What’s Legal about Jewish Law?

In his book, Halakhah: The Rabbinic Idea of Law (excerpted in Mosaic), Chaim Saiman aims to explain exactly what halakhah—usually translated as “Jewish law”—actually is. Moshe Koppel writes in his laudatory review:

Saiman notes at the [book’s] outset that halakhah is less than law in that it is neither legislated nor enforced by state institutions and hasn’t been for at least two millennia. He also notes that it is more than law in that it engages its adherents much more thoroughly and intensely than a legal system engages its subjects; no layman goes to hear a lecture on financial regulation, though many go to lectures on Bava Kama, [the talmudic tractate dealing with torts]. . . . This argument is so convincing that it suggests that, if one wishes to explain halakhah to the uninitiated, perhaps law is not the most apt basis for comparison.

The correct comparison, in my opinion, is to a system of social norms, the set of informal rules that, though not enforced by any official bodies, govern our lives much more thoroughly than do laws: how to dress for an occasion, where to stand in conversation and what to say, when gifts are required and what is an appropriate gift, to whom to show deference and how, table manners, workplace interactions, phone etiquette, dating rules, and on and on.

Halakhah is a lot more like a system of social norms than like a system of law, along all the dimensions that Saiman mentions. Apart from the fact that such norms are neither legislated nor enforced by the state, they also engage people in much the way halakhah does. The literature on social norms includes codes (Emily Post and wannabes), responsa (agony aunts and self-styled ethicists in newspapers), and learned novellae by legions of academics. And if people don’t often flock to lectures on the ins and outs of social norms, it’s only because such lectures are unnecessary. The pop culture they consume, from self-help books to Hollywood movies and television sitcoms, already consists of thinly-veiled morality tales designed precisely to instruct them in current standards of appropriate behavior and warn them of the consequences of failing to comply.

To be sure, I am not suggesting that halakhah is simply another system of social norms and nothing more need be said. Obviously, committed Jews regard violating the laws of Shabbat as a more serious matter than belching at the dinner table. [And], as Saiman illustrates at great length, the literature on halakhah through the generations relates to halakhah as if it were legislated and enforced, even if in fact the relevant institutions have been in abeyance for a few millennia.

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More about: Halakhah, Judaism, Law, Religion & Holidays

Drafting the Ultra-Orthodox: The Debate Returns

April 23 2019

As Benjamin Netanyahu works to form a governing coalition, he is expected to try to bring both Yisrael Beytenu—which strongly objects to the exemption from military service given to most Ḥaredim—and the two ḥaredi parties into his government. The negotiations, writes David M. Weinberg, will no doubt revive the controversy regarding this exemption. Over the past twenty years, many compromise proposals have been considered, and meanwhile ḥaredi enlistment has gradually increased, but no piece of legislation has managed to survive both the Knesset and the Supreme Court. Weinberg proposes a solution of his own:

Almost every yeshiva and kollel [institution of post-graduate talmudic study] in Israel operates on the same academic calendar. . . . The total vacation accrued, for all junior and senior kollel men, yeshiva boys, and yeshiva educators of all ranks and stripes [is] ten to eleven weeks annually. Ultra-Orthodox society calls this beyn ha-zmanim (between semesters).

At these times, you’ll find ḥaredi youth and ḥaredi families traveling the country, visiting its parks, shopping in its malls, swimming in its pools, and even occasionally traveling abroad. Doing normal vacation stuff. . . .

I say that the well-endowed-with-vacation Ḥaredim have an obligation to forgo at least some of their time “outside the tents of Torah” to share in the national burden. . . . It could work like this: for, say, five out of their ten weeks of vacation each year, ultra-Orthodox men would be drafted into specially-designed units that meet rigorous standards of kashrut and modesty—ranging from the all-ḥaredi Naḥal units to the national emergency medical service Magen David Adom, and from the army rabbinate to rescue services. . . .

Some Ḥaredim might have to miss out on the luxury of having a Passover seder at home or may find themselves spending Yom Kippur in an army hospital pushing wheelchairs, but that’s a small price to pay for national responsibility and unity. . . . Ḥaredim have the time and the ability to serve their country without egregiously cutting back on Torah study and without abandoning their unique way of life—if they truly care to share in the national-security burden.

This proposal upholds the belief that . . . Torah study should be allowed to flourish without restriction in the state of Israel, and simultaneously the belief that it is morally unacceptable that an entire class of Israeli citizens automatically be released from the burden of militarily defending the country.

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More about: Haredim, IDF, Israeli politics