New Perspectives in Theology of Judaism

Front matter

NEW PERSPECTIVES

IN THEOLOGY OF JUDAISM

SHUBERT SPERO

Contents

PART!

Viewing Judaism as a Whole Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 PART II Torah in Depth Chapter 5 The Biblical Stories of Creation, the Garden of Eden,

Chapter 6

PART III Reaching for the Heights

Chapter 9 Is God Truly Unknowable? iss. ta e005 Poe we end ae en rene’ 166 Chapter 10 Love Of GO secs cos se sues ertbeteskede ademas tekn edna 182 Chapter 11 Selfhood and Godhood in Jewish Thought and Modern Philosophy ys diver as vines ewe aaed hes Geers 194 Chapter 12 PART IV The Analytic in Action Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Judaism and the Aesthetics .ovsecvus ee eesecieeeereee ens 275 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 PART V History Come to Life Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Religious Zionism: What is It? .... pyc ke sae eos wees eos 357 Chapter 20 Acknowledgements 65:0 Sia ad is edine tatia oS eee Rees 385

Note From the Publisher

The Chair, the Incumbent, and the Donors

In January 1983, Bar-llan University in Israel, under the presidency of Professor Emanuel Rackman, announced the establishment of the Irving I. Stone Chair in Basic Jewish Thought, with Professor Shubert Spero as its inaugural incumbent. The Chair was chartered to undertake the academic examination of the implications of Judaism, especially Jewish morality and history, for contemporary society, and was designed to serve as a vehicle for teaching, research, and publication in this area. In establishing the Chair’s Endowment Fund, Irving Stone (1909-2000) wrote in the charter document:

...the main reason for our family’s establishment of the Chair was to make it possible for Shubert Spero, who was then retiring after 33 years as our spiritual leader in Cleveland, to bring his important centrist views of Judaism to the attention of the Israeli public.

Each term of his subsequent 29-year academic career at Bar Ilan, the incumbent taught two sections of his signature year-long course entitled Dat u’Musar, “Religion and Morality,” in which he expounded on the special nature and role of morality in Judaism to the more than 3,000 students who took his course over the years. Under the aegis of the Chair, Spero published innumerable articles in academic journals as well as for the local press, lectured widely in Israel and abroad, and for ten years delivered the annual Irving I. Stone Lecture at the College of Jewish Studies in Cleveland, Ohio. His research during this period resulted in the publication of two works: Holocaust and Return to Zion: A Study in Jewish Philosophy of History (2000) and Aspects of Rabbi Joseph Dov Solovetchick’s Philosophy of Judaism (2009).

Preface. The Chair, the Incumbent, and the Donors

The link to the Stone funding has an additional dimension, beyond the academic. This dimension comes through in the warm words of a personal note written by Mr. Morry Weiss, chairman of the Stone Foundation:

Shubert Spero and his wife Iris have been dear friends for well over 50 years. As my wife and I celebrate our 50 years of marriage, I recall that when I was courting Judy, it was Iris who volunteered to be my character witness. She assured my future in-laws (Irving and Beatrice Stone) that their daughter was choosing her mate wisely. For Iris taking that leap of faith on my behalf, and in honor of our golden anniversary, I am delighted to have the opportunity to show our deep appreciation for two individuals we so greatly admire by making possible the publication of this current volume of the rabbi’s most insightful essays.

The words “new” and “theology” in the title of this volume may sound ominous to traditionalists. Let me therefore at the very outset set forth the meaning of these terms according to their primary current use and outline the general thrust of this work. The term “theology” has come to mean simply a rational analysis of religious beliefs, or a “philosophy of religion.” The reason I use the word “theology” instead of “philosophy” is because it is considered the more appropriate term to use when the analysis is being done by one who stands within the religion being analyzed, in short a believer. The term “philosophy” is best understood as describing an activity in which certain types of questions are directed at almost any subject matter. These are inquiries into the overriding purpose or underlying principles of any discipline or enterprise. That is, they are questions which are the most general in nature, seeking a picture of the whole, or alternatively the most basic, seeking to uncover the ultimate nature of things. In pursuit of these philosophical questions one is expected to use a method of thinking which is at once analytic and critical, rather than speculative, giving priority to the search for meaning before looking for the truth, a method which requires justification for any truth-claims. In this view, which sees philosophy primarily as a method of inquiry, the goal is not, as it has been in the past, to wed or reconcile Judaism with some “outside” existing philosophic system but rather to develop a rational understanding (theology) which is indigenous in the sense that it grows out of the primary sources of Judaism.

It is safe to say that philosophical questions in the sense just described are generally not dealt with in Judaism’s primary sources, i.e., the Tanach, or Written Torah. Except perhaps for the Book of Job and some isolated verses elsewhere, Tanach in its three divisions is essentially a library of “first order” statements about history, law, morality, poetry, exhortations, promises, and visions of the future.’ It is not reflective. It does not ask questions of itself. It is in rabbinic literature that we first begin to find short excursions into what we might call philosophical inquiry. Chapter 1 discusses in greater detail the role of philosophy in Judaism.

Beginning, however, with Saadia Gaon (882-942) and continuing up to the present, elements of the beliefs and practices of Judaism have been subjected to systematic rational analysis, with the results constituting aspects of the theology of Judaism.

Now this is where the term “perspective” becomes relevant. While anyone claiming to be doing philosophy must abide by the accepted methods, i.e., must be critical, coherent, consistent, and comprehensive, there is an individual subjective element, usually overlooked, that is often present from the very beginning of the process. We may call this the individual’s “perspective,” that is, certain unexpressed presuppositions or attitudes with which the individual views reality and by which he evaluates the relative importance of things. This explains why different individuals examining the same facts can arrive at different, sometimes mutually exclusive, conclusions. Thus, for example, it is clear that one of the presuppositions of Maimonides, a doctrine that in his day was considered self-evident, was that human reason was capable of attaining knowledge of the metaphysical realm. Today, however, having shown this belief to be largely incorrect, we no longer put any credence in logical proofs for the existence of God, as Maimonides did. Another illustration of “perspective” in Jewish theology is the view that different thinkers had of the importance of the principle of the Creation of the universe “out of nothing” (creatio ex nihilo). While Saadia thought it to bea pillar of Jewish belief, in the sense that the very fact of the existence of the world (ourselves included), is clear evidence of the reality and moral nature of God, Maimonides was ready to relinquish the concept

1 Thus in Habakkuk 1:2, 3 and Jeremiah 12:1, the prophets in anguish question God’s governance of the world when they see the wicked prosper. The Book of Job in its entirety is devoted to this question, sometimes called “theodicy,” understood as the vindication of Divine Providence. Isolated verses such as the following from Ecclesiastes seem to pose theological issues: “Who knows the spirit of man whether it goes upward and the spirit of the beast whether it goes downward to the earth” (Eccles. 3:21).

of Creatio ex nihilo if Aristotle had proven the eternity of the universe.” Therefore, our endeavor to present “new perspectives” in Jewish theology does not imply suggesting changes in the core beliefs or practices of Judaism but is rather an attempt to look at some of the classical material with different eyes, to focus on elements heretofore ignored, and perhaps to ask questions not considered important in the past.

Viewing Judaism as a Whole

We have said that one of the typical approaches of philosophy is to seek a picture of the whole, to lift oneself above the trees to catch a glimpse of the forest. This is important because philosophically the whole is often greater and more interesting than the brute sum of its parts, so that he who seeks reliable knowledge of any entity must examine it from the overall perspective as well. So it is with Judaism. In early periods, when we were preoccupied with getting to know the “trees,” the concept of “forest” rarely arose. However, once the dynamics of history does its work and various changes take place, certain pressures are created that necessitate a knowledge of the “forest.” For once we realize that the “forest” of our cultural habitat is not infinite, it becomes important to know its extent, its boundaries, and what is beyond. Once we realize there are other “forests,” there is a desire to compare their overall features with our own, the better to appreciate it. So it is with Judaism. As our people were exposed to other cultures and belief systems, it became vital to have a grasp of the overall goals and purposes of Judaism so as to identify its parameters such that comparisons may be made. Also, once Judaism was confronted by home-grown sects which claim to be the “true” Israel, it was necessary to have an understanding of the basic principles of our faith so as to know when one might have strayed beyond its boundaries.

In Chapter 2 we analyze the theological underpinnings and overall features of Modern Orthodoxy to show how it differs from traditional Orthodoxy, and why it claims to be a more authentic version of Judaism than what is known today as haredi Judaism.

? See Saadia Gaon, The Book of Beliefs and Opinions (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1948), Treatise I, pp. 36-81; and Moses Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, trans. M. Friedlander (New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1942), I:71, 1:113.

In recent decades the general mood cultivated by religion has shifted from the naive optimism of progressive Judaism and even from the joyous outlook of hasidism to a more sober view of the human condition. Is the goal of religion to give man “peace of mind” or “peace of soul”? Chapters 3 and 4 deal with these questions and examine the sources in Judaism which deal with the nature of the religious consciousness and its possible connections with a popular school of thought known as Existentialism, as well as the contribution in this regard of the teaching of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

Torah in Depth

The primary source of Judaism is, as we have stated, the written Torah emanating from Divinity and transmitted to man via a process called nevuah (prophecy). However, the medium in which these teachings reach man is a particular natural language (called ivrit), that is, words formed into sentences which follow rules of syntax and semantics. Unlike some other religions in which the word of the divinity is received in the form of ambiguous oracles or complex codes or obscure expressions which can only be unscrambled by a privileged elite, the primary purpose of the Torah is to have it readily understood by all who use the language. Thus, Moses assures the people, “But the word is very close to you in your mouth and in your heart so that you may do it” (Deut. 30:14). And in writing the words of the Torah on plastered stones upon entering the land of Canaan, Moses is commanded to write be eir hetev (very plainly). In further elaboration of this point, the rabbis maintained that dibra torah kelashon b’nai adam, “the Torah speaks in the language of men,” which suggests several things: first, that the language of the Torah is not a private language but that the meanings of the words and the ways in which they are used are the same as they are for all native speakers. Also, the sages are saying that the Torah can be expected to use language in all of the many marvelous forms that human beings have developed for their different kinds of communication: as precise description, as dramatic narrative, as poetry, by wedding sound to image in expression of the full range of human emotions. Thus, to truly grasp the Torah text, one must not only comprehend the lexical meaning of the words but be aware of the type of literary product involved. Law, narrative, epic poetry, moral exhortation, metaphor: each requires a different method of interpretation. Of course, in terms of the Halakhah (law), the tradition has preserved various formal rules of exegesis with which to guide the individual in his interpretation of the biblical text.

In recent years, developments in linguistic and literary criticism have made us more sensitive to the possibilities implicit in different types of literature. In Chapters 5 and 6 I offer a fresh approach to the material in the opening chapters of Genesis, based upon an awareness of the nuances implicit in metaphor.

Indeed, we learn much from the rabbinic comparison of the language of the Torah to human language. Nonetheless, in truth human language itself, and the ability of a human being to learn and create in language, remains a marvelous mystery. How do our brains convert the sounds of the words (phonemes) into “meanings”? Where are these “meanings” stored when we are not thinking about them? What is the “connection” between two personalities in meaningful dialogue? If there is mystery in human speech, how much more so in the case of the “word of God,” by whose power “the heavens were made,” and whose presence in the Torah text mysteriously guides the historical process?*

In Chapter 7 we analyze several Torah texts to show how an awareness of the ability of the word of God to bear multiple meanings enables us to appreciate how

My word which goes forth from My mouth

shall not return to Me empty

except it accomplishes that which I please

and made the thing where I sent it prosper (Isa. 55:10, 11).

Who wrote the Torah, and who is the author of the Torah, are not the same question. This is particularly the case if the questions are being asked within the framework of the Jewish tradition, for then, you will get two different answers. The Torah was written by Moses, whereas the Author, i.e., the originator of the words is God, the Creator. These two principles, one theological and one historical, are included in the response recited by the congregation in the synagogue service when the

3 “By the word of God the heavens were made” (Psalms 36:6). For more on how the text of the Torah helps to guide history, see Shubert Spero, Holocaust and Return to Zion: A Study in Jewish Philosophy of History (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav Publishing House, 2000), Chapter 7, 251-257.

Torah scroll is held aloft: “And this is the Torah that Moses set before the children of Israel by the mouth of God by the hand of Moses” (Num. 9:23; Deut. 4:44). While some aspects of how this process came about are discussed in rabbinic literature, a more definitive account is offered by Maimonides (Rambam):

It is our belief that the whole of the Torah came to Moshe from God in a manner which is metaphorically called “speaking.” But the real nature of that communication is unknown to all except Moshe to whom it came. In receiving the Torah, Moshe was like a scribe writing from dictation, the whole of it, its chronicles, its narratives and its prescriptions.*

While large segments of the Torah, particularly the “statutes and judgments,” are indeed presented as “spoken by God to Moses,” other historical portions are simply described by an anonymous narrator in third person. At what point did this Divine dictation take place? If, however, the Torah speaks “in the language of men,” it should be possible to approach the text objectively, read it analytically from beginning to end in order to learn what we can from within, without presuppositions, concerning its composition. I have attempted to do this in Chapter 7, seeking to determine the sense in which the Torah can be called both Torat Moshe and Torat Hashem.

Reaching for the Heights

The concept of God has always been and remains one of the great challenges to theology. Indeed, the literal meaning of the term “theology” is “the knowledge of God.” But for Judaism, there can be no such thing, for there is hardly anything we can know of God since He is transcendent, above and beyond human comprehension. And yet (here is the paradox), for so many believers God is the most alive, the most real, the most vital Presence of all, truly the very ground of our existence! So who needs definitions?

Maimonides, the foremost Jewish theologian of the Middle Ages, was very strictin safeguarding the “otherness” of God. While the Torah reports

4 Commentary on the Mishnah Perek Helek, Sanhedrin.

many things about God, Maimonides submitted all of its statements to rational analysis and shows that all descriptions of God can be reduced to two categories. First there are “action predicates,” that is, words that are not really referring to God Himself but rather to His actions. Thus, to say that God is merciful is to say that God’s acts, if done by a person, would be called merciful. However, in regard to what Maimonides calls “essential attributes,” for example, that “God lives,” and “wills” and possesses “knowledge” and “power,” here we are talking about God Himself. But at this point we come up against the limits of language. The only meaning that these terms, “life,” “knowledge,” “power,” etc., can have for us comes from our own human experience. How do we know whether these terms are at all appropriate when used to apply to God? Thus was born the popular notion that, at least according to Maimonides, God is completely unknowable, completely beyond human comprehension. The only way man can grow in the knowledge of God is, paradoxically, to increase the number of things that one can say God is not.

However, in spite of the logical rigor of Maimonides’s analysis, which seems to shut out completely the experiential aspect of the religious consciousness, I argue in Chapter 9 that his theory, properly understood, nevertheless leaves room to rationally assert what our religious sentiments urge upon us.

Most of the attributes of God called “essential” by Maimonides, such as His existence, wisdom, and power, are inferred from what we are told about God in the Torah. However, there is one particular attribute that is specifically and repeatedly attributed to God, and that is His unity. Emblematic of its importance is that it has been incorporated into the liturgy and is proclaimed twice daily:

Hear O Israel, the Lord our God the Lord is One (Deut. 6:4)

We also read: “The Lord alone did lead him and there was no strange god with Him” (Deut. 32:12). “See now that I even I am He and there is no god with Me” (Deut. 32:39).

In a historical sense this emphasis has been seen as natural, since this was the great announcement of monotheism to a world that had been dominated by polytheism. However, to the theologian, the concept of God’s Unity (achdut hashem) has always implied more than the arithmetic one-and-not-two, the denial of polytheism. It has always stirred great philosophic interest. Thus, in regard to the question of whether anthropomorphic descriptions of God in the Torah are to be taken as implying that the Deity may have corporeal form, Maimonides rules the possibility out completely, on logical grounds, as incompatible with God’s unity. For, he argues, achdut implies not only “one and not two,” but also simplicity, “one and not composite.” Being material in any way would oppose this, as it necessarily means that He was composed of parts and thus not “one” in the sense of simplicity. More importantly, Maimonides defined God as the “First Existant who brought every existing thing into being. All existing things ... exist only through His true existence. If it could be supposed that He did not exist it would follow that nothing else could possibly exist” This important concept states that God is not only the Creator of the universe, who created in an act which took place in the distant past, but is also the abiding ground or support of all being. Maimonides sees this notion as a corollary of achdut hashem: “The Lord He is God there is none else beside Him” (Deut. 4:35). That is, God is One in the sense of singularity. He is unique. Only He is truly real and has necessary and absolute existence. In other words, His existence is part of His essence. Everything else in the world, including ourselves, exists but only in a contingent sense, that is, we didn’t have to be.

In Chapter 10, I explore a rather neglected aspect of God’s unity, which is its implications for the historical process of Redemption. While traces of this connection abound in the tradition, I have not found any serious philosophic treatment of this subject. Our analysis will help to explain the importance of the Shema in Jewish life and thought.

However, the Torah itself draws the proper inference for the individual’s relationship to God from the absolute nature of His unity. If indeed “there is nothing else beside Him,” then:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. (Deut. 6:5)

That God’s singularity deserves man’s exclusive devotion, loyalty and obedience seems true enough. But “love”? How can you love someone you cannot see or really know? Furthermore, can “love” be commanded?

5 Moses Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei Hatorah 1:1-3.

Chapter 11 subjects Maimonides’s interpretation of the commandment to love God to critical analysis and demonstrates how, while maintaining the traditional framework, we can generate a genuine love for God as a response not so much to His wisdom as to His goodness.

One of the enduring themes of theology is the question of God’s ongoing relationship with the world. We hear of such terms as General Providence and Special Providence, Open Miracles and Hidden Miracles. At one point Maimonides, in his treatment of this subject, draws a suggestive analogy between the relationship of God to the world and that of man’s soul (self, personality) to his body.

In man there is a certain force which unites the organs of the body, controls them and gives to each of them what it requires. So in the universe there exists a certain force which controls the cosmos, which sets in motion the chief and principal parts and gives them the motive power for governing the rest. That force is God.’

Theologians have found this similarity most helpful in elucidating different problems relating to our understanding of God. Man’s “soul” is considered to be a non-material, spiritual essence operating within, yet able to impact upon, a material system. So too is God a non-material, spiritual essence in constant relationships with and impacting upon a physical universe.’ Of course, both are a mystery in the sense that we do not know how it happens. We cannot explain how instructions which originate in the spiritual realm can translate into and impact upon the physical material universe. However, in regard to the soul, man knows of its existence and its activities from the inside. Iam my “soul,” and I need no proofs of its reality. While the sages were well aware of the pedagogical importance of perceiving God as a model of moral behavior, “As He is compassionate, so be you,” we wish to suggest that perhaps in regard to epistemology the line of reasoning might run in the opposite direction. That is, just as we are convinced of the existence of our “soul-self” without “proofs,” so we might believe in God, who is the “soul” of the world. In Chapter 12 we examine the validity of this type of reasoning.

€ Maimonides, Guide, 1:72. 7 This is clearly the Torah view, as may be inferred from Gen. 1:26 and Gen. 2:7. See my articles in Numbers 675 and 831 of Bar Ilan’s Weekly Page, daf shvui.

The Analytic in Action

As we indicated earlier, the philosophical approach is marked not only by its seeking a picture of the whole but also by its analytic method, its drive to understand the constituent elements, the underlying structure of a phenomenon. The next five chapters (13-17) exemplify philosophical analysis in action. We have chosen five very broad subjects: morality, the self, history, the aesthetic, and religious belief. Clearly, each of these subjects constitutes the framework for wide areas of Jewish belief and practice.

In Judaism, morality, in the form of codes of behavior, includes the entire area of mitzvot bein adam le-chaveiro ubein adam le-behamto (commandments between man and his fellow man and between man and his animals) and, as such, receive attention and elaboration as part of the Halakhah. However, in terms of philosophical analysis, i.e., ethical theory, the subject has failed to elicit adequate attention even from our classical theologians. In Chapter 13 we examine the general role of morality in Judaism and particularly the relationship of God to moral values. The question as to whether there exists a morality “outside” of the Halakhah is also treated.

The self is the reflective awareness of that non-material essence which is the basis of our sense of self-identity. Something we tend to locate between our eyes is the arbiter between the urgings of the yetzer ha-ra (evil inclination) and the yetzer tov (good inclination), the entity we would identify as our neshama (soul). Modern Jewish thinkers have not gone much beyond the few hints thrown out by our sages, as the subject straddles the boundary between philosophy and psychology. In Chapter 14 we outline what a Jewish self-theory might look like.

For a human being there can be no more all-embracing concept than that of history—an ongoing process in which we are all embedded and by which we are all affected. For the Jew, however, the subject of history is particularly meaningful.° All of the different contents, narratives, laws, poetry are presented to us against the background of world and Jewish history. It is in and through history that the God of Israel manifests Himself, which is why we are commanded to study it: “Remember the days of old, understand the years of many generations” (Deut. 32:7).

8 See Shubert Spero, Holocaust and Return to Zion: A Jewish Philosophy of History (New Jersey: Ktav Publishing, 2000).

In Chapter 16 we discuss the question as to whether a distinctive philosophy of history can be drawn from the Torah.

The aesthetic in its many forms—music, drama, visual arts, and plastic arts—plays an important and valued role in all of our lives. We particularly appreciate the ways in which it enhances many aspects of our religious experience: the singing and chanting during prayer, the music and dancing at religious celebrations, the literary qualities of Torah narration, the beauty of religious ritual objects. In this area as well, philosophy by its analytic approach may be able to provide a deeper understanding. Is beauty in the eyes of the beholder only? What does the Psalmist mean when he announces, “The voice of God is in beauty”? (Psalms 29:4). What is the significance of the fact that God has provided us with a universe which not only exhibits natural beauty but allows man to create beauty? These are some of the questions we deal with in Chapter 15.

Finally, the most basic subject of all: religious belief. Many of us, steeped in our traditions, take our religious beliefs for granted as they seem self-evident. But what should be our response when our child or perhaps an interested stranger asks us, “Why do you believe in God?” or “How do you know there is a God, and that He revealed this Torah to Moshe and the bnei yisrael?” We treat these questions in Chapter 17.

It is clear that all of these basic concepts are not subjects that are peculiar to Judaism or even to religion. Indeed, some of these terms (morality, self, aesthetics) as abstract concepts are not found in the Torah as such, although the subject matter they denote certainly is. Each of these concepts has been identified and given systematic thought since the days of Plato and Aristotle. Therefore, our approach has been to consider critically what philosophy in general has discovered regarding these subjects and only then to study the relevant material in Judaism. Our goal, however, in regard to all of these subjects has been to apply the analytic method of the philosophic approach in an attempt to formulate what might be called Judaism’s overall view of these basic concepts.

History Come to Life

Questions such as those pertaining to God or to the grounds for the distinction between the moral good and the moral evil can readily be seen to belong to the domain of theology. However, questions regarding the religious significance of the State of Israel strike people as being of a more political or religious or even halakhic nature. In reality, however, given that we are discussing this within the context of Judaism, the question is very much a matter of Jewish theology. In fact, it touches upon a central issue within the Jewish philosophy of history.’

It is generally agreed that the biblical God manifests Himself primarily in history, and that the divine plan for man plays itself out within that framework. Over the years, the view that grew into a consensus was that the main components of God’s plan were already in place by the time of the destruction of the Second Temple. All that remained was for the people of Israel to acknowledge their waywardness and return to God via Torah observance, and the final redemption would ultimately come. Therefore, the condition of exile and dispersion, thus understood, consigned Israel to a sort of limbo in which its full-time struggle was mainly to maintain its physical survival and Jewish identity. As a result, up to the beginning of the nineteenth century conventional wisdom held that nothing of positive significance was to be expected in history before the occurrence of radical and clearly recognizable events associated with the redemption with all of its restorative and utopian elements. This view remained dominant because nothing came up on the screen of history to challenge it. Beginning, however, with the so-called Emancipation- Enlightenment and more so after the radical changes in the condition of the people of Israel and the land of Israel that took place since then, thoughtful people have felt compelled to reexamine the sources of our philosophy of history, but this time in light of both Jewish and world history of the past two millennia. This has led us to a rather different understanding of the reason for Israel’s long exilic existence. It should not be seen simply as one long theologically static situation in which the people of Israel tread water, suffering patiently until such time as Divine Providence deems their shortcomings expiated so that they may return home. It was not a situation in which Israel’s fate and destiny depended solely on the application of the principle of reward and punishment. The people of Israel may have been driven from their land, and the Temple destroyed, in 70 CE because of their “sins,” but their sins alone did not determine the length of the exile. Its incredible length (1878, years as compared to 70 after the destruction of the First Temple) was primarily