Not Yet in Print (responsa published by the Responsa Committee, but not yet in bound collections)

NYP no. 5756.3

CCAR RESPONSA

Names of Donors on Synagogue Windows

5756.3

She’elah
Our synagogue is over ninety years old. We are repairing some stained glass

windows which are desparately in need of major attention. Several of the

windows have dedications on them and related families are still in the

congregation. We will approach those families for help in repairing the

windows. However, several dozen windows in need of repair were donated by

members who today have no known relatives in the congregation. Would it be

appropriate for us to offer these windows for a new dedication by our current

congregants? (Rabbi Martin S. Weiner, San Francisco, California)

Teshuvah
Jewish tradition grants the community a broad power to alter the terms of a

gift, diverting the funds it has received to a purpose other than that

specified by the donor, provided that the new purpose is a “higher” one than

the old.[1] Thus, the community may sell a synagogue building in order to

purchase an ark, an ark in order to purchase covers for the Torah scroll, and

so forth; but it may not sell an object of “higher” sanctity in order to

purchase one of “lower” sanctity.[2] We are taught as well that if a Jew

donates a ritual object to the synagogue, that object may be sold and the

funds used for the sake of a commandment [d’var mitzvah]. This permit applies

even “if the name of the donor has not disappeared from the object,” that is,

even if the congregants associate that object with the donor.[3] This

position is ratified by the medieval halakhic authorities[4] and

codifiers.[5]

Bedek habayit — restoring the synagogue structure — certainly counts as a

d’var mitzvah. And the renovation of a synagogue building so that the

congregation may worship in a more beautiful and suitable structure must be

considered as the diversion of synagogue funds to a purpose of higher

sanctity. It would thus seem that the congregation may offer the windows in

question for dedication by current congregants.

On the other hand, not all authorities accept this conclusion. R. Moshe

Feinstein, in particular, forbids the replacement of donated synagogue

furnishings without the consent of the donors.[6] His argument is that such

gifts are usually made with the implicit understanding that the dedication is

to be permanent (le`olam) and that to replace their donations with those

given by others is a breach of promise. To this, we respond that, according

to halakhic principle, one who donates tzedakah does so `al da`at haminhag,

in accordance with that community’s customary practices.[7] It is clearly the

custom among our congregations, which rely upon voluntary contributions to

build or renovate synagogue buildings, to raise the needed funds by offering

donors the opportunity to dedicate parts of those structures. The original

donors, therefore, are aware of this custom. When they give ritualia or

dedicate parts of the synagogue building, they do so with the knowledge that

these may one day need to be replaced and that other donors may be given the

opportunity to contribute the replacements. Were this not the case, were our

synagogues forbidden to replace parts of their buildings without first

receiving consent from donors whose families no longer live in our

communities, it would be virtually impossible for communities to fund new

construction and renovation. Surely the original donors, when sharing the

gifts of their generosity with synagogues, do not thereby intend to prevent

the synagogue from building larger and more suitable structures for

themselves. Nor do the communities which accept these gifts intend thereby to

surrender their freedom to grow and expand. In other words, we hold that our

donors make their gifts according to an “implicit understanding” which

differs from the one that Feinstein suggests.

In addition, Feinstein’s reservation applies more properly to specific ritual

items than it does to stained glass windows and other similar parts of the

synagogue structure. As one nineteenth-century notes, one who donates part of

a synagogue building cannot be considered the “owner” of that which he

donates; he has turned his donation over to the community. Moreover, should

the original donor(s) object to the building’s renovation on the grounds that

the names will be effaced from the existing structure, “it is obvious that we

should not accede to their demand. For if the community wishes to make

something new for the glory and honor of the holy place, it should not be in

[the opponents’] power [to stop them] for the sake of [their own] honor. For

God forbid that we place the honor of God second to the honor of human

beings.”[8]

Under Jewish law, therefore, the congregation may indeed offer the new

windows for dedication to current congregants who are not descendants of the

original donors. In fact, it would be permissible to extend this offer to all

the windows, including those which were originally dedicated by families

whose relatives remain in the congregation. We agree, however, with your

intention to approach those relatives for help in replacing the windows

originally donated by their families. Although, as we have seen, the

community is entitled to divert donated funds and objects “for the sake of a

commandment” and “to a purpose of higher sanctity,” it is wise to use this

power with caution. For one thing, we might with justification be accused of

ingratitude were we cavalierly to efface the memory of the original donors.

Moreover, as rabbinic writers remind us, one of the reasons that individuals

are allowed to inscribe their names on objects they donate to the synagogue

is that, by “publicizing the deeds of the righteous” we encourage them as

well as others to make further contributions to the community.[9] If so, then

it is surely possible that if potential donors realize that the terms of

their gifts will one day be altered without the consent of their descendants,

they may be less likely to make those gifts in the first place. In other

words, to raise money by replacing the names of original donors may prove in

the long run to be counterproductive.

Conclusion. Your congregation is certainly entitled to offer the new st`ained

glass windows to current congregants for dedication. It is essential,

however, to indicate through plaques or in some other concrete fashion the

names of the donors of the original windows.[10] In this way, the

congregation would fulfill its moral debt of gratitude to those who supported

it in the past, its pragmatic responsibility to insure that potential donors

will want to give, and its religious duty to raise funds to provide a proper

structure for prayer, Torah study, and Jewish life.

NOTES

1. See our responsum 5753.18, “Memorial Plaques and the Kaddish List.”

2. M. Megilah 3:1. See also BT Megilah 26b-27a: a synagogue may be turned

into a house of study, but not vice versa, since the study of Torah is the

highest value.

3. BT Arakhin 6b. If the name of the donor has indeed been forgotten, the

proceeds of the sale may be used by the community for a discretionary

(non-mitzvah) purpose (d’var reshut).

4. R. Shelomo b. Adret, Resp. Rashba, I, no. 617, and III, no. 291; R. Asher

b. Yechiel, Resp. Harosh, 13:14.

5. Yad, Matanot Aniyim 8:6; SA YD 259:3.

6. Resp. Igerot Moshe, OH III, no. 26.

7. Resp. Rashba, 5:249; Isserles, YD 259:2.

8. Resp. R. Yekutiel Asher Zalman Zaumser (d. 1858), no. 97. The issue in

this teshuvah involved a new ark for the synagogue sanctuary. Had the

question concerned a “movable” ritual object, Zaumser writes, the

congregation would be forbidden to sell that object or rededicate it as long

as the original donor’s name was upon it, unless the sale was for a d’var

mitzvah.

9. Resp. Rashba, I, 581; Isserles, YD 249:13.

10. Feinstein, in fact, suggests an arrangement such as this when the

original donors do not wish to contribute to the purchase of a new ark for

the sanctuary.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.4

CCAR RESPONSA

Presenting a Check for Tzedakah at Shabbat Services

5756.4

Sh’elah

Our congregation plans a special Shabbat service to honor the work of a charitable agency. As we have raised funds for that cause, we wonder whether it would be permissible to give a check to a representative of that agency during the service. (Rabbi Lawrence Englander,Mississauga,Ontario)

T’shuvah

The observance of Shabbat is a complex and challenging issue for Reform Jews. On the one hand, we dispense in our practice with many of the traditional prohibitions associated with the day. Put differently, we tend to be more comfortable with zakhor, the various rituals which enable us to “remember” the Sabbath, than with shamor, the requirement that we refrain from a multitude of activities as the proper means to “observe” the Sabbath. On the other hand, it is inaccurate to say that we Reform Jews have no concept of Shabbat observance. The seventh day is for us, as it is for other Jews, shabbat kodesh, a sacred time, possessing a character which differentiates it from other days. An inescapable component of this sanctity is the recognition that certain activities ought not to be performed on Shabbat, for to indulge in them would violate the essence and spirit of the holy day as we perceive these to be. Our list of “forbidden activities” may differ from and be markedly smaller than that maintained by the traditional halakhah, but the spirit behind these prohibitions demonstrates that we regard the issue of Shabbat observance with the utmost seriousness.[1]

In the case before us, we are asked whether a congregational gift to tz’dakah is one of these “forbidden activities.” The she’elah demands that we balance a traditional observance, that which prohibits the making of gifts on Shabbat, against an action which reflects a community’s commitment to social justice, one of the highest values in Reform Jewish thought. Is the making of this donation compatible with our conception of Shabbat observance? The answer to this question requires that we consider the nature of the halakhic prohibition, the extent to which it continues to speak to us as Reform Jews, and the possibility that a gift to tz’dakah counts for us as an exception to the rules laid down by Jewish law and tradition.

1. Commercial Activity (Sale and Gift) on Shabbat. Although buying and selling (mekach umimkar) are not numbered among the thirty-nine categories of work (m’lakhah) prohibited on Shabbat,[2] commercial activity is nonetheless forbidden on that day.[3] The authorities differ over the textual basis of this rule. Some trace it to biblical verses, whether Isaiah 58:13 (“if you refrain from trampling the Sabbath, from pursuing your affairs on My holy day…if you honor it and go not your ways, nor look to your affairs…”),[4] Nehemiah 13:15-22[5] or Leviticus 23:24.[6] Others explain the prohibition as a rabbinic ordinance (sh’vut), a preventive measure aimed at reducing the temptation to write on the Sabbath.[7] In any event, the sources agree that business transactions are prohibited, not because they constitute “work” but because they violate the spirit of Shabbat. The making of a gift is also prohibited on Shabbat on the grounds that, since it involves a transfer of ownership, it is analogous to buying and selling.[8]

In declaring these acts forbidden, the halakhic sources teach us that the observance of Shabbat is much more than the mere abstinence from that which is formally defined as “work.” Shabbat, as idea and experience, demands that we separate ourselves from other inappropriate preoccupations as well. In the words of one commentator: “although the Torah prohibits the various kinds of work (m’lakhot) in all their details, a person might still toil all day long at those things which do not fall into that category. It is to forestall this possibility that the Torah says: `you shall rest.’“[9] The rabbis, that is to say, acting at the Torah’s behest, prohibit on Shabbat a number of activities which, though not m’lakhah, are deemed incompatible with the nature of the day. Commercial transactions clearly fall under this rubric. They may not transgress, in a formal sense, the prohibition against “work.” Yet they are prohibited because they comprise a realm of effort, of striving after gain, which is out of place on a day devoted to holiness, destructive of the goal of m’nuchah, of Shabbat rest and spiritual renewal.[10]

The prohibition against the giving of gifts is not absolute. One may make a gift on Shabbat or on a festival in an indirect manner, through a variety of legal devices which allow one to avoid transgressing the letter of the law. Thus, one may formally transfer the ownership of the item to the recipient prior to the onset of Shabbat, even though the recipient takes physical possession of it on Shabbat itself. Alternately, one may instruct the recipient not to intend to assume ownership of the gift until after Shabbat has ended.[11] Moreover, under certain circumstances it is entirely permissible to make a gift directly on Shabbat. These include gifts made “for the sake of Shabbat or the festival” or “for the sake of a mitzvah.”[12] An example of this is the act by which a person gives his lulav to another so that the other may fulfill the mitzvah of n’tilat lulav on the first day of Sukkot.[13] Similarly, since it is a mitzvah to rejoice with the bride and groom, we give them gifts on the Shabbat during their wedding week.[14] And no less an authority than R. Moshe Sofer permits a congregation to give a gift to a rabbi on Shabbat, “for this honors the Torah and glorifies the mitzvah.”[15] Yet the tradition does not extend this permissive line to gifts of money. While a community may discuss matters of tz’dakah and other public business and even decide upon tz’dakah appropriations on Shabbat,[16] it is nonetheless forbidden to make monetary donations, even to a worthy cause, on that day.[17]

2. Shabbat Observance and Reform Judaism. Does this prohibition apply to our case, in the context of a contemporary Reform congregation? A good argument can be made that it does not. It is well known, after all, that Reform Judaism does not strictly observe the traditional prohibitions connected with the Sabbath. While we accept the traditional conception of Shabbat as a day on which we “rest” and do no manner of “work,” we do not believe that the structure of m’lakhah and sh’vut framed by the ancient rabbis represents the final word on Jewish practice. We exercise the freedom to do continue their work for our own time, to “develop definitions of work and rest that resonate with the needs of contemporary Jews.”[18] We may set aside the traditional prohibitions when we find them irrelevant to our conception of Shabbat or when we believe that the sanctity of the day will be nurtured and encouraged thereby.

If so, why should a Reform Jew or congregation be prevented from making a charitable donation on Shabbat? We have already seen that the halakhic tradition permits gifts on Shabbat when these enhance the day’s holiness or when they enable us to perform a mitzvah. In the case before us, the gift is to be made to tz’dakah, surely one of the most exalted of the mitzvot. Tz’dakah, moreover, plays a vital and central role in the practice of Reform Judaism, which has distinguished itself by its dedication to the cause of social justice. A gift to tz’dakah in the context of a worship service would serve to strengthen in our congregants the sense of holiness and the commitment to Jewish life. Thus, while halakhah prohibits the transfer of money on Shabbat, this prohibition should perhaps be waived when the recipient of the money is a person or organization that will use it for the sake of tikkun olam.

Yet this argument fails to register the other side of our attitude toward religious observance. Though we are free to depart from traditional practices, we are not free to ignore them altogether. The tradition serves us as an indispensable starting point, the standard by which we measure our perception of “the needs of contemporary Jews” against the collective religious experience of the Jewish people throughout its history. It is our goal “to balance our creativity in practice with the desire to conserve and adapt what speaks to us from the past.”[19] This conception implies that we are not neutral and dispassionate in our attitude toward traditional standards of practice. Rather, we seek actively and affirmatively to “conserve” and to “adapt” those traditions whenever possible. In practical terms, traditional observances ought to enjoy a considerable presumptive weight in our thinking. As liberal Jews who seek affirm our connection to our people in all lands and all ages, we should maintain the traditional practice in the absence of a compelling reason to abandon or alter it.[20]

The Responsa Committee has long followed this approach with respect to questions on the observance of Shabbat. We have stressed time and again that Shabbat is a mitzvah in its own right, one which makes its own legitimate demands upon us, demands which often take precedence over other worthy causes.[21] We maintain the prohibition against performing weddings and funerals on the Sabbath, even though both of these ceremonies enjoy the status of mitzvah in the Jewish tradition.[22] We strongly discourage the scheduling of congregational meetings and synagogue fundraising projects on that day, even though it is a mitzvah to support the community.[23] In each of these cases, we have found that the traditional practice expresses a sense of the sanctity of Shabbat that maintains its attraction to Reform Jews. We have therefore favored that practice over an alternative, more “innovative” standard.

We have also urged that social action and tz’dakah projects involving traditionally-prohibited labor not be held on Shabbat. Tz’dakah is indeed a mitzvah, but then, so is the observance of Shabbat; and generally, “we do not perform a true mitzvah if it is done by transgressing another command.”[24] In light of our movement’s increasing efforts during recent decades to strengthen Shabbat observance among our people,[25] we must acknowledge that while a social action project may be scheduled on a weekday, “the seventh day is the Sabbath; it belongs to Adonai your God” (Ex. 20:10; Deut. 5:14). Shabbat is not simply a day on which we do good deeds. It is shabbat kodesh, a holy day, a refuge from many of the activities associated with the weekday world of building and planting, sowing and reaping, getting and spending. We do not trespass upon Shabbat, even for the sake of mitzvot, unless those mitzvot must be performed on that very day.

Conclusion. In the case before us, we would ask a simple question: must the donation be made to the charitable organization on Shabbat? Clearly, the answer is “no.” This is not an emergency situation; there is no consideration of pikuach nefesh (the saving of a life) that demands an immediate response. We see no reason why the gift cannot be made, and do just as much good, on Friday or Sunday. It is true that a gift to tz’dakah does not count as a “commercial activity” and is therefore less offensive to our religious sensibilities than an ordinary business transaction. Still, we doubt that any good purpose is served by abandoning the traditional prohibition against the transfer of money on the Sabbath. Indeed, the opposite is the case. By not making the gift at the service, by pointedly calling attention to the fact that we do not transfer money on this day, we remind our community that Shabbat is a holy day, a day set aside for the pursuit of its own very special purposes.

The congregation may by all means devote the theme of its Shabbat services to tz’dakah or to the work of the organization in question. And a representative of the congregation may certainly announce that a gift has been made (or will be made at the conclusion of the Sabbath) to the agency. In this way, the community can achieve its goal of instilling and reinforcing the value of tz’dakah in its members. And by not making the actual donation at the service, it can demonstrate its commitment to another, no less important value: that Shabbat, no less than tz’dakah, is a mitzvah in its own right.

 

 

NOTES

1. For an attempt to define a Reform Jewish approach to the prohibition against “work” on Shabbat see Gates of Shabbat: A Guide for Observing Shabbat, 49-59.

2. M. Shabbat 7:2.

3. SA OC 306:1ff.

4. B. Shabbat 113a-b; Tosafot, 113b, s.v. shelo; B. Beitzah 37a, and Rashi, s.v. mishum mekach umimkar; Arukh Hashulchan, OC 306, no. 17.

5. Rashi, B. Beitzah 27b, s.v. ein poskin damim.

6. Nachmanides to the verse.

7. Yad, Hil. Shabbat 23:12; Rashi, B. Beitzah 37a, s.v. mishum mekach umimkar, second explanation; Mishnah B’rurah 306, no. 32.

8. Yad, Hil. Mekhirah 30:7.

9. Magid Mishneh to Yad, Hil. Shabbat 21:1, Maimonides’ citation of Ex. 23:12–”six days shall you occupy yourself with all your affairs (kol ma`asekha), but on the seventh day you shall rest.”

10. See Nachmanides to Lev. 23:24, who derives this point from the word shabbaton.

11. In this fashion have some authorities permitted the giving of gifts to a boy on the day of his Bar Mitzvah celebration. See R. Yehudah Aszod (19th-cent. Hungary), Resp. Yehudah Ya`aleh, OC, no. 83, R. Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg (20th-cent. Germany and Switzerland), Resp. Seridei Esh, II, no. 26, and R. Yonah Metzger (20th-cent. Israel), Resp. Miyam Hahalakhah, II, no. 80.

12. l’tzorekh mitzvah; Beit Yosef, OC 527, in the name of the Mordekhai; Magen Avraham, OC 306, no. 15; Mishnah B’rurah 306, no. 33; Arukh Hashulchan, OC 306, no. 17.

13. See Lev. 23:40 (ulekachtem lakhem) and B. Sukkah 41b; SA OC 658:3-4: on the first day of Sukkot, one fulfills the mitzvah only with one’s own lulav, not a borrowed one.

14. Arukh Hashulchan, loc. cit.

15. Hagahot HaChatam Sofer (18th-19th cent. Hungary), SA OC 306, to Taz, no. 2.

16. Isaiah 58:13 (see at n. 4, above) is understood as prohibiting us from pursuing our own affairs on Shabbat; the pursuit of “Heaven’s business” (tz’dakah, the public welfare), by contrast, is permitted. B. Shabbat 150a; SA OC 306:6.

17. See SA OC 310 on the restrictions concerning contact with money on Shabbat.

18. Gates of Shabbat, 57. And see R. Israel Bettan’s responsum from 1952: “to hark back to the puritanic rigors of the Rabbinic Sabbath is to call into question the relevancy of religion to modern life” (ARR, no. 43).

19. Gates of Shabbat, loc. cit.

20. This affirmation is evident in numerous decisions rendered by this Committee in recent years. In this, we have followed the guidance of our teacher, Rabbi Walter Jacob: see his Questions and Reform Jewish Answers, nos. 4, 67, 95, 99, 100, and others.

21. See T’shuvot for the Nineties, “Delayed Berit Milah on Shabbat,” no. 5755.12, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/tfn-no-5755-12/ : “The fact that Shabbat `conflicts’ with another mitzvah or worthy cause does not mean that it is Shabbat which must give way. Indeed, the reverse is often the case.”

22. On the prohibition of weddings on Shabbat, see ARR, no. 136, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/arr-412-415/ : “we encourage our members to make Shabbat a `special’ day upon which we do not carry out duties and acts performed on other days. Countenancing marriages on Shabbat would detract from this objective and weaken our efforts.”

23. R. Solomon B. Freehof, Reform Responsa, no. 8, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/rr-51-55/; CARR, no. 177. See also R. Walter Jacob, Questions and Reform Jewish Answers, no. 60, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/narr-97-98/. who notes that the availability of Sunday as a non-work day in our culture virtually eliminates the need to discuss communal business on Shabbat.

24. T’shuvot for the Nineties, no. 5753.22, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/tfn-no-5753-22-169-170/; see also CARR, no. 176, http://www.ccarnet.org/responsa/carr-265-267/.

25. Testimony to this emphasis is found in many recent publications of the Central Conference of American Rabbis: Gates of Shabbat; Gates of the Seasons (1983), 15-33; and Shabbat Manual (1972).

 

NYP no. 5756.5

CCAR RESPONSA

Disinterment From A Jewish To A Nondenominational Cemetery

5756.5

She’elah

A man was recently buried in the synagogue cemetery. His son, a member of the congregation, now wishes to exhume his father’s body and to rebury it in a small, nondenominational cemetery that is closer to his home. The son is dissatisfied with the synagogue cemetery on grounds of distance (he claims it is too far from his home) and “aesthetics” (not explained). For these reasons, he says that it is “not meaningful” for him to have his father buried there. He believes that were the body to be buried in the smaller, non-denominational cemetery closer to his home, he could render more “honor” to his father. I have raised objections to the disinterment. The son, for his part, has mentioned the possibility of legal action to force the congregation to accede to his wishes. Should we continue to deny the disinterment of his father? (Rabbi Irwin Zeplowitz, Hamilton, Ontario)

Teshuvah

The Reform Movement has published two teshuvot that deal directly with this question.[1] In brief, Jewish tradition prohibits disinterment with a few important exceptions. It has always been permitted to disinter from a grave site in the diaspora in order to reinter in the Land of Israel. It has been permissible to disinter when the grave site is threatened by vandals or nature, and permission has been granted to disinter in order to rebury in a family plot.[2] The decision to disinter must be guided by three primary principles. There are prohibitions against actions that would bring scorn or shame upon the dead (bizayon hamet). We are commanded to protect the honor of the dead (kevod hamet). And we are commanded to find ways to insure the comfort of the mourner (nichum aveilim). As we will see, these principles sometimes come into conflict. For instance, obviously, one would be showing more honor for the dead (kevod hamet) if the deceased were buried in a dignified grave site as opposed to a disgraceful grave site. And yet, Rambam wrote that disinterment is prohibited even from a pitiful grave site to one of honor. His concern was that exposing the decomposing body is a greater shame than being buried in an “unaesthetic” plot. But then again, both Rambam and Karo maintained that disinterment is permitted in order to rebury a person’s remains in a family plot, even if the actual grave site in the family plot is noticeably poorer than the original site. In our case, the overlapping principles become even more entangled. If the son intends to create a “family plot” at another cemetery, his intention would seemingly trigger one of the exceptions to the prohibition against disinterment. Thus, the son’s attempt to “render more honor” (kevod hamet) for his father would seem to override the concern for disgracing the dead (bizayon hamet) by means of the disinterment. In addition, one might argue that the Jewish community should be responsive to the son’s request because the son is one of the primary mourners and it is a mitzvah to comfort him (nichum aveilim). But the Jewish community also has a responsibility to protect the honor of the dead. A sacred trust is made when a Jew arranges to be buried in a Jewish community’s cemetery. The Jew has a right to believe that the community will care for the grave site and preserve the Jewish sanctity and identity of the cemetery. Therefore, the community, by virtue of its position as guarantor of the sacred trust, has a right to object to any attempt to disinter when such an attempt is deemed to violate that trust or is contrary to Jewish tradition. From the communal point of view, disinterment from a Jewish for reburial in a nondenominational cemetery is objectionable. It goes without saying that it is preferable for a Jew to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. The first major action of a new Jewish community has usually been to secure a dignified and exclusive place for us to bury our dead. Historically, land has been purchased for a Jewish cemetery before a synagogue or school is built. There are, however, circumstances that may prevent Jews from being buried in a Jewish cemetery. For example, in times of war Jews have been buried, with the consent and approval of the Jewish community, in “general” cemeteries. Jews in small towns where purchasing a Jewish cemetery is not practical have had to turn to the “general” or nondenominational cemetery. Rabbi Walter Jacob wrote a teshuvah on this subject and concluded that burial in a “general cemetery” is permissible, but encouraged finding a way to designate, within that “general cemetery,” a section that clearly marked it as a Jewish burial ground.[3] But in our case, in which there is no circumstance of emergency and there is obviously no shortage of Jewish burial grounds, the rabbi has done well to voice his objection to disinterment. We agree: the son should not disturb the remains of his father to reinter those remains in a nondenominational cemetery. We recognize, of course, that the threat of legal action requires that the rabbi with prudence, discretion, and good judgment. At times, such judgment requires that the standards of Jewish practice be relaxed so as to preserve communal peace (mipney darkhey shalom; see M. Gitin 5:8-9). The rabbi’s primary duty, however, is to teach and expound those standards to the community. The rabbi has done this well thus far, and we are confident that he will continue to do so. NOTES 1. These teshuvot were written by Rabbi Walter Jacob and published by the C.C.A.R. in Contemporary American Reform Responsa, nos. 110 and 111. 2. Rambam (MT, Hilkhot Avel, 14.15) followed the Yerushalmi in permitting disinterment in order to rebury in an ancestral plot. Yosef Karo (Shulchan Arukh, Yoreh Deah, 363.1) combined the exception given by Rambam with two more from Ramban concerning reburial in HaAretz and reburial to avoid danger to the grave site. 3. Contemporary American Reform Responsa, #105.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.6

CCAR RESPONSA

A “Proper” Reform Mikveh

5756.6

She’elah

What bodies of water are permissible for Reform Judaism to use as a mikveh for conversion? I am not as concerned about acceptance by Orthodox authorities as I am of knowing that my practices are in keeping with tradition as we understand it today. (Rabbi Robert A. Seigel, Fresno, CA)

Teshuvah

This question reflects current reality in that a number of Reform rabbis in North America include mikveh, either as a requirement or as an option, in the conversion process. This is a marked change from the situation a century ago, when the Central Conference of American Rabbis formally resolved to permit the admission of converts “without any initiatory rite, ceremony, or observance whatever.”[1] Thus, North American Reform Judaism does not require ritual immersion, in a mikveh or in any suitable body of water, for conversion. Although the argumentation which accompanied that resolution has been examined critically by subsequent responsa,[2] the resolution itself remains the official policy of the Conference. Our task here is to consider the she’elah on two levels: first, what constitutes an acceptable mikveh; and second, although it is not required in Reform Judaism, are there valid reasons for which we should recommend to our colleagues the use of the mikveh for purposes of conversion? 1. What Is a Mikveh? This Committee has previously addressed this issue. In Contemporary American Reform Responsa, no. 45, R. Walter Jacob wrote, “It is clear from the outset that in many ways a swimming pool satisfies the provisions of a miqveh… Symbolic purification for gerut can be properly provided by a natural body of water, a miqveh, or a swimming pool.” Since that responsum did not explain precisely how a swimming pool meets the requirements of a mikveh, we shall proceed to a more detailed discussion of that question. The word mikveh is short for mikveh mayim, “a gathering of waters,” a natural or constructed pool or bath of water in which a person immerses (or immerses utensils) for the purpose of being rendered ritually clean after being ritually unclean. This is derived from Leviticus 11:36: “However, a spring or cistern in which water is collected shall be clean…”.[3] The mikveh is also used for converts. We do not know the origin of this practice. All we can say is that it has been done since the first century of the Common Era, if not before.[4] Some tana’im seem to have held that tevilah (immersion) was not an absolute requirement for conversion, that a male, at any rate, could be considered a valid proselyte by circumcision alone.[5] Nonetheless, it became standard practice.[6] The requirements for a proper mikveh are as follows:[7] a. Source. The water must be from a natural source–a spring, a river fed by a spring, rainwater, melted snow.[8] b. Entry of the Water into the Mikveh. The water must enter the mikveh through means not subject to ritual impurity (tum’ah). Furthermore, the water must flow there and not be “drawn” (she’uvin), i.e., conveyed by human agency. This applies, however, only to the first forty se’ah (approximately 191-200 gallons), the minimum amount of water needed for a proper immersion. Additional water may be drawn.[9] c. Ritual Purity of the Mikveh. A constructed mikveh must not be subject to ritual impurity. Therefore, it may not be portable or prefabricated; both of these would render it a vessel (keli) and subject to tum’ah. It must be permanently built into the ground (mechubar lekarka`).[10] d. Size. The dimensions of the mikveh must allow immersion all at once. The minimum size is 1 cubit by 1 cubit by 3 cubits, equal to 24″ by 24″ by 72″.[11] e. Stillness. In a body of natural water such as a river or lake the water is flowing (zochalin); however, in a mikveh constructed by human hands the water must be still (ke’ashburan).[12] Obviously these specifications require some ingenuity to allow the construction of mikva’ot in modern settings, particularly in highly urbanized areas. Typically, rainwater is collected on rooftops and stored in a storage chamber built into the ground (bor). At least forty se’ah of this water must be transferred to the mikveh itself in such a way that it does not become “drawn”. While pipes made of various materials suffice for this purpose, the minimum length for proper conveyance (hamshachah) is three handbreadths (about fifteen inches). Therefore, for the last fifteen inches the water courses through a concrete trough five inches wide, which according to all opinions does not contract ritual impurity.[13] The mikveh itself is a separate chamber, connected to the bor by an opening at least 1 1/2 inches wide (keshefuferet hanod). The forty se’ah flow into the mikveh and then additional water is pumped in from the regular water supply. This is called hashakah (“kissing”). Alternatively, water from the regular water supply can be pumped into the bor and then it can all overflow into the mikveh; this is called zeri`ah (“seeding”). Yet a third method combines these two, placing a third chamber directly below the bor, in permanent contact by means of a connecting hole, and filled with forty se’ah. The zeri`ah process is then followed with this water. 2. Is a swimming pool a proper mikveh? The most detailed discussion of this question is a responsum by Rabbi Benjamin Z. Kreitman which was unanimously adopted by the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards of the Rabbinical Assembly in 1968.[14] There is, in addition, a responsum authored in 1944 by Rabbi Yitzchak Halevy Herzog, Chief Rabbi of Eretz Yisrael.[15] From these rulings we may derive that a swimming pool meets the requirements of a proper mikveh (mikveh kasher). a. Source. The water which fills a swimming pool comes from a modern water-supply system; it collects in natural or man-made reservoirs filled by springs, rivers, and rainwater. b. Ritual Impurity of the Water. This water does not become impure despite being brought to the swimming pool in pipes. The pipes are not kelim (vessels) because they cannot fulfill their function before they are put in place (kev`ao ve’achar kakh chakeko).[16] Nor does the municipal filtering system or swimming pool filtering system defile the water. It, too, is not considered to have attained its function until after it is fixed in place; it is not a keli. Furthermore, since it is not designed to hold water but to pass water through, it is not a true vessel. Finally, water which remains below ground while being conveyed through pipes is not considered “drawn”, even though it is actually brought to the pool by machines (motors, taps, etc.) operated by human agency.[17] c. Ritual Impurity of the Mikveh. This depends in part on where the drain pipe is located. If it is in the center, then it is a keli; otherwise, it is not. Most swimming pools have the drain pipe in the side. And even if it is in the center, it comes under the category of kevi`ah vechakikah ba’im ke’echad, which is to say it does not fulfill its function as a keli until it is put in place in the earth. d. Size. Obviously, a swimming pool is many times the minimum size for a mikveh. e. Stillness. Several authorities have ruled that the constant motion of water back and forth between the pool and its filtering system does not render the water “flowing;” rather, the system is considered one large mikveh.[18] On the basis of these arguments, Kreitman concludes that when a regular mikveh is not available, a swimming pool may be used. He restricts this permit to a pool under Jewish auspices (e.g., one belonging to a Jewish community center or synagogue) and writes that at the time of use all its recreational objects should be removed, so as not to detract from the appropriate mood. We endorse this response with the following considerations. In the nearly three decades since Kreitman wrote his teshuvah, standards of living have risen and demographic patterns have changed. More and more private homes are likely to have swimming pools, and more and more Jews are likely to live in areas which lack a communal Jewish pool. Under these circumstances, when access to a public Jewish pool is nearly as difficult as access to a mikveh, a private pool owned by a Jew is acceptable for immersion, provided it meets the halakhic criteria as we have described them.[19] Indeed, a private pool may be preferable to a public facility, in that the privacy and intimacy necessary for ritual immersion may be more easily arranged. However, the vast majority of private pools are outdoors, unusable in wintertime. The nearest available facility may be an indoor pool located at a school, a private club, or even a church. A mikveh owned by a Gentile is considered kasher, provided that it contains at least 21 se’ah of “fresh” water.[20] Thus, a pool owned by Gentiles may be used, although for religious reasons a pool at a church is the least desirable choice. Under no circumstances, however, should we make use of a church pool used for baptisms. Given the pressures toward religious syncretism in our society, as well as the tendency among many people to look upon all religions as more or less the same and interchangeable, the use of a non-Jewish ritual pool would violate the traditional concerns of lifney `iver[21] and mar’it ayin.[22] 3. Reform Judaism and Mikveh. The foregoing assumes that we Reform Jews feel bound to remain within the halakhah when using a mikveh. More basically, it assumes that we wish to use mikveh for conversion, whether as a requirement or as an option. Are these assumptions correct? To deal with the second assumption first: we noted at the beginning of this responsum that the purpose of tevilah, ritual immersion, is to change a person or an object from a state of tum’ah, ritual impurity, to one of taharah, ritual purity. The entire system of tum’ah and taharah is bound up with the ancient Temple and the priestly cult, elements of Judaism which Reform has roundly rejected. By contrast, conversion is not one of the occasions for which the Torah mandates ritual immersion. Indeed, conversion as we understand it was not a feature of ancient Israelite religion at all but emerged in ancient Judaism sometime during the Second Temple period. At some point, ritual immersion became attached to the conversion procedure,[23] so that by the end of the tanaitic period tevilah is by all opinions necessary to effect the change of status from Gentile to Jew.[24] This in itself is an argument for the use of mikveh by Reform Jews: “(its) symbolism is meaningful to many modern converts as it helps them make the transition to Judaism.”[25] We might add another consideration, one which flows from our understanding of ourselves as a religious community. We do not maintain a neutral stance toward Jewish tradition; we rather seek to adopt and to adapt it when we can. We grant to tradition a distinct preference; it enjoys a considerable presumptive weight in our religious thinking. “As liberal Jews who seek to affirm our connection to our people in all lands and all ages, we should maintain the traditional practice in the absence of a compelling reason to abandon or alter it.”[26] Put simply, we do not see any such compelling reason to say “no” to the use of mikveh. It is not offensive, or demeaning, or unequal in application in any way that would render it unacceptable to our understanding of Judaism. Moreover, there are compelling reasons why American Reform Jews should adopt or retain the practice of mikveh for conversion. First and foremost, it preserves our continuity with the Jewish tradition and people. Second, it would allow us to express our solidarity with Progressive Jews in Israel and elsewhere who regularly employ mikveh. Third, the adoption of mikveh is an important statement of our dedication to kelal yisrael, the unity of the Jewish people. The point is not that, by requiring immersion of our converts, that we render our conversions acceptable in the eyes of Orthodox Jews. Nothing we do will accomplish that goal. But by using mikveh, a practice which in no way compromises our liberal principles, we take a step which will convince many Conservative rabbis to recognize our conversions as valid. To widen the circle in which our Jews-by-choice are accepted as Jews is a good thing; we should not miss the opportunity to do so. 4. A “Reform” Mikveh? Our sho’el asks: “what bodies of water are permissible for Reform Judaism to use as a mikveh? I am not as concerned about acceptance by Orthodox authorities as I am of knowing that my practices are in keeping with tradition as we understand it today.” The question suggests the possibility that a proper “Reform” mikveh might not have to meet the standards required by halakhah. Given that the idea of mikveh in the halakhah is tied so closely to the concept of ritual purity and impurity, notions which are foreign to us, it is certainly arguable that Reform Jews need not concern themselves with the legal details concerning the construction of the ritual pool. One might be tempted to say that immersion is merely a symbolic action and that any body of water is sufficient to accomplish that purpose. This, however, would be a mistake for two reasons. The first is the consideration of kelal yisrael. If we advocate the use of mikveh in the name of Jewish unity, it makes little sense and is needlessly divisive to immerse our converts in a mikveh that no other Jewish community would recognize as a mikveh. The second reason is based upon our attitude toward Jewish tradition as stated above: we do not make changes merely for the sake of making changes. The forms of Jewish ritual practice are often as significant to our religious experience as is the abstract “meaning” which those practices are said to convey. Yes, it is difficult and troublesome to arrange for a proper mikveh. For that matter, it is difficult and troublesome to arrange to have a proper Torah scroll. Yet we do not use a photocopied sefer torah in our worship services. This Committee has spoken out against the substitution of a “non-traditional” sukkah (a tent, a hut, etc.) for the “real thing.” Again, while there may be spiritual value in adopting a “creative” version of a traditional observance, we see no point in altering a practice out of recognition if the practice itself is not objectionable to us on valid Reform Jewish grounds.[27] Conclusions. 1. An in-ground swimming pool is a proper mikveh and may be used if no genuine mikveh or natural body of water is accessible. Bodies of water which do not meet the criteria for mikveh as outlined above should not be used. 2. There are compelling reasons for Reform converts to immerse in a mikveh as part of their entry into Judaism. For the Responsa Committee Joan S. Friedman Mark Washofsky, Chair David Lilienthal Bernard Mehlman W. Gunther Plaut Richard S. Rheins Jeffrey Salkin Daniel Schiff Faedra L. Weiss Moshe Zemer NOTES 1. CCAR Yearbook 3 (1893), 73-95; American Reform Responsa (ARR), no. 68, at 236-237. 2. See our teshuvah no. 5756.13 on circumcision, and R. Solomon B. Freehof, Reform Responsa for Our Time, no. 15. 3. And see Sifra ad loc. 4. CARR, no. 43. 5. BT Yevamot 46a-b; Gerim 1:6. Those tana’im who did not “require” immersion may have been speaking bedi`avad, after the fact: that is, while tevilah was, like milah, an integral part of the conversion ritual, some believed that a person took on the status of ger upon the performance of either rite, or of milah alone. 6. BT Yevamot 46b and Keritot 9a; Yad, Isurey Bi’ah 13:6; SA YD 268:4. 7. See CARR, no. 45, and R. Isaac Klein, A Guide to Jewish Religious Practice (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1979), 518-520. 8. Sifra to Lev. 11:36; M. Mikva’ot 7:1; BT Chulin 84a; Yad, Mikva’ot 3:1ff; SA YD 201:2, 3, 30. 9. Hil. HaRosh, Mikva’ot 5:12; Yad, Mikva’ot 5:5; SA YD 201:3, 34, 48; Resp. Chatam Sofer, YD, no. 199. 10. Yad, Mikva’ot 6:4; SA YD 201:6, 10. 11. SA YD 201:1, 3; R. Nissen Telushkin, Tohorat Hamayim (New York, 1950), 142. 12. Sifra to Lev. 11:36; Yad, Mikva’ot 9:13; SA YD 201:2. 13. Klein, 520-521; SA YD 201:45. 14. Proceedings of the Rabbinical Assembly, 1969, 219-222. 15. R. Yitzchak Halevy Herzog, Pesakim Ukhetavim 4:64. 16. SA YD 201:48: a metal pipe, when placed in the earth, does not render the water it transports unclean. 17. For this important distinction see R. Moshe Feinstein, Resp. Igerot Moshe, YD 1:120(5). 18. Kreitman, loc. cit.; Herzog, loc. cit.; R. Moshe Feinstein, Resp, Igerot Moshe, YD 1:110. Feinstein’s responsum refers explicitly to an outdoor swimming pool which by definition contains at least forty se’ah of rainwater. He does not consider water moving between filter and pool to be zochalin but advises that the filter be shut off when the pool is being used as a mikveh. R. Tzvi Pesach Frank, on the other hand, rejects the idea that the pool and its filtering system are one large mikveh, and he rules that a flow of water so small as to be undetectable nonetheless renders the mikveh unfit for purification. He disqualifies the swimming pool even when the filtering system is shut off (Resp. Har Tzvi, YD, no. 177). This decision is an example of precisely the sort of unnecessary stringency in the laws of mikva’ot against which both Kreitman and Jacob protest. 19. Most importantly, this disqualifies the above-ground pool, which is considered a keli. 20. R. Asher b. Yechiel, Resp. HaRosh 18:8; SA YD 201:4 and Isserles ad loc. The concern there is that if the Gentile rents the mikveh to Jews, he has an incentive to claim that the water is “fresh” even though it might be “drawn.” If we know that the majority of the forty se’ah are “fresh,” we can rule leniently in the case of doubt as to the rest. Obviously, this problem does not apply to a pool not operated for profit (Bi’ur HaGra, YD 201, no. 23). 21. “Do not put a stumbling-block before the blind” (Lev. 19:14), i.e., do not cause an unwitting person to go astray or to commit a transgression. See Sifra ad loc. and BT Avodah Zarah 6b. 22. A principle which forbids one to do certain things which, although permitted by halakhah, would cause the community to presume that one is a transgressor. See SA OC 243:1 and Mishnah Berurah, no. 3. 23. M. Pesachim 8:8 (and compare Tosefta Pesachim 7:14) would indicate that tevilah was a requirement for conversion at least by the early first century C.E. This immersion may have been intended either as a purification ritual (from the defilement which was said to attach to idolaters) or as a rite of initiation symbolizing one’s rebirth as a Jew. Both elements, quite possibly, were involved. See Lawrence Schiffman, Who Was a Jew? (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1985), 25-30, and Bernard Bamberger, Proselytism in the Talmudic Period (New York: Ktav, 1968), 44. See as well our discussion in Responsa Committee no. 5756.13. 24. BT Yevamot 46b and Keritot 9a. 25. CARR, no. 45. 26. See Responsa Committee, no. 5756.4. 27. Ibid.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.7

CCAR RESPONSA

Argument Over a Tombstone

5756.7

She’elah

A congregant has asked the rabbi to officiate at the dedication of his mother’s tombstone. The deceased woman was married at the time of her death to her second husband, but her son has chosen not to put the last name of the second husband on the stone. The deceased was married to this husband for fifteen years, used his last name, and never publicly expressed any unhappiness with the marriage. The son, however, claims that since his mother’s death, her husband has stolen money from their family. He says that if his mother could now see what this man has done she would not want his name on her grave marker. The husband, who denies the allegations, is quite upset that a stone that does not bear his last name has been placed at his wife’s grave. Should the rabbi officiate at the dedication? (Rabbi Debbie Stiel, Omaha, NE)

Teshuvah

We will address two distinct sides of this issue in our teshuvah. First, we will ask whether and to what extent the son’s action was a proper one. Second, in the event that Jewish tradition holds that the son has committed a wrong against his stepfather, should the rabbi officiate at the dedication of his mother’s stone? 1. The Name on the Tombstone. This question was addressed by our Committee in 1985.[1] We noted that Jewish tradition obliges the husband to provide for the burial of his wife,[2] and that providing her a suitable grave marker is part of this responsibility.[3] It is reasonable to infer from this that the husband is entitled to inscribe his name on his wife’s stone, although the traditional literature does not explicitly say so. The Committee concluded, however, that since it is our custom for an individual to be known by his or her English first- and surname, “if the woman who dies used the last name of her second husband during her lifetime, then that name should also be mentioned on the tombstone.” On the other hand, the son might also argue in favor of his decision on the basis of Jewish burial custom. It is a widespread minhag that, when a widow who remarried subsequently dies, she is buried next to the husband with whom she had children.[4] In most instances this is the first husband, and such is presumably the case here. Moreover, the tradition seems to place a special value upon a first marriage that is missing from subsequent unions. We read, for example, that “when a man’s first wife dies, it is as though the Temple was destroyed in his lifetime.”[5] And the Zohar declares that “a woman who marries two husbands in this world will return to her first husband in the world to come.”[6] If this is so, we might therefore argue that just as a woman is buried next to her first husband, so should the name on her tombstone register her first, rather than her second marriage. Jewish burial custom, however, is a rich and complex tapestry, woven of many different and often contradictory threads. Thus, we are taught that a husband or wife married for a second time does not practice mourning openly for a first spouse, in order to spare the current spouse shame and embarrassment.[7] From this, R. Moshe Sofer deduces that the second marriage annuls any remaining attachment to the first; put differently, one’s deceased spouse has ceased to be the spouse in any concrete sense of that term.[8] Some authorities understand this ruling to mean that a wife who was married twice should be buried next to her second husband.[9] Indeed, the fact that her husband is responsible for her funeral expenses is cited as the reason that the wife should be buried next to him and not next to her father.[10] This would lead us to conclude that, contrary to the prior argument, it is the second or current marriage that takes precedence. And if so, the name on the grave marker should reflect that second marriage. Which of these two conclusions is the better reading of the tradition’s demand upon us? We find the logic of the latter argument compelling in its simplicity: one’s current spouse is one’s spouse. The woman in our case had but one husband at the time of her death and carried his last name. It is inaccurate as well as improper for her son to inscribe her grave marker in such a way as to efface the fact of that marriage. The son claims that, if his mother could only know of her husband’s alleged larceny, she would surely not want his name to appear on her grave marker. This is a point of some significance. Most authorities hold that one’s burial place is ultimately determined according to one’s wishes. Even those who rule that a person ought to be buried next to the first spouse concede that if he or she expresses a desire to lie next to the second spouse we are obliged to honor that request.[11] In our case, the son contends that we surely know what his mother would have wished; thus, he believes he is justified in omitting her husband’s name from her tombstone. Again, though, his case is a weak one. It is a general rule in the halakhah that we do not act on a person’s unstated intentions.[12] We simply do not know what his mother “would have wanted”; we may suspect it, but we cannot know it. What we do know is that at the time of her death she was married to her husband and, as our sho’el indicates, never publicly expressed any unhappiness with the marriage. There is no reason for us to try to imagine how she would have felt were she to have known these alleged facts; the clear fact of her marriage should have guided the family in determining the inscription upon her stone.[13] 2. Should the Rabbi Officiate? We now turn to the second issue posed by this she’elah. While in principle (lechatkhilah) the son ought to have inscribed his mother’s married name on her tombstone, he did not do so; now, after the fact (bedi`avad), we want to know whether the rabbi should refuse to officiate at the ceremony to dedicate the stone. The presence of a rabbi is not, strictly speaking, an indispensable requirement for most life-cycle ceremonies.[14] Yet it has become the long-standing minhag (custom) for a rabbi to officiate at these events. Therefore, a rabbi’s refusal to officiate is perhaps the most powerful means at his or her disposal to express disapproval or to effect a change in behavior. Since this refusal is in some ways similar to the traditional kenas, a punishment imposed for improper actions,[15] we must ask whether, in this instance, the punishment fits the “crime.” There are some occasions when the refusal to officiate is quite proper. The CCAR and this Committee, for example, have urged Reform rabbis not to officiate at mixed marriages, on grounds of Jewish religious principle as well as of social policy.[16] Here, though, we do not think that a refusal to officiate is warranted. As we state above, the erection of a tombstone is an integral part of the mitzvah of burial. A rabbi’s refusal to officiate at a stone setting is therefore tantamount to a refusal to officiate at the funeral itself. As our responsa literature makies clear, there do exist valid religious reasons to justify a rabbi’s refusal to participate in a burial service.[17] Yet it would be unthinkable for the rabbi to refuse to participate because of discord among the relatives of the deceased. Such a refusal, however well-intentioned, would be an affront to kevod hamet, the dignity and respect we owe to the dead. The same is true in our case. It is the deceased herself, and not her squabbling mourners, who should occupy the center of our concern. None of this is to say that the rabbi has no constructive role to play in this situation. On the contrary: if the rabbi deems it appropriate, he or she might use the dedication ceremony as an occasion to speak of the value of shalom bayit, of family harmony, and to remind the mourners that their memories of the deceased ought to take precedence over their dislike of each other. This might be seen as a first step in a long process of counseling whose ultimate goal is to help the family members work through their hostility, to understand that precisely because of the deceased, who was mother and wife, they are and always will remain a family. And it is axiomatic that the rabbi cannot perform this role if he or she is viewed as having taken sides in the family quarrel. If the son’s allegations about his stepfather’s conduct are true, then restitution must surely be made; forgiveness cannot come in the absence of teshuvah. But if it is an essential element of the rabbi’s function “to bring near those who are far away”,[18] this can best be accomplished in the present case by officiating in the ceremony and remaining a trusted pastor to this family. Mark Washofsky, Chair Joan S. Friedman David Lilienthal Bernard Mehlman W. Gunther Plaut Richard S. Rheins Jeffrey Salkin Daniel Schiff Faedra L. Weiss Moshe Zemer NOTES 1. Contemporary American Reform Responsa, no. 116. 2. M. Ketubot 4:4; BT Ketubot 47b; Yad, Ishut 12:2; SA Even He`ezer 89:1. 3. R. Asher b. Yechiel, Resp. Harosh 13:19: the tombstone is among the normal funeral expenses (mi-tzorkhey kevurah); Tur and SA EHE 89:1. 4. R. Moshe Feinstein, Resp. Igerot Moshe, Yore De`ah 2:153; R. Yekutiel Greenwald, Kol Bo Al Aveilut, p. 188; R. Yechiel Tycozinski, Gesher Hachayim, ch. 27:7; R. Ze’ev Dov Selonim, Sha`arei Halakhah, 1977, no. 67. 5. BT Sanhedrin 22a, which continues: “a man finds contentment only with his first wife,” suggesting that her death is for him an especially devastating loss (Maharsha ad loc.). 6. Zohar to Gen. 1:16. A number of the authorities in note 4 point to this passage as evidence that a wife ought to be buried next to her first husband. 7. BT Mo`ed Katan 21b and Rashi, s.v. eino rashai; SA YD 385:2. 8. Resp. Chatam Sofer, YD, no. 355. 9. R. Chaim Chizkiah Medini, Sedei Chemed, aveilut, par. 170; R. Yitzchak Ya`akov Weiss, Resp. Minchat Yitzchak, 3:106. 10. SA YD 366:4, and Shakh ad loc., from Tractate Semachot, ch. 14. 11. That is, the rule that one should lie next to the first spouse obtains only when one’s wishes are not known; R. Eliezer Waldenberg, Resp. Tzitz Eliezer, 7:49, ch. 4, Igerot Moshe loc. cit., and Gesher Hachayim loc. cit. 12. BT Kiddushin 49b-50a and elsewhere: “unspoken intentions are not a basis for legal action” (devarim shebalev einam devarim). Thus, if one sells property on such-and-such a condition but does not explicitly state that condition, even though it seems plausible that he made the sale for that reason, the sale is valid even if the condition is not met; Yad, Mekhirah 11:9. 13. That the son and not the husband paid for the erection of the stone might be taken to indicate that the latter, who is responsible for his wife’s burial expenses, waived his “rights” with respect to the inscription. Yet this is not the case: the husband, we are told, is “quite upset” over the matter. However these particular arrangements were made, it seems that the husband expected the stone to bear his–and his wife’s–last name. This, as we have suggested, is an eminently reasonable expectation. 14. See Contemporary American Reform Responsa, no. 90. 15. Technically, rabbinic authorities who do not possess semikhah, the ancient and long-discontinued ordination practiced in the land of Israel, are not empowered to adjudicate issues of kenas. Yet Diaspora rabbinic courts may resort to other measures, such as the ban of excommunication, in place of the kenas as a means of pressuring wrongdoers into paying what they would have paid had the case been handled in Eretz Yisrael. BT Bava Kama 84b; Yad, Sanhedrin 5:8-9; SA CM 1:5 and Shakh, no. 14. 16. CCAR Yearbook 83(1973), 97; American Reform Responsa, nos. 146 and 149. 17. For example, we do not conduct a burial service for a “Messianic Jew” (CARR, no. 67). We will conduct a funeral for an apostate (that is, a Jew who has converted to another religion without contending that he or she remains a Jew), provided that the many of the customary “honors” of the mourning rites are not observed (CARR, no. 100). 18. See Genesis Rabah 39:11 on Gen. 12:2.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.9

CCAR RESPONSA

Pesach Kashrut and Reform Judaism

5756.9

Sheilah

What should be the standards of Pesach kashrut for Reform Jews? What foods should be prohibited? What is our position regarding rice and legumes (kitniyot)? How do we deal with the requirement of biur chameitz? Do we destroy our chameitz, sell it, or put it away? (Rabbi Lawrence Englander, Mississauga, Ontario)

T’shuvah

These questions are dealt with in brief in Gates of the Seasons, one of a series of volumes published in recent decades that testify to a renewed interest in ritual observance among Reform Jews in North America.1 For many years, questions of ritual observance were deemed to be matters of personal choice and did not rank high at all on the communal agenda of the Reform Movement. That situation, of course, has changed. Today, we acknowledge that an authentically Jewish way of life requires ritual as well as ethical expression. Reform Judaism perceives ritual practice as a mitzvah, a matter of central religious importance. Much pioneering work has been done, particularly in the published works mentioned above, in describing and setting forth the principles and details of Reform observance. The task of this t’shuvah on Pesach observance is therefore not so much to issue a ruling as it is to supply the background and discussion necessary for an understanding of the practice of Pesach kashrut in our movement.

  1. Chameitz, Rice and Legumes. “It is a mitzvah to abstain from eating leaven [chameitz] during the entire seven days of Pesach.”2 By chameitz, the tradition means those grains from which matzah may be baked: wheat, barley, oats, rye, and spelt.3 No other foodstuffs are regarded as chameitz. In this, the halachah rejects the opinion of R. Yochanan ben Nuri, who forbids the eating of rice and millet during Pesach because they “resemble chameitz.”4 Talmudic law, rather, forbids the use of rice and legumes (kitniyot) as flour for the baking of matzah and therefore permits us to eat them during the Festival.5

According to long-standing Ashkenazic custom, however, rice and legumes are forbidden for Passover consumption. This prohibition is first mentioned6 in the thirteenth century by two French authorities, R. Yitzchak of Corbeil7 and R. Manoach of Narbonne.8 R. Yitzchak writes that “our teachers observe the custom” of not eating rice and legumes during the Festival, though he adds that this custom is not universally accepted and that “great sages” disregard it. Among these was his own teacher and father-in-law, the great tosafist R. Yechiel of Paris, who argued that since the Talmud ruled that these foodstuffs are not chameitz, there is no reason to prohibit them today. R. Yitzchak, reluctant “to permit something that for so long has been widely regarded as forbidden,” feels the need to justify the custom. He does so not on the grounds that rice and legumes are chameitz (“since not even a beginning Talmud student would make that mistake”), but because these foodstuffs resemble chameitz in that they are cooked in the same fashion. Since this resemblance can lead to confusion—people might mistake a chameitz mixture for one of rice or legumes—the rabbis issued a decree forbidding the latter.9 R. Manoach, for his part, suggests that the prohibition originates in a widespread—but mistaken—belief that rice and legumes are forms of chameitz. Unlike R. Yitzchak, however, R. Manoach does not attempt to defend this “errant” custom, and he suggests a Talmudic basis for dismantling the prohibition altogether.

These sources tell us a great deal about both the history and the halachic status of the custom to abstain from rice and legumes during Pesach. We learn that while the prohibition was well-known in France by the thirteenth century,10 some leading rabbis of those communities rejected it on clear halachic grounds. We know that the custom did not spread beyond Ashkenazic Jewry; rabbis in Spain and elsewhere did not hesitate to express their astonishment against it.11 And although the prohibition did gain wide acceptance among the Ashkenazim,12 some leading Ashkenazic authorities, including R. Ya`akov Emden, were still criticizing it as late as the eighteenth century.13

The early Reformers in Europe, convinced that this observance was both unnecessary and burdensome, abolished it altogether.14 The Orthodox opponents of the new movement responded to this decision in much the same way as they responded to virtually all the innovations that the Reformers introduced into Jewish religious life, namely by insisting upon the sanctity of the entire received tradition. They defended the prohibition of rice and legumes despite its halachic weakness and despite all the criticisms that had been leveled against it over the centuries. Few of them, to be sure, attempted to justify the minhag (custom) on the grounds of its original purpose.15 They argued, rather, that the very existence of the minhag is proof that it must be retained. They noted, for example, that a Rabbinic decree that prohibits something in order to establish a “fence around the Torah,” has the full force of law; we are not permitted to rescind it.16 Some claimed that once a minhag is widely accepted by a community, it acquires the status of a vow, which is valid under the law of the Torah.17 While this prohibition, as a minhag, does not enjoy the same status as that of chameitz,18 under normal circumstances Orthodox rabbis continue to insist upon its observance.

Reform practice, following the standard of the Talmud, permits the eating of rice and legumes during Pesach. We do not take this stand because we disparage custom and tradition. On the contrary: our “rediscovery” of the centrality of ritual observance to Jewish life, described at the outset of this t’shuvah, demonstrates that we take the claims of tradition with the utmost seriousness. This Committee, in particular, in its approach to the answering of the sh’eilot submitted to it, has tended to uphold the standards of traditional practice except in those cases where good and sufficient cause exists to depart from them. And our movement has recognized for nearly two centuries that the prohibition of rice and legumes is just such a case. Yet as we have seen, this observance, which presents a significant burden upon Jews during Pesach, has no halachic justification: the Talmud clearly rejects the suggestion that rice and legumes are chameitz. And the likelihood that our people will confuse legume dishes with chameitz dishes is too remote to be taken into serious consideration.

We do not accept the Orthodox argument that a customary observance, once widely adopted, can never be annulled. This notion is questionable, in general, as a matter of halachah,19 especially when the observance is based upon a mistaken interpretation of the law.20 In our specific case, moreover, there is absolutely no evidence that this customary prohibition was ever ratified by rabbinic decree or accepted as binding in the form of a vow. Had a decree or a vow existed, after all, those authorities who criticized the practice down to the eighteenth century would never have spoken so bluntly against it. We think, rather, that some rabbis resort to these arguments in order to support practices and customs whose original purpose—if there ever was a legitimate original purpose—no longer holds. When a religious practice has outlived its purpose, when its retention is perceived by the community as unnecessary and burdensome, Reform Judaism affirms the right of the observant community to alter or annul that practice in favor of a new standard that better expresses our understanding of Torah and tradition and the religious sensibilities of our age.

Our position does not, of course, prevent Reform Jews from adopting the traditional prohibition as a matter of choice. On the contrary: Gates of the Seasons notes that “Ashkenazi custom” adds rice and legumes to the list of prohibited foods on Pesach, implying that observance of this custom is a valid option for Reform Jews.21 The mere fact that a traditional practice is not “obligatory” does not imply that we should not follow it or that we should discontinue it. Jewish religious practice draws its strength from many sources. Chief among these, to be sure, is the “logic of the law,” the nature of our observances as these are defined in the classic sacred texts. Also important, and in many ways no less important than the texts, however, is the “living law” as it has developed in the life of the religious community. Minhag is the concrete expression of the religious consciousness of the people, their way of expanding upon and adding texture to the more abstract principles derived from the texts. For many people who take religious living with all seriousness, the abstention from rice and legumes is an integral feature of Pesach observance precisely because this is the way the holiday has been observed for many centuries within their religious community. We do not urge them to abandon that practice; indeed, a number of members of this Committee observe it as well. We say rather that, as a matter of Reform communal practice, our “standards of Pesach kashrut” allow the observant Reform Jew to eat rice and legumes during the Festival.

  1. The Removal of Chametz. “It is a mitzvah to remove leaven from one’s home prior to the beginning of Pesach.”22 This mitzvah is based on the biblical injunction in Exodus 12:15: “on the very first day23 you shall remove [tashbitu] leaven from your house. The precise manner of this removal is the subject of a controversy that stretches back to Talmudic times. Some early Rabbinic authorities interpret the word tashbitu as “nullification,” an act by which the householder mentally renounces all ownership of the chameitz.24 The Talmud, too, declares that “according to Torah law, a simple act of nullification suffices” to remove chameitz.25 According to this view, the practices of b’dikat chameitz, the search for leaven conducted on the night before the seder, and biur chameitz, the burning or other physical destruction of the leaven the next morning, are requirements of Rabbinic law,26 instituted perhaps in order to prevent against the possibility that one might accidentally eat some of the chameitz stored in one’s home during the holiday.27 Other commentators disagree. In their opinion, the Torah requires biur, the physical removal of chameitz, as well as its nullification. Indeed, they hold, the requirement of tashbitu is fulfilled primarily through biur. If, as the Talmud says, “nullification suffices,” this may refer to chameitz in one’s possession that one does not know about and therefore cannot burn or scatter.28 A third interpretation is that the Torah itself permits the “removal” of chameitz in either manner, through nullification or through physical destruction; the Rabbis, however, instituted the requirement that both procedures be performed.29

The traditional practice observes both biur and bitul (nullification). The “search” for chameitz takes place on the night before the seder (or two nights before, on 13 Nisan, when Pesach begins on Sunday and when it is forbidden to burn the chameitz on Shabbat). Following both the search and the destruction of the chameitz, one recites the formula of bitul, found in traditional Haggadot, which declares that “all chameitz in my possession . . . shall be as though it does not exist and as the dust of the earth.”30 Thus, even if chameitz inadvertently remains in one’s possession, the process of renunciation succeeds in “removing” it in accordance with the Torah’s requirement.

To destroy one’s chameitz becomes impractical and burdensome if one owns a large amount of leaven. The custom therefore arose for a Jew to sell his chameitz to a gentile before Pesach and to buy it back from him at the holiday’s conclusion. The roots of this practice extend back to tannaitic times. We learn in the Tosefta that “when a Jew and a Gentile are travelling on board ship, and the Jew has chametz in his possession, he may sell it to the Gentile and buy it back after Pesach, provided that the sale is a full and unencumbered transfer (matanah gemurah).”31 The development of this law, which apparently deals with a special case, into a regular and normal transaction is a long story that cannot be recounted here. We can simply point to the Shulchan Aruch and its commentaries, which accept as a matter of course that a Jew may sell chameitz to a gentile “even though the Jew knows the gentile and knows that the latter will guard the chameitz and return it to him after Pesach.”32 This custom is now universally practiced in traditional communities. In its most common form, all the Jews in a particular locale or congregation consign their chameitz to the rabbi or other notable, who then sells it all to a single gentile.33

This device of m’chirat (sale of) chameitz is effective because it is “full and unencumbered.” Although the leaven remains physically within the Jew’s property, its ownership is legally transferred to the gentile buyer in a transaction that meets all the formal halachic requirements of an act of sale. As such, it allows the householder to fulfill the mitzvah of the “removal” of chameitz, not necessarily under the terms of Exodus 12:15, which as we have seen may demand the physical removal of leaven, but under Exodus 13:7, which is understood to permit one to “see” chameitz that belongs to a non-Jew even though it remains within one’s property.34 Therefore, traditionally observant Jews hold that this form of sale is a perfectly valid means of discharging the Toraitic obligation to remove chameitz.

Reform Jews, of course, might well object to the fictitious aspect of this device. The sale may be fully “legal,” but it is not serious: neither the Jew nor the gentile intend that the chameitz be transferred to the latter’s permanent ownership. We might also ask whether the “sale” of chameitz is a better and more serious means of fulfilling the mitzvah than the process of bitul, nullification, described above. As is the case with sale, chameitz that is “nullified” remains within one’s physical—though not one’s legal—possession. Many authorities hold that the renunciation of chameitz fully meets the requirements of Exodus 12:15 and/or 13:7.35 The traditional halachah, it is true, does draw a distinction: while a Jew may make full use of chameitz “bought back” from a gentile after Pesach, leaven that is “renounced” is forbidden for use.36 The logic of this distinction, however, escapes us. The objection to bitul, say the authorities,37 is that one might declare falsely that “I annulled my chameitz before Pesach” when in fact one did not do so; therefore, although renouncing chameitz fulfills the Toraitic requirement, the Rabbis impose this penalty to forestall the possibility that one might evade the law. Yet what is bitul but a formal legal act that effects the legal—but not the physical—removal of chameitz from our possession? Is the “sale” of chameitz any different in its purpose and substance? It may be true that some Jews do not seriously intend to “renounce” their chameitz; it is certainly true, however, that none of them seriously intend to “sell” it.

We might also object to the sale of chameitz on the grounds that it requires the participation of a non-Jew in order that we can fulfill our own religious requirements. While Jews have for centuries relied upon gentiles to serve in such a capacity (the institution of the “Shabbos goy” comes readily to mind), the practice is inelegant at best and demeaning at worst. We prefer to fulfill our mitzvot on our own, especially in this case, when most authorities agree that the method of bitul allows us to meet the Torah’s demand that we remove our chameitz without incurring severe financial loss.

Therefore, “Reform Jews rarely resort” to the sale of chameitz; rather, they “make leaven inaccessible in their homes.”38 This is our way of renouncing our possession of chameitz, and we believe that we can do so with full seriousness and sincerity. While Reform Jews may wish to sell their chameitz, perhaps, again, out of solidarity with traditional Jewish practice, the standards of Reform Jewish observance do not require that they do so.

 

NOTES
  1. Peter S. Knobel, ed., Gates of the Seasons (New York: CCAR Press, 1983). The other volumes, all published by the CCAR Press, are W. Gunther Plaut, A Shabbat Manual (1972), Simeon J. Maslin, ed., Gates of Mitzvah (1979), and Mark Dov Shapiro, Gates of Shabbat (1991).
  2. Gates of the Seasons, 68. According to tradition, the prohibition against eating chameitz begins at midday on 14 Nisan (BT P’sachim 28b, from a midrash on Deut. 16:3). The Rabbis extended the starting point of this prohibition to an earlier hour as a “fence around the law” (cf. M. Avot 1:1; Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 1:8–9).
  3. BT P’sachim 35a, again based upon Deut. 16:3, which mentions both the words chameitz and matzot. By the midrashic principle of hekeish (comparison), the Rabbis deduce that only those grains that are chameitz—that undergo fermentation (chimutz)—may be used for matzvah.
  4. See, however, David Halivni, Mekorot Umesorot, Pesachim (Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1982), 371–72, who argues that in the original version of his statement (see Tosefta Challah 1:1 and JT P’sachim 2:4, 29b) R. Yochanan b. Nuri refers in this context not to rice and millet but to karmit, another type of grain altogether. If so, then one could argue that no known Talmudic sage ever ruled that rice and kitniyot are leaven.
  5. BT P’sachim 35a; Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 5:1; SA, OC 453:1.
  6. By the time of its “first mention,” the custom is spoken of as a long-standing practice. On its (possible) historical origin, see Yisrael Ta-Shema, Minhag Ashkenaz Hakadmon (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1995), pp. 271–82.
  7. Sefer Mitzvot Katan, chap. 222. See also Sefer HaMordechai, P’sachim, chap. 588, which cites the same ruling in the name of R. Yitzchak of Corbeil.
  8. In his commentary to Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 5:1.
  9. The Tur, OC 453, offers a different explanation for the custom: the possibility that kernels of chameitz grain are often found mixed in sacks of kitniyot.
  10. Just how long it was known there, however, is unclear. For example, the twelfth-century Sefer HaPardes (ed. Ehrenreich, 46–47), emanating from the “school of Rashi,” permits rice and legumes and mentions no custom which prohibits them.
  11. See R. Yosef Karo, Beit Yosef, OC 453: “Nobody pays attention to this matter except for the Ashkenazim”; his Shulchan Aruch (OC 453:1), an authoritative guide to Sephardic practice, permits the consumption of rice and legumes. The Tur (who, though writing in Spain, was of Ashkenazic descent) dismissed the prohibition as a superfluous stringency (chumra yeteirah) that is not widely observed (v’lo nahagu kein; OC 453). R. Yerucham b. Meshulam (fourteenth-century Provence and Spain) declared it a “senseless custom” (minhag sh’tut; Toldot Adam V’Chava, netiv 4, part 3).
  12. Isserles, OC 453:1.
  13. Mor Uk’tziah, 453. Emden speaks of his own efforts and those of his father, R. Zvi Ashkenazi (the “Chacham Zvi”), to “annul” the “erroneous custom” (minhag ta-ut).
  14. The decision was issued on January 18, 1810, by the Royal Westphalian Jewish Consistory under the signature of its president, Israel Jacobson. The Consistory noted that the prohibition created a hardship for Jewish soldiers stationed in far-flung wartime outposts who could not obtain sufficient quantities of matzah for the holiday. (A similar hardship argument was raised by Emden, Mor Uk’tziah, 453.) See B. H. Auerbach, Geschichte der Israelitischen Gemeinde Halberstadt (Halberstadt, 1866), 215–16.
  15. An exception is Aruch Hashulchan, OC 453:5. Even he, though, puts most of his emphasis upon the very existence of the minhag as an a priori standard of Jewish observance: “Those who are lenient in this regard testify thereby that they lack the fear of heaven and the fear of sin” (453:4).
  16. See Shaarei T’shuvah and Biur HaGra to OC 453:1. This subject has a long halachic history, starting with the interpretation of Deut. 17:11. See M. Eduyot 1:5; BT Beitzah 5a–b; Yad, Mamrim 2:2 and the commentaries thereto. One of the first authorities to apply this principle to the prohibition against rice and kitniyot is R. Yaakov Molin (fifteenth-century Germany), Sefer Maharil, Hil. Maachalot Asurot BaPesach, no. 16.
  17. The most notable is the great opponent of Reform, R. Moshe Sofer; see Resp. Chatam Sofer, YD 107, and especially OC 122, where he applies this theory to the present issue.
  18. For example, the Rabbis allow the consumption of rice and legumes during years of drought when its observance would bring great hardship upon the people. See Chayei Adam 127:1; Mishnah B’rurah 453:6, and Shaar Hattziyun ad loc.
  19. Though we cannot undertake an extensive analysis of the subject here, we would point to citations in halachic literature that suggest that once the reason for a Rabbinic decree has disappeared, the decree itself may be annulled. See Tosafot, Beitzah 6a, s.v. ha-idena, and Rabad, hasagah to Yad, Mamrim 2:2. For a more extensive analysis, see Reform Responsa for the Twenty-first Century, no. 5759.7, section 2 (vol. 1, pp. 53-56).
  20. When a matter that is permitted is mistakenly regarded as forbidden, the Sages are empowered to rule it permissible (i.e., no vow exists that would reinforce the prohibition on its own). See BT Chulin 6b; JT Taanit 1:6, 59c; Tosafot, P’sachim 51a, s.v. ‘i atta rasha’i; SA, YD 214:1.
  21. Gates of the Seasons, 67 (B-2).
  22. Gates of the Seasons, 67.
  23. In BT P’sachim 5a, the Rabbis argue by various means that “the very first day” must refer to 14 Nisan, the day before Pesach, and not to 15 Nisan, the first day of the Festival itself. See Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 2:1.
  24. Thus Onkelos, in his Targum to Exod. 12:15, renders tashbitu as t’vatlun, “you shall nullify.”
  25. BT P’sachim 4b. Rashi, s.v. bevitul be`alma, explains this rule on the grounds that the Torah does not say tevaaru, “burn the chameitz” but rather “remove” (tashbitu) it, which may be done by “removing” it from our consciousness. Tosafot, P’sachim 4b, s.v. m’d’oraita, disagrees, on the basis of Talmudic evidence that tashbitu is understood as physical destruction. Nonetheless, “nullification” is sufficient under the terms of Exod. 13:7: you may not “see” your own chameitz, but you are permitted to see chameitz that belongs to others and that is ownerless (BT P’sachim 5b).
  26. Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 2:2–3, in the printed texts and in the manuscripts (see R. David Kafich’s edition of the Mishneh Torah [Jerusalem, 1986], ad loc.); Tur, OC 331.
  27. Tosafot, P’sachim 2a, s.v. or. Others explain the requirement of biur as a precaution against the possibility that one’s renunciation of chameitz is not entirely done with full sincerity, in the absence of which the chameitz is not annulled and one would retain ownership of it during Pesach (R. Nissim Gerondi to Alfasi, P’sachim fol. 1a).
  28. Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 2:2, according to the reading preserved in Kesef Mishneh ad loc.; R. Menachem HaMeiri to M. P’sachim 1:1.
  29. Chidushei HaRamban, P’sachim 2a (although he asserts that biur is the preferable method); Chidushei HaRitva, P’sachim 2a; R. Nissim Gerondi to Alfasi, P’sachim fol. 1a.
  30. BT P’sachim 6b: one who searches out the chameitz must still nullify it afterwards; Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 3:7.
  31. Tosefta P’sachim 2:6 (p. 146, Lieberman ed.). See also M. P’sachim 2:1.
  32. SA, OC 448:3; see especially the Shaarei T’shuvah, whose long note indicates the extensive discussion this subject receives in the responsa literature.
  33. The first authority to institute this practice, apparently, was R. Shneur Zalman of Liady, in his Shulchan Aruch, Hil. M’chirat Chameitz. See also Aruch Hashulchan, OC 448: 27. The “consignment” is effected by means of a sh’tar harshaah, a document that appoints a second party as one’s agent in the selling of one’s chameitz.
  34. BT P’sachim 5b; Yad, Chameitz Umatzah 4:1ff.
  35. See above at notes 24 and 25.
  36. SA, OC 448:3, 448:5.
  37. Magen Avraham 8; Mishnah B’rurah 25.
  38. Gates of the Seasons, 128 n. 144.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.10

CCAR RESPONSA

Long-Term Non-Marital Relationships

5756.10

She’elah

A thirty-nine-year-old single woman and a forty-seven-year-old single man have been in a close relationship, sexual and otherwise, for several years. Because of outside circumstances, the chances of their marrying are slim. Should this relationship be discouraged? In general, should long-term relationships between mature adults be discouraged?

Teshuvah

I. Non-Marital Sexual Relations in the Jewish Tradition.

Rabbinic Judaism has consistently opposed non-marital sexual relationships, no matter what type of affinity existed between the man and the woman. The nature of this opposition was, however, less definitive than that for other sexual transgressions such as adultery or incest. This is primarily because the Torah and early Jewish attitudes tended to be lenient in their approach to pre-marital sexual relationships. Indeed, there is no distinct prohibition or punishment for unforced pre-marital sex in the Tanakh. While prostitution is forbidden, and seduction or rape require reparations for the victim, a consensual pre-marital sexual relationship is nowhere specifically condemned.

In fact, the Torah actually formalizes the status of the concubine (pilegesh), thereby sanctioning a lasting sexual relationship between a man (who may or may not have a wife) and an unmarried, consenting woman other than his spouse. According to the Talmud1, the pilegesh was a woman linked in an exclusive, stable relationship with a man, where the woman has benefit of neither kiddushin (marriage) nor ketubah2. While the pilegesh was not a wife as such and was free to leave without any separation procedures, her sexual relationship cannot be definitively classified as “pre-marital,” since her formalized standing made her essentially a “marital companion of inferior status to a wife.”3 Thus the tradition speaks of the single woman (penuyah), the “first-class” wife (ishah nesu’ah), and the marital companion of “second-class” status (pilegesh). In the sense that the pilegesh entered into a formalized relationship with the man, her case might well be held to be different from the more informal nature of contemporary, long-term non-marital relationships. Nevertheless, this distinction could be said to be sufficiently subtle in the case of those modern relationships in which the couple has made a private, long-term commitment to each other, so as to make the pilegesh an important precedent.4

In this context, it is significant that Maimonides maintains that once kiddushin had been established for Israel, anyone who had intercourse without benefit of kiddushin violated the prohibition of kedeishah (Deuteronomy 23:18), which proscribed promiscuous behavior.5 This would seem to preclude the taking of a pilegesh, and indeed, Maimonides writes that only the king is permitted to have a concubine.6 Not everyone concurs with his position. R. Avraham ben David of Posquierres7 distinguishes between the kedeishah, a woman who is totally licentious and who makes herself available to any and every man,8 and the pilegesh who sets herself apart for an exclusive relationship with just one man. Nachmanides is of the view that the Torah’s prohibition of kedeishah does not forbid the taking of a pilegesh. Nevertheless, he writes, we should preach against the institution, “since if the permit were generally known, men would behave licentiously and have intercourse with them while they are niddot.”9 Both the view of Maimonides and that of Nachmanides are codified by Isserles.10

The fact that Nachmanides sees no Toraitic prohibition to the taking of a pilegesh does not, of course, preclude the possibility that pilagshut may violate a positive commandment of the Torah.11 For example, some suggest that pilagshut frustrates the mitzvah that a man ought to take a wife–that is, by way of kiddushin.12 Most (though not all13) authorities hold that pilagshut in our day would transgress the acceptable bounds of mortality. 14  R. David ibn Zimra expresses the current state of the law: “at the present time a women is permitted to no man except through kiddushin, chuppah, sheva berakhot and ketubah.”15If, then, contra Maimonides, Jewish law permits pilagshut at all in our time, it does so only as a conceptual possibility which is noted but actively discouraged. The poskim (halakhic authorities) recognize that the Torah speaks of pilagshut, but in the end they hold that, when it comes to constructing a proper form of personal, social and family life, pilagshut is inappropriate.

Beyond the pilegesh, a 1979 teshuvah of the C.C.A.R. Responsa Committee provides numerous textual references detailing rabbinic initiatives aimed a at blocking “casual” sexual relationships between consenting adults. It also describes the tradition’s vigorous resistance to sexual relationships between unmarried partners who have made a long-term commitment to each other. There can, after all, be no greater long-term commitment than that made between a couple who have concluded kiddushin. Yet halakhah is replete with rabbinic provisions which attempt to insure that even a man and his betrothed spouse would have no sexual contact in the months prior to their wedding.16 Thus, while in Judea an engaged couple could be alone together before marriage, this was not the case in the Galilee.17 The Amoraim, eager to make the Judean position conform to their view of morality, explain that in Judea the wedding blessings were already recited at the ceremony of kiddushin.18 That the Galilean practice prevailed in Babylonia and remains the accepted standard is evidenced by the passage in the betrothal benediction (birkat erusin), “and He has prohibited to us our betrothed spouses.” There was even discussion that the offspring of a betrothed couple might be considered a mamzer.19 In geonic and medieval times, a betrothed couple were required to be chaperoned,20 and the medievals proposed lashes for those found to have breached the standards.21 Bride and groom were not allowed to live in the same building, since this might lead to unsupervised contact between them.22 Despite these rulings, relations between betrothed couples persisted, and loose moral standards often proved difficult to combat.

The solution of the rabbis to the challenge of sexual relations between betrothed couples was to formalize what was reported to have been the geonic and amoraic response to similar instances of moral laxity. They decided to recite the blessings for marriage at the kiddushin ceremony. As a result, in the medieval period (and perhaps earlier in some places), betrothal and marriage became fused into the single ceremony that still remains in place.23 One of the important motivations behind this enactment was the desire to prevent sexual contact prior to marriage even for those who had formally committed themselves to each other through kiddushin. It plainly follows that the contemplation of a sexual relationship for those who, no matter the depth or the longevity of their feelings, had made no formal commitment to each other would have been absolutely out of the question. Unmarried Jews were not to live together, and certainly not to engage in sexual relationships, even if their personal commitment to each other was profound.

It is evident, then, that the rejection of pilagshut and the constraining of pre-marital sexual activity required some delicate maneuvering on the part of the later poskim in order to dismiss the relatively permissive approach to pre-marital sexual relations of the Tanakh and some strands of rabbinic thought. Abiding evidence of this earlier lenient tendency can still be seen in the halakhic reality that any child of a pre-marital union is not to be considered a mamzer.24 As one contemporary scholar interprets this unusual legal definition, “since illegitimacy or mamzerut is an outcome of the illegitimacy of the sexual relations giving rise to it (i.e., incest or adultery), the legitimacy of the child of an unmarried woman testifies completely to the legitimacy of pre-marital sexual relations.”25 Historically, then, the Jewish attitude toward pre-marital sexual relations clearly moved from a stance of limited forbearance, under certain circumstances, to a more restrictive outlook.

II. Sexuality and Kedushah.

The question that now confronts us, therefore, is whether there exists any persuasive reason why the attitude that has developed within the tradition should be altered in contemporary circumstances, such as those described by the sho’el. In answering this question, we would observe that although the latter part of the twentieth century has witnessed the ascendancy of an undeniably relaxed set of moral standards within Western culture, the 1979 C.C.A.R. teshuvah nevertheless found no justification for dispensing with the rabbinic approach:

Given the indubitable fact that extramarital relations have become common in our day, can Judaism give them its approval? The answer is decidedly negative. We consider premarital and extramarital chastity to be our ideal.26

The answer, then, that the 1979 Responsa Committee would have provided to our sho’el cannot be in any doubt. Consonant with rabbinic tradition, the members of that Committee regarded a sexual relationship between an unmarried man and woman, no matter of what ages, as falling short of the Jewish ideal. Hence, it is reasonable to infer that they would not have encouraged such relationships.

In the years that have elapsed since 1979, however, new attitudes to long-term non-marital relationships have emerged which are significant enough to warrant reviewing the 1979 response. Non-marital sexual relationships were, of course, widespread and nothing new in 1979. But by the 1990s they had become fully accepted–even expected–preludes to, and sometimes substitutes for, marriage. This acceptance has led to a developing view within Reform Judaism that “a relationship may attain a measure of kedushah when both partners voluntarily set themselves apart exclusively for each other, thereby finding unique emotional, sexual, and spiritual intimacy.”27 Since the striving for kedushah is generally seen to be praiseworthy in Jewish life–see, among many other citations, Leviticus 19:2–it makes sense to conclude that a relationship which contains “a measure of kedushah” is one which we would regard as worthy, if not desirable.

It is important, therefore, to evaluate this nascent position from a traditional perspective. The Hebrew root k-d-sh is generally understood to mean “distinct from all else, unique, set apart for an elevated purpose.” Thus we speak of kedushat shabbat or kedushat yom tov, designating these days as unique and set apart for an elevated purpose. Moreover, it is clear from the traditional approach to such days that Judaism has always been at pains to make sharp, clear-cut distinctions between what is kadosh and what is not. At havdalah, for example, we separate from the kadosh and return to the ordinary, in imitation and praise of God, hamavdil bein kodesh lechol, “who makes a distinction between the sacred and the secular.” These sharp distinctions are particularly important for Judaism. Just like the clear boundaries between God and humanity, humanity and animals, life and death, and good and evil, the boundary between the holy and the ordinary seeks to help us categorize our lives with clarity and avoid unnecessary intermingling. The distinction is based upon the premise that when the holy and the ordinary become blurred, it becomes impossible to recognize and properly to appreciate the holy when we encounter it. Experiences which partake of both the holy and the ordinary cease to be either kodesh or chol.

For this reason, it makes no sense within classic Judaism to speak of “a measure of kedushah.” Again, this may be illustrated by reference to Shabbat. In contemporary American society, Sunday has many qualities that make it similar to Shabbat: we cease from our daily labors, we have time for renewal, we enjoy interaction with our family and neighbors. Still, we do not speak of Sunday as possessing “a measure of kedushah,” for to do so would be to diminish the sanctity of the Sabbath as well as to ignore the more important similarities between Sunday and the other days of the week. Although many Jews might indeed experience Sunday as having “a measure of kedushah,” this is because in many Jewish lives the observance of Shabbat has been sufficiently lessened so that it is no longer so clearly a yom kadosh. Obviously, from a Jewish perspective, this is an undesirable conflation, in which weekend days see rest and family pursuits mixed with shopping and work, with the result that neither Shabbat nor Sunday are truly holy or ordinary. Nobody who takes kedushat shabbat seriously could make sense of the notion that Sunday, with its clear possibilities for ordinary work and commerce, has “a measure of holiness.”

Similarly, it is only within a society in which the kodesh and chol of relationships have become thoroughly blurred that it becomes possible to speak of “a measure of kedushah” in sexual intimacy. In Judaism, kiddushin and nisu’in comprise a public ceremony of marriage in which two individuals declare the separation and elevation of one another in a relationship of mutual, life-long commitment28 which is only to be sundered as a consequence of a very serious difficulty.29 This Jewish view differs dramatically from that of a society prepared to recognize an element of kedushah in long-term non-marital relationships. Such a society effectively declares its readiness to recognize kedushah within a private process of separation and elevation, which is characterized by long-term–though not life-long–commitment and which may be eroded upon the slightest whim. If these indeed become the criteria for kedushah within a given society, its members should not be surprised when the nature of kedushah within marriage begins to resemble that of “kedushah” in non-marital relationships, and marriage becomes readily disposable.

Indeed, this is precisely what has happened within secular society. It is no coincidence that the rise in long-term non-marital relationships began simultaneously with the mushrooming of the rate of divorce. Once long-term non-marital relationships are found to be fully acceptable and “partially holy” by society, people have little need for the strictures of marriage, unless it is seen as necessary for the utilitarian reason of clarifying the status of children. It is no wonder, then, that today we witness long-term, committed relationships, some even with children, that are perceived as quasi-marriages, and many marriages in which one partner is on the brink of leaving to find a more fulfilling mate, which are perceived as quasi-long-term relationships. In the midst of such confusion, the predictable outcome has come to pass: the true kedushah of marriage, much like kedushat shabbat for many Jews, has become subverted and obscured.

While this state of affairs might be tolerable to secular society and to some individual Jews, it is not tolerable to Judaism. The arrival of effective contraception has made long-term, committed sexual relationships possible without fear of having children out of wedlock. But the fact that children born out of wedlock do not suffer a legal stigma within Judaism30 is ample demonstration that the primary Jewish concern that led to the rejection of pilagshut and the restriction of sexuality to marriage was more than just an attempt to regulate the legal parameters of the family as a tool for social organization. Judaism’s historic interest in restricting sexuality to the context of kiddushin and nisu’in aimed to correlate it with the highest state of public commitment, economic security, and life-long kedushah. While recognizing that sexuality indeed exists in situations other than marriage, it called upon Jews to practice only the most ennobled form of human sexuality: that which existed within the committed constancy of a devoted marital bond.

We continue to echo that call. To do less would be to accord a heightened recognition to long-term non-marital relationships in a way that has been shown to undermine marriage itself; it would be to give up on the modern Jew’s capacity to fulfill the highest ideal of kedushah within the marital bond. We will not be party to steps that undermine Jewish marriage or that diminish ambitions for sanctity in Jewish lives. We reaffirm the 1979 position which holds that sexuality within marriage is our ideal.

We concur with the frequently stated argument that such a position is out of step with “reality.” But while many are the voices in this society are all too ready to affirm whatever “reality” happens to be practiced by adults, Judaism is not one of them. As we understand it, one of the guiding purposes of Judaism is not to bless “reality” but rather to call upon us to transcend it, to uplift the potential for human dignity and human greatness. In this task, Judaism must, not infrequently, take a position that is counter-cultural. We see no compelling contemporary circumstance which would require us to shrink from Judaism’s historic mission in this regard.

Our attitude to long-term non-marital sexual relationships therefore draws upon the precedents in Jewish tradition in being neither condemnatory nor supportive. We view the revival of some type of formalized though non-sexist pilagshut–connoting an exclusive, committed sexual relationship without benefit of kiddushin–as undesirable. The pilegesh status was appropriately rejected by the developing Jewish tradition.

Nevertheless, while we would neither sanction nor sanctify such relationships, we are cognizant that they will continue to exist, as they have throughout Jewish history. Given this fact, we are by no means indifferent to the way that the two parties to such a relationship might treat each other. Indeed, we do not deny that such relationships could possess ethical standing, insofar as they are not marked by manipulation, deceit, or foreseeable harm. The absence of kedushah should never imply a vacuum of musar (morality): the two individuals involved in this relationship, like those involved in any human relationship, are subject to a moral obligation to accord one another the fullest measure of respect, honesty, and consideration.

In the final analysis, however, it should be remembered that Judaism asks far more from each one of us than ethical behavior alone. It asks us to distinguish our sexual behavior in the most exalted–kadosh–context possible. This unequivocally implies that marriage should be the goal for our sexuality. It would as a consequence be inconsistent with our position to condone non-marital sexual relationships, since it is within marriage that the sexual union finds its true home of kedushah.

NOTES

1 BT Sanhedrin 21a.

2 Yad, Melakhim 4:4. Rashi (to Gen. 25:6) indicates that a pilegesh is distinct from a wife in that the former has no ketubah, but he says nothing about kiddushin. While this could be taken to imply that some form of kiddushin was used for the pilegesh, this would conflict with the sense of the Gemara, as Nachmanides (to Gen. 25:6) points out.

3 Anson Rainey, “Concubine,” Encyclopaedia Judaica 5:862.

4 Understandably, the pilegesh could serve as a precedent for us only to the extent that we subject the institution to a “gender-neutral” interpretation. That is to say, although the biblical pilegesh was a female and although a male could not legally be considered a “concubine,” the existence of this practice suggests to us at least the possibility of a formal, long-term sexual relationship between an unmarried man and an unmarried woman.

5 Yad, Ishut 1:4.

6 Yad, Melakhim 4:4.

7 Hasagat Harabad to Yad, Ishut 1:4.

8 See Rashi to Deut. 23:18.

9 Resp. Harashba Hameyuchasot Laramban, no. 284.

10 Rama, Even Haezer 26:1.

11 Resp. Rivash, no. 398.

12 That marriage is a mitzvah is derived from Deut. 24:1. See Yad, Ishut 1:2; R. Shelomo Luria, Yam Shel Shelomo, Yevamot 2:11; Resp. Tzitz Eliezer 1:27, par. 18.

13 While R. Ya`akov Emden suggested in the eighteenth century that pilagshut ought to be allowed (Resp. She’elat Ya`avetz 2:15), his is very much a minority opinion.

14 Resp. Achiezer 3:23. See also Resp. Igerot Moshe, EHE 1:55, where the prohibition of pilagshut is simply assumed.

15 Resp. Radbaz 4:225; 7:33.

16 Kiddushin, often translated as “betrothal,” is a legal relationship much more permanent than that which we customarily designate as “engagement. Following kiddushin, the couple are “married” in the sense that the relationship can be broken only through death or divorce. Nonetheless, the couple are prohibited from having sexual contact until marriage (nisu’in; chuppah).

17 BT Ketubot 12a.

18 BT Ketubot 7b.

19 BT Yevamot 69b and Kiddushin 75a.

20 Otzar Hageonim, Ketubot, pp. 18-20, and Yevamot, p. 166; Mordekhai, Ketubot, ch. 132.

21 Yad, Ishut 10:1; SA EHE 55:1.

22 Kol Bo, no. 75, quoted in Isserles, EHE 55:1.

23 See L.M. Epstein, Sex Laws and Customs in Judaism (New York: Ktav, 1948), 128.

24 A mamzer, “bastard”, in Jewish law is the offspring of a woman who could not contract a legally valid marriage to the child’s father and whose sexual relationship entails the Toraitic penalty of karet; M. Kiddushin 3:12 and Yevamot 4:13. Since this is not the case with an unmarried man and woman who could potentially marry each other, the child suffers no legal blemish whatsoever.

25 H. Maccoby, “Halakhah and Sex Ethics,” in Walter Jacob and Moshe Zemer, eds., Dynamic Jewish Law (Pittsburgh and Tel Aviv: Rodef Shalom Press. 1991), 136.

26 ARR, no. 154, at p. 483.

27 This is the wording of the “Mission Statement” (Interim Report) of the C.C.A.R. Ad Hoc Committee on Human Sexuality, 1996, p. 5. It is a telling indicator of the current thinking of many Reform Jews on this subject that marriage is nowhere mentioned within this document, and hence no reference is made to it being the ideal context for human sexuality. To the contrary, in the section entitled “Brit–covenantal relationship,” the “Mission Statement” holds that “For sexual expression in human relationships to reach the fullness of its potential, it should be grounded in fidelity and the intention of permanence…A sexual relationship is covenantal when it is stable and enduring and includes mutual esteem, trust, and faithfulness.” These statements, of course, could equally apply to long-term non-marital relationships.

 

It is also worth noting that the language of the “Mission Statement” is similar to that found in “This is My Beloved, This is My Friend: A Jewish Pastoral Letter on Human Sexuality” (Draft #6: April 11, 1994) by Rabbi Elliot N. Dorff, for and with The Commission on Human Sexuality of the Rabbinical Assembly, which states: “Nevertheless, committed, loving relationships between mature people who strive to conduct their sexual lives according to the concepts and values described above can embody a measure of holiness, even if not the full portion available in marriage…”. It is significant, however, that by the writing of Draft #8: December, 1994, of this document, the word “holiness” in this sentence had been replaced with the word “morality,” thereby conveying an altogether different sense of the standing of such a relationship.

 

28 The language of kiddushin is the rabbinic equivalent of the Bible’s notion of erusin (see BT Kiddushin 2b), which reminds us of Hosea 2:21-22: “and I will betroth you unto me forever, and I will betroth you unto me in righteousness…and faithfulness…”.

29 While it is true that where both parties agree to a divorce the beit din will issue it, this legal response was established at a time when the kedushah of marriage was sufficiently clear and that the discarding of marriage for anything less than a weighty reason would have been regarded as anathema.

30 See above at note 24.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.13

CCAR RESPONSA COMMITTEE
5756.13
Circumcision for an Eight-Year-Old Convert

 

She’elah.

Last year, a family in my congregation adopted an eight-year-old boy from the Far East. He attends religious school, participates in Jewish activities with his family, and intends to continue doing so in the coming years. He is not circumcised, however, and he adamantly refuses to undergo the procedure as part of his conversion ritual. His parents, who have their own reservations about milah, are not insisting that he be circumcised.

Assuming that the child is willing to go to the mikveh and that I cannot convince him and his parents that he should undergo circumcision, can I consider him a Jew? May I call him to the Torah as a Bar Mitzvah when he reaches the age of thirteen? (Rabbi Rosalind Gold, Reston, Virginia)

 

Teshuvah.

The issue here is whether a boy (or, for that matter, an adult male) who fears circumcision or simply refuses to undergo that procedure may be accepted as a convert to Judaism. Traditional halakhah, of course, says “no”: “one is not a proselyte until he has been circumcised and ritually immersed.”[1] The Reform movement in the United States, however, says “yes.” The Central Conference of American rabbis has been on record since 1893 as accepting conversion “without any initiatory rite, ceremony, or observance whatever.” It is sufficient that the prospective Jew-by-choice declare his or her acceptance of the essential doctrines of Judaism and determination “to adhere in life and death, actively and faithfully, to the sacred cause and mission of Israel, as marked out in Holy Writ.”[2] This resolution has remained on the books for more than a century and as such is the official position of the Conference. In the words of a Reform responsum which bears directly upon this issue, while a ger “should be encouraged to undergo circumcision,” this could “strictly speaking” be waived in accordance with the 1893 resolution.[3]

This answer would, “strictly speaking,” fulfill our responsibility in this case. As a standing committee of the CCAR, we are bound by clear statements of Conference policy, and no policy statement can be clearer than the 1893 resolution which does away with the ritual and ceremonial requirements for conversion. Yet we cannot be satisfied with a simple restatement of that resolution, and this for two reasons:

  1. The 1893 resolution is accompanied by a lengthy report which justifies its conclusions on the basis of proofs drawn from biblical and rabbinic tradition. Those proofs rest upon readings of the sources that are, at best, questionable, and our concern for scholarly accuracy requires that we subject those arguments to critical analysis. We hasten to add that this analysis does not affect the validity of the resolution, whose force derives directly from a vote of the Conference and does not depend upon the cogency of its supporting argumentation. Nor does it in any way detract from our respect for our predecessors. These were students of Torah, whose love of Torah is evident to all who read their words. They were, in a word, rabbis, and their determination to base their position upon the interpretation of sacred text set the standard for a modern, liberal, and scholarly rabbinate. If we critique their work, it is because we seek to follow their example: a steadfast devotion to truth and to intellectual integrity.
  2. A great deal has changed, to put it mildly, during the past one hundred years. American Reform Judaism at the close of the nineteenth century displayed an attitude toward ritual and ceremonial observance that differed greatly from our own. Today, at the close of the twentieth century, our practice with regard to conversion suggests that we have journeyed down a different path than the one our predecessors advocated. Again, this fact does not mean that the resolution of 1893 is annulled or overturned; it does indicate, however, that many of us do not consider ourselves bound to the ritual theory and approach which dominate that document.

For these reasons, we feel that the simple response described above cannot suffice here. In the following, we shall consider the issue of conversion rituals generally; we shall then turn to our suggested resolution for this particular case.

I. “Circumcision for Adult Proselytes”: The Resolution of 1893. At the 1892 convention of the CCAR, a special committee was appointed to study the subject of milat gerim, the circumcision of adult proselytes. The committee, chaired by R. Isaac M. Wise, submitted its report to the Conference the following year. The report, reprinted in American Reform Responsa and extending over twenty-one pages of that volume,[4] concluded that no initiatory rites or ceremonies ought to be required for conversion to Judaism; its conclusion was adopted by vote of the Conference. Our teacher Rabbi Solomon B. Freehof devoted a responsum of his own to the analysis of the 1893 report.[5] In his summary, he notes that the committee bases its argument upon three essential points:

  1. The Torah contains no requirement of an initiatory rite (circumcision or immersion) for the proselyte (ger).
  2. While initiatory rites became customary (minhag) during the rabbinic period, they never achieved the status of actual rabbinic law (halakhah); hence, no definite requirement for circumcision or immersion is found in the Mishnah.
  3. The less-than-definite status of these rites can be seen in the fact that some medieval rabbinic authorities do not regard them as indispensable for conversion.

As R. Freehof writes, “if this statement can be proved adequately, it is of considerable importance.” It would demonstrate that although circumcision (milah) and immersion (t’vilah) play a pivotal role in the traditional rabbinic conception of the process of conversion, neither is absolutely required. That proof would allow us to say that according to the theory (if not the practice) of Jewish law, one could become a proselyte without undergoing these rituals. The difficulty, however, is that serious objections can be raised against each of these three assertions.

  1. The Torah. The 1893 report notes that there are over fifty references to the ger in the Torah, verses which prescribe how this “stranger” is to be accommodated and treated within the Israelite community, He is to be loved (Lev. 19:33-34), given sustenance (Lev. 19:10 and 23:22), and treated as an equal under the law (Num. 15:15-16 and elsewhere: “there shall be one law for you and for the ger, etc.”). Yet nowhere does Scripture demand that the ger undergo any particular initiatory rite, such as circumcision or immersion, in order to assume the status of ger within the community. Even Exodus 12:48, which requires that a ger who wishes to take part in the Paschal sacrifice “circumcise the members of his house”, means simply that as a Jew the proselyte has the duty to circumcise the male members of his family. It is only then, after he has converted to the Israelite religion, that he has the obligation to be circumcised as does any other Jewish male. The point, however, is that he becomes a proselyte without milah, for the Torah does not oblige a person to undergo any particular ritual in order to qualify as a ger.

The difficulty with this argument is its assumption that the biblical ger is equivalent to the “proselyte” of later times who was designated by the same word. The Bible, in fact, does not know of the institution of “proselyte”, if by that we mean a person who adopts the Israelite or Jewish faith. The biblical ger is, rather, a “stranger” or a “resident alien,” a foreigner who dwells in the land but is not a citizen thereof. This is certainly the sense of the word as Abraham uses it in Genesis 23:4, when he tells the Hittites that “I am a ger and a toshav among you.” Abraham surely does not mean to say that “I am a proselyte”; he declares instead that he is a “resident alien” in the community, which is precisely how the verse is rendered by the most widely-accepted Jewish translation of the Bible.[6] As such, the ger is a person “who lacks certain privileges that citizens have, in this case, the right to own land.”[7] Similarly, the word ger describes the status of the Israelites during their sojourn in Egypt.[8] We are enjoined to remember that “you were gerim in the land of Egypt.” Here, too, the term cannot possibly mean “proselyte.” We were, rather, “strangers” and aliens in a land which did not belong to us. This was a condition of powerlessness that led to our enslavement; we are therefore commanded to recall that experience and to learn from it not to mistreat the gerim in our midst, the resident alines under our political control. This notion of “alien-ness”, of the status of temporary resident, is used as well to depict our relationship toward God during our sojourn on earth. “I am an alien, resident with you” (Psalms 39:13); “for we are sojourners with you” (I Chronicles 29:15); “But the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident with Me” (Leviticus 25:23). Again, the Bible does not mean here to call us “converts” but rather to stress that we are temporary residents on God’s earth, mere custodians of that which we possess.

The biblical word ger does not mean “proselyte” because that institution did not exist in biblical times. In his classic study of Jewish proselytism, our late colleague Bernard J. Bamberger notes that “in the Bible the word ger means a foreign resident in Palestine. It is frequently joined by “and” to the word toshab, meaning the same thing, and usually translated “sojourner.” By contrast, “in Rabbinic Hebrew, the term ger means an actual convert.” When they wish to distinguish between individuals possessing these differing legal statuses, “the Rabbis coin the phrase ger toshab,” which means “resident alien.”[9] This point is conclusively demonstrated by the biblical scholars Moshe Weinfeld[10] and Jacob Milgrom,[11] who document in great detail the precise legal distinctions between the biblical ger and the Israelite. While it is true that the Torah instructs that “there shall be one law for you and for the ger“,[12] this statement should not be read (as, indeed, the 1893 report reads it), as a general rule;[13] it applies only to the context of the particular case. The resident alien is indeed required, as is the homeborn Israelite (ezrach), to obey the civil (monetary) law of the land, and he is expected to observe those ritual laws which are prohibitive (mitzvot lo ta`aseh; “thou-shalt-nots”), since the violation of these pollutes the land and the Sanctuary.[14] On the other hand, the ger is not obliged to observe the positive commandments (mitzvot aseh) of a ritual nature.[15] These legal distinctions show that the ger of the Bible cannot be defined as a proselyte, for the latter, as understood by Jewish law and tradition, observes all the mitzvot, both positive and negative, that are incumbent upon the Jew. The ger, by contrast, is never an Israelite. He remains permanently an outsider, a non-member of the religious community of Israel.[16]

Thus, if the Torah does not impose initiatory rites upon the proselyte, this is because there were no proselytes during the biblical period. The ger, the resident alient, becomes a ger merely by taking up residence within the land. And though Israelites are required to love the stranger (Leviticus 19:34; Deuteronomy 10:19) and to care for him (Exodus 23:12; Deuteronomy 16:11, 14), this proves merely that the ger occupied a permanently inferior, if protected, legal status within the society.

The only reason we would identify the biblical ger, the “stranger,” with the later proselyte, not an alien but a member of the religious community in full standing, is that the ancient rabbis make that identification. It is they, and not the biblical authors, who tell us that “Scripture declares the equality of the ger with the native Israelite in all the commandments of the Torah.”[17] The rabbis, to be sure, did not invent the institution of conversion, the process by which a Gentile adopts the Jewish faith and attains equal status alongside the native Jew with respect to all the mitzvot. Although we do not know for certain just when it came into being, the scholarly consensus holds that the procedure of conversion originated at some point during the pre-rabbinic Second Temple period.[18] It is from that point, and not during the days of biblical Israel, that the Torah’s ger becomes understood as a proselyte, except for those cases in which it is clear to the rabbis that when Scripture says ger it is in fact referring to the “resident alien,” or ger toshav.[19] It is from that point, when the Jews came to perceive “Israel” as a religious rather than a purely national identity, that entry into the community took on the form of religious conversion rather than legal residence and cultural assimilation.

Biblical literature and history cannot supply proof for the proposition that “Judaism requires no initiatory rites for converts,” because there were no “converts,” in our sense of the term, during that period. The ger-as-proselyte is an invention of the rabbinic tradition, and it is that same rabbinic tradition which requires that the Gentile who wishes to become a ger must undergo the specified initiatory rites.

  1. Rabbinic Law. This, of course, is an assertion that the authors of the 1893 report strongly dispute. It is their opinion that the initiatory rites (milah and t’vilah) were never regarded as law by the ancient rabbis. They were instead a custom, a minhag, established during the post-Mishnaic period by the Amoraim, who had no authority to do so. Therefore, just as the initiatory rites are not mentioned in the Torah, so they cannot be regarded as a requirement of rabbinic law.

To justify this statement, the report must explain the substantial rabbinic source material which indicates the opposite, that circumcision and immersion are indispensable ritual requirements for conversion. The most important of these are:

 

  1. the statement of R. Judah Hanasi in B. K’ritot 9a that “just as Israel did not enter the covenant except by means of three things–circumcision, immersion, and the acceptance of a sacrifice–so it is the same with proselytes”;[20]
  2. the declaration in B. Y’vamot 46a-b by the tanaitic “sages,” by the Amora R. Yochanan, and by the s’tam (anonymous) Talmud that a male proselyte must be circumcised and immersed;
  3. the baraita (extra-mishnaic tanaitic statement) in B. Y’vamot 47a-b which describes the conversion procedure as including both milah and t’vilah as well as kabalat hamitzvot, acceptance of the religious obligations of a Jew.

In the face of this testimony, the 1893 report notes that these sources are baraitot, tanaitic statements which were not included in the Mishnah. For this reason, they are not “canon law,” for “Rabbi Yehudah Hanasi in his entire Mishnah laid down no rule, ordinance, or direction concerning the initiatory rites of the proselyte.  This must be a matter of surprise to those who consider those rites Rabbinical law.” Even Rabbi’s own statement (“just as Israel did not enter the covenant, etc.”) is merely an aggadic d’rashah, a “school chat.” It is not meant as halakhah, “or else the Rabbi must have stated it in the Mishna.”[21]

The difficulty with this argument is apparent. Although the explicit “rule” concerning the initiatory rites is found in baraitot, the extra-mishnaic tanaitic sources, there is no evidence that tanaitic opinion as a whole questions their necessity. If the Mishnah does not “lay down a rule,” it does mention the existence of initiatory rites for converts,[22] and it never hints that a Gentile might become a proselyte without them.[23] Moreover, nowhere in traditional Jewish law do we find a rule to the effect that something is not “halakhah” unless it is stated explicitly in the Mishnah. On the contrary: the post-talmudic halakhic codes, commentaries, and responsa cite a variety of literary sources in addition to mishnayot in support of their rulings. These include baraitot (included in the Talmudim, the Tosefta, or the halakhic midrashim), amoraic statements, and conclusions drawn from the s’tam talmud. The distinction between the legal authority of the Mishnah and that of all other classical rabbinic texts is unique to the authors of the 1893 report.[24]

A further (and fatal) difficulty for the assertion that the initiatory rites are a requirement of Jewish “canon law” is the fact that nowhere in talmudic literature do we find any indication that a Gentile can become a valid proselyte (ger tzedek) without milah and/or t’vilah. The same holds for the post-talmudic halakhic literature, that body of writings that for nearly fifteen centuries has interpreted and applied the biblical and talmudic sources as the constitutive legal rhetoric of the Jewish community. From geonic times onward, all the poskim (halakhic decisors) have understood rabbinic law to require both initiatory rites as absolutely essential for conversion to Judaism.[25] A Gentile who is circumcised and/or immersed for the purpose of conversion is a ger and is obligated to observe the mitzvot; in the absence of the necessary rites, he or she is not a Jew. There exists not the slightest evidence in the post-talmudic halakhic tradition of any dissent on this matter. And this lack of evidence dooms the argument that milat gerim and tevilat gerim are not truly requirements of rabbinic law.

 

  1. Post-Talmudic Literature. Yet the authors of the 1893 report believe that they have found such dissent. They offer citations from three medieval rabbinic authorities which purportedly declare that circumcision and/or immersion are not absolutely necessary for the validity of a conversion. If it is indeed correct that these authorities hold that one might become a ger without the initiatory rites, then the report has firm ground on which to conclude that these rites are not “canon law,” indispensable for conversion, but rather “custom (minhag) without foundation in the Torah.”

A close look at the three sources in question,[26] however, reveals that they do not in fact support this conclusion.

  1. One of the texts is Kol Sakhal, in which “Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh de Modena…expressed his opinion” that according to the law of the Torah, the proselyte need not undergo any initiatory rites. The Torah prescribes only that once he has sons, the ger must circumcise them. If he himself does not wish to undergo this rite, however, “let him be ritually immersed, and this will suffice to make him a Jew in every legal sense.” We need not enter here into the scholarly debate over whether Leon (Yehudah Aryeh) de Modena (d. 1648) in fact authored Kol Sakhal.[27] What is important is that the work in its essence is a polemic attacking the Oral Torah as a willful rabbinic distortion of the Torah of Moses. Kol Sakhal does not purport to be an interpretation of Jewish law but, quite to the contrary, an attack upon that law as promulgated by the rabbis.[28] As Rabbi Freehof puts it, its author “does not give the law as it is, but as he believes it ought to be.”[29] Thus, though it claims that the Torah, before the rabbis got hold of it, did not demand circumcision of the proselyte, the work does indicate that the rabbis do demand it, that existing Jewish law requires the initiatory rites for conversion; milat gerim, in other words, is indeed “canon law” and no “mere custom.”
  2. In his Sefer Hanitzachon, R. Yom Tov Lipmann Muelhausen (14th-15th century) assembles a polemical commentary on the Bible whose goal is to enable the Jewish reader to respond to Christian interpretations of Scriptural passages. On Genesis 17:10, R. Yom Tov writes that Christians sneer at Judaism because, since the rite of b’rit milah is so important, women cannot be truly Jewish. He responds: “faith (ha’emunah) does not depend upon milah but upon the heart. If one does not believe properly, his circumcision does not suffice to make him a Jew (y’hudi). One who does believe properly is a Jew, even if uncircumcised; he simply has committed a transgression which must be rectified.” The authors of the report read this as a statement of halakhah: namely, that a male can become a ger without circumcision.

It is impossible to maintain this interpretation. R. Yom Tov never mentions the subject of conversion in this passage, which speaks instead of the born Jew. He wishes to argue the importance of faith and of proper belief in Judaism, to refute the Christian contention that ours is purely a religion of ritual and legalism. His purpose is to declare that the Jew–that is, the Jew-by-birth–realizes his identity as y’hudi through proper faith. For this reason women as well as men can be “Jewish.” It is that point, hardly a revolutionary one, which can reasonably be inferred from the passage. Since R. Yom Tov does not discuss conversion here, and since Sefer Hanitzachon is not a treatise of halakhah but a work of polemic and homiletics, it is manifestly unreasonable to derive from his words the halakhic conclusion (one which would run counter to the accepted view among all the legal sources which R. Yom Tov recognizes as authoritative) that a Gentile male can legally convert to Judaism without circumcision.

  1. The third source is a responsum of R. Eliahu Mizrachi (15th-cent. Constantinople),[30] “who expresses himself thus in regard to the acceptance of a proselyte: `Umide-oraita sagi b’kabalat Torah bifnei beit din bilvad,’ `According to the Torah, the main declaration before a college of three to accept the Torah as the canon suffices for the proselyte [to receive him into the congregation of Israel] also, without circumcision and without the ritual bath.'”[31] This is surely the most powerful piece of evidence supporting the conclusions of the 1893 report. For this responsum, unlike the Kol Sakhal and the Sefer Hanitzachon, is a legal text. Its existence suggests that an eminent halakhist understands Jewish law to hold that neither milah nor t’vilah is an indispensable requirement for conversion.

Unfortunately, Mizrachi’s responsum proves no such thing. The authors of the report misinterpret his ruling, which says nothing at all about the halakhic requirement of circumcision and immersion. Mizrachi is referring rather to the question whether these rituals must be carried out in the setting of a rabbinic court.[32] In the correct rendering of the passage cited above, he writes that “according to the Torah, it is only the declaration of the acceptance of the Torah which must take place before a beit din, even if they [the judges] are not present at either the circumcision or the immersion.” He does not imply that the Torah does not demand either milah or t’vilah of converts; he states rather that should the ger undergo these rituals outside of the presence of a beit din his conversion might be valid, so long as he declared his acceptance of the Torah before three judges.[33] In words, this ruling does not support the authors’ contention that the initiatory rites are not a requirement of Jewish “canon law.” Indeed, given its clear implication that a ger must undergo milah and/or t’vilah, if not necessarily before a beit din, Mizrachi’s t’shuvah serves as additional evidence (as if any were necessary) that circumcision and immersion are the minimal ritual standards for the conversion process under the Jewish legal tradition.

We find, therefore, that the 1893 report fails to prove its principal contention: that Jewish law does not require initiatory rites of converts. It follows, therefore, that the resolution of that year which dispensed with the requirement of circumcision and immersion for converts is not justified on the basis of the Jewish legal tradition. This fact, of course, does not in and of itself invalidate the resolution, which remains on the books as the official policy of the Conference. Moreover, there may be other valid reasons besides the legal arguments presented in the report which do justify the resolution. Our findings are important, however, as a necessary correction to what we see as a scholarly error. We have taken the time to make this point because, as members of this Committee, we are concerned that our published responsa reflect the commitment of our rabbinate to the highest standards of scholarly accuracy. That very same commitment motivated the work of Rabbi Wise, his colleagues, and those who followed them. Our criticism of their words is thus in no way a sign of disrespect, but rather the highest kind of tribute we can pay to the example they have set for us.

 

  1. The Reform Jewish Practice of Conversion. Even though the resolution of 1893 remains in force, its dispensation with the requirement of “initiatory rites” for conversion does not necessarily serve as an ideal or a standard for our contemporary practice. Indeed, many Reform rabbis do insist upon milah and t’vilah. The ceremony for conversion in our current Rabbi’s Manual provides for both circumcision and immersion for proselytes. While noting that these rites are not mandatory, it goes on to remark:

we recognize today that there are social, psychological, and religious values associated with the traditional rites, and therefore recommend that the rabbi acquaint prospective converts with the halakhic background and rationale for b’rit milah, hatafat dam b’rit and tevila and offer them the opportunity to observe these rites. In Israel, Canada, and various communities elsewhere, giyur (conversion) is performed by our colleagues in accordance with traditional halakhic practice.[34]

The Responsa Committee, too, has concluded in a number of t’shuvot that milah and t’vilah are relevant and positive options for conversion under Reform auspices. We have noted that,”in practice, circumcision has been a virtually universal requirement.”35 And we have argued that the practice of t’vilah for converts allows us to preserve a sense of continuity with Jewish religious history and to express our solidarity with k’lal yisrael, with Jewish religious practice everywhere, including the practice of the progressive Jewish communities outside the United States which insist upon the rite.36 These statements indicate that, even if not an absolute requirement, the initiatory rites have achieved the status of widespread custom (minhag pashut) among our communities.

We should note as well that the existence of a B’rit Milah Board of Reform Judaism, which supervises training programs for Reform mohalim/ot, is evidence that we take the mitzvah of circumcision with the greatest seriousness.37 We reject with the utmost vigor all ideological criticisms of the practice of circumcision. And while it is true that b’rit milah, conducted on the eighth day of a Jewish boy’s life, is not the same ritual as milat gerim, we fear that the willingness to be lenient concerning the latter might well be perceived as a less-than-enthusiastic devotion to the former.

In other words, if the 1893 resolution dispenses with the requirement of the initiatory rites, it does not prohibit their use. Our statements on the subject, along with the fact that many Reform rabbis insist upon circumcision and immersion for converts, demonstrate that we raise no substantive theological or ideological objection against them. On the contrary: there are valid, positive reasons why we ought to include them in our practice.

III. The Case Before Us. How do these considerations apply to the present she’elah? Our case is indeed a most difficult one. An eight-year-old boy, born and raised in another culture, has been adopted by a Jewish family. This is surely a good thing, both for the boy himself, who appears to be quite happy in his new home, and for his parents, who have come to know the blessing of children and family. We certainly commend their determination to fulfill the mitzvah of teaching Torah to their child, and we are pleased that he seems to be developing a positive Jewish identity. The one dark cloud on this bright Jewish horizon is the prospect of circumcision, which is terrifying to a boy of this age. His fear is all the more understandable when we remember that many dramatic changes have quite recently overtaken him; he needs time to adjust to them. His refusal of circumcision is likely an expression of his desire to gain a measure of control over his life. He will most probably continue to resist all efforts to convince him to be circumcised.

In general, the tendency of this Committee is to urge in the strongest terms that all proselytes undergo the traditional rites for entry into the covenant. We do so, not because we suppose that Orthodox Jews will recognize the validity of our conversions, but because we regard these practices as a positive Jewish standard that applies to us as it does to all other Jews. This testifies to our conviction that when we accept a ger or giyoret into our midst, we convert him or her to Judaism. Although we presume that our proselytes will remain firm in their commitment to a Reform approach to our faith and tradition, we do not require that they do so; we do not make their conversion contingent upon their staying within our fold. We are not in the business of creating a separate sect, cut off from the rest of our Jewish family. Rather, when we accept a proselyte, we admit this person into am yisrael, the Jewish community as a whole, a living and historical enterprise of which we are an organic part. We therefore believe that it is appropriate and preferable to mark the moment of conversion not simply with liturgy of our own creation but precisely with those rituals that are and have been for centuries employed by the Jewish community as a whole.

In our case, however, these considerations matter little. We are not dealing, after all, with an adult male who can be expected to understand the significance of circumcision and of milat gerim in the religious tradition which he seeks to adopt. We have here a young boy struggling, all at the same time, to adjust to a new family, a new nation, and a new religious community. Bombarded with many new stimuli, he quite naturally perceives the previously unheard-of rite of milah as yet one more insult, an especially strange and frightening one at that, to his person. If we insist upon circumcision, we might well administer a fatal blow to his developing identification with the Jewish people.

We think that the 1893 resolution of the CCAR speaks directly to situations such as this. Although we do not believe it to be an accurate interpretation of Jewish law, and although we do not think it reflects a sound religious policy for our movement, the resolution remains on the books, offering a practical solution for particularly difficult cases like the one before us. Under its terms, this boy can be converted to Judaism without either milah or t’vilah, although we would certainly recommend the latter inasmuch as he seems to offer no serious objections to it. Following conversion and upon reaching the age of religious majority, it would be his obligation, like that of any other uncircumcised Jewish male, to undergo milah. It might well be, as he matures as a person and as a Jew, that with continued gentle encouragement from his rabbi he will assent to the procedure.

If the 1893 resolution cannot be supported by the letter of Jewish law, it can be read–and is much better explained–as an expression of the law’s spirit, especially its concern that potential converts not be excluded from our community on account of ritual requirements that cannot be met. A case in point is the statement by R. Yehudah Hanasi in B. Keritot 9a that today’s proselyte, like our ancestors at Sinai, must enter the covenant by means of milah, t’vilah, and the offering of a sacrifice. The Talmud suggests that since sacrifices are no longer offered, we ought not to accept any gerim at all. The answer to this, however, is that we allow the ger to become a Jew by milah and t’vilah “and when the Temple is rebuilt, he shall bring his sacrifice.”[38] That is to say, we do not turn away potential converts simply because they are incapable for reasons beyond their control of fulfilling one of the ritual requirements of giyur. Rather, the requirement is postponed, to be met when it becomes possible to do so. Another example is the rule that a person must convert in the presence of a beit din consisting of three judges. The talmudic source of this rule would seem to require that the judges be ordained, that is, recipients of s’mikhah, a practice which pertains only to Eretz Yisrael and which has long since been discontinued. How is it then that in the absence of such judges we still accept proselytes? Tosafot answers that the ordained judges of the land of Israel have empowered us to perform this task, “so as not to bar the door to gerim.”[39] Again, a ritual element of the conversion process is suspended when insistence upon it make conversion an impossibility. Finally, the halakhah declares that a male whose penis has been severed is permitted to convert through t’vilah alone. In this case, when milah is a physical impossibility, the person is nonetheless not on that account denied the opportunity to become a Jew.[40]

“Impossibility,” to be sure, is not to be equated with reluctance, fear, or even danger. Thus, halakhists have ruled that a male convert must undergo milah even if the circumcision would pose a medical danger to him.[41] They would presumably make no exception to their ruling in our case, where the danger involves the psyche of a young boy. We, however, do make that exception. We insist, to repeat, on the value and importance of the initiatory rites. But we perceive a major difference between an adult male (and, for that matter, most boys), whose fear of circumcision can be acknowledged and dealt with, and the boy in our she’elah, the circumstances of whose life render circumcision more an “impossibility” than an experience he would simply wish to avoid. Moreover, Orthodox authorities point out that since, in any event, there is no requirement for a Gentile to convert, there is no compelling need for us to relax the ritual standards of giyur.[42] In our case, however, this boy already thinks of himself as a Jew and is so regarded by his community. It is vital to his healthy emotional devlopment that we not turn him away by insisting on a rite to which, for the most understandable of reasons, he cannot at this moment say “yes.”

 

Conclusions. To summarize:

  1. The CCAR resolution of 1893, which dispenses with the requirement for initiatory rites for conversion, remains in force as our Conference’s official statement on the subject until such time as it is amended or repealed.
  2. The resolution, contrary to the assertions of the lengthy report which accompanies it, cannot be justified or defended as a persuasive interpretation of Jewish law. The biblical sources which mention the ger do not speak of a religious proselyte, and the talmudic and post-talmudic halakhic literature are uniform in their insistence upon the initiatory rites.
  3. Circumcision and immersion for proselytes are familiar elements of Reform practice, and we encourage their use, certainly for the conversion of adults, as a positive statement of our identification with k’lal yisrael and the Jewish tradition.
  4. The 1893 resolution should therefore be interpreted as a standard to be applied in particularly unusual or extreme cases. It can be viewed as an expression of the spirit of the law of conversion, which relaxes certain ritual requirements when to insist upon their observance would make conversion impossible.
  5. The question before us presents such a case. This boy thinks of himself as a Jew, and we should do our best to receive him with love and to continue to draw him into the family of am yisrael. His personal history, however, renders circumcision an impossible (as opposed to a merely disagreeable or unpleasant) standard; to insist upon it would likewise make his conversion and subsequent growth as a Jew an impossibility. Since it is important that he continue along his present religious path, we hold that he may be converted through t’vilah alone and called to the Torah at age thirteen. His rabbi should, however, seek to persuade him of the vital importance of milah in the Jewish tradition, to the end that he will someday (perhaps even before he reaches the age of bar mitzvah) assent to have himself circumcised.

NOTES

  1. B. Y’vamot 46a-b; Yad, Isurey Bi’ah 13:6; SA YD 268:1-2.
  2. American Reform Responsa (ARR), no. 68, at 237; CCAR Yearbook 3 (1893), 95.
  3. ARR, no. 69.
  4. ARR, no. 68 (pp. 216-237).
  5. Reform Responsa for Our Time, no. 15.
  6. The Torah. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1962).
  7. Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut, The Torah: A Modern Commentary. (New York: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1981), 156.
  8. Gen. 15:13; Ex. 22:20 and 23:9; Lev. 19:34; Deut. 10:19 and 23:8.
  9. Bernard J. Bamberger, Proselytism in the Talmudic Period (New York: Ktav, 1968), 16. See also his comment to Lev. 19:34 in Plaut, op.cit., 899.
  10. Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (London: Oxford U. Press, 1972), 229-232.
  11. Jacob Milgrom, “Religious Conversion and the Revolt Model for the Formation of Israel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 101/2 (1982), 169-176. See also his remarks in The JPS Torah Commentary: Numbers (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1990), Excursus 34, 398-402.
  12. Ex. 12:48-49; Lev. 7:7 and 24:22; Num. 9:14, 15:15, 29-30.
  13. ARR, no. 68, at 218.
  14. Milgrom cites the arayot of Lev. 18 as an illustration. The ger as well as the ezrach is required to observe these sexual prohibitions (v. 26) because their violation defiles the land (v. 27). Likewise, Molekh worship, whether it is done by homeborn or resident alien, pollutes the sanctuary; thus, both are equally punished for it (Lev. 20:2-3). Presumptuous violation of a negative commandment subjects both the ger and the ezrach to karet (Num. 15:30). See his “Religious Conversion” for further examples.
  15. The ger may take part in the Passover sacrifice, but he does not have to do so (Ex. 12:47-48; Num. 9:13-14). The Israelite who is able to bring the sacrifice but does not do so is punished by karet (Num. 9:13). The ger may not, however, possess leaven, a violation of a negative ordinance. Similarly, the ger like the Israelite is forbidden to work on Yom Kippur, but he need not observe the positive commandment to “afflict himself” (by fasting) on that day (Lev. 16:29, 31). The positive commandment to dwell in the sukkah is explicitly addressed to the ezrach, the home-born, as opposed to the resident alien (Lev. 23:42).
  16. The case of Ruth, as well as others who seem to enter the community by means of accepting its religion, are not examples of conversion at all but of intermarriage. As we know, biblical law assumes that the wife follows the cultic practices of her husband. Thus, non-Israelites enter the community through assimilation, not conversion. The fear that assimilation will work to the disadvantage of Israel spurs the prohibition against intermarriage with the Canaanites in Deut. 7:3, as well as Ezra’s ban on intermarriage as a whole. Note, however, that neither of these sources speak of any effort, successful or not, to convert their neighbors to the religion of Israel. See Milgrom, “Religious Conversion,” 172ff, and his conclusion, at 175, that “conversion of individuals is not attested until the postexilic age.”
  17. Mekhilta to Ex. 12:49; Sifre Bamidbar, par. 109. The authors of the 1893 report admit that this equation goes beyond the biblical standard, even though they insist on defining the biblical ger as a proselyte; ARR, no. 68, at 229.
  18. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Who Was a Jew? Rabbinic and Halakhic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1985), 25.
  19. See the summary by Nachmanides in his comment to Ex. 20:10.
  20. See also Sifre Bamidbar, par. 108, and Gerim 2:5.
  21. ARR, no. 68, at 231.
  22. M. P’sachim 8:8 refers to the ger as “one who has separated from his foreskin” and despite the cursory efforts of the 1893 report to explain that Mishnah away, it seems clear that the reference is to milat gerim, the circumcision required for the conversion. See Chanokh Albeck’s comment ad loc., as well as R. Moses Mielziner in CCAR Yearbook 2 (1892), 96. At least one leading scholar (Schiffman, 27-31) reads that Mishnah as requiring t’vilah as well as milah for male proselytes.
  23. The report cites B. Y’vamot 46a-b, where R. Eliezer and R. Yehoshua disagree with the conclusion that both milah and t’vilah are essential for conversion, as evidence that the “law” of the initiatory rites was was a matter of dispute during tanaitic times and that it was the amoraim who fixed them as a requirement. It is more probable, however, that these two sages were not disputing the necessity of both rites. This baraita, as Bernard Bamberger concludes, is most probably a technical dispute over the precise moment at which conversion occurs: at milah, at t’vilah, or only upon the completion of both rites. See Bamberger, 51ff. See also Mielziner, 97, and Schiffman, 32-36.
  24. The report (at 236) claims that the initiatory rites were established as an edict (takanah) of the Amoraim, who did not have the power to do so, since all rabbinic legislative authority had become defunct with the disappearance of the Sanhedrin and the end of the tanaitic period. Thus, the rites are but mere “custom”. To this we might respond: 1. the evidence is overwhelming that the requirement of milah and t’vilah for converts was already established during the tanaitic period; 2. even if the requirement is the product of amoraic legislation, the power to legislate for all Israel does not cease until the end of the amoraic period, “the days of Rav Ashi and Ravina;” see Maimonides’ introduction to his Mishneh Torah.
  25. See note 1, above, as well as the geonic Halakhot Gedolot, Warsaw ed., 24d, and Hildesheimer ed., v. 1, p. 217; and Hilkhot HaRif (Alfasi), Y’vamot, fol. 15b-16a. Note the comments of both the Beit Yosef and the Bayit Chadash to the beginning of Tur YD 268: “the halakhah is decided (ifsika hilkheta) that” both milah and t’vilah are the minimum requirements for conversion. The requirement, in other words, is law and not “custom.”
  26. These are listed and described in ARR, no. 68, at 220.
  27. De Modena attributes the Kol Sakhal to an unnamed Sefardic author; de Modena himself is explicitly the author of the Sha’agat Aryeh, a brief response and refutation to the Kol Sakhal. The two works were published together by Isaac Reggio in 1852 under the title B’chinat Hakabalah. While Reggio and other scholars assume that de Modena is the composer of both books, not all agree; among the latter is Ellis Rivkin, who cites “positive evidence…that Leon could not have written the Kol Sakhal“; see Jewish Quarterly Review N.S. 40 (1949), at 156.
  28. B’chinat Hakabalah, 59.
  29. Freehof, op. cit., 76. He continues: “evidently those who participated in the Conference debate got their chief arguments here.”
  30. Resp. Mayim Amukim, ed. Berlin, 1778, no. 34.
  31. ARR, no. 68, at 229; see also at 220.
  32. Compare the language of this responsum to that of the codes (Yad, Isurey Bi’ah 13:6; SA and Tur YD 268:2) and the major commentaries thereto. The issue which all these sources address is whether all the rituals of giyur need to take place in a formal court setting (during daylight hours, in the presence of proper witnesses who are not relatives, etc.), or whether it is sufficient that kabalat hatorah takes place there. There is no evidence that R. Eliahu Mizrachi is discussing any issue which falls outside the confines of this technical discussion.
  33. As a matter of fact, R. Eliahu rules that in the case of an adult convert both milah and t’vilah must occur before a beit din. In the case of the child of a proselyte, however, we apply the de’oraita standard: if the mother accepted the Torah before a beit din, we do not require evidence that her immersion also took place before a court in order to declare the child Jewish.
  34. Rabbi’s Manual (New York: CCAR, 1988), 232. The conversion ceremony is at 199ff.
  35. ARR, no. 69, end. See also ARR, no. 57; Contemporary American Reform Responsa, nos. 44, 45, 47, and 49; Responsa Committee 5756.6 and 5752.2.
  36. Responsa Committee 5756.6, “A ‘Proper’ Reform Mikveh“.
  37. See Lewis M. Barth, ed., B’rit Milah in the Reform Context (New York: B’rit Milah Board of Reform Judaism, 1990), and Gates of Mitzvah, 13-16.
  38. Yad, Isurey Bi’ah 13:5.
  39. B. Y’vamot 46b and Tosafot, s.v. mishpat. The requirement of ordination, says Tosafot, derives from the fact that the word mishpat is applied to the ger in Num. 15:16; the root sh-p-t implies the presence of shoftim, “judges” in the Toraitic sense of the term, who possess the full array of power and authority pertaining to the status of the mumcheh or musmakh (ordinee).
  40. Tosafot, Y’vamot 46b, s.v. d’Rabbi Yose; SA YD 268:1 and Bi’ur HaGra, no. 4. In this case, when milah is a physical impossibility, we allow the man to follow the example of the women of the generation of Sinai, who entered the covenant by means of t’vilah alone (B. Y’vamot 46a-b).
  41. R. Avraham Yitzchak Hakohen Kook, Resp. Da`at Kohen, no. 150; R. Gedaliah Felder, Nachalat Tzvi, v. 1, 54-55.
  42. This is a major point in R. Kook’s argument in Da`at Kohen.

 

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5756.14

CCAR RESPONSA

A Non-Traditional Marriage

5756.14

She’elah

I have been asked to officiate at the wedding of a couple who, while living in the same city, plan to live in separate domiciles after the wedding. This is due to the prospective bride’s desire to live “in her own space” and to the couple’s feeling that such an arrangement will, in any case, allow them to avoid many of the petty squabbles that so often disrupt marital relationships. They are, to the best of my knowledge, sexually intimate with each other, and they have no plans to have children. They are not committed to living separately permanently; however, they also have no intention or goal at present of moving into the same home. May a rabbi, under these circumstances, officiate at the wedding? (Rabbi Peter B. Schaktman, New York)

Teshuvah

There is no question that this marriage, if entered into, would be valid under Jewish law. The halakhah does not require that the couple live under the same roof in order for their relationship to be a legally binding one. All that is necessary in this regard is that the couple be halakhicly capable of contracting a valid marriage and that the ritual which establishes the marital bond (ma`aseh kiddushin) be conducted according to proper form. To be “capable” of Jewish marriage, the couple must both be Jewish[1] adults[2] of sound mind[3] who are not forbidden to each other as arayot, that is, the prohibited sexual unions of Leviticus 18.[4] The “proper form” of kiddushin[5] requires that in the presence of two witnesses,[6] the man give the woman a ring or some other object of monetary value and declare, either in an explicit verbal formula or by behavior which clearly manifests his intent, that he wishes her to he his wife.[7] If she accepts the ring or object in a manner which indicates her freely-given consent to the marriage,[8] the couple are betrothed, though the marriage process is not completed until the ceremony of chupah or nisu’in.[9] One might argue that although their kiddushin may be valid, the couple’s decision to live separately negates the very concept of nisu’in. This is based upon the definition of chupah as the act by which the groom brings his bride into his home and spends time alone with her there, “setting her apart as his wife.”[10] We of course would interpret “his home” to be “their home,” but the point is the same: so long as there exists no identifiable marital home for the couple, no nisu’in has taken place.[11] The problem here is that the tradition knows of other definitions of chupah, some of which do not require that the bride enter the groom’s home at all. Indeed, one of these alternative definitions is our own custom of setting up a bridal canopy as a chupah.[12] Thus, it is quite possible that this couple are validly “married” as well as “betrothed,” even though they have not established and do not intend to establish a common marital home.[13] The question our sho’el poses, however, is one of lekhatchilah, not bedi`avad. It does not concern the validity of the proposed marriage but rather its desirability. He asks whether a rabbi should refuse to officiate at a wedding ceremony when the marital arrangement contemplated by the couple runs counter to the ideal of marriage as put forth by Jewish tradition. Their proposal to live separately, each dwelling in his or her private “space,” and to refrain from having children differs markedly from that ideal. We would not want their particular version of marriage to become a model for others to imitate, and one might argue that a rabbi’s officiation at their wedding would suggest, however inaccurately, that Judaism looks with favor upon the choices they have made. We might add that, as a matter of general principle, rabbis do have discretion in these issues. Rabbis are not mere dispensers of religious services; they are teachers of Torah and interpreters of Jewish tradition. Their function in the community is to draw the attention of their people to a perception of the ideal, whether in thought or in practice. As such, there may be times when a rabbi will find it necessary to refuse a request for rabbinic service when, in his or her considered judgment, to accede to that request would violate either the rabbi’s conscience or understanding of Jewish religious propriety. It is entirely proper for rabbis to say “no” under such circumstances, and we vigorously support their right to do so. We are dealing, however, with a particular case rather than with a general principle. And in this particular case, we do not believe that the rabbi should refuse to officiate at the wedding. It is a long-standing rabbinic practice to show tolerance toward “unusual” marital relationships, even those which may transgress the dictates of halakhah. A clear expression of this position is a responsum authored by R. Yitzchak b. Sheshet Perfet (Rivash), who flourished in Spain and Algeria during the late-14th and early-15th centuries. Responding to a she’elah from the communal leadership of Tunis,[14] he offers his opinion concerning the prospective marriage between a young man and a ninety-year-old woman. The man, who according to the Tunisian authorities was interested primarily in the woman’s wealth, had yet to fulfill his Toraitic requirement to “be fruitful and multiply.” Rivash notes that such a man is forbidden by Talmudic law to marry a woman who was no longer capable of bearing children[15] and that the beit din may coerce him to divorce her.[16] He adds, however, that “I have never heard of a beit din which actually practices coercion in matters like this,” and he refuses to counsel coercion here. For if we wereto insist on the letter of the law (shurat hadin) in this case, we would have to demand divorces in every case where a less-than-ideal marriage has been contracted.[17] The courts would groan under the weight of litigation as the divorced women would sue for their ketubot. In fact, says Rivash, we do not intervene into these marriages, and so long as there is no Toraitic prohibition against them and so long as the couples are happy together, it is best to leave them alone. In the she’elah before him, he suggests that this woman desires a husband who can be a help and a comfort in old age; as this is not a disgraceful thing, we ought not to exercise coercion in an effort to separate them. Rivash’s ruling, in turn, is cited by R. Moshe Isserles as the common rabbinic practice.[18] Rivash’s words apply quite well to our she’elah. This couple wish to enter into a marriage which, though it does not correspond to our conception of the ideal, is indisputably valid under Jewish law.[19] We presume that the rabbi’s refusal to officiate, which constitutes the nearest thing to coercive power that rabbis in our community possess, would not cause them to reconsider their proposed living arrangements. If anything, the rabbi’s negative response would probably provoke them to ask why they are being singled out for tough treatment, why we rabbis do not refuse to solemnize all marriages which depart in some significant respect from the traditional Jewish ideal of home and family. There are today, as in the days of Rivash, any number of such marriages. Yet were our “rabbinic authorities” in the name of consistency to say “no” to all marriages where the couple maintain unusual living arrangements or do not intend to have children, there would be no end to the matter. By refraining from exercising a heavy hand, the rabbi does not thereby “endorse” the couple’s idea of marriage. Rather, as in Rivash’s time, we show tolerance toward their decision because we have no other decent and practical alternative. Yet alongside “tolerance” we would add “understanding.” Note Rivash’s words to his correspondents: although the marriage in question runs afoul of what we consider proper, the couple themselves desire it. A less-than-ideal union, in other words, must not be despised, for it can be a source of much that is good. The same is true in our case. We should not measure this couple’s union exclusively according to our ideal picture of marriage but against the standard of what they themselves wish, of what will bring them happiness and fulfillment. We presume, in the absence of any indication to the contrary, that they love each other and maintain an exclusive sexual relationship. Whatever our feelings concerning their marital arrangement, their intention to stand under the chupah testifies that they seek to affirm the permanence of their mutual commitment. This, without any question, is something we ought to encourage. The rabbi should therefore officiate at the ceremony. In doing so, he or she can maintain communication with the couple and perhaps offer them counseling. We certainly hope that they will some day reconsider their intention not to ring children into the world. And we suspect that their desire to be married nd yet avoid the “petty squabbles” of married life indicates that they have yet to confront with full maturity just what marriage, like any complex human relationship, is all about. There is much they need to consider about themselves and about each other. Like all of us, they have some growing and learning to do. And we believe that their rabbi can be of much help to them along their way. NOTES 1. M. Kiddushin 3:12. 2. Kiddushin performed by minors (i.e., under 13 years for males and under 12 years for females) is invalid. See BT Kiddushin 50b; Yad, Ishut 4:7; SA EHE 43:1. Different rules apply, of course, in the event that the parent “marries off” the child, and these rules vary for males and females. The present discussion, however, refers to a ma`aseh kiddushin performed by the couple themselves. 3. BT Yevamot 49b; Yad, Ishut 4:9; SA EHE 44:2. 4. M. Kiddushin 3:12. 5. M. Kiddushin 1:1 lists three methods of effecting the kinyan: kesef (money); shetar (written document); or bi’ah (sexual intercourse). While any of these methods is halakhicly valid, the use of kesef is the universal custom; Yad, Ishut 3:21. Out of moral concern, the early Babylonian amoraim forbade the use of bi’ah as a method of contracting marriage; BT Kiddushin 12b. 6. BT Kiddushin 65b-66a; Yad, Ishut 4:6. 7. BT Kiddushin 5b-6a; Yad, Ishut 3:1. The wife is the passive party here; she neither gives the money nor recites the formula. If, however, he gives the money and she recites the formula, some authorities suggest the marriage may be valid. See SA EHE 27:8. 8. Marriage, unlike any other kinyan, requires the clear consent of the “acquired” party, the wife; BT Kiddushin 2b and Bava Batra 48b; Yad, Ishut 4:1. 9. BT Kiddushin 10a; Yad, Ishut 10:1. See M. Ketubot 5:2: if nisu’in does not take place (that is, if the betrothed couple do not establish residence together), the husband must provide for the wife’s financial support. The marriage, therefore, remains valid, and many of the legal consequences stemming from marriage are in force. 10. Yad, Ishut 10:1; SA EHE 55:1. 11. See Chelkat Mechokek to SA loc. cit., no. 4: if the groom simply brings his wife to his home for yichud and then sends her back to her own (or her father’s) residence, “this is not nisu’in.” 12. See Isserles, EHE 55:1. Since some authorities define chupah as yichud (bride and groom being alone together), the yichud practiced at the conclusion of a wedding ceremony comes to insure that a valid chupah has taken place according to all opinions. 13. See Derishah to Tur EHE 61, no. 1, who suggests in the name of the Tur that chupah is any special place where the betrothed bride and groom spend time together, even if it is not “his home” and even if they are not totally isolated. 14. Resp. Rivash, no. 15. 15. BT Yevamot 61a; Yad, Isurey Bi’ah 21:26 and Ishut 15:16; SA EHE 1:3. 16. BT Ketubot 77a; Yad, Ishut 15:7; SA EHE 1:3. 17. Rivash mentions the many instances where a father agrees to the kiddushin of his minor daughter despite the Talmud’s warning to the contrary (BT Kiddushin 41a), as well as marriages between the daughters of kohanim or scholars and men ignorant of Torah. “The sages have averted their gaze from such couplings.” 18. Isserles, EHE 1:3. 19. It is this point, of course, which distinguishes this question from that of mixed marriage. The CCAR opposes rabbinic officiation at mixed marriages; see CCAR Yearbook 83 (1973), 97, and American Reform Responsa, no. 149.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.

NYP no. 5757.2

CCAR RESPONSA

In Vitro Fertilization and the Status of the Embryo

5757.2

She’elah

In the procedure known as in vitro fertilization (IVF; the “test tube baby”), human ova are removed from the womb and placed in a petri dish, where they are fertilized with sperm. The usual procedure is to choose the “best” of these embryos or zygotes for implantation into the womb (of either the ovum donor herself or of a “host mother”) and to discard the rest.

What is the status of the zygote with respect to “humanhood”? May those zygotes not chosen for implantation be used for medical research? May they be offered to another couple, and if so, who are ultimately the parents of the child? Perhaps we should be guided by the ruling of Rav Hisda in BT Yevamot 69b that prior to forty days gestation the human fetus is but “mere water” (maya be`alma) and does not warrant independent status under halakhah. (Rabbi Thomas Louchheim, Tucson, AZ)

Teshuvah

The development of the procedure of in vitro fertilization, which creates and maintains a human embryo outside the womb, raises many difficult religious and moral questions, some of the most important of which are noted in our she’elah. In addressing them, we as rabbis must first of all be guided by the Jewish legal tradition, as we understand it from our own liberal Jewish perspective, although we recognize that our tradition may offer but limited practical guidance on issues of this sort.1 And as liberal rabbis, we shall consider as well the findings of contemporary biological science, medicine and genetics.

1. In Vitro Fertilization as a Medical Procedure.

We begin by considering briefly a basic issue implied by our she’elah: the permissibility or advisability of in vitro fertilization as a medical procedure.2 To answer this question, we must address to IVF the same inquiry we apply to all medical issues: does the medical benefit which might accrue from the procedure justify its risks? Jewish tradition teaches us to regard our lives and our bodies as gifts from God and therefore prohibits us from placing them in needless danger3 or subjecting them to unnecessary physical damage.4 These concerns are set aside, of course, in the case of legitimate medical need,5 since medicine is a mitzvah.6 By “medicine” we mean the wide array of chemical, surgical, and other procedures aimed at the correction or control of disease. And by “disease” we mean a condition in which some aspect of our biological or psychological systems does not function properly.7 Accordingly, we may define human infertility as a disease and the procedures designed to correct it as medicine. We might add that since Jewish tradition and Reform Jewish teaching see the birth of children as a blessing to their parents and to the entire community of Israel,8 the development of technologies which enable the infertile to bring children into the world should be similarly be welcomed as a blessing to humankind. Since current information indicates that IVF is not associated with unacceptable risks to either the health of the woman or of the child, we see no reason no oppose the procedure or to issue any warnings concerning it. On the other hand, those considering IVF must take into account the normal medical risks of any surgical procedure, as well as the psychological stress involved in fertility treatments, before they decide to use it.

2. The Status of the Embryo at Less than Forty Days.

Our sho’el is correct that the sources regard a human embryo of less than forty days gestation as maya be`alma, “mere water”, and therefore not a “fetus” (ubar) at all.9 On this basis, a number of authorities are willing to rule more leniently on the question of abortion: that is to say, if we presume a prima facie halakhic prohibition against abortion,10 that prohibition either does not apply or is much less stringent with regard to a fetus at less than forty days following conception.11 By extension, we would expect an even more permissive attitude concerning an embryo which, because it exists outside the womb, is not defined as a “fetus.” This is indeed the case. One leading contemporary halakhist rules that it is forbidden to set aside the laws of Shabbat in order to save the life of an embryo in a petri dish, even though we are permitted to violate Shabbat on behalf of a fetus.12 In a ruling which touches directly upon our own she’elah, R. Chaim David Halevy permits a hospital or clinic to discard “excess” embryos created for purposes of IVF, explaining that the prohibition against abortion relates only to the fetus and not to an embryo maintained outside the womb.13 A similar decision is rendered by R. Mordekhai Eliyahu.14

3. In Vitro Fertilization as Healing (Refu’ah).

We agree with these decisions, but we think it vital to expand their rationale. The absence of an explicit prohibition against destroying an embryo does not in and of itself justify the act of destruction, any more than the definition of an early-stage fetus as “mere water” automatically permits an abortion. Like the fetus, the zygote is not a legal person.15 Yet it most definitely is a person “in becoming,” possessing all the necessary genetic information; it lacks only gestation, development in utero, to realize its biological potential. Rather, just as we require some warrant, however “slim,”16 to abort the fetus, so too we should seek some positive reason to argue on behalf of the destruction of this microcosm of the human being.

We find this reason in the nature of IVF as a form of refu’ah, of healing, a medical response to the disease of infertility. As we have already written, actions which might under other circumstances be forbidden may be undertaken if they constitute a proper element of a therapeutic regimen: in other words, if they are defined as medicine and contribute to the treatment of disease. Thus, although we would certainly oppose the wanton destruction of human embryos, we can permit the discarding of excess embryos as a necessary part of the IVF procedure. We say “necessary” because 1) multiple embryos must be created in order for the procedure to be feasible and effective; and 2) to require that each and every zygote be preserved would likely place a cumbersome burden upon hospitals and laboratories. Under such conditions, many of these institutions would likely refuse to perform IVF, thus rendering the procedure intolerably expensive or simply unavailable to many of those who seek it. Given that our tradition does not expressly forbid the destruction of the embryo, the positive value of IVF as a medical therapy clearly justifies the necessary discarding of excess zygotes.

Moreover, since IVF is a means by which Jews can fulfill the mitzvah of childbearing, for whose sake a number of important ritual prohibitions can be waived,17 we think that our tradition would permit us to discard the excess embryos as a necessary means of enabling Jewish people to build families and bring children into the world.

4. Medical Experimentation.

If in the name of “medicine” it is permitted to discard the excess embryos created during IVF, then it is certainly permitted to utilize these embryos for research intended to increase our life-saving scientific knowledge. We would add the proviso that whether it be discarded or used for research, the embryo be treated and handled with an attitude of respect and reverence that is befitting of that which, after all, a potential person, a nefesh in becoming.18

5. Parenthood.

Who are “ultimately” the parents of a child created by IVF? This question has been considered by several Orthodox halakhists, whose arguments–and our difficulties with them–we summarize here.

R. Eliezer Yehudah Waldenberg rules that a child conceived outside the womb has no parents: it bears no halakhic relationship either to its biological parents or to the “host mother,” the woman who carries the child to term.19 He cites as support a statement by Maimonides in the Moreh Nevuchim that “human organs cannot exist separately from the body and still be regarded as fully human.”20 Thus, an ovum detached from its “natural” place ceases to be a human ovum. He quotes as well the talmudic dictum that “a fetus in the womb of a Canaanite slave is like the fetus of a beast.”21 He interprets this to mean that “no yichus (familial relationship) is possible outside the womb of a Jewish woman”; hence, the embryo created in a petri dish enjoys no yichus or familial relationship at all. Both of these proofs, however, are clearly flawed. In mentioning Maimonides’ philosophical treatise, Waldenberg relies upon the latter’s scientific judgment, the truth of which depends upon its accuracy as a description of physical reality. That judgment, while it may have corresponded to the best available scientific knowledge in the twelfth century, is now outdated; today, it is possible to establish that an organ is “human” by means of chemical and genetic testing. If we wish to base our religious decisions upon scientific information, it is incumbent upon us to use the best science available, as did Maimonides himself, rather than enslave our scientific judgments to standards which science itself has long since abandoned. Waldenberg’s talmudic evidence, meanwhile, does not prove that yichus is created exclusively within a Jewish womb.22 The text speaks instead to the “matrilineal” principle of Jewish descent: traditional halakhah does not recognize the legal bond between a father and his child by a non-Jewish woman. This says nothing at all about the case in which the donors of the biological materials for IVF are both Jews.

 

Other authorities hold that a child created by IVF is the offspring of the woman who bears it, whether or not she conceived it.23 They base this conclusion upon an analogy to the talmudic passage concerning a woman who converts to Judaism during pregnancy.24 Since “one who converts is like a newborn child,”25 these authors reason that both the woman and her fetus become “newborn”: i.e., all prior families ties (yuchasin) are cancelled, including the relationship between this mother and her fetus. Yet once the child is born the halakhah, for purposes of the law of incest, recognizes it as this woman’s child. The authors infer therefore that it is birth, rather than conception, which in all cases establishes the mother-child bond, so that the child conceived by IVF is the legal offspring of the “host mother.” While this conclusion is open to halakhic criticism (since the sources in question can be interpreted in several different ways),26 we would question the aptness of the analogy itself. Jewish law defines the Jew-by-choice as a “newborn child” for religious rather than for biological reasons. The ger or giyoret who enters our community and embarks upon a life of Torah and mitzvot most definitely becomes a “new person.” In the eyes of the talmudic sages, conversion marked a sharp and irrevocable break with one’s past and with one’s connections to the non-Jewish world. However we understand this concept today, it has nothing to do with the case of an embryo conceived through IVF. This fetus may experience a change of place, but unlike the proselyte it undergoes no transformation of religious status.

 

We learn two things from these observations. First, rabbinic scholars ought to acknowledge that traditional techniques of halakhic analysis, in particular the case method of reasoning by analogy, are of limited usefulness in an area dominated by technological novelty and innovation. The tortuous logic of the arguments we have just cited demonstrates that there may simply be no precedents or source materials in talmudic literature that offer plausible guidance to us in making decisions about these contemporary scientific and medical issues.27 Second, given our positive attitude as liberal Jews toward modernity in general, it is surely appropriate to rely upon the findings of modern science, rather than upon tenuous analogies from traditional sources, in order to render what we must consider to be scientific judgments. To ask “who are this person’s biological parents?” is to ask a scientific question whose answer is determined according to accepted scientific indicators; i.e., genetic testing. Hence, the biological parents of the child are those who donated the sperm and the egg from which he or she was fertilized.

 

In the event that a child is born to or raised by parents other than those who donated the sperm and the egg, he or she becomes the adoptive child of those parents. This does not present inordinate difficulties under Jewish law. As we have written elsewhere,28 adoptive parents are a child’s ultimate parents; those who raise, care for, educate and love the child during his or her life assume full parental status. It is to them that the child owes the duty of honor and reverence.29 The child adopted by another couple has no legal or religious relationship to the donors of the egg and sperm, although for personal, medical, and genetic reasons the child or his/her guardian should be permitted to discover the identity of the biological parents at an appropriate time.

 

Conclusion.

To summarize:

1. A human embryo or zygote is, like the fetus, a potential but not a legal person, and there is no explicit Jewish legal prohibition against its destruction.

 

2. In vitro fertilization is a legitimate medical therapy, offering realistic hope to many who seek to build families. Since the creation of multiple embryos is a necessary element of IVF, and since the preservation of “excess” embryos may constitute a serious impediment to the availability of this procedure, it is permissible to discard those embryos.

 

3. The embryo may be used for medical research, provided that it is handled with the proper respect and reverence.

 

4. The embryo may be offered to another couple. The child will be the biological offspring of the man and woman who donated the sperm and the egg. Those who raise the child are his or her “ultimate” and “real” parents.

NOTES

1 See the article by our colleague David Ellenson, “Artificial Fertilization (Hafrayyah Melakhotit) and Procreative Autonomy,” in W. Jacob and M. Zemer, eds., The Fetus and Fertility in Jewish Law (Pittsburgh and Tel Aviv: Freehof Institute of Progressive Halakhah, 1995), 19-38.

 

2 This fundamental question has never been addressed to or by the Responsa Committee. Therefore, while our she’elah proceeds on the assumption that the answer is affirmative, we find it necessary to fill this lacuna in our existing literature.

 

3 See Deut. 4:15, Lev. 18:5 and BT Yoma 85b; Isserles, YD 116:5.

 

4 M. Baba Kama 8:8; BT Baba Kama 91a-b; Yad Chovel 5:1l SA CM 426:31. An instance of unnecessary physical damage would be purely surgery undertaken for purely cosmetic reasons; see Teshuvot for the Nineties, no. 5752.7.

 

5 See the following responsa in Teshuvot for the Nineties: treatment for severe pain in terminally-ill patients (responsum 5754.14); medical experimentation under carefully controlled conditions (5755.11); on cosmetic surgery (5752.7); and abortion performed for the mother’s “healing” (refu’at imo; 5755.13).

 

6 The mitzvah is pikuach nefesh, the saving of human life. See Nachmanides, Torat Ha’adam (Chavel ed.), 41-42, and SA YD 336:1.

 

7 This suggests that the definition of “disease” is largely a matter of social construction: that part of our biological or psychological systems is functioning “improperly” is a judgment we make based upon a conception of what “proper” functioning is.

 

8 Gen. 1:28; M. Yevamot 6:6; Yad, Ishut 15:1, and SA EHE 1:1. For Reform Jewish teachings concerning the mitzvah of having children, see Gates of Mitzvah, 11, and American Reform Responsa, no. 132.

 

9 Rav Chisda’s position in the Talmud is cited as halakhah in Yad, Terumot 8:3.

 

10 Most halakhic authorities hold that there exists a prohibition (isur) against destroying a human fetus without sufficient cause, although there is a good deal of dispute as to the precise definition and legal basis of this prohibition; see R. A.S. Avraham, Nishmat Avraham, CM 425:2, sec. 1, for discussion. As to the debate over what counts as “sufficient cause” or warrant for abortion, see our responsum 5755.13.

 

11 R. Ya`akov Emden, Resp. Chavat Ya’ir, no. 31; R. Yechiel Ya`akov Weinberg, Resp. Seridey Esh 3:127 (p. 341); R. Eliezer Yehudah Waldenberg, Resp. Tzitz Eliezer 7:48, ch. 1 (pp. 190-191).

 

12 R. Shmuel Halevy Wasner, Resp. Shevet Halevy 5:47. The permit to perform otherwise forbidden work (melakhah) on Shabbat or Yom Kippur in order to save a fetus is found in Halakhot Gedolot (Laws of Yom Kippur; Warsaw ed., 31c; ed. Hildesheimer pp. 319-320) and cited by Nachmanides (Torat Ha’adam, ed. Chavel, pp. 28-29), who applies it even to a fetus less than forty days old. This would seem to be a contradiction: if it is not forbidden to destroy a fetus at this early stage, on the grounds that it is not a “fetus” at all, how can it be allowed to transgress the laws of Shabbat, an otherwise capital offense, in order to save it? Yet this problem can be resolved, for even at less than forty days the fetus is still a life in becoming, and we are taught that the duty of pikuach nefesh, the saving of life, applies even to cases of safek, when we are uncertain that “life” can be saved by our action (BT Yoma 85b; see Resp. Seridey Esh loc. cit.). Moreover, we might also remove the difficulty by saying that the permit to violate Shabbat and Yom Kippur applies in fact to saving the life of the mother, not that of the fetus (Hil. Harosh, Yoma 8:13; R. Nissim Gerondi to Alfasi, Yoma, fol. 3b).

 

13 See Sefer Assia 8 (1995), 3-4. Halevy, it should be noted, does not express a clear opinion as to whether the procedure of IVF is itself permitted; he explicitly notes that his ruling applies only to individuals or institutions who “adopt the opinion of those who permit (the procedure).”

 

14 Techumin 11 (1991), 272-273.

 

15 “The fetus is not a legal person” (lav nefesh hu); see Rashi, BT Sanhedrin 72b, s.v. yatza rosho, and Sefer Me’irat Eynayim, CM 425, no. 8.

 

16 The language is purposefully reminiscent of that utilized by R. Ben Zion Meir Hai Ouziel (Resp. Mishpetey Ouziel 3, Choshen Mishpat, no. 47), who permits abortion when there is a “slim pretext” (sibah kelushah) on which to argue that the procedure is necessary to safeguard the mother’s health.

 

17 Although this remains somewhat controversial; see the discussion on artificial insemination in A.S. Avraham, Nishmat Avraham, EHE 1, pp. 5ff.

 

18 On medical experimentation in general, see our responsum 5755.11 and R. Walter Jacob, Questions and Reform Jewish Answers, no. 152.

 

19 Resp. Tzitz Eliezer 15:45.

 

20 Moreh Nevuchim 1:72.

 

21 BT Kiddushin 69a.

 

22 The child of two gentiles is their legal offspring; see Encyclopedia Talmudit 5:289-295. Indeed, the passage in BT Kiddushin says only that the child is not related to the Jewish father (see Rashi, s.v. kevelad bema`ey behemah damey); this does not affect the existence of yichus between the mother and the child.

 

23 See the articles by R. Zalman N. Goldberg and R. Avraham Kilav in Techumin 5 (1984), 248-267.

 

24 BT Yevamot 97b.

 

25 BT Yevamot 22a and parallels.

 

26 See R. Yehoshua Ben-Meir in Assia 8 (1995), 73-81 and 153-168: the texts support various conclusions: the child is the offspring of the biological mother; the child is the offspring of the birth mother; the child is the offspring of both; the child is the offspring of neither. Not surprisingly, he concludes that “this question requires careful analysis and decision by the leading authorities” (81).

 

27 See Ellenson (note 1, above).

 

28 Teshuvot for the Nineties, no. 5753.12.

 

29 See Ex. 20:12 and Lev. 19:3. A parent may waive the honor and reverence owed him or her by a child. The decision to allow one’s biological child to be raised by others, though made for good and noble reasons, constitutes such a waiver.

If needed, please consult Abbreviations used in CCAR Responsa.