(Photo: Unsplash/Thought Catalog)
Hebrew scholar Irene Lancaster and the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Rowan Williams, discuss fresh perspectives on the meaning of the Law in the Old Testament from Rabbi Nathan Cardozo – and the relevance it has for both Christians and Jews.
Lord Williams: I know we share a great admiration for Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo as one of the really creative Jewish minds of our time. When I did the Jonathan Sacks Memorial Lecture recently, he was one of the people I quoted – and I did so also (a bit more provocatively!) in a lecture at the Islamic University in Islamabad just before Easter.
I was very stirred by his book on ‘Jewish Law as Rebellion’ some years ago, where he lays out how the point of the commandments in the Law of Moses is to wake us up from seeing our ordinary daily relationship and tasks as just dull routine: as keepers of the Law, we can make something totally meaningful and creative out of the everyday.
And in his new book on Leviticus, ‘Cardozo on the Parashah: Essays on the weekly Torah portion. The Book of Leviticus’, he reminds us of the same point, that Torah should help us see that the ordinary isn’t the ‘normal’ – we can arrive at a deepened awareness of the invitation of God in every moment and encounter.
It’s the very opposite of what Christians sometimes associate with Judaism – a kind of mechanical conformity. It helps us see why Hebrew Scripture is so full of thanksgiving for Torah: law is grace, it’s a means of making sense of our human behaviour in the world. Which is why R Cardozo, like many other Jewish thinkers, believes that we Christians are too interested in theorizing about belief rather than living meaningfully.
Back to that in a moment, perhaps. But you have actually met him! And you very kindly volunteered to ask him a few questions on my behalf. Can you say a bit about your connection with him and about the recent conversation?
Irene: Yes, thanks to my son-in-law, Levi, we drove the short distance to Herzlia, just north of Tel Aviv. There, we were met in the foyer of Bet Juliana, a block of flats for Dutch mainly Holocaust survivors, opened in 1979 by Queen Juliana of the Netherlands.
Forty-two years earlier, Rabbi Nathan Cardozo – who from 1983 to 1984 taught me Jewish Thought at Orthodox theological seminary in Jerusalem, and now is very famous and highly revered – was in the foyer to meet us. And he hadn’t changed a bit.
Over coffee and cake in the very European dining room, an oasis of Dutch reticence and decorum, far removed from the chaotic hustle and bustle of Middle Eastern Israeli life, it was as if nearly half a century was just a day, and we were carrying on the conversation as usual.
I asked him about his lovely daughter, son-in-law and their five children, who, as Rabbi and Rebbetzin of Cheadle Shul in south Manchester, had invited me to be scholar in residence during Shavuot (Pentecost) 2018 – yes, the weekend of that royal wedding! There, I spoke about conversion to Judaism.
At the time, their twins had been around 17 and were now both in tanks in Gaza; very precarious indeed.
In fact, last October, during the holy day of Yom Kippur, Bet Juliana had been struck by rockets and the Holocaust survivor whose apartment was destroyed had only just left the room. A miracle indeed! Much of Rabbi Cardozo’s book on Leviticus was actually written in a bunker, as a result of Iranian-inspired rocket attacks specifically targeting Bet Juliana. Incidentally, I was in Israel for 12 days from May 8 this year: during that time we experienced four rocket attacks, to which we were alerted by sirens – two on Shabbat – and had to rush to the bunkers.
Once I’d settled down, I posed the four questions to Rabbi Cardozo that you had prepared – they are presented below with his answers:
1: What kind of solidarity can there, or should there, be between Jews and Christians today, practically, as well as theoretically?
‘Christians and Jews share a belief in G-d and the Bible. However, Christians talk about G-d, something which is absent from Jewish tradition. [In the Jewish tradition] G-d is beyond comprehension. We can speak to G-d, but we can’t speak about G-d. This is a major distinction between Judaism and Christianity. Christians make a more descriptive attempt to bring G-d inside the limitations of the human intellect. We Jews strongly oppose this approach. Christians stress belief, while we keep the mitzvot [commandments].’
2: How do you see the interplay between the unique election of Israel and the universal future of humanity?
‘On the basis of our shared belief in G-d, we can also share an emphasis on ethical behaviour, based for non-Jewish people on the seven Noahide Laws. In principle, the Jewish mission is to be a ‘light unto the nations’ [Isaiah 42:6]. This does not mean telling non-Jewish people how to behave, but rather that we Jews should set an example in our own lives. Jews need spiritual power in order to encourage ethical monotheism. The Catholic Church thought it had taken over this role 1,700 years ago, stating that the Jews were no longer ‘elected’. 1948 was a wake-up call to the Church. The reestablishment of the State of Israel, of a Jewish State, after 2,000 years, meant that we Jews meant business and were here to stay.’
3: Does the term ‘Abrahamic religion’ have any substance?
‘Yes, it has substance if by this term we understand ‘ethical monotheism’.
4: Is there such an entity as a ‘Judaeo-Christian culture’? Does this notion have any solidity, or is it just a confused and sentimental ideal?
‘There is a certain similarity between Judaism and Christianity, but this similarity is too small to justify such phraseology. The concept ‘Judaeo’ originates with the Romans, whose goal was to downplay the essence of Israel, which is what we truly are.’
Lord Williams: I’m always struck by this theme that you find in so many Jewish writers, that Christians ‘believe in belief’ rather than behaviour. It’s there in the book by Michael Wyschogrod that you and I have been reading in our Anglican-Jewish Dialogue Group.
I can see why that’s the impression given sometimes, because a lot of our Chrisitan history has been a story of bitter disputes about ‘correct’ ideas. But I don’t know that I’ve ever met a Christian who ‘believes in belief’ in quite the sense that seems to be suggested. We all succumb to stereotypes, and I wonder whether this isn’t as much a stereotype as the Christian idea that Jews are just ‘legalists’.
Two thoughts on this. One is that when I read Jewish thinkers, including R. Cardozo, I do have a sense that they are actually thinking about the nature and character of God in some way, even if not in the same manner as Christians. They draw some conclusions from Torah about who the God is who calls them, and what can and can’t be said about his ‘nature.’
And the second is that what Christians say about the nature of God is always – in the great traditions of the early Church and the early Middle Ages – bound up with what kind of life Christians are meant to live. ‘If you love me, keep my commandments,’ says Jesus. And he also says to the disciple Philip, when Philip asks to ‘see’ God the Father, ‘If you have seen me, you have seen the Father’ – i.e. ‘seeing’ God is seeing the pattern of life that Jesus lives in the human world and following that, not having a vision of some heavenly object.
One of the most influential of all Christian books, Augustine’s Confessions, is entirely written in the form of a prayer to God, and it repeatedly comes back to the idea that God can’t be known as an object by the human mind, but only as we get to know ourselves as people created and addressed by God. So is the difference so absolute?
Irene: Yes, you do have a point. I think Judaism is about how to live life as a ‘light unto the nations’. This entails correct behaviour, without succumbing to behavioristic, mechanical, reactive, or legalistic approaches.
And, in fact, we do in addition enquire into the nature of belief. The terms ‘emunah’ (faith) – from which, incidentally, we get the expression ‘Amen’ – and ‘bitachon’ (trust) have been variously defined and disputed by Jewish sages throughout the millennia.
And you are also correct that patterns of life are encouraged by some Christian groups. However, if you want to convert to Judaism, for example, you can’t simply say ‘I believe’. You have to imbibe, through constant practice, deep, intense and alien patterns of behaviour, as well as mastering the prayer service, and generally live an observant Jewish life, following the mitzvot – all of which is far from easy.
In addition, the prospective convert is constantly reminded that she is joining a much-despised and persecuted religion, people, community and way of life. Joining for almonds and raisins, or chicken soup and kneidlach is not enough. The ‘yoke of Torah’ is not a figment of the imagination and can take its toll! But that’s our role in life.
Rowan: I think it’s important to recognize that the differences are real: we genuinely do believe different things about Jesus of Nazareth, and so about what can be said of God’s eternal life. Yet we as Christians really need to be aware all the time that nothing we try to say about God could make any sense unless we were talking about the God of Hebrew Scripture, the God of the Jewish people, the God of Jesus.
I suppose this is where the language about ‘Judaeo-Christian’ faith or culture comes in. I share R. Cardozo’s unease (yours too, I think) with this phrasing. It has a proper sense, I think, in telling us that Christianity is absolutely rooted in Judaism. But if it just means a fusion of vague values, and if it gives the impression that there is a thing called ‘Judaeo-Christianity’ that is a partnership of equals, it overlooks the deep and tragic rifts in our history and the record of violent Chrisitan denial of its Jewish roots.
‘Ethical monotheism’? Maybe. But it sounds a bit abstract to me. I’d rather focus on the basic idea that both Jews and Christians believe in a God who makes a covenant, who promises to be there everlastingly in relation to us, and that our own ethics and ideals have to reflect that conviction about divine faithfulness, promise-keeping. I suspect that this is a theme that Judaism and Christianity have in common that isn’t reflected in the same way in Islam, though that would take longer to explore properly.
But I think this means that Jews and Christians can come together in some measure around an ethics that underlines faithfulness – trustworthy behaviour to one another in marriage and family and society, securing the well-being of all so that no-one feels forgotten, being faithful to the needs of the rest of creation, not only human beings (I know R. Cardozo is, like you, very keen on this).
Irene: Yes, faithfulness towards fellow humans stems from that same term I mentioned before – ‘emunah’, faith. As G-d is faithful, so should we try to emulate Him in faithfulness. What is faithfulness? It entails loyalty, steadfastness and reliability. G-d is our rock, and we should try to emulate G-d’s rock-like nature. That is what community is all about.
Lord Williams: That seems to me absolutely fundamental for both communities.
But there’s one other thing in R. Cardozo’s book on Leviticus that struck me as quite challenging, and that’s where he says that some ultra-Orthodox Jews have adopted ‘Christian’ principles in speaking and behaving during the Covid pandemic as though it were mandatory to take unrealistic risks for the sake of continuing collective worship and study. Like Christians, says R. Cardozo, they think saving the soul is more important than saving the body!
I think this is very far from the whole truth about the Christian approach. The vast majority of Chrisitan communities did observe lockdown; and the vast majority of Christian moralists would say that we do indeed have a duty to preserve our own lives and not to endanger ourselves any more than others.
We do of course say that there are circumstances where witnessing to our integrity whatever the cost may override the duty of self-preservation: it’s a way of saying that the reality of God is so important that threats and danger never overwhelm both the duty and the joy of holding faithfully to God. And this itself is an idea that owes a huge amount to Jewish language – the stories of the Maccabean martyrs helped to shape the way early Christians talked about all this. But what do you think about R. Cardozo’s comments here?
Irene: I think the comparison of Haredim (ultra-Orthodox) with Christians in terms of carrying on with the obligations of everyday life as if there were no outside dangers, is interesting. There were certainly Christian groups, particularly in the US, who, during the Covid crisis, displayed huge contempt for medical expertise, and endangered the lives of others.
It is also interesting that through the centuries, Jewish sages have warned against sticking to plague-ridden areas, and have encouraged isolation where relevant. Many great rabbis were also doctors and paid great attention to physical, as well as mental, well-being.
In fact, the Haredi press devotes a great deal of attention to issues of health and diet, often more so than the more run-of-the-mill Jewish news outlets. This is because preservation of life is paramount and overrides all other injunctions, for them as for other Jews.
The compulsory closing of churches and synagogues during Covid was regarded by many as an infringement. However, others found new ways of collective worship and learning. We met out of doors, spaced out, or we learned online and by Zoom. This is how Rabbi Cardozo and I made contact again in 2020, after 37 years, through one of his Covid-period Zoom lectures to an American audience.
Lord Williams: I hope this exchange may introduce people to R. Cardozo’s work and prompt them to explore a bit for themselves. I can only say that I’ve found it really inspiring and helpful, even where I don’t fully agree. I can certainly say that it deeply enhances my understanding of the God of the Bible.
Irene: Yes, I agree that Rabbi Cardozo is very special, if not unique. It’s a great joy reading his books and weekly thoughts. However, not only did he introduce me to Jewish Thought over 40 years ago, but much more recently he introduced me to the genius of the Argentinian pianist, Marta Argerich. She is the greatest pianist I’ve ever heard, probably the greatest living pianist.
So even if we have not yet quite reached the point where Jews and Christians can be described as being on the same page when it comes to beliefs, practice and attitudes, nevertheless, at least we can agree that music is of divine origin and is capable of bringing us closer together. So thanks for your input into the ongoing conversation, Rowan.
Out of the ordinary: listening to a contemporary rabbi on the possibilities of Jewish-Christian conversation
