One of the most moving tributes composed for the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia was written by Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. By now it’s well-known that they were friends. They socialized, went to the opera together – even road an elephant together while visiting India.
As part of her tribute she wrote:
“From our years together at the D.C. Circuit, we were best buddies. We disagreed now and then, but when I wrote for the Court and received a Scalia dissent, the opinion ultimately released was notably better than my initial circulation.”
When she was writing a landmark case in the area of gender equality in 1996, Scalia gave her an advanced copy of his dissent which enabled her to refine her arguments.
She said that Scalia “nailed all the weak spots — the ‘applesauce’ and ‘argle bargle’ — and gave me just what I needed to strengthen the majority opinion.”
Rabbinic Judaism has a concept that I want to explore – it’s called בר פלוגתא bar p’lugta. A bar plug’ta is like an intellectual sparring partner – so the Mishnaic sage Hillel was the bar pl’ugta for Shammai and vice versa. The Talmudic sage Abaye was the bar pl’ugta for Rava, and vice versa.
A bar p'lugta is someone who often has a different ideological perspective or orientation than you, but who you are in conversation with, and ongoing conversation leads you and your bar p'lugta to a sharper iteration of whatever the issues are. Interestingly rabbinic texts point out that many of these pairs did actually socialize. They didn't go to the opera together, but we are told that Hillel and Shammai ate together and married off their progeny to one another.
I see this concept in my parents’ generation more than in my generation. In this synagogue, I see my parents’ generation far more willing to have vociferous debates across ideological lines and far more likely to have friends across the ideological spectrum. There seem to be a bunch of reasons for this which can be the topic of another conversation.
For now, I want to use myself as an example of how we might learn from people who see things differently than we do.
The first example suggests a time when I continued to disagree with virtually everything the other person was saying but listening to the other person helped me clarify how I view and express my thinking. The second example suggests a time when my thinking changed as a result of listening to the counsel of other people.
A few nights ago I watched the town hall meeting in South Carolina with presidential candidate Senator Ted Cruz. Among other topics he addressed, he spoke about wanting to reverse a number of Supreme Court decisions in the name of religious liberty.
And though it was difficult to listen to him at times, because his views are so different from my own on a variety of issues, I had some moments of clarity as he continued to speak that led to the following thoughts:
1. I need to do a better job defining what I believe is the role that religion ought to and ought not to play in determining law and policy in our country.
2. I need to be clearer in defining religious liberty as I see it, which is quite different than the way Senator Cruz sees it. Religious liberty ought not be about prevailing upon the government to make laws that promote your version of your religion. Religious liberty ought to be about giving space for individuals and individual religious communities to chart their own course against the backdrop of the rights that the government ought to protect. So, for example – two adults, regardless of their genders, should have the right to marry but people should feel free to attend or not if invited. A woman should have the right to terminate her pregnancy under certain circumstances but if she is your spouse, you and she and your religious leader are free to have a conversation to help her determine whether or not to exercise that right.
3. I need to be clearer in claiming that my approach to religion, which emphasizes the evolving interplay between scripture and reality, has deep authentic precedent in the history of religion, arguably more authentic than the precedent for literalist interpretation that seems to typify Senator Cruz’s approach.
And now the second example. I spoke months ago about two different mindsets when it comes to Israel and the Jewish people – one I called the mindset of Abraham (because of his concern for Isaac as well as Ishmael) that celebrates and advocates for innovation and collaboration among Jews, and between Jews and those of other faiths; the other I called the mindset of Sarah (because of her overriding impulse to protect Isaac) focusing on the dangers that Jews in Israel and elsewhere face and advocating for Israel’s security and well-being.
This can also apply to how Israel-related issues play out nationally – on college campuses, for example.
I try to balance both mindsets, but often I gravitate more toward the mindset of Abraham. I want to celebrate and support schools that bring Arab and Jewish children together, to acknowledge campuses that are succeeding in having nuanced conversations about Israel that go beyond simplistic rhetoric.
Occasionally I benefit from having someone say to me, “the horrible things that are being perpetrated toward Jews and toward Israel as a Jewish state need to be confronted and acknowledged more directly and strongly.”
I don’t comb newspapers looking for anti-Israel bias – it’s just not what I naturally do. Recently, in light of stabbing attacks of Israeli Jews by Palestinians and Israeli Arabs, a few people encouraged me to look more carefully and so I read descriptions of Palestinian attackers and Israeli responses with more sensitivity to possible bias. In several situations where Israelis were attacked by Palestinian stabbers and the stabbers were killed, the headlines indicated that Palestinians were killed without referencing the precipitating attack. In some instances there wasn’t sufficient clarification even in the actual articles. At the very least, these instances should form the basis of discussion for what overarching mindset and narrative might be behind such glaring omissions.
I am pleased that Hillels on many university campuses are creating compelling, innovative communities for their Jewish students and this is all worthy of commendation and support. But I also need to speak out more about the critiques of Israel that occur on college campuses that are not nuanced, that do not seem to be motivated by a desire for Israel’s well-being, that are not expressed in the context of critique regarding human rights issues in any place other than Israel.
So I appreciate those people in my professional and personal life who encourage me to give strong weight to the slights and dangers and tragedies and injustices - to turn the impulse of Sarah up a few notches, if you will.
A few weeks ago, when I was in Israel, I was quite aware of creative efforts to foster collaboration within and beyond the Jewish community, in keeping with what I'm calling the impulse of Abraham.
I also know how I felt when I needed to walk by myself from the place in Baka where we were staying to the Hartman Institute on the edge of the German colony. It was dark out and there weren’t so many people on the street. And each time I had to decide what street to turn on, since there are many different routes one can take, I felt keenly aware of the possible repercussions of each choice. At those moments I was thinking of the impulse of Sarah imenu more than that of Avraham avinu – more Sarah, less Abraham.
Though I continue to maintain that if we snuff out the impulse of Abraham altogether, our future will be very limited indeed.
Moses was told to help craft garments for his brother Aaron – לכבוד ולתפארת l’chavod ul’tifaret – for honor and glory. Aaron occasionally acted as Moses's mouthpiece. Here we have two brothers who support and collaborate with one another even though we know that they had different roles, didn’t always act consistently with one another, and occasionally challenged one another.
The bar b'plugta – the partner who challenges us - can help us greatly if we are open to the influence. Sometimes he or she says things that don’t change our views but help us refine how we express our views; sometimes he or she says things that cause us to view things in a different way or to re-calibrate our emphasis.
I'd like propose a toast: To Aaron and Moses, to Hillel and Shammai, to Rava and Abaye, and to Antonin and Ruth. To the people in our lives who help us to think, speak and act with greater clarity and integrity.
L’hayim – to a deeper, richer, more carefully examined life.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on February 20, 2016, Parashat Tetzaveh
As part of her tribute she wrote:
“From our years together at the D.C. Circuit, we were best buddies. We disagreed now and then, but when I wrote for the Court and received a Scalia dissent, the opinion ultimately released was notably better than my initial circulation.”
When she was writing a landmark case in the area of gender equality in 1996, Scalia gave her an advanced copy of his dissent which enabled her to refine her arguments.
She said that Scalia “nailed all the weak spots — the ‘applesauce’ and ‘argle bargle’ — and gave me just what I needed to strengthen the majority opinion.”
Rabbinic Judaism has a concept that I want to explore – it’s called בר פלוגתא bar p’lugta. A bar plug’ta is like an intellectual sparring partner – so the Mishnaic sage Hillel was the bar pl’ugta for Shammai and vice versa. The Talmudic sage Abaye was the bar pl’ugta for Rava, and vice versa.
A bar p'lugta is someone who often has a different ideological perspective or orientation than you, but who you are in conversation with, and ongoing conversation leads you and your bar p'lugta to a sharper iteration of whatever the issues are. Interestingly rabbinic texts point out that many of these pairs did actually socialize. They didn't go to the opera together, but we are told that Hillel and Shammai ate together and married off their progeny to one another.
I see this concept in my parents’ generation more than in my generation. In this synagogue, I see my parents’ generation far more willing to have vociferous debates across ideological lines and far more likely to have friends across the ideological spectrum. There seem to be a bunch of reasons for this which can be the topic of another conversation.
For now, I want to use myself as an example of how we might learn from people who see things differently than we do.
The first example suggests a time when I continued to disagree with virtually everything the other person was saying but listening to the other person helped me clarify how I view and express my thinking. The second example suggests a time when my thinking changed as a result of listening to the counsel of other people.
A few nights ago I watched the town hall meeting in South Carolina with presidential candidate Senator Ted Cruz. Among other topics he addressed, he spoke about wanting to reverse a number of Supreme Court decisions in the name of religious liberty.
And though it was difficult to listen to him at times, because his views are so different from my own on a variety of issues, I had some moments of clarity as he continued to speak that led to the following thoughts:
1. I need to do a better job defining what I believe is the role that religion ought to and ought not to play in determining law and policy in our country.
2. I need to be clearer in defining religious liberty as I see it, which is quite different than the way Senator Cruz sees it. Religious liberty ought not be about prevailing upon the government to make laws that promote your version of your religion. Religious liberty ought to be about giving space for individuals and individual religious communities to chart their own course against the backdrop of the rights that the government ought to protect. So, for example – two adults, regardless of their genders, should have the right to marry but people should feel free to attend or not if invited. A woman should have the right to terminate her pregnancy under certain circumstances but if she is your spouse, you and she and your religious leader are free to have a conversation to help her determine whether or not to exercise that right.
3. I need to be clearer in claiming that my approach to religion, which emphasizes the evolving interplay between scripture and reality, has deep authentic precedent in the history of religion, arguably more authentic than the precedent for literalist interpretation that seems to typify Senator Cruz’s approach.
And now the second example. I spoke months ago about two different mindsets when it comes to Israel and the Jewish people – one I called the mindset of Abraham (because of his concern for Isaac as well as Ishmael) that celebrates and advocates for innovation and collaboration among Jews, and between Jews and those of other faiths; the other I called the mindset of Sarah (because of her overriding impulse to protect Isaac) focusing on the dangers that Jews in Israel and elsewhere face and advocating for Israel’s security and well-being.
This can also apply to how Israel-related issues play out nationally – on college campuses, for example.
I try to balance both mindsets, but often I gravitate more toward the mindset of Abraham. I want to celebrate and support schools that bring Arab and Jewish children together, to acknowledge campuses that are succeeding in having nuanced conversations about Israel that go beyond simplistic rhetoric.
Occasionally I benefit from having someone say to me, “the horrible things that are being perpetrated toward Jews and toward Israel as a Jewish state need to be confronted and acknowledged more directly and strongly.”
I don’t comb newspapers looking for anti-Israel bias – it’s just not what I naturally do. Recently, in light of stabbing attacks of Israeli Jews by Palestinians and Israeli Arabs, a few people encouraged me to look more carefully and so I read descriptions of Palestinian attackers and Israeli responses with more sensitivity to possible bias. In several situations where Israelis were attacked by Palestinian stabbers and the stabbers were killed, the headlines indicated that Palestinians were killed without referencing the precipitating attack. In some instances there wasn’t sufficient clarification even in the actual articles. At the very least, these instances should form the basis of discussion for what overarching mindset and narrative might be behind such glaring omissions.
I am pleased that Hillels on many university campuses are creating compelling, innovative communities for their Jewish students and this is all worthy of commendation and support. But I also need to speak out more about the critiques of Israel that occur on college campuses that are not nuanced, that do not seem to be motivated by a desire for Israel’s well-being, that are not expressed in the context of critique regarding human rights issues in any place other than Israel.
So I appreciate those people in my professional and personal life who encourage me to give strong weight to the slights and dangers and tragedies and injustices - to turn the impulse of Sarah up a few notches, if you will.
A few weeks ago, when I was in Israel, I was quite aware of creative efforts to foster collaboration within and beyond the Jewish community, in keeping with what I'm calling the impulse of Abraham.
I also know how I felt when I needed to walk by myself from the place in Baka where we were staying to the Hartman Institute on the edge of the German colony. It was dark out and there weren’t so many people on the street. And each time I had to decide what street to turn on, since there are many different routes one can take, I felt keenly aware of the possible repercussions of each choice. At those moments I was thinking of the impulse of Sarah imenu more than that of Avraham avinu – more Sarah, less Abraham.
Though I continue to maintain that if we snuff out the impulse of Abraham altogether, our future will be very limited indeed.
Moses was told to help craft garments for his brother Aaron – לכבוד ולתפארת l’chavod ul’tifaret – for honor and glory. Aaron occasionally acted as Moses's mouthpiece. Here we have two brothers who support and collaborate with one another even though we know that they had different roles, didn’t always act consistently with one another, and occasionally challenged one another.
The bar b'plugta – the partner who challenges us - can help us greatly if we are open to the influence. Sometimes he or she says things that don’t change our views but help us refine how we express our views; sometimes he or she says things that cause us to view things in a different way or to re-calibrate our emphasis.
I'd like propose a toast: To Aaron and Moses, to Hillel and Shammai, to Rava and Abaye, and to Antonin and Ruth. To the people in our lives who help us to think, speak and act with greater clarity and integrity.
L’hayim – to a deeper, richer, more carefully examined life.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on February 20, 2016, Parashat Tetzaveh
I too was charmed by and appreciated stories of the friendship between Scalia and Ginsburg, until I read of how awful he was toward O'Connor, and what a mean-spirited bully he could be. And that's setting aside the intolerance of his views, his open politicking outside the court (compromising its integrity), and the terrible decisions he advocated, which have undermined our democracy. I could not agree more with the value of engaging with others with different points of view, in serious and substantive ways. But is our job just to enjoy the interplay, or to try to change thinking we find offensive (whether about Jews and Israel, or gays and abortion in Scalia's case), etc. etc?
ReplyDeleteI think that full-blown advocacy for our own positions and critiquing others on their positions is very much called for by Jewish tradition. Listening carefully to a different position doesn't necessarily require us to adopt that position in whole or even in part. As I mentioned in my response to the Town Hall meeting, in some instances, such listening sharpens our capacity to advocate for our own position.
ReplyDelete