of that history in order to make sense for a first-time reader.5 In the United States, chaplaincy began as a subset of ministry. That trend is shifting slowly.

In addition to a more humanized profession, the field of chaplaincy and its certification bodies are opening up more to people who want to be chaplains yet do not come from the traditional educational backgrounds that chaplaincy has historically drawn from. Due to the nature of professional chaplaincy and the developmental process that goes into becoming a chaplain, educational barriers continue to keep talented individuals out. Opportunities are increasing, however, for those holding a more diverse group of master’s degrees. The profession is now seeking ways to include more people with master’s degrees in philosophy, psychology, and social work. This is making way for more people to enter the field and incorporate more diverse skill sets and research, as well as use more evidence-based skills and interventions to enhance practice.6

In Israel, the field started bottom-up with several training courses that trained caregivers in theoretical and on-site practical work; graduates then sought work and tried to develop professional opportunities as caregivers, although there were two liberal rabbis who functioned as chaplains under the radar years before: Rabbi Philip, leader of the liberal Emet Veʾemunah congregation, who visited patients at Hadassah hospital in the first half of the 1900s, and Rabbi Pesach Krauss, a Conservative rabbi, therapist, mediator and certified chaplain who volunteered at Hadassah Ein Kerem’s small hospice department in the early 2000s. These two functioned as de facto chaplains in Israel when no one else in the country of any stream or background or training did, although without official recognition as rabbis. Krauss had been a pioneer of Jewish chaplaincy in the US before moving to Israel in 1991, and he helped inspire Rabbi Chaplain Jonathan Rudnick to found Beruach, the spiritual care training course at Shaare Tzedek Hospital, with the support of Dr. Nathan Charney (also spelled Cherny). (Chani Kroiz­er took over later as director of the program, in English called “By Spirit”).7

After a fact-finding mission and conference in 2005, the New York UJA (United Jewish Appeal) Federation began supporting training programs in Israel. UJA helped seed fledgling Israeli organizations, and NAJC (formerly National, now Neshama: Association of Jewish Chaplains), under the leadership of CEO Cecile Askeoff, provided early stage professional guidance, courses (in Israel, in the United States, and online), training for supervisor-educators, and establishment of criteria for the certification process. In the initial years, US Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) supervisor Rabbi Zahara Davidowitz-Farkas came to Israel to teach CPE over several summers; a group of Israelis joined on-line interfaith clergy CPE with Rabbi Mychal Springer of the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS); and Kashouvot brought a group of Israelis to learn with Reverend Mary Martha Thiel at Hebrew SeniorLife in Boston. Since then, individual Israelis have traveled to the United States to complete or continue their learning beyond the minimum two units required for certification in Israel.

Even now that the Israeli institutions have established their independence, students and certified caregivers continue to learn in formal and informal ways from their colleagues and mentors in the United States (and Europe), including attendance at conferences, as well as in-person and online learning with leaders in the US chaplaincy scene.

Israeli spiritual care provision is taking place in hospitals and nursing homes, as part of government-provided services such as those for bereaved families, and in private clinics and home visits. Certified caregivers work in over fifteen hospitals, in elder care, and in bereavement support. Hospitals, nursing homes, some day centers for the elderly and other sites benefit from the student interns who do approximately four hundred hours of field work, spread over two years. Often the work site’s positive experience with student interns opens the staff’s eyes to the benefits of spiritual care, which hopefully will encourage the sites to request professional caregivers, or a blend of professional and students, in future.

There are two hundred certified spiritual caregivers in Israel, of whom ten are Arab (one Druze, two Christian, and seven Muslim). Several more Muslim students are currently learning in Kashouvot’s program at Poriyah Hospital in Tiberias and under Rabbi Mike Schultz’s supervision at Rambam Hospital in Haifa. Caregivers come from a range of backgrounds. Some are educators, physical therapists, nurses, social workers, yoga teachers, while others hail from nonrelated fields such as tour guiding, translation, high tech, or law. (See Non-Clergy Spiritual Care below for more details.) The average age is between fifty and sixty, about 80 percent female. As of publication, there are five accredited training programs, each with its own flavor. The programs have a wide geographical reach and more applicants than available spots. Other programs are in the accreditation process.

One reason there are not more students is that it is hard to find work after one’s training is complete; most work one day a week and retain their previous employment or, if they are retired, do other activities on the other days.

One positive development during the Covid-19 pandemic was that Kashouvot’s caregivers received a grant from Bituaḥ Leʾumi (Social Security) to work with staff so that they would become stronger and learn to avoid burnout during this especially stressful time. Staff raised questions like: “How can I say goodbye? If a person dies, is it a failure on my part? How should we mark the passing of patients or residents? How do my beliefs affect my work and relationships with colleagues?” Spiritual caregiver educators created workshops to help staff process these themes individually and in groups.8

Other encouraging developments include the inclusion of spiritual care in the array of therapies from which relatives of people who died from violent death (murder, car accidents or suicide) are able to choose, under the auspices of the Ministry of Welfare and Merkaz Elah. Despite this impressive activity, caregivers and students are present in only a fraction of departments and hospitals. They not represented at all in prisons, the army, and many other community or medical/elderly settings.

Diversity in Israeli Spiritual Care

In large part because the Israeli field grew out of the efforts of American Jewish chaplaincy and American Jewish philanthropy, and because the early leadership teams did not include any Israeli Arabs, the field did not initially take root in Israeli Arab society. Significant efforts in recent years have begun to rectify that oversight, but the gap is still substantial. Medical settings in the Palestinian Authority are completely separate, and to the authors’ knowledge, no cooperation has yet been initiated except a day-long training co-led by Rabbi Mike Schultz and Kashouvot staff at Augusta Victoria Hospital in East Jerusalem, a Lutheran hospital that serves many residents of Gaza and East Jerusalem and has recently initiated a specialty in palliative care.

Jewish melavim ruḥani’im still do not reflect the demographics of the Jewish population of Israel. People who come to study tend to come from middle or upper economic classes, because they have to pay for studies (approximately 8,500 NIS for each of two years) and invest the time for classes, fieldwork, reading, and assignments without any guarantee of work at the end. There are also more Ashkenazim than their proportion of the population, as well as more kibutznikim. There are some Russian speakers, but the number is not proportionate to their percentage in society. Minority groups such as Ethiopians are poorly represented. Many of the Jews identify as secular or traditional, with some open-minded religious and a handful of ultra-Orthodox. Many have an eclectic spiritual life and find some inspiration in Jewish Renewal, Buddhism, and/or anthroposophic philosophy, following spiritual practices like meditation but not religious rituals.

Rambam has been able to attract some Arab speakers to the program in Haifa, a mixed city with good interfaith relations and many Arab towns surrounding it. Kashouvot now has its first two Muslim students in the Poriyah Hospital program near Tiberias and is making it a priority to attract Arabic speakers for future training by experimenting with an introduction to spiritual care mini-course in Arabic (if funding permits) and by integrating students, with scholarships, in the regular courses in order to enrich the experience for all and provide more tools for intercultural care.

Similarities with Pastoral Care/Chaplaincy in the United States

The basic function of a chaplain is to convey: “I’m here, I’m listening, I care.”9 What Israel and the United states have in common is more significant than what divides us. Both countries share the basic approach to spiritual care, which entails a commitment to supporting people during life transitions, illness, loss, or the end of life; respect for each care seeker’s system of beliefs, culture, personality and life story with no agenda to influence, convert or pressure the care-seeker to adopt the caregiver’s world view; genuine interest in other cultures and faiths, and in each individual’s understanding of their life’s purpose, gift, challenges, and meaning; and finely-honed skills in listening, reflection, and interpersonal relationships, as well as other tools useful for a chaplain/spiritual caregiver, such as prayer, poetry, music, art, nature or writing.

Differences from the United States

Yet, because of the diversity of Israeli culture, with the richness of Jewish life and learning across the religious spectrum, and specific challenges and opportunities in the structure of the medical and religious establishment, spiritual care in Israel has developed on a different path than its American chaplaincy sibling. The main differences between the two involve entrance requirements for students seeking to study spiritual care (higher and more academic in the United States), the need for theological background/degrees or ordination as a prerequisite (in United States until recently), the length of training (most certification bodies in the United States require four units compared with two in Israel), the self-definition of caregivers as neutral/spiritual/religiously motivated (more in Israel), the extensive presence of caregivers in medical and other settings and awareness among patients that pastoral visits are an option (accepted and even mandated in the United States but less well known and less pervasive in Israel), presence at end of life (de rigueur in the United States but not part of the protocol in Israel), and inclusion in interdisciplinary care plan meetings, holiday events, and events of national import (a US very important parts of the chaplain’s role in the United States but rarely in Israel, where the main role is individual support for patients, families, or staff and some workshops for staff). Most important for this article, spiritual care in Israel is disconnected from religion. Study is open to anyone who has a Bachelor’s degree in any subject at all, and at times this requirement is even waived for people who can prove “significant, relevant life experience” such as nonacademic or therapeutic training.

Challenges in Israel

The vast majority of the population in Israel is unacquainted with the profession, and efforts to explain it often founder due to the lack of a clear and apt title for it. The word “spiritual” is problematic. For some it can raise curiosity and interest, give a feeling of openness and possibility, and set the field apart from religion, which is often perceived as monolithic, serious, imposing its rules on the individual, or irrelevant to matters of the human spirit. Yet, for others, it raises concerns that this profession is new-age, flaky, and detached from reality, or that it involves religious coercion or sudden changes in lifestyle.10

The Association for Spiritual Care in Israel (known as “the Amuta”) is the primary professional body that oversees the standards for care provision, works to develop service provision in the field, and brings professionals together for peer learning and support. The Association has taken a key role in regulating the field, establishing standards for certification of caregivers and accreditation of training programs and, more recently, for training educators. All training and service provision organizations partner with the Association to advance these goals, but success depends on many external factors. It would take a vote by the Knesset and buy-in from the Ministry of Health to turn it into an official health care profession, with governmental supervision and potentially funding. Yet there is no wellspring of pressure on the Knesset, and the Ministry of Health does not want to take on additional expenses. These factors, combined with lack of political power, instability of governments, and other more pressing items on the national agenda, mean that the process of establishing the profession is unlikely to proceed very quickly in the coming decade.

Furthermore, spiritual care is still not accepted by all medical and therapeutic staff, although there is greater awareness and appreciation than a decade ago. Organizations of psychologists and social workers have expressed caution and even hostility about the inclusion of spiritual care as an official role. The original hopes of the Association that “within 10 years we will become part of the mainstream healthcare system” have thus not been fully fulfilled, although much progress has been made, and it is not clear when and how this transformation will (or could) proceed exponentially without a significant change in the underlying factors.

In Israel, caregivers usually begin work at a hospital in a single department. The arrangement for an institution to offer spiritual care for the first time is usually initiated by a personal connection between the caregiver or external nonprofit or training center rather than on an institutional basis.11 It usually takes place in one department rather than an entire hospital. Even students who provide “free labor” are therefore present in only a small range of medical settings. Encouragingly, while most earlier courses took place off-site with each student doing practical training in a different center (with the exception of Beruach which was based in Shaare Tzedek and the training course at Ramban Hospital in Haifa), more new courses are hospital-based, such as Kashouvot’s courses at Poriyah, Barzilai, and Ichilov Hospitals. A training cohort of ten might therefore be spread across up to ten hospital departments, exposing a larger number of staff to their work. As for professional chaplains, they are often paid by small external nonprofits, and their continued presence is dependent on fundraising efforts despite the hope that hospitals will eventually adopt spiritual care as part of their own budgets. The Ministry of Health did issue a paper mandating that hospitals and elder care centers introduce some palliative care and include some spiritual element as part of it.12 Yet, according to the World Health Organization definition, this paper has no teeth, the word “spiritual” is not defined, and most settings that are introducing palliative care focus mainly on the medical aspects and rely on social workers and psychologists for the emotional (not necessarily spiritual) aspects of care.13 Unless major macro changes are made, such as the requirement in the United States that hospitals provide spiritual care in order to receive accreditation, it is hard to see how the field will grow quickly.

Non-Clergy Spiritual Care

From its founding, the field of Israeli spiritual care decided to take a “spiritual but not religious” approach and to accept aspiring professionals who were not clergy.14 Fewer than twenty altogether (10 percent of all the certified caregivers), are clergy, all of them Jewish, from different movements: Conservative, Reform, and Orthodox, including female rabbis, who are still a novelty in Israel. Indeed, according to the Association’s standards, caregivers are forbidden to introduce themselves as clergy unless they are in a private clinic or specifically religious or parochial setting.15 Even then, they are allowed to share this background only in response to the patient’s questioning, and only if it would contribute to providing the best possible spiritual care for that patient. Even if they do not have a clergy background, applicants to Israeli spiritual care training programs still have to be a good match for the work in a number of ways; they must, for example, have a strong enough foundation for their personal spirituality to nurture them through this sometimes challenging work, even if they do not come with the kind of theological training expected in the United States. Instead, the training programs themselves must incorporate substantial study of how various cultures and religions, and the students themselves, relate to elements of life such as suffering and death.

According to Schultz,

There are at least three reasons why the Israeli field did not base itself on a clergy model. First and arguably foremost, doing so would have excluded women to a dramatic extent. Outside of the Masorti and other progressive Jewish denominations, which are relatively smaller in Israel, the other Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and Druze clergy are almost entirely male. Secondly, there are such substantial religious-secular tensions in Israel, and so many non-religious Jews carry the scars of being forced to follow the Orthodox establishment approach at key moments in their lives, that we worried that Jewish clergy would have a hard time making a healing connection with them. Finally, as the American field of chaplaincy is increasingly realizing, spirituality is truly broad, encompassing religion but not limited to it, and as such we should not exclude talented potential professionals who are not coming out of a religious framework.16

This approach reaches a similar conclusion to Western spiritual care, though for different reasons.17

There are positives and negative aspects of both the clergy and the non-clergy approaches, which can be illustrated in my own personal story. I did my CPE training in the United States, at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York and Hebrew SeniorLife [sic] in Boston, and in Israel, including two summers at the Schechter Institute and three years of JTS’s extended clergy unit online, with fieldwork at the French Hospital and Beit Alicia Russian-speaking nursing home. Since Lenox Hill was my first and formative experience, and since I generally value academic degrees and rigorous training, authority, hierarchy and hard work, I readily accepted the model of chaplains being clergy or people with advanced degrees in theology. Even though few of my patient visits centered around God, theology, theodicy, or even ritual, I feel it is important to be grounded in the texts, prayers, and rituals of my faith and knowledgeable enough to facilitate similar experiences for and with people of other faiths.

I thought that the originally Protestant CPE centers had made significant efforts to expand the discourse in order to make it relevant to people of other faiths, and that the inclusion of master’s degrees in theology alongside clergy opened chaplaincy to women who were not willing or able to become clergy, such as Orthodox female Jews, Catholic lay leaders who did not want to take vows, or others who for a variety of practical, financial, spiritual, emotional, or other reasons did not want to become clergy.

I understood the fear that, if CPE were presented as a religious-only profession, the Orthodox rabbinate might want to regulate it and close it to all others. I also understood the fear that liberal clergy or Jews were not considered “authentic” in Israel and more religious patients would not open up to them if they presented their official credentials. Yet my experience in the field taught me that patients were very open to talking to whatever chaplain appeared, however he or she was dressed and whichever social group he or she appeared to belong to—including ultra-Orthodox men and women patients, who welcomed the visits, conversation, and prayer of Conservative female rabbi spiritual caregivers (of whom there are at least four, three of whom are on the staff of Kashouvot). Amazing interpersonal meetings took place, which had such potential to break stereotypes and show the power of liberal Judaism as an authentic alternative. I think that forbidding chaplains from mentioning that they were clergy is missing an opportunity to legitimize liberal clergy and earn them respect in the important roles of bridge-builders and healers; it also tacitly reinforces the status quo in Israel that only Orthodox Judaism is legitimate.18

I also thought that the spiritual but non-religious approach missed out on a key component of chaplaincy, expressed eloquently and succinctly by Rabbi Gary (Tuvia) Lavit:

When the Chaplain listens and tries to understand the person, there is an implication that God is paying attention and listening. When the patient relates his/her life story and struggle and fears to the Chaplain it somehow feels more like God is paying attention, than when the very same conversation takes place with a secular practitioner such as a Social Worker.19

A psychologist can give highly valuable emotional help to persons. It is different, however, when the Chaplain, despite—and because of—his known religious values, listens and validates the patient’s personhood. For the patient, this is not only emotionally helpful; it can be an existential and spiritual experience—because it is someone, who represents the attention of God, that is validating and respecting the patient. In summary of this point, even when a Chaplain or a Social Worker might do the exact same thing with a patient, the identity of the Chaplain gives his/her intervention a different, spiritual and existential meaning.20

It also seemed to me that Israeli caregivers relied too much on tools such as cards with pictures that the patients could choose to talk about, guided meditation, or breathing and were too scared to ask whether the patient wanted a prayer or blessing (traditional or extemporaneous), thus missing out on a central tool of chaplaincy.21 As Lavit expresses: “Another way in which the Chaplain has something to add professionally, which just isn’t part of the professional role of the Social Worker, is prayer.”22 Fixed prayer and ritual may be meaningful:

  • For the person who prays regularly, standard liturgical recitation and ritual may give a sense of being grounded in the familiar—even while everything else in life is falling apart.
  • For the person who doesn’t pray regularly, but who has memories of prayer and ritual, the standard recitation, with familiar melody, may be associated with events and significant persons from the past, which can arouse memories, and emotions of identity with those persons and events. Secondary to the emotions is the valuable spiritual experience of “being connected” to one’s own past self.23

Lavit also discusses the benefits of extemporaneous prayer, which the chaplain can create or co-create with the care recipient, in response to the recipient’s hopes and concerns.24

I agree with this heartily, and the parts about spontaneous prayer are even more moving coming from a personally traditional, Orthodox-ordained rabbi.

Of course I agreed with the Amuta’s mission of offering spiritual care to people of all faiths and backgrounds and the ethical imperative not to impose one’s own world view on the care recipient, but I did and still do not see this as problematic for clergy people who are strongly rooted in their own faiths. Indeed, it is a basic element of chaplaincy in most countries.

Over the years, my attitudes have softened somewhat. First, I see the personal qualities of kindness, presence, patience, empathy, artistic creativity, song, human touch, and willingness to learn and grow that many of the caregivers bring to their work. I see that there is a great need for hundreds, even thousands, of spiritual caregivers in all manner of settings, from Kiryat Shmona to Eilat, and I applaud the people who are willing to study at their own expense for two years and volunteer or work for symbolic salaries (40–100 NIS per hour, with an average 70) in public settings. I think the need for practitioners is immense, and we need all the qualified people we can in order to spread the profession and eventually advocate for its inclusion as a recognized profession and part of the array of care options.

I understand the wish to carve out a profession beyond the oversight of the chief rabbinate. And I understand the cultural sensitivities that might make a Jewish patient in Israel initially cautious about receiving pastoral care from a Christian or Muslim or clergy figure, or even a Jewish one from a different stream, especially if they are not familiar with the concept of spiritual care. I see that just accepting an M.A. in theology instead of ordination or changing some Christian language are not sufficient to invite and welcome previously marginalized groups to training and professional roles.

I see that Israeli caregivers might offer a blessing or ask the patient “what would you wish for yourself?,” which is a step toward prayer, albeit a hesitant one, that might suit circumstances in which the care recipient has made it clear that prayer would not suit him or her. Furthermore, I do not fully accept Cadge and Rambo’s assertion that, despite limitations and accessibility, “[t]heological institutions are the best prepared to offer this training, we argue, even as they have struggled to keep up with rapid changes in American religious demographics, because they remain the primary educators of religious professionals.”25 I think CPE centers based in hospitals or university-based programs such as Scotland’s chaplaincy certificate offered through Nursing Schools can transmit the necessary tools, although I do think that chaplains should supplement their learning to make sure they are familiar with the main tenets, prayers, and rituals that are likely to be important to their care recipients.

As a middle ground or synthesis, I can say that I fully accept non-clergy tracks for spiritual caregivers as long as students gain significant exposure to the rituals, beliefs, texts, and traditions of their own and other world religions; awareness of the nuances within each faith group; and humble curiosity to ask about the individual’s world view, even when they think they know the patient based on the official identification. I also think that chaplains who are clergy should not have to hide this fact, especially because the powerful interpersonal connections they make and the trust they build in pastoral encounters can shatter stereotypes and lead to long term societal change. As a general rule, I believe in taking the best of both worlds: bridging the styles of the United States and Israel and responding to each patient or care recipient as appropriate and helpful to the specific circumstances.

As spiritual care in the United States evolves to be less hierarchical; more racially, culturally and religiously diverse; less focused on hospitals; more inclusive of caregivers from different backgrounds, and more focused on “spiritual, not religious” approaches and care recipients, we could even argue that Israel was prescient in skipping the clergy stage and going straight to the postmodern 2020s model that will continue to gain ground in the United States and western Europe, where secularism is almost a religion in itself. As Cadge and Rambo note:

We extend this invitation to think about the work and educational preparation for chaplains because we believe there is a growing role for chaplains in North American religious leadership given shifting religious demographics. While many people historically sought counsel from leaders in places of worship that reflected shared beliefs, shifts in religious life suggest that this kind of support—if it continues—will be provided differently.26

Thus there is certainly room for multiple approaches, just as we embrace multiple sources of wisdom and loci of influence.

Mutual Learning

North America and Europe were the sites of many innovations that trickled into Israel several decades later.27 Israel has a great deal to learn from developments in these other places. The connection between chaplains and other medical staff will be a critical part of building trust, team relationships, and a culture of dialogue. I especially hope that Israel can learn to see a chaplain as an integral part of an interdisciplinary team and not a threat to other professions. As Lavit writes regarding the United States, but with the intention that this idea be universal:

Each has an indispensable role to fulfill. All of the clinical professionals help patients and their families or loved-ones get through the physical and emotional challenges of very hard times. The Chaplain has the unique role of making a positive difference to suffering persons in a spiritual and existential way. The tools and methods used are different for each of the professions. All taken together, in a collaborative approach to care, can make for the best, integrated, and comprehensive care of suffering people, when they need us most.28

The learning is not unidirectional. The United States also has something to learn from Israel in light of increasing secularization, diversity, and democratization of access to spirituality in the United States. One thing Israel has to offer is a slightly different toolkit, which is more likely to include poetry, guided meditation, breathing, artistic prayer cards, and creative new rituals perhaps more suited to “spiritual not religious” patients in all countries or to interfaith work.29 Another important lesson is the power of non-clergy spiritual caregivers and the need to reevaluate the traditional track of theological backgrounds, advanced degrees, and clergy training as a prerequisite for most chaplains in the United States. Lessons can also be drawn from Canada and Europe as well as other countries where chaplaincy is emerging in numerous grassroots models.

Much remains to be done in terms of having the profession in Israel recognized and funded, as well as including caregivers in medical and other settings such as disaster relief, prisons, army, schools, shelter; diversifying the populations served; and widening access to students of more backgrounds. B. M. Kinzbrunner and B. D. Kinzbrunner insist that (extensive, medically based) research is an essential component in advancing the profession.30 I agree that convincing hospitals and health insurance companies that it is worthwhile to them economically (because of reduced interventions, increased compliance, and improved well-being) is the main way to hasten the profession’s official recognition and incorporation into the health system. Yet this article provided an occasion to look back over the past decade and a half and celebrate the labor of love that launched spiritual care in Israel and has continued to tend and grow it, year by year. Valerie Stessin offers an optimistic assessment that the startup nation will use its resourcefulness to advance this field and find ways to negotiate the question of funding. She even suggests that spiritual care has the potential to heal not only individuals’ hearts and souls but the heart and soul of the country itself.31 I and my colleagues hope that, by the time the next article is written, spiritual care will be more integrated into medical facilities and will have made inroads into prisons, schools, army, rehab, shelters and other settings, as well as more popular in private visits for in-home aging and end of life support for individuals and their caregivers and families.

Rabbi Miriam (Carey Knight) Berkowitz was certified in the first cohort of Israeli spiritual caregivers in 2014 and is one of the few Israelis to be certified also by the NAJC. She founded Kashouvot: Advancing Pastoral Care in Israel in 2010 with Rabbi Valerie Stessin and co-directed it until 2019. Berkowitz has provided pastoral care, mentored chaplains worldwide, offered training for synagogue bikkur holim groups, and taught as an adjunct professor of chaplaincy. She currently performs boutique lifecycle events for visitors to Israel (www.ravmiriam.com; www.israelbatmitzvahs.com) and is completing the Israeli tour guide course.


1The author wishes to thank Rabbi Mike Schultz and Rabbi Valerie Stessin for contributing their historical knowledge and helpful comments to this article.

1 Justus Baird, “Israel and the Diaspora: Two Foci of a Single Ellipse,” Shalom Hartman Institute (May 6, 2014), https://www.hartman.org.il/israel-and-the-diaspora-two-foci-of-a-single-ellipse/, originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com.

2 On the history of the question, see Yehezkel Dror, “Diaspora-Israel Relations: A Long-Term Perspective,” Israel Studies 17, no. 2 (2012): 86–91, here 88.

3 See, e.g., the Canadian Association for Spiritual Care, https://spiritualcare.ca/.

4 Einat Ramon, “The Development of Professional Chaplaincy in Western Countries and in Israel,” in Meeting in the Midst: Spiritual Care in Israel, ed. Netta Bentur and Michael Schultz (Jerusalem: JDC-Eshel, 2017), 47–59 (Hebrew) traces the development of spiritual care in the United States and Europe, the entry of Jewish chaplains into the military and then hospital chaplaincy in the United States, the beginnings of spiritual care in Israel, and the training tracks and approaches of the various countries. See also Valerie Stessin, “Spiritual Care in Israel: A Decade of Quiet Revolution,” Israeli Journal of Nursing Care 28, no. 3 (2015) (Hebrew) and B. M. Kinzbrunner and B. D. Kinzbrunner, “Spiritual Care in Israel: The Future is Now,” Israel Journal of Health Policy Research 3, no. 32 (2014).

5 For more in-depth information, see “The History of Spiritual Care,” Kashouvot: The Center for Spiritual Care in Israel, https://www.kashouvot.org/en/birth-of-clinical-pastoral-care/ and “The History of Spiritual Care,” Kashouvot: The Center for Spiritual Care in Israel, https://www.kashouvot.org/en/history-of-spiritual-care-in-the-jewish-world/. See also N. Bentur, S. Reznitzky, and A. Sterne, “Attitudes of Stakeholders and Policymakers in the Healthcare System towards the Provision of Spiritual Care in Israel,” Health Policy 96 (2010): 13–19; A.T. Boisen, The Exploration of the Inner World: A Story of Mental Disorder and Religious Experience (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1936); and E. Brooks Holifield, A History of Pastoral Care in America: From Salvation to Realization (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 1983).

6 Wendy Cadge and Shelly Rambo, Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care in the Twenty-First Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2022), 265–66. See also W. Cadge, J. Freeze, and N. Christakis, “The Provision of Hospital Chaplaincy in the United States: A National Overview,” Southern Medical Journal 101, no. 6 (2008): 626–30.

7 Ramon, “Development,” 54 and Einat Ramon, “The Patients’ Rabbi,” Makor Rishon, May 29, 2019 (Hebrew).

8 Stessin, “Spiritual Care,” 32.

9 Russell Stagg, “Jewish Chaplaincy: Prescription for Change” (MA thesis, Gratz College, 2008), 1.

10 Stessin, “Spiritual Care,” 30.

11 Stessin, “Spiritual Care,” 38.

12 “Guidelines of Palliative Care and End of Life Situations,” State of Israel Ministry of Health, https://www.health.gov.il/English/Topics/SeniorHealth/Pages/palliative_care_code.aspx.

13 Livia Kislev and Yakov Bachner, “Where is the Spirit Blowing? Attitudes of Nurses toward Spiritual Care for their Patients at End of Life—The Gap between Law and Reality,” Israeli Journal of Nursing Care 29, no. 3, (2017): 17–27.

14 This difference is reflected by the widespread term livui ruḥani (“spiritual accompaniment”) instead of chaplaincy or even the more active “spiritual support.”

15 Ramon, “Development,” 55.

16 Personal correspondence with Rabbi Mike Schultz in preparation for this article, March, 2023.

17 T. Bard, “Reshaping the Chaplain and Spiritual Counsellor for the Twenty-First Century,” in Thriving on the Edge: Integrating Spiritual Practice, Theory and Research, ed. A. Schmidt, T. O’Connor, M. Chow, and P. Berendsen, (Canadian Association for Spiritual Care, 2016), 15–25.

18 When I directed Kashouvot, three of the staff were Conservative rabbis ordained in Israel, one was an open-minded orthodox rabbi ordained at Yeshiva University, one was an ultra-Orthodox woman, and two others were educated Modern Orthodox women with academic backgrounds. There were many moving encounters. A Muslim Arab taxi driver in the neurology department at Hadassah hospital asked to learn Talmud with his spiritual caregiver, who was a Belgian, female Conservative rabbi, and a Haredi man in the same department looked forward to praying during regular visits with the same caregiver. A fiercely secular Argentinian man at the French Hospital asked for the priestly blessing from his spiritual caregiver, who was a French, female Conservative rabbi; after he asked how she had come to this work, she was “allowed” to reply that it was a natural outgrowth of her work as a rabbi. At this, he exclaimed, “Now it is beginning to get interesting!” A secular woman with advanced cancer at Asaf Harofeh Hospital asked to pray with this same rabbi as her spiritual caregiver and was thrilled with the rabbi’s suggestion that the patient write an ethical will for her young daughter.

19 Gary Tuvia Lavit, “The Difference between Chaplain, Social Worker and Rabbi” (unpublished manuscript), 2.

20 Lavit, “Difference,” 3.

21 George Fitchett et al., “Development of the PC-7, a Quantifiable Assessment of Spiritual Concerns of Patients Receiving Palliative Care Near the End of Life,” Journal of Palliative Medicine 23, no.2 (2020): 248–53, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6987727/, identify a list of concerns that are the most common and most relevant for chaplaincy interventions (in the United States). These include the need for meaning in the face of suffering; the need for integrity, a legacy, a generativity; concerns about relationships with family or significant others; concern or fear about dying or death; and issues related to making decisions about about treatment, religious/spiritual struggles and other religious/spiritual dimensions (Table 1, 250). Many of these concerns can be addressed by a “spiritual but not religious” chaplain, but the chaplain must be unafraid to face issues such as “the patient wonders whether he/she is being abandoned or punished by God…is concerned about God’s judgment, forgiveness and/or love…questions God’s love for him or her… feels God is not answering prayers, expresses anger with God, is alienated from formerly meaningful connections with religious institutions or leaders, identifies a need for assistance to perform important rituals, and has other spiritual concerns” (250).

22 Lavit, “Difference,” 3.

23 Lavit, “Difference,” 3.

24 Lavit, “Difference,” 3-4.

25 Cadge and Rambo, Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care, 13–14.

26 Cadge and Rambo, Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care, 14.

27 These include (but are not limited to) holistic medicine, medical clowning, and palliative care.

28 Lavit, “Difference,” 4.

29 Based on Stessin, “Spiritual Care,” 33.

30 Kinzbrunner and Kinzbrunner, “Spiritual Care,” 3.

31 Stessin, “Spiritual Care,” 38.

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

The African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem (PDF)

Download PDF

Download PDF

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

The African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem

This article examines the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem (AHIJ) and their place in the movement that came to be known as “Black Judaism.” Although its origin may be traced to a number of different historical circumstances, Black Judaism emerged most prominently in the nineteenth-century Americas in the context of evangelical Protestantism.1 Mainstream Jewish movements do not recognize Black Judaism or any of its offshoots as Jewish movements. In the following pages, I present a brief history of Black Judaism, with particular emphasis on the AHIJ.

The Early Years: William Saunders Crowdy and His Revelation

William Saunders Crowdy, a Black Civil War veteran, laid the foundation stone for the creation of the Hebrew Israelites. On September 13, 1892, Crowdy heard what he believed was the voice of God, commanding him to establish a church rooted in both the Old and New Testaments.2 Following this instruction, Crowdy styled himself the “World’s Evangelist” and adopted a number of “Hebraic practices” for his new “true church.” He preached that Jesus was Black and promoted the idea that African Americans were the descendants of the ten lost tribes of Israel.3

Crowdy was not the first Black figure to make such claims. In 1888, the Black pastor Reverend William Christian, a former enslaved person from Wrightsville, Arkansas, asserted Israelite descent for African Americans (he also stated that all non-Africans were descended from Satan).4 In 1913, David Ben Itzock and Henry Itzock, who claimed to be Ethiopian Jews, declared that “the Negro is the right Jew” and advocated the mass immigration of Black Americans to Ethiopia.5 In 1915, a certain Prophet F. S. Cherry of Philadelphia preached that the Blacks were the seed of Jacob, who was Black, and that white Jews were “interlopers and fraud(s).”6 While these figures shared theologies and practices with Crowdy, he went further in his appropriation of Jewish holidays, rituals, and customs.

Beginning in 1892, Crowdy preached from Texas to Illinois, making a name for himself as the “Black Elijah.” It was probably during his preaching in Chicago that his followers became known as “Black Jews.”7 By 1897, Crowdy had declared himself chief bishop, selected twelve “elders” and an assistant bishop, and established branches of his church, the Church of God and Saints of Christ, in twenty-seven towns throughout the United States.8 Crowdy’s church and Christian’s Church of the Living God are the seedbed institutions to which all Black Jewish movements can be traced.9

Theologically speaking, Crowdy’s churches were a mixed bag. They observed the Sabbath on Saturday and practiced infant circumcision (berit milah), for example, but they also endorsed the divinity of Jesus of Nazareth. By 1899, the Church of God and Saints of Christ had celebrated their first national Passover and counted twenty-three tabernacles, along with eight bishops, in the state of Kansas alone. Around the turn of the century, Bishop Crowdy began teaching that African Americans were the descendants of the ten lost tribes of Israel. Shortly thereafter, his church adopted the Hebrew calendar and increasingly emphasized Jewish and Old Testament holidays and festivals. The Passover festival would later become the central holiday for the AHIJ, among whom it was known as the “New World Passover.”10 In May 1899, Crowdy baptized over one thousand people in New York City alone, and new congregations began to spring up throughout New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut. His church continued spreading throughout North America and the Caribbean, as it made its headquarters in Philadelphia.11

The Next Steps:
Wentworth A. Matthew, Arnold Josiah Ford, and Marcus Garvey

Arguably, the figure who most profoundly shaped the Black Jewish movements in North America and the Caribbean was Rabbi Wentworth A. Matthew, founder of the Beth HaTephila Ethiopian Congregation in Harlem, New York. Matthew, who came to be considered the “best-known Black Jewish leader” of his time, arrived in the United States in 1919 from Saint Kitts and immediately founded a “Jewish” congregation, the Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation.12

Matthew may have had some Jewish ancestry. In 1723, some one hundred persons, or 25 percent, of the population of the tiny Caribbean island nation of Saint Kitts and Nevis, were Jews. Most of these individuals were Sephardic, Jewish people of color whose ancestors had fled the Inquisition to Brazil, from which they were then expelled in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Many Jews of the Caribbean produced offspring, both legitimate and illegitimate, with enslaved Africans and other freed or free residents. The community of Nevis is the only possible known direct genetic link between Black Hebrew Israelites and the Jewish people of today or the Israelites/Hebrews of antiquity. There is no other historical evidence to support the claim that descendants of Black enslaved people in the Americas are descendants of the ancient Jews or Israelites.

Whereas Crowdy was born and raised as an enslaved person in nineteenth-century America and was exposed to Jews and Judaism only through Scripture, Matthew grew up in Saint Kitts among Jews and non-Jews who were the offspring of Jews. He claimed to have been ordained by the Hebrew Union College in 1923, allegedly becoming the first Black ordained rabbi in America. He did apply to become a member of the New York Board of Rabbis, but they rejected his application because he was originally “ordained” by a “Hebrew Israelite rabbi,” Arnold Josiah Ford, who was unrecognized by the established Jewish body. Friction has dogged the relationship between Jews and Hebrew Israelites ever since.

Matthew and Ford were heavily influenced by the Black nationalist and publicly declared antisemite Marcus Garvey, who claimed that Jesus had not been a Jew at all.13 Garvey, born and raised in Jamaica, was considered a prophet in the Rastafarian religion. He was also a successful businessman who owned a newspaper company. Garvey founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) and had the ears of millions of followers both in New York City and throughout the Americas. At the turn of the twentieth century, Garvey teamed up with the renowned sociologist W. E. B. DuBois to spearhead the “Back to Africa” movement. In so doing, the two men sought to instill a sense of pride and purpose among the African American populace of their time. In Garvey’s theology, Blacks were the chosen people of God.14 Drawing on the biblical imagery that had powered Harriet Tubman’s efforts to free the African American enslaved people of the South and the Back to Africa ethos, Garvey would brand his own followers as “Zionists.”15

As one of Garvey’s most ardent followers, Ford served as an officer in the UNIA. Following Garvey’s arrest for mail fraud in 1923 (Garvey blamed his incarceration on a Jewish conspiracy), Ford announced that he would now “lead the Black race.”16 Accordingly, he established a congregation, which he called Beth B’nai Israel, and took on the title of “rabbi.” Garvey’s arrest led to the collapse of his movement, but his ideas moved from the nationalist sphere to the religious one. Although he was deported back to Jamaica and died in the United Kingdom in 1936, his influence significantly shaped the various Black Jewish, Hebrew Israelite, Nation of Islam, and Rastafarian religions.17

In a conscious effort to distinguish his congregants from the Jewish people, Ford referred to the former as “Hebrews” or “Israelites.” While living in his native Barbados, Ford had rejected Christianity as the “white man’s religion” and embraced a form of Judaism, while preaching that Blacks were descended from the ancient Hebrews.18 Ford likened the Black exile from Africa to the exile of the Jewish people from the Land of Israel. Hundreds of thousands of Black immigrants from the Caribbean flooded the United States between 1899 and 1929, just as a similar influx of Eastern European Jews were arriving. New York City became a nexus for interaction between these groups. By 1930, 25 percent of the inhabitants of Harlem in Manhattan were Caribbean-born, and many of them became followers of Rabbi Ford.19 By 1931, eight distinct Black Jewish sects had arisen in Harlem.20 The members of these sects, who originated from the West Indies and were initially drawn to the Christian Holiness Movement, later adopted some of the beliefs of their Eastern European Jewish neighbors after coming under the influence of Rabbi Ford and others.21

In the 1920s, Ford and Matthew appropriated the identity of Ethiopian Jewry, declaring that the Black people of the Americas were the descendants of the original Hebrews, as the Ethiopian Jews claim to be, and that Christianity had been forced upon them by slavery. They maintained this claim despite the fact that the bulk of their congregation was of West Indies descent. Ford now began using the term “Hebrews” for African Americans, stating that “white” Jews were late converts to Judaism in the Khazar Khaganate and not descended from the original Israelites.22 He and Matthew blended their new theology together with eschatology and a uniquely Black nationalist bent. Arguing that the Arabic and Hebrew languages were native to Africa, Matthew assigned Hebrew names to his congregants. Additionally, he incorporated into his movement a number of Islamic religious practices, including the observance of Ramadan.23

With Rabbi Ford’s ill-fated attempt to settle in Ethiopia, where he resided from late 1930 until his death in 1935, Ford’s protégé, Rabbi Matthew, became the leader of the Original Hebrew Israelite community, a position he held until his death in 1972. It was while Ford was in Ethiopia that he “ordained” Matthew, in May 1931. Ford mailed Matthew his “rabbinic certification” papers from Addis Ababa. It was always assumed that (what was thought to be) the Amharic section of the certificate was formal recognition from the long-established Ethiopian Jewish community, but it turns out to have been written by Ford himself.24

In 1970, the number of Black Jews in Harlem was estimated to be one thousand souls. Rabbi Matthew led this community in prayer every Saturday, in Hebrew, at the Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation. He became the Hebrew Israelites’ foremost influencer, often claiming to possess miraculous powers.25 At this time, Matthew presided over the largest Black Jewish sect in New York.26

For a time, Matthew was associated with Elijah Robert Poole (or, Elijah Muhammad, leader of the Nation of Islam as well as the mentor of Malcolm X and Louis Farrakhan). Poole suggested that Matthew start a religious movement that was entirely disconnected from Judaism as, in his view, Matthew and his followers would never be accepted as Jews. Some scholars argue that the Black Islamic movements, including the Nation of Islam, are direct offshoots of Black Judaism.27 What is clear is that the movement and its leaders had an immense impact on the various Black Islamic and Black national movements.

Rabbi Matthew practiced a form of Black Israelite religion that featured Jewish traditions and liturgy, and he ordained at least a dozen “rabbis” during the fifty years of his active pulpit. At the same time, Matthew’s private writings reveal his adherence to the Holiness Movement and spiritual healing, an aversion to modern medicine, and an endorsement of the Methodist practice of dual baptism. Notably, at least until the year 1944, these writings also show Matthew’s belief in Jesus as the messiah.

In 1934, Matthew assembled a Rosh Hashanah gathering of Black Israelite leaders and rabbis in Harlem, further broadcasting himself as a self-styled “Chief Rabbi of the Black Jews of the Western Hemisphere.” Two years later, Matthew would claim that the emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia had declared him “Chief Rabbi” and “official representative of the Falasian order of African Jews.”28 Matthew himself went even further, suggesting that he was Jesus incarnate. During a communal Passover seder at which a group of “elders” were seated, he announced, “I know one of you will betray me.”29 Later, Ben Ammi ben Israel would use this same tactic, hinting that he himself was the messiah.30

By the time of his death in 1973, Rabbi Matthew had created a new religion and shaped a new identity for his community. Matthew constructed his version of Black Judaism from a diverse range of religions and ideas including, among others, traditional Judaism, Christianity, Voodoo, and other assorted Afro-Caribbean customs, as well as Masonic ideals, occultism, and mysticism. Matthew identified the Africans as descendants of the ten lost tribes of Israel and rejected the claim of “white” Jews to be the descendants of the ancient Israelites.31 According to Matthew, the Jews were the descendants of Esau and the Edomites, the ancient enemies of the people of Israel.32

The leaders of the various Black Jewish movements sought to differentiate between the sects, some purposefully violating traditional Jewish customs by acts such as eating pork products. But there was consensus on the idea that Jesus was a Jew, albeit a “Black Jew” who was “lynched” by the non-Jews.33 Ben Ammi ben Israel, founder of the (AHIJ) would later brand the Jewish people as “gentiles” or even satanic in nature.34

The cultural Black nationalism that would take the reins of the civil rights movement in the United States emerged in the wake of Black Jewish movements that claimed links to the ancient Israelites and Ethiopian Jewry as a form of “divine identity.”35 These movements, although grounded in an eventual redemption of their people in “Palestine” through an End of Days scenario, gave African American communities the means to express themselves with pride in the face of American racism and, as such, stimulated the Black nationalist movement.36 Yet not all Black Jewish groups believed that they should wait for Armageddon before moving on to the Promised Land.

According to Jacob S. Dorman, the Black Israelite religion was largely shaped by three historical circumstances: the Protestant Holiness Movement, which emerged in the 1890s; an era of “Spiritual and Judaic” communities that sprang up around World War I; and a “Black nationalist Israelite” camp that grew out of the civil rights and Black Power movements of the 1960s.37 This assessment overlooks an important issue: the experience of the children of Jews and enslaved Black people in the Caribbean, combined with their descendants’ migration to major northern American cities, where they met with rejection by mainstream Jewish groups. When this experience was coupled with Crowdy’s millenarian and Methodist-influenced visions of the lost tribes and parallels between freed enslaved people and the biblical Israelites in the book of Exodus, it led them to see themselves as the real Israelites. Adding to the account the exposure of Black individuals to mainstream Judaism in urban areas of the United States, it is easy to trace the African Hebrew Israelites’ claim to be the authentic Jews.

Notably, current scholarship on the history of the African Israelite movements, collectively called the African Hebrew Israelite Community (AHIC), has failed to put these movements into their proper context.38 All these movements, with the exception of the AHIJ, which began to take a different direction at the end of Ben Ammi ben Israel’s life and after his death, are staunchly eschatological. Uniquely, the AHIJ has succeeded in its elitist agenda, creating a separatist American religious movement that has migrated to what they refer to as their “Holy Land.”39

Ben Carter/Ben Ammi ben Israel and the AHIJ

Ben Carter (1939–2014) is considered the founder and messiah of the AHIJ.40 In 1960, Carter attended a meeting of the Original Hebrew Israelite Nation, after which he heard a heavenly voice instructing him to bring his people out of slavery. Eventually, Carter claimed that the Jewish patriarchs were Black, and that Black Africans and their descendants in the Americas are the offspring of the ancient Israelites. He considered those Blacks who did not subscribe to this theory inferior in status to those who did, and he viewed any other people who claimed ancestry from the patriarchs as imposters. Carter began his studies with Rabbi Levi Ba Shalom (Fred Lang) of Congregation B’nai Zaken in Chicago. The congregation he joined held the belief, not widespread among assemblies of Hebrew Israelites, that it was time for the congregants to leave America.41 Carter’s next teacher was Rabbi Abihu Reuben. Reuben, a student of Matthew, had been ordained in the latter’s rabbinical college in New York and served as rabbi and educator at the Chicago Hebrew School founded by Matthew in 1952.42 In 1961, Rabbi Reuben ordained Carter and renamed him “Ben Ammi” (“son of my people”).43

Israelite communities had blossomed in Chicago over the previous decades. In 1963, Ben Ammi Carter, later called Ben Ammi ben Israel, became the spiritual leader at Congregation B’nai Zaken and bore the title Moreh Tsedeq (“righteous teacher”). His followers referred to him as Abba or “father.” Notably, Protestants reserve the term “father” for God when Jesus is speaking to or about God in the gospels. This appellation takes on distinct messianic overtones when we recall that the Black Israelite community sprang from the Protestant tradition and claim to be the real Jews.

At this time, many other Black groups subscribed to the notion that African Americans were the descendants of the ancient Israelites. This shared belief eventually led to a merger of communities into the A-Beta group. Louis “L. A.” Bryant, later known as Shaleak Ben Yehudah, was a member of one of the communities that merged with A-Beta into the Beta group and became associated with Ben Ammi ben Israel’s Congregation B’nai Zaken.44

Carter and his followers in the Beta/B’nai Zaken temples morphed into the AHIJ. The AHIJ read the turbulence of the 1960s as divinely given, the purpose of which was to create a “smokescreen” for the group’s escape from the United States.45 The organization played on the “Back to Africa” theme with a millenarian bent, as they believed America was on the verge of destruction.46 Thus, in 1963, Carter informed his congregation that he and two other individuals were being sent to Africa to explore the possibility of the congregation migrating there en masse. Along with Carter, Nasik Gavriel and Ben Yaacov travelled to Africa and laid the groundwork for the move to happen. Later, the idea that the Land of Israel was part of Africa would be incorporated into Carter’s ideology.

In 1966, equipped with funds collected from various Israelite communities, Carter, Gavriel, and Yaacov left for Liberia. Upon the trio’s return, the community organized some three hundred members to leave for Liberia in different groups between 1967 and 1968. Several leaders had been vying for the chief leadership role in the movement at this time, but Ben Ammi ben Israel seized control of the community, aiming to lead the people out of the “American wilderness.”47

Life in Liberia was hard for the AHIJ members. By the end of 1967, only twenty members had found decent jobs, while more than ninety were still living in squalor at their camp.48 The Hebrew Israelites’ Saturday day of rest did not accord well with Liberia’s six-day work week, and the Liberian government refused to grant permission for the colony to carry on their polygamous relationships. The 125 AHIJ members left in Liberia in 1969 were then expelled by the Liberian government.49

After Liberia: Israel-Bound

After the two years of hardship in Liberia, Ben Ammi ben Israel began formulating a plan to move the AHIJ community to Israel. In 1969, as their Passover festival was approaching, the group purchased, at significant cost, a goat for a ritual Passover sacrifice. Somehow the goat died, either by its own rope or by strangulation. This event triggered despair in the community, but Ben Ammi interpreted it as a sign that the group should “offer themselves through their obedience” to God. Some members, however, saw it as a sign to go back to the United States. Additionally, some women started to rebel against the polygamy or “Divine Marriage” that had become rampant. Those members who remained came to believe that Ben Ammi had a special relationship with God, and he became their undisputed leader.50

In 1986, Ben Ammi and another AHIJ member, Charles Hezekiah Blackwell, visited Israel on tourist visas. Blackwell remained in the country for a year, working on Kibbutz Ein Tsurim and later Kibbutz Maʿabarot; they sent positive reports back to Ben Ammi. In August 1969, Ben Ammi sent five families to Israel. All were admitted to the country as legal immigrants under Israel’s Law of Return, which allows any person with at least one Jewish grandparent to immigrate immediately. As immigrants they were granted special status, entitling them to stipends, Hebrew classes, temporary housing, simple furniture and appliances, tax breaks, and help finding employment. The leader of the first group, who had stayed in Israel after the first “advance party,” was Blackwell. In requesting immigrant status for the group members, Blackwell stated that they were Jews practicing the traditional Jewish laws, or mitzvot, and that they wanted to serve in the Israeli military.51 The group’s arrival at the airport in Lod caught the Israeli Minister of Absorption and his staff by surprise. Blackwell played on the Israelis’ sympathies and managed to obtain rights for the group as Jewish immigrants, including apartments and food subsidies, despite lacking proof that they were in fact Jews, or related to Jews, as required by the Law of Return.52

With the granting of immigrant rights to these first Hebrew Israelites who landed in the State of Israel in September 1969, the establishment of the AHIJ was officially underway. This event sent positive reverberations throughout Israelite African American communities. The group’s immigration to Israel was for many Original Israelites confirmation that the biblical prophecies, as interpreted by their leaders, were now being realized, and that they would all soon be restored to their rightful place in history.

When the second group of thirty-nine members arrived in December 1969, and then the third group in March 1970, including Ben Ammi, the Israeli authorities became suspicious. These groups were granted only tourist status, and a government order was issued not to allow any more members of the community into Israel until it could be determined whether they had a real claim to being Jews. Blackwell invoked his community’s generations-old tradition that they were descended from the Falasha Ethiopian tribe through the Israelite patriarchs, who fled to Ethiopia after the destruction of the Judean kingdom. To this day, the Hebrew Israelites continue to claim that they are “Judeans.”53 This assertion contradicts their earlier claim to being descendants of the ten lost tribes of Israel, which did not include the Jews from the tribe of Judah.54 Blackwell also insisted that there was proof in the Hebrew Bible that the ancient Israelites were Black, and that formerly enslaved Black Americans were descended from them. He did admit, however, that many men in his community had married gentile women and even that some were baptized and married within the church.

By the early 1970s, a series of tourist visa violations had allowed the AHIJ numbers to climb to two thousand, most of whom lived in one of three cities in the Negev: Arad, Mitzpe Ramon, and Dimona.55 The AHIJ’s stated goal was to “redeem all the Blacks throughout the world from their distress and bring them to Israel, inter alia in order to escape ‘Judgment Day’ when America is due to be destroyed.”56 Ben Ammi ben Israel proclaimed that the Land of Israel was rightfully theirs, and that all white Jews would be deported to their countries of origin. This idea echoed the rhetoric of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), backed at the time by the Arab League, which urged the deportation of all Jews from Palestine to make way for the return of the Palestinian refugees.57 Further inflaming the situation was Clarence Ellis (aka El Kannan), one of Ben Ammi’s chief advisors, who declared that the group had returned to the Land of Israel in order “to liberate Israel from the false Jews—the white Jews.”58

The 1970s witnessed a continuation of the struggle between the AHIJ and the Israeli authorities. Over time, the community leaders’ verbal statements and writings became increasingly anti-Zionist and antisemitic. In 1971, housing dried up completely for the AHIJ. Their initial, government-granted apartments were being overrun with illegal immigrants, landlords were unwilling to rent to them, and public housing was denied. African Hebrew Israelites were being turned away from Israel at the airport. Ben Ammi called a press conference near Jerusalem and publicly likened Israel to apartheid South Africa. Back in Chicago, Prince Asiel Ben Israel, dubbed the “International Ambassador” of the African Hebrew Israelites, also called a press conference, during which he referred to Israel as a racist state and threatened to overrun the country with “planeloads” of “Black men.”59 Notably, Prince Asiel led a fierce, anti-Israel and antisemitic political campaign in America, enlisting the support of Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam.60

In 1972, the Supreme Court of Israel rejected a petition by eight Hebrew Israelites to obtain immigrant visas under Israel’s Law of Return. The court ruled that they did not qualify because they failed to prove that they were Jewish.61 It was at this point that AHIJ members became known in Israel as the “Black Hebrews.”

In October of that year, Ben Ammi ben Israel consolidated his power, granting leadership positions to his closest allies and proclaiming “national guidelines” for members of the AHIJ community. Within these guidelines were a set of punishments applicable to all those who broke his rules—which, by his claim, were transmitted to him by divine revelation. Those who defied Ben Ammi were expelled from their apartments, excommunicated from the community, and in some cases beaten.62 With most members lacking any identification or permission to work and live in Israel, excommunication obviated any means of subsistence.63 One dissident was even killed during a beating, leading to arrests, convictions, and jail time for some of Ben Ammi’s supporters.64

As the attacks continued, the tide of Israeli public opinion shifted from one of sympathy and kinship to one of disdain. After repeated confrontations with Israeli citizens and the police, as well as a murder within the AHIJ community by one of their own, the local police, in apparent conjunction with the American government, began arresting and deporting community members who caused any trouble at all. In response, Ben Ammi denounced Israel as a “racist Jim Crow country” and organized demonstrations in which American passports were burned.65

The situation was coming to a head. Wholesale disappearances within American Hebrew Israelite communities in and around Harlem, Chicago, and Detroit were reported to the American and Israeli authorities. By June 1974, more than five hundred Hebrew Israelites were living in Israel, only a handful of whom had obtained legal citizenship. The AHIJ information minister boasted that group members would be admitted to Israel with a tourist visa, automatically available to them as holders of American passports, and then disappear.66 Many cases were reported of young women, some married and others single, some pregnant and others with children, who announced that they sold all of their possessions in order to immigrate to Israel and then disappeared without a trace. Family members who tried to search for these women were sometimes confronted by Blackwell and other members of the community who were called nesiʾim, or princes, of which there were twelve, including Blackwell, Ben Ammi, and Ben Yehuda.67

The “Council of Princes” was said to be part of the ruling body of the sect. Nonetheless, Ben Ammi ben Israel, who was called the “Prince of Princes,” “Father,” and “Our Master” by group members, functioned as an absolute ruler. Community members would bow down to him if they ran into him in the street. He was judge, jury, and executioner when it came to disputes within the community, including on matters of marriage and divorce. Only Ben Ammi ben Israel was allowed to speak with the authorities or the media, unless he granted someone else explicit permission to do so. According to the Israeli police, the community has their own system of punishment, including corporal punishment, confiscation of passports, and excommunication.68 At least in the past, it was reported that women were kept within the AHIJ against their will.69

As Israel rejected AHIJ demands for more housing, jobs, and citizenship, the group exposed its Black nationalistic attitudes, further alienating themselves from Israeli society. By late 1973, deportations of AHIJ members had sped up, with three hundred members deported in the month of September alone. The Israeli government debated deporting the entire community, but Ben Ammi played the race card in the media and worked on Israeli fears of being depicted as racists in the eyes of the world. Ben Ammi, who was seen by the community as their “Messiah and Savior,” even reverted to classic antisemitic tropes in the media to argue their case for legal immigration into the Land of Israel.70

On December 31, 1973, the AHIJ addressed a letter to the Black members of the United States Congress, accusing Israel of racism and injustice “against American blacks.” The leaders called for an economic boycott of American Jewish businesses, a denial of aid to the State of Israel, and the release of all AHIJ members from Israeli incarceration. Ben Yehuda asserted that the “Black Congressmen in Washington are obviously controlled by Jewish people,” and, later, on April 15, 1974, that the State of Israel is the benefactor of Jewish Americans who made their fortunes as slave merchants and slave holders at the expense of Blacks.71

In October 1974, in a communication with the US State Department, Israeli official Yaakov Keiman wrote that Israel did not want “to be blamed if United States citizens are cheated out of their money and property because of some group’s false promise of paradise in our land.” He suggested that Israel’s enemies might be behind this infiltration, and that the reality of the AHIJ illegal immigration was one of “dirty buildings, clashes with neighbors, rebellious activities, internal strife, homicides, and enforced polygamy.”72

In the meantime, illegal infiltration into Israel by the AHIJ continued, with their leaders stepping up efforts to gain recruits and help them avoid questioning upon arrival as tourists in Israel. The new members would simply come as part of a tour group and then disappear into the desert city of Dimona. Many of them would then renounce their American citizenship at the United States Embassy in Tel Aviv, becoming stateless and almost completely eliminating the possibility of being deported. In April 1977, in addition to outright rejection of those applying to immigrate, Israeli officials began turning away Black Hebrew tourists as well.73 This did not sit well with the AHIJ leadership, and they went on the offensive, branding Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin as Hitler and announcing that “[m]oney is the God of the sinful, white Jewish dogs.”74

The day after the AHIJ leadership compared the prime minister of Israel to Hitler, several Hebrew Israelites were violently arrested and deported, and the government announced that the remainder of the group would be deported as well.75 With the patience of the Israeli people and government wearing thin, the future of the AHIJ community looked bleak. At this point, Ben Ammi and his disciples prophesized an “Armageddon” scenario in Israel, complete with destruction of the white Jews and their Israeli government, to begin on September 22, 1977.76

In response to a push by the mayor of Dimona, Jacques Amir, to force the Knesset to deal with the issue, on March 13, 1978, the American Jewish Committee and the American Jewish Congress formed the Committee for the Examination of the Problem of the Black Hebrews Cult. The committee was formed at the request of Israel’s minister of the interior, Joseph Burg, and chaired by David Glass. The final report was presented to the minister of the interior on June 13, 1980.77

The Glass report vigorously refuted the AHIJ claim of ancient Israelite origin and dispelled any link to Judaism or the Jewish people. The committee pointed out the illegality of AHIJ immigration, their poor relations with their new neighbors, and the ruthless rule of the self-proclaimed messiah, Ben Ammi Carter. The most damning part of the report deals with the alleged criminal activity of AHIJ members in Israel and of their associates within the United States, as well as the group’s blatant and unrepentant antisemitism and anti-Zionism, including calls for the overthrow of the State of Israel. 78

Prince Asiel Ben Israel, who sat on the AHIJ Council of Princes, was charged in 1986 in the United States with fraud and other financial crimes. He, along with three other members of his community, was found guilty and served prison time. Among the evidence that helped support the criminal case against him and other members of the community were hundreds of false documents, including identification, airline tickets, and checks.79 Initial information, later to be confirmed, indicated shocking levels of criminal activity and abuse within the community in both Israel and the United States.80 The State of Israel, faced with no good choices, decided to recommend that the current AHIJ members be allowed to stay in Israel as “long-term temporary residents,” and that after a two-year period they would be granted “permanent residency status” on an individual basis at the discretion of the Ministry of the Interior.

Chairperson Glass put out a press release explaining that this decision was the lesser of two evils, as the committee feared that the threat of deportation might lead to another “Jonestown.”81 In August 1981, after reviewing the Glass report and hearing the Dimona mayor’s desperate pleas to deal with the situation once and for all, the Knesset placed the AHIJ members’ fate in the hands of the Ministry of Interior.82 Aryeh Deri, the interior minister, finally went to Dimona in 1990 to meet with Ben Ammi, and he granted those AHIJ members already living in Israel “temporary residency” status in accordance with the Glass report and the decision of the Knesset.83 This decision also aligned with the wishes of Illinois state legislators, who had gained support from the United States government to provide the AHIJ with a school and expanded housing in Israel.

AHIJ Theology: A Précis

The AHIJ—like Christians, Muslims, Messianic Jews, Samaritans, and Karaites, among others—perceives the Talmud, or Oral Law, as a nonauthoritative work. In contrast, for almost two millennia, the Jews have regarded the Talmud as the key to interpreting the biblical canon. The AHIJ’s rejection of the Oral Law places the sect squarely outside Judaic thought and tradition. Despite this, members of the community refrain from work on the Sabbath and fast from sundown to sunup. Both men and women wear a form of tzitzit, although they are different from the traditional Jewish tzitzit. Community members admit to having married gentiles over the last two millennia, as well as sanctioning marriages in American churches and the rite of baptism. They do not perform the Berit milah ceremony for their male children, which the Torah commands be done on the eighth day after birth to sanctify the Jews’ everlasting covenant with God. Instead, the community holds that circumcision in a hospital by a doctor satisfies the commandment. Nevertheless, they do claim to adhere strictly to the Torah.84

In this context, it is worth mentioning that Ben Ammi ben Israel held (on the basis of Isaiah 4:1) that Jewish law permits a man to have seven wives, so the AHIJ allows polygamy. Women are expected keep house and bear children, although sometimes they are also sent to work outside the home in order to bring income into the community. They are not permitted to wear cosmetics or perfume, and they may be punished for infractions by having their heads shaven.

Until his death in December 2014, Ben Ammi himself presided over all marriages and divorces in the community. The community is strictly gender-separated; males and females are forbidden to spend time together before marriage, and unaccompanied married women are forbidden to speak with men other than their husbands. In the 1990s, a number of women from the AHIJ communities in Israel went public to reveal that the men were brutalizing the women and children, that they practiced polygamy, and that they were all living in squalor.85 In 2000, Fran Markowitz reported that a young girl in the community was charged by Ben Ammi of being “disrespectful” for not wearing her headscarf in gym class and was punished with forty lashes. 86

In recent years, there has been a move away from communal belief in the divinity of Jesus, although this belief is attested in many texts authored by AHIJ leaders.87 For example, Ben Yehuda, in his 1975 book, links the AHIJ to various New Testament passages read as prophesies and likens Ben Ammi ben Israel to John the Baptist or even Jesus himself.88 In a letter to the Ugandan dictator Idi Amin, written in July 1978, Ben Ammi professed his people’s adherence to the belief in the one God “of Jacob, Noah, David, Paul and John the Baptist.”89 In his book The Messiah and the End of This World (1991), Ben Ammi frequently supports his arguments with quotations from the New Testament.90 The Christian saints, the messiah, and Scripture have been a part of the AHIJ religion from the beginning—from “Ezekiel to Jesus,” as Ben Ammi stated in 1993. At a minimum, sect members believe, like Crowdy, Ford, Garvey, and Matthew, that Jesus of Nazareth was a prophet of the Israelite deity, whom they call “Yah.” This teaching also parallels the beliefs of the Nation of Islam and Rastafarianism.

In his later years, Ben Ammi ben Israel sought to take AHIJ theology in a new direction, attributing this shift to his experience of the 1991 Gulf War.91 For example, he tempered his longstanding view that Africans are the sole descendants of the ancient Israelites. Not all sect members appreciated these revisionist ideas. Nonetheless, since 1996, AHIJ community members have generally endorsed the idea that it is one’s righteousness, not one’s ethnic origin or race, that is the true sign of Israelite ancestry. This stance, which was a deliberate reorientation made by the AHIJ founder, represents a transformation in theology and is in stark contrast to most other AHIC groups worldwide. Notably, it opens membership in the AHIJ to non–African Americans.92 It is worth mentioning that AHIJ members seem to be distancing themselves theologically and politically from other unaffiliated camps or extensions of Hebrew Israelite communities in North America that espouse extremist, hateful views against white people and Jews.93

AHIJ Lifestyle

Veganism is strictly observed among AHIJ members. They also abstain from alcohol, as well as tobacco and other substances that are smoked. Through the teachings of Ben Ammi, they have come to believe that veganism and exercise are the key to unlocking potential personal immortality. They adhere to a strict “holistic health maintenance” program that structures their diet with sodium-free days, sugar-free weeks, raw food days, solar cooking days (which involve cooking food solely with the sun’s rays), enemas, periodic fasting (especially on the Sabbath), and mandatory physical exercise at least three times a week. Ben Ammi ben Israel himself wrote that this lifestyle will “allow man to enter the realm of immortality.”94

The AHIJ refer to their unique diet as “Edenic,” following their notion that it was the diet kept by Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. In their belief system, the path to immortality runs through veganism. El Kannan even averred that no one from their community had ever died from “natural causes” or disease, and that the sect members could rejuvenate their cells perpetually and become immortal by changing their diet and behavior.95 As the first generation began to pass away, the sect introduced the idea that those who had not followed their health principles their entire lives, including before they entered the AHIJ, or those who had strayed since then could die.

Members of the AHIJ refer to Acts 2:44–45 and 4:32 in the New Testament, which discuss “all things in common” and have served as the basis for several communities with idealistic socialist leanings.96 These are also the key passages of Christian Scripture which every major nineteenth- and twentieth-century Christian sect that has moved to the Land of Israel in order to establish communal settlements has cited as their motivating spark. Like Protestant sects before them who settled in the State of Israel, the AHIJ refer to their villages as “urban kibbutzim.”97

The Death of a Leader and the AHIJ Afterlife

On December 27, 2014, Prince Immanuel Ben Yehuda announced the death of Ben Ammi Ben Israel Carter with the words: “Abba has ascended.”98 With Ben Ammi’s passing, the AHIJ has undergone striking changes. It appears that the strict rule over the community has subsided, and that the African Hebrews have been working, studying, and serving side-by-side with Israelis. AHIJ members have also begun to distance themselves, at least publicly, from the global AHIC organization, which is seen as antisemitic by the State of Israel and by most American Jewish organizations.99

Signs of change in the community and the public perception of them were already evident about a decade earlier. In 2003, 2,500 AHIJ members were granted permanent residency status.100 Beginning that same year, AHIJ members who chose to be drafted into the military were assured citizenship along with their immediate families. In May 2004, sixty-three Hebrew Israelites reported to the Beersheva draft board and became the first from their community to enter the Israel Defense Force (IDF). In 2012, Interior Minister Gideon Saʾar announced that AHIJ members who enlisted in the IDF could receive full Israeli citizenship within two years. Soon thereafter, many from the community enlisted, including Ben Ammi’s own grandchildren. The AHIJ’s emphasis on an “Edenic” lifestyle, which entails healthy living, positive thinking, and a form of mindfulness and veganism, has led to a non-confrontational attitude toward Israel. Group members continue to serve in the Israeli military, learn Hebrew in schools, legally work and seek employment, and increasingly participate in Israeli society.

As of March 2019, the number of AHIJ adherents in Israel may have reached 5000, of which approximately one hundred have full Israeli citizenship, although there is a pathway for the majority of legal residents to receive citizenship.101 The Israeli Population and Immigration Authority has provided an official count of about 2000 AHIJ members in Israel.102 Part of the numerical discrepancy may be related to a deal made between Ben Ammi ben Israel and the Israeli Ministry of the Interior in the 1990s. At that time, all group members residing in Israel had to be registered, and an official list of members was given to the interior minister.103 However, it seems that at least forty-five members of the AHIJ were never registered, and neither were their descendants.104 It appears either that Ben Ammi did not want these people registered, or that members of the AHIC have continued to illegally immigrate to Israel. Since the African Hebrew Israelites first arrived in Israel, more than 1200 children have been born in the community. In May 2021, Yoel Lipovitzky, head of the Israeli Population and Immigration Authority, noted publicly that birth in Israel does not automatically confer citizenship, and that many AHIJ members are slated for deportation due to their illegal presence in the country.

Scores of AHIJ members in Israel have left the sect. Some of these individuals remain in the country while others have returned to America and maintain some connection with their “satellite communities” in Chicago, Atlanta, Los Angeles, New York, and Washington, DC in the AHIC.105 AHIC is a loosely affiliated global umbrella organization of African Hebrew Israelites outside of Israel. These groups never considered Ben Ammi ben Israel their leader, but they share theological and lifestyle beliefs with their AHIJ sister communities.

Today, AHIJ members are referred to by the global Hebrew Israelite community as “saints,” and the community in Israel is called “the Kingdom.” AHIJ enclaves exist in Arad, Tiberias, Beersheva, and Mitzpe Ramon. The main settlement, located in Dimona, is called “Kfar HaShalom” or simply “the Kfar.” Members of the Hebrew Israelite community who open private businesses are expected to keep only what profit they need to sustain themselves and their immediate family, and to give the rest to the Kingdom in Mitzpeh Ramon and Dimona.

A new generation of Hebrew Israelites in the State of Israel is serving in the IDF, studying in Israeli universities, entering the Israeli workforce and assimilating into the mainstream Jewish population. Short of a mass migration of other Hebrew Israelites from their diaspora communities in the AHIC, it is likely that the AHIJ will assimilate into greater Israeli society. Even if such a migration were to take place, however, the anti-white radicalism and antisemitism imbedded within the AHIC communities would probably not be well received by the AHIJ, whose members are now being recognized in Israeli society as Israelis, receiving citizenship in greater numbers, and thriving in the only country the new generation has ever known. There remains the issue of more undocumented immigrants in the community, which suggests that illegal overstays of tourist visas among other Hebrew Israelites were never completely halted. As late as May 2021, there were reports of new illegal immigrants overstaying their tourist visas from the United States. That situation may spur renewed tensions between the community and the State of Israel.

Since the final years of its founder, the AHIJ has made a remarkable volte-face. From its inception as an antisemitic, elitist, supremacist, revolutionary, eschatological religion, it has transformed into a religion of healthy living, positive thinking, wellness, acceptance, and veganism. It currently enjoys a thriving and legitimate business empire based on these core values. The members still practice polygamy, which is technically illegal in Israel. But reports of physical and sexual abuse are now few and far between. And the acceptance of Israelis who are not of African American descent into the community demonstrates a dramatic shift away from its earlier stance of separating itself from non-Black Jewish people.106 It appears that the African Hebrews of Jerusalem may have succeeded in becoming full-fledged, contributory members of Israeli society.

Joseph B. Yudin has written for the Jerusalem Post as a travel writer and has contributed to articles in Conde Nast Traveler, Town & Country, and Travel + Leisure. He lives with his wife and three children on Kibbutz Megiddo. He earned his Ph.D. in Israel Studies at the University of Haifa. Dr. Yudin is author of The Protestant Settlers of Israel: Missionaries, Millenarians, and the African Hebrew Israelites (Lexington Books, 2023).


1 James E. Landing, Black Judaism: Story of an American Movement (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2002), 15.

2 Jacob S. Dorman, Chosen People: The Rise of American Black Israelite Religions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 38–39.

3 For the idea that Jesus was Black, see Dorman, Chosen People, 39–45. For African Americans as descendants of the lost tribes, see Elmer T. Clark, The Small Sects in America (New York: Abingdon, 1965), 152.

4 Dorman, Chosen People, 88–89.

5 Israel J. Gerber, The Heritage Seekers: American Blacks in Search of Jewish Identity (Middle Village, NY: Jonathan David, 1977), 69–70. The continent of Africa, which includes the Land of Israel in Black Israelite ideology, was often referred to as “Ethiopia” in the movement’s formative years.

6 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 70.

7 Landing, Black Judaism, 52.

8 Dorman, Chosen People, 43.

9 Landing, Black Judaism, xiii.

10 John L. Jackson, Jr., Thin Description: Ethnography and the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 2.

11 Beersheba Crowdy Walker, Life and Works of William Saunders Crowdy (Philadelphia, PA: E. J. P. Walker, 1955), 59–60.

12 Sam Kestenbaum, “Hebrew Israelites Celebrate Rabbi Who Founded Their Century-Old Movement,” The Forward (June 24, 2016), https://forward.com/news/343526/hebrew-israelites-celebrate-rabbi-who-founded-their-century-old-movement. See also Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 70. His arrival from Saint Kitts is disputed. Some believe he was born in Ethiopia; others claim Ghana, Lagos, or Nigeria; while still others say that he had a Jewish father whose own father was from Ethiopia and a Christian mother from the British West Indies; see Sholomo Ben Levy, “Biography of Rabbi Wentworth Arthur Matthew,” Black Jews, Israelites…and Our Friends, https://www.blackjews.org/biography-of-rabbi-wentworth-arthur-matthew/.

13 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 14.

14 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 12–13.

15 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 12.

16 Dorman, Chosen People, 119–20, 133.

17 Barry Chevannes, “Millennialism in the Caribbean,” in The Oxford Handbook of Millennialism, ed. Catherine Wessinger (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 422–24; E. Ellis Cashmore, “‘Get Up, Stand Up’: The Rastafarian Movement,” in Disciplines of Faith: Studies in Religion, Politics and Patriarchy, ed. James Obelkevich, Lyndal Roper, and Raphael Samuel (London: Routledge, 1987), 423–24; and Landing, Black Judaism, 375.

18 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 14.

19 Dorman, Chosen People, 115.

20 Howard M. Brotz, The Black Jews of Harlem: Negro Nationalism and the Dilemmas of Negro Leadership (New York: Schocken, 1970), 10.

21 Dorman, Chosen People, 115, 118.

22 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 71.

23 Dorman, Chosen People, 130.

24 Landing, Black Judaism, 206.

25 Dorman, Chosen People, 152.

26 Brotz, Black Jews, 13–14.

27 Landing, Black Judaism, 375.

28 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 71.

29 Brotz, Black Jews, 39–40, 50.

30 Ben Ammi, The Messiah and the End of this World (Dimona: Communications Press, 1991), 42–45, 55; Shaleak Ben Yehuda, Black Hebrew Israelites from America to the Promised Land: The Great International Religious Conspiracy against the Children of the Prophets (New York: Vantage, 1975), 141–212; and Yvonne Chireau and Nathaniel Deutsch, Black Zion: African American Religious Encounters with Judaism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 68–69.

31 He had originally claimed that they were from the tribe of Judah, which, according to the Bible, was not lost and remained in the Land of Israel 136 years after the Ten Tribes were “lost.” This was possibly a slip of the pen but more likely an evolution in his theology.

32 Dorman, Chosen People, 174–75.

33 Dorman, Chosen People, 328.

34 For the Jews as “gentiles,” see Ben Ammi, Messiah, 7. For the Jews as satanic, see “Louis Farrakhan Denies Antisemitism—Then Refers to ‘Satanic Jews,’” Guardian (May 11, 2019), https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/may/11/louis-farrakhan-denies-antisemitism-satanic-jews.

35 Landing, Black Judaism, 12.

36 In the 1960s, there was no nation or entity called “Palestine,” so their use of this term implied a rejection of Jewish claims to the Land of Israel so they could claim it for themselves.

37 Dorman, Chosen People, 5.

38 Michael T. Miller recently published an in-depth study of the current theological and philosophical worldview of Ben Ammi ben Israel and the AHIJ; see Michael T. Miller, “The African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem and Ben Ammi’s Theology of Marginalisation and Reorientation,” Religions (online) 11, no. 2 (2020), https://doi.org/10.3390/rel11020087. Yet Miller, like others before him, neglected to address the crucial foundational ideologies of Crowdy, Arnold, Ford, Matthew, Ben Ammi ben Israel, and other leaders. As such, Miller’s work, like much of the previous research on the topic, lends legitimacy to a theology founded on rabid racism, demonization, antisemitism and the usurpation of the Jewish people’s ancient identity.

39 Landing, Black Judaism, xiv.

40 David Glass, The Black Hebrews: An English Summary of the Special Committee Report, (Jerusalem: American Jewish Committee, 1980), 3.

41 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 8–9.

42 Sam Kestenbaum, “Ben Ammi Ben Israel’s Spiritual Journey From Segregated Chicago to Negev Desert,” Forward (December 31, 2014), https://forward.com/news/israel/211907/ben-ammi-ben-israels-spiritual-journey-from-segreg.

43 American Jewish Committee, “Black Hebrew,” 3, 8.

44 Ben Yehuda, Black Hebrew Israelites, ii.

45 Jackson, Thin Description, 2. “Original Israelites” is an early term for what would become the African Hebrew Israelites.

46 Landing, Black Judaism, 388.

47 Landing, Black Judaism, 388.

48 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 41–43, 46.

49 Bill Kurtis, “Strangers in the Holy Land,” New York Times Magazine (March 22, 1981), section 6, 64, https://www.nytimes.com/1981/03/22/magazine/strangers-in-the-holy-land.html.

50 Landing, Black Judaism, 394–95.

51 Sheffi Gabbai, “Observant ‘Hebrew Negroes’ from the United States—Pioneer Group in Arad,” Davar (November 20, 1969), 3 (Hebrew) and H. Bradford Fish, “Trouble among the Children of the Prophets,” Washington Post Magazine (February 7, 1982), https://www.washingtonpost.com/magazine/2019/01/31/trouble-among-children-prophets. Blackwell would later be caught depositing $100,000 worth of gold bars in a Swiss bank account in the 1970s.

52 Shraga Har-Gil, “The Negroes are Coming, the Hebrews are Coming,” Maʿariv (June 26, 1974), 29 (Hebrew) and Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 58–60.

53 Armin Rosen, “African. Hebrew. Israelite,” Tablet (March 28, 2019), https://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/282261/african-hebrew-israelite.

54 Ben Yehuda, Black Hebrew Israelites, i–vii.

55 Kurtis, “Strangers.”

56 American Jewish Committee, “Black Hebrew,” 4.

57 “‘Hebrew Negroes’ will Conquer Israel with the Help of the PLO,” Maariv (December 18, 1980), 1 (Hebrew).

58 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 138. On Clarence Ellis, see Fish, “Trouble.”

59 Landing, Black Judaism, 398–99.

60 Chireau and Deutsch, Black Zion, 74.

61 “The Supreme Court Rejects a Petition by Eight Hebrew Negroes to Obtain Immigrant Visas,” Davar (December 8, 1972), 5 (Hebrew).

62 Ezra Yanuv, “Negroes from Dimona are Asking for Help in Returning their Wives,” Maariv (May 8, 1975), 7 (Hebrew).

63 Mordechai Elkan, “Thirteen Hebrew Negroes Detained for Fifteen Days,” Maariv (October 5, 1973), 5 (Hebrew).

64 Chireau and Deutsch, Black Zion, 67–68.

65 Kestenbaum, “Ben Ammi Ben Israel’s Spiritual Journey.”

66 Rosen, “African. Hebrew. Israelite.”

67 Naomi Gal, “Neo-Realism in Dimona,” Maariv (December 10, 1975), 30 (Hebrew) and Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 162–63.

68 Gal, “Neo-Realism.”

69 Gal, “Neo-Realism” and Ali, “The Hebrew Community in Dimona is Integrated into Israel,” Kan, Channel 11 (May 21, 2016) and Riad Ali, “The Hebrew Community in Dimona is Integrated into Israel,” IBA—Yoman (May 21, 2016) (Hebrew). Note that the accusations against Ben Ammi ben Israel and the entire leadership of the AHIJ continued well into the twenty-first century. In July 2009 and again in September 2011, an exposé by Israeli journalist Esti Aharonovich laid out claims of child abuse, overcrowding, sexual harassment, humiliation, oppression, violence, malnutrition, polygamy, hunger, poverty, and massive theft by the leaders of the community on the weakest of the community itself.

70 Kurtis, “Strangers.” On Ben Ammi as “Messiah and Savior,” see Gal, “Neo-Realism” and American Jewish Committee, “Black Hebrew,” 4.

71 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 168–69.

72 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 163.

73 “‘Hebrew Negroes’ Were Not Allowed to Enter the Country,” Maariv (April 29, 1977), 63 (Hebrew).

74 Kurtis, “Strangers.”

75 “Three Hebrew Negroes Deported,” Davar (September 26, 1977), 3 (Hebrew).

76 Landing, Black Judaism, 403–4.

77 American Jewish Committee, “Black Hebrew,” ii, 12.

78 Fish, “Trouble.”

79 Fish, “Trouble.”

80 Dr. Daniels, Dimona: The Black Hebrews (Bloomington, IN: Xlibris, 2013).

81 Landing, Black Judaism, 410.

82 Jacob Jacques Amir, “Agenda Proposal: The Problem of the Black Hebrew,” Tenth Session of the Tenth Knesset (August 12, 1981) (Hebrew), https://knesset.gov.il/tql/knesset_new/knesset10/HTML_27_03_2012_05-50-30-PM/19810812@19810812006@006.html.

83 Roni Sofer and Ilana Baum, “Deri Set Out Principles for the Stay of the Black Hebrews,” Maariv (May 22, 1990) (Hebrew), http://www.jpress.nli.org.il/olive/apa/nli_heb/?href=MAR%2F1990%2F05%2F22&page=13&entityId=Ar01301#panel=document.

84 Gerber, Heritage Seekers, 86–90 and Chireau and Deutsch, Black Zion, 75.

85 Fran Markowitz, “Millenarian Motherhood: Motives, Meanings and Practices among African Hebrew Israelite Women,” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women’s Studies and Gender Issues 3 (2000): 122–28.

86 Markowitz, “Millenarian Motherhood,” 127.

87 Jackson, Thin Description, 317, 374.

88 Ben Yehuda, Black Hebrew Israelites, 141–212.

89 American Jewish Committee, “Black Hebrew,” 5.

90 Ben Ammi, Messiah.

91 Ben Ammi, Messiah, 82.

92 Chireau and Deutsch, Black Zion, 76.

93 Jackson, Thin Description, 32.

94 Ben Ammi, Messiah, 56.

95 Chireau and Deutsch, Black Zion, 80 and Jackson, Thin Description, 140.

96 Jackson, Thin Description, 8.

97 Rachel Neiman, “From Slavery to Eurovision…: African Hebrew Israelites Mark 50 years in Israel,” Israel21c (March 10, 2020), https://www.israel21c.org/from-slavery-to-eurovision-african-hebrew-israelites-mark-50-years-in-israel.

98 Andrew Esensten, “Spiritual Leader of African Hebrew Israelites Dies,” Haaretz (December 28, 2014), https://www.haaretz.com/jewish/.premium-spiritual-leader-of-african-hebrew-israelites-dies-1.5353031.

99 Neiman, “From Slavery to Eurovision.”

100 “Israel Grants ‘Black Hebrews’ Permanent Residency,” Haaretz (July 29, 2003), https://www.haaretz.com/1.5352554.

101 Miller, “African Hebrew Israelites,” 87, https://doi.org/10.3390/rel11020087. For the number of 5000, see Rosen, “African. Hebrew. Israelite.”

102 Almog Ben Zikri, “Israel Orders 45 Black Hebrew Israelites to Leave Country in 60 Days,” Haaretz (April 26, 2021), https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/.premium-israel-orders-45-african-hebrew-israelites-to-leave-country-in-60-days-1.9746045.

103 Zikri, “Israel.”

104 Zikri, “Israel.”

105 Nir Avieli and Fran Markowitz, “Slavery Food, Soul Food, Salvation Food: Veganism and Identity in the African Hebrew Israelite Community,” African and Black Diaspora 11, no. 2 (2018): 205–20.

106 I do not use the terms “white” or “Black” here because the majority of Israeli Jews are people of color with roots in North Africa, Ethiopia, and the Middle East, and those Ashkenazi Jews of central and Eastern European descent also have firm, albeit ancient, roots in the Levant.

Categories
Vol. 67, No 2 (Summer 2023) - Israel at 75

La influencia de los Festivales de la Música Jasídica en la liturgia del Movimiento Conservador (PDF)

Download PDF

Download PDF