Joel M. Hoffman, PhD

I’m thrilled to announce the beta version of my latest project: Exploring the Bible videos. The site is a growing collection of short text-based videos about the Bible, frequently focusing on translation issues.

The first three videos (also available on YouTube) are:

• Do you speak KJV? Take the quiz!
  
• Thou Shalt Not Covet – Why “covet” is a mistranslation in the Ten Commandments.
  
• John 3:16 – What does “God so loved the world” really mean?

Longer than a soundbite and (much) shorter than a lecture, each video presents a single idea in two or three minutes

These first three videos mirror blog posts I’ve written on God Didn’t Say That (here, here, and here).

My hope is that these videos will be an effective way of discussing the text of the Bible, because the medium of video makes it possible to display the text as I talk about it.

Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

I’m thrilled to announce that my father, Rabbi Lawrence A. Hoffman, Ph.D., has just started a blog: Life and a Little Liturgy. The author of three dozen books, Rabbi Hoffman — “Dad,” to me — is a preeminent Jewish liturgist (it’s a niche market, I know, but he’s got it cornered) and leading modern Jewish philosopher. Here’s part of his latest post:

I do not usually admit this right off the bat — it is definitely a conversation stopper — but here it is: I am a liturgist. “Liturgy” is a common enough word among Christians, but it does not flow trippingly off Jewish tongues, and I am not only Jewish but a rabbi to boot. The word comes from the Greek, leitourgia, “public service,” which is how Greek civilization thought of service to the gods. The Jewish equivalent is the Temple cult of antiquity — in Hebrew, avodah, which meant the same thing, the work of serving God. That eventually morphed into what people do in church and synagogue. Christians call it liturgy; Jews call it “services.”
Keep reading…

This weekend, we will bake hamentaschen, dress up in costume, and read the Book of Esther (“The Megillah”) to celebrate the joyous holiday of Purim. According to verse 9:26 of that very book, we get the name “Purim” from the pur that was cast: “Therefore, they called these days `Purim’ after `pur.’” But while purim is the Hebrew plural of pur, pur itself is not a Hebrew word. For this reason, twice before in Esther, when pur is mentioned, we are told, “…pur, that is, the goral.” So a pur is a goral, but what is a goral?

In all likelihood, goral originally referred to a bunch of small pebbles or similar objects used to make decisions by chance: they would be cast down on the ground or put in a vessel of some sort, from which one would be drawn at random. (A similar practice, in which stones were placed in a helmet, is clearly documented from Homeric Greece. The Greek verb for casting these objects was ballo, from which we get our English word “ballot.”)

For example, in Leviticus 16, Aaron takes “two goats,” “a goral for God” and a “goral for Azazel.” Then the goat that God’s goral lands on is God’s goat, and the goat that Azazel’s goral lands on is Azazel’s goat; this latter goat is sent “to Azazel” in atonement. (Based on an ancient misunderstanding of the Hebrew “to Azazel,” a 1530 translation reads “to scape” instead of “to Azazel,” giving us the English phrase “scapegoat.”)

Other examples include Nehemiah (10:35): “we have cast the gorals to see who shall bring the wood offering.” In Psalms (22:17), the Psalmist laments that “they divvy up my clothes, casting a goral for my garments.” In Numbers 26, God tells Moses to divide up the land by goral. Joshua, too, draws a goral and uses it to apportion the land among the Israelites.

Goral later progressed to mean not only the item which was cast, but also that to which the victor was due. (And because real-estate was so often allocated by goral, goral also meant “real-estate” in particular.) In the meantime, presumably on the assumption that destiny or fate had something to do with who won, goral began to mean “destiny,” as well.

The English word “lot” followed exactly the same path, meaning at first a small (usually wooden) object used to make random decisions (as in “draw lots”) and then both what one received (for example, a “lot of land”) and what one is destined to receive (as in one’s “lot in life.”)

Up to this point in the story, a Hebrew goral is exactly an English “lot.”

But the authors of the Dead Sea Scrolls frequently mention goral, using it to mean “group of people” or “followers.”

In “The Rule of the Community,” a document (technically referred to as “1QS”) that describes all aspects of life in the Qumran sect, God has a goral and Belial (God’s Qumranic foe) has a goral. The priests bless those in God’s goral with a version of the priestly benediction, whereas the Levites curse those in Belial’s goral (1QS 2:2-5).

The War Scroll (“1QM”), which describes the final battle between the forces of good (“light”) and the forces of evil (“darkness”) before the “end of days,” begins with the prediction that the first attack by the sons of light will be against the goral of the sons of darkness.

If this usage of goral is akin to the English expression “to throw one’s lot in with,” God’s goral are the people who chose God, not the people that God chose.

As for pur, the word probably comes from Akkadian, which has a root pur that means “real-estate lot,” and a similar-sounding root meaning “vessel.” Perhaps Akkadian real-estate lots, too, were allocated by drawing lots. (Ibn Ezra thought the word might be Persian, but while Persian has a word pur, it means “son.”)

By curious chance, the word pur, if it were Hebrew, would have to have come from the Hebrew root p.r.r, which means “to break into crumbs.” And so in addition to reflecting our choice in God and our ancient good fortune, our early-spring holiday’s name indirectly reflects the hamentaschen we use to celebrate it.

Which in the case of Purim is just the way the cookie crumbles.

Happy Purim.

“The Bible Says So”

Between the on-going debate about gay marriage and the recently-noted anniversary of the hugely divisive Roe v. Rade decision legalizing abortion, more people have been shouting: “The Bible says so. That’s how I know!”

Even though I respect the Bible, and even though it forms the foundation of my personal and professional life, I think the argument is stupid.

Here’s why: Everyone filters the Bible through their own personal preferences, choosing the parts they like.

Two examples will help demonstrate what I mean.

The first comes from the many people who use Leviticus 18:22 — about a “man who lies with man as with a woman” — to defend anti-homosexual positions. (For some reason, this stance seems particularly popular among mega-church leaders, who really ought to know better: Rick Warren, for example, or Joel Osteen, who recently told CNN that the Bible says that homosexuality is a sin.)

The second comes from the many people who use “thou shalt not kill” from the Ten Commandments to defend anti-abortion or anti-death-penalty positions.

Homosexuality

It’s true that Leviticus 18:22 seems to discourage homosexuality, and though it stops short of specifically calling it a sin (which is why I think Pastor Osteen is wrong — more here), I’m not convinced by those who try to interpret the text as being about anything other than homosexuality.

But the very same section of the Bible also prohibits making clothes by combining different materials (Leviticus 19:19), technically known as sha’atnez.

So unless Pastor Warren, Pastor Osteen, and those of their ilk are willing to take a public and vehement position against wool-and-cotton clothing, I have no patience for their argument that they are locked into their anti-homosexual position by the Bible. They are not. They are choosing the verses they like, and, apparently, they like to hate homosexuality.

Similarly, Leviticus 20:13 condemns homosexuals to death, but the same punishment is mandated for people who curse their parents (Leviticus 20:9). Are those in the “it says so in the Bible” camp willing to pass laws that put children to death for speaking out against their parents?

And for that matter, Leviticus 20:10 demands the death penalty for both the man and woman involved in an adulterous relationship. Is that a law that the anti-homosexuality crowd advocates?

I believe in religious freedom, and if religious leaders want to speak out against homosexuals, I suppose it’s their right. But they are not locked into that position by the Bible. It’s their personal religious choice.

(Similarly themed passages in the New Testament, like Romans 1:26-27, are more complicated, but the same basic principal applies. Romans 1:26-27, for example, takes a negative view of both male and female homosexuality — though not actually calling either a “sin” — but in a much longer passage, starting at Romans 14:1, the same book demands tolerance and acceptance, even of sinners: “Welcome those who are weak of faith,” “[Do not] pass judgment on one another,” etc.)

Thou Shalt Not Kill

Perhaps even more than homosexuality, abortion is one of the most vexing issues of our day. Although people disagree about the details, almost everyone shares the opinion that at some point a fetus deserves the protection afforded to a human — the question just seems to be when. And the death penalty is just as divisive, with the sides remaining even further apart.

But the Ten Commandments don’t help in either case.

First of all, the original commandment doesn’t refer to “killing” but only to “illegal killing,” as in “murder” and “manslaughter.” The message in the Ten Commandments is that killing is a matter of morality. (I have more here.) So the Ten Commandments highlight the importance of getting abortion and death-penalty laws right, but they don’t provide any particular guidance regarding the details.

More to the point, though, the Ten Commandments also prohibit taking God’s name in vain, but we don’t hear religious leaders suggesting laws against that.

So again, I think religious leaders have the right to decide which of the Ten Commandments they think are important, but I also think they have an obligation to be honest with their followers. The leaders are not simply conveying Scripture. They are interpreting it as they see fit.

Hiding Behind Scripture

So when Pastor Osteen says that, “the Scripture shows that [homosexuality] is a sin,” he is being deceptive. What he means is, “my interpretation is that homosexuality is a sin.” When Pastor Warren spends his money to oppose homosexuality (and not, say, to advertise Romans 14:13: “so let us no longer pass judgment on one another”), he is not a neutral interpreter of Scripture. He is, rather, exercising his right as a religious leader to speak about what he personally feels is important.

More generally, I’d like to see religious leaders abandon the cowardice of hiding behind Scripture and admit that they are picking and choosing from the Bible, opting only for what’s important to them.

Who can forget the repeated scenes of Charlie Brown falling flat on his back yet again after trying to kick a football that Lucy has impishly yanked away? No matter how many times he’s failed, good old Charlie always believes that this time will be different. Lucy has changed. And he’ll finally succeed.

It’s funny because we all know that Charlie Brown will miss the ball.

But really, I think, it’s funny because we see ourselves in the character of Charlie Brown.

Each year at the holidays, we are accosted by images of happy children reveling in their newly received gifts.

The most wished for toy on Amazon.com — I’ve managed to live a pretty happy life never having even heard of it until today — comes in a cartoonish package depicting three deliriously happy children smiling the way only cartoon characters can. And the top selling toy on that website similarly depicts a mother smiling with her two amazingly happy pre-teen and teenage children.

“Shop by age to find the perfect toy,” Amazon.com advertises, following up with five pictures of smiling children.

What a concept: “The prefect toy.” Good grief!

It’s as though the only thing standing between children and unlimited bliss is the right gift. Find the right toy, and even teenagers will be gleeful. Siblings will stop fighting and start getting along. You’ll get home from work in time to enjoy the evening with your children, who suddenly will have no homework. Even your house will magically become spotlessly clean. All if you find the right gift.

Children and adults alike buy into the myth, with real dollars.

But it doesn’t work. Like Charlie Brown, we find our goal of a Gift To End All Sadness snatched away at the last minute.

And, worse, we come to a reasonable but wrong conclusion when it doesn’t work: we think that we have simply bought the wrong gift. So we set out — again like Charlie Brown — with the firm but wrong expectation that next time will be different. The next gift will make our lives better, and fix what’s wrong in the lives of those we love.

I have nothing against gifts. I like giving them and I like getting them. I will keep buying things for the important people in my life, and nothing I write here should dissuade you, dear friends, from buying things for me.

So, yes, I like presents.

Even more, I like the messages of the holidays.

And lest I once again fall flat on my back, I try not to confuse one with the other.

“I’m not a trained pilot. But I’m sick and tired of turbulence when I fly. Is it okay if I fly the plane text time?”

This is what I think of when I hear candidates proclaim that their lack of political experience will make them better politicians.

Governing isn’t easy. There’s skill involved. And, as with many things, experience probably helps.

So what do you think? Is lack of experience a good thing in a political candidate?

Different countries work differently, both in theory and in practice. I think we can learn from these differences.

Just for example, the Russian approach to hostage situations assigns top priority to killing the hostage takers. This is why, in October of 2002, Russian forces pumped poison gas into a Russian theater that Chechen rebels had taken over. Even though the theater contained hundreds of innocent civilians, including some very prominent Russians, the decision was made — in keeping with Russian policy — to do everything to kill the offenders.

By contrast, the U.S. approach would have assigned higher priority to getting the civilians out alive.

Similarly, the center traffic lanes in Moscow were reserved for high-ranking political officials, while in the U.S., everyone has to yield to emergency vehicles: the well-being of American citizens is (supposed to be) more important than the luxury of the ruling class.

More generally, the United States is — at least in theory and, I think, largely in practice — devoted to democracy, openness, transparency, and human rights. (I know there are exceptions.) Other values seem to include self-sufficiency, individuality, and the right to become rich. And having an independent and critical media seems pretty important.

China, by contrast, places more emphasis on societal rights than on individual ones. Toward this end, China exerts more control than the U.S. does over what its population has access to. This is one reason that the Chinese government censors the Internet.

Iran goes even further, censoring almost everything in its attempt to control the population. Creativity is discouraged and conformity is rewarded.

For that matter, I know people from corruption-ridden countries who lament the bureaucracy in the U.S. “At least back home,” goes one complaint, “you can bribe someone if you’re in a hurry. Here you have no recourse.”

Most people I know laud the U.S. approach and criticize China and Iran for their lack of openness.

Yet I frequently encounter Hebrew Schools that contain elements of what seem to be Chinese or Iranian principles: The Internet is censored or otherwise restricted. Cell phones are banned. (I understand the cell-phone issue is more complicated.) The collective good in the form of quiet and order trumps individual students’ needs.

In many schools, classroom environments are designed for the comfort of the teacher instead of the well-being of the students, just as the Soviet Union offered convenience to politburo members at the expense of ordinary citizens.

Most schools discourage independent, critical observation, and have nothing that plays the role of the media.

So here’s my question: if your school were a country, which country would it be? And are you happy with the answer?

Two thoughts on global warming:

1. Wind Energy. Wind turbines, which convert wind into energy, are hailed as a way of generating energy without harming the environment.

But I think we need that wind. I’m afraid we’re going to discover in ten or twenty or fifty years that the wind was part of the global ecosystem.

After putting a massive wind farm in, say, one of the plain states, will we have rain systems that no longer make their way across the country and instead stay put, causing massive flooding in the middle of the country and drought in the east?

2. Energy and Heat. Two of the biggest challenges facing us seem to be (a) not enough energy, and (b) the warming of the planet.

But heat is energy.

Can’t we solve both of these problems at the same time by using the extra heat on the planet for energy?

Congregations across America are struggling with the issue of transliterated prayerbooks, and of transliteration in general.

On one hand, many people feel that if transliteration is available, worshipers will have little or even no incentive to learn Hebrew.

On the other hand, if transliteration is not available, there’s a concern that people may (rightly) feel left out of worship and other activities.

The dilemma is highlighted in services designed for children, because frequently those services are part of a Hebrew instruction program. If the transliteration is available — some think — it will undermine the Hebrew school.

In response, even congregations that use a prayerbook with transliteration often produce a special non-transliterated one for use in the school.

But I don’t think that hiding the transliteration is the solution.

Once people know that transliteration is available — anywhere, whether in their prayerbook, another prayerbook, or at another congregation — the cat is out of the bag. They know that you don’t need to learn the Hebrew alphabet in order to pray.

And I would go one step further: even if you do know the Hebrew alphabet, it’s all but impossible to know it well enough to keep up with prayers unless you’ve practiced them; and once you have practiced them enough, again you don’t need to know the alphabet.

So even without transliteration, it’s hard to make the claim that Hebrew is required for praying.

Furthermore, not all that many people love services enough that the goal of full participation will be enough to prod them to learn Hebrew. Faced with the option of learning Hebrew and praying versus not learning Hebrew and not praying, many people will choose what they see as the win-win solution of not studying and not going to services.

I think that similar concerns apply to bar/bat-mitzvah training. Children all know that they can (and often do) learn their Torah and Haftarah portions from a recording, so they know that they don’t need to learn that alphabet to become bar/bat mitzvah. They also know that even if they learn the alphbet, they still have to memorize their Torah portion, because there are no vowels in the Torah.

It seems to me that all of these observations point in the same direction: the purpose of learning Hebrew has to be more than the facilitation of certain activities. If the only reason to learn Hebrew is to pray, or to have a bar/bat mitzvah, or to chant Torah, I think that most people will either (a) find an easier way to achieve those goals; or (b) give up on them.

In short, if it seems that transliteration makes people not want to learn Hebrew, the transliteration is exposing a flaw, not creating one.

Why, then, should people learn Hebrew? And why do we insist that children learn it before bar/bat mitzvah?

The answer used to easy, because learning Hebrew was the same as becoming literate. Now, literacy in connected to (in North America) English; and purely in terms of practical literacy, I would put Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic ahead of Hebrew.

Though answers are harder to come by now, they are, if anything, more important. It seems to me that every educator, teacher, and lay-leader should have a clear answer to why Hebrew is important.

Here are some reasons I can think of:

• Hebrew is part of our heritage, and learning it helps this generation form a connection to its past.

• Hebrew is part of the eternality of the Jewish people, and this generation has an obligation not to break the chain. A time will come when the world will no longer speak English as a lingua franca, just as Greek and Latin have all but disappeared from daily life, and German and French are waning. But Hebrew, which predated those languages, is still around, and learning it is part of long-term literacy.

• Hebrew forms a connection with Israel, and can be a stepping stone to a greater sense of belonging to the Jewish people.

• Hebrew is fun, particularly for children. Children like puzzles, and decoding Hebrew is a marvelous puzzle. (If Hebrew isn’t fun in your school — if the joy of decoding a puzzle and learning something new have been masked — I think that problem needs addressing right away.)

• Study for its own sake is part of our heritage. Even if Hebrew had no other purpose at all, it would still be valuable simply because learning is valuable.

So I’m all for transliteration. It has an important role to play in creating inclusive environments.

And I’m also all for teaching more Hebrew, because it’s part of who we are.