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PDF FormatOf the seven Noahide commandments, three especially severe prohibitions are not to be violated under any circumstances. The formulation of these prohibitions for Jews is well known: “Nothing overrides the preservation of life except for the prohibitions of idolatry, forbidden sexual relations and bloodshed.”84 Less well-known is the tradition that even Gentiles are required to sacrifice their lives rather than transgress these three prohibitions (in a slightly revised version): “R. Joseph said, the school of Rav stated: For three commandments a Noahide must be willing to die, for forbidden sexual relations, bloodshed and blasphemy.”85 In other words, Israelite tradition holds that these fundamental edicts of natural morality are obligatory for every individual and society.
The question then arises: Is the force of universal natural morality different for the people of Israel, in light of their special relationship with God and their acceptance of his Tora? Answering this question requires asking why there is a Jewish people at all, and what its meaning is, according to the Israelite tradition. As mentioned earlier, the Bible is concerned with the general human condition, but this is expressed primarily through the annals of a people. The significance of this should not be underestimated: It means that for the Bible, the fundamental reality of human existence is perceived in terms of a national reality. Since the Flood, humanity has been divided into nations, and so it will continue to be.86 But this is not just the reality, it is also the ideal. The descendants of Abraham were given the Tora only after they had become a nation, and their special status—their role in world history—was always as a nation: “You shall be my treasured possession among all the peoples, for mine is all the earth.”87
In the biblical view, the personal redemption an individual can attain is limited and, for the most part, transient. Only within a societal context is it possible to achieve a complete and enduring moral life. The term “society,” however, is an abstraction that does not exist in the Bible: In its real world one finds only circumstances and conditions, only communities and peoples identified by name. In recognizing the prodigious capability of the particularist national framework for preserving and transmitting moral values from one generation to the next, the Bible is saying, in effect, that the nation is the sole communal unit capable of advancing the interests of the individual and the public over time—and the best barrier against descent into the moral abyss. This, then, is the meaning of the promise to Abraham that his offspring, the guardians of his tradition, will eventually become a nation.88
Like all conservative worldviews, Jewish thought holds that a proper way of life can be attained only in the context of a societal framework, not as a purely private endeavor, and the nation is the one social framework that stands a real chance of realizing that way of life.89 According to Judaism, the universal concept of morality is embodied through national existence in the particularist reality of actual life. This is also the source of a tension unique to the national life of the Israelites: The imperative to embrace the characteristics of a normal nation, existing in the world “like all the nations,” while remaining faithful to the Jewish people’s unique heritage of being “chosen” by God. Jewish nationalism, from its inception to the present day, is formed of this distinctive combination that has always prevented the Jews from being only a people, or only a religion.
That Israel was expected to meet the demands of both the universal and unique moral criteria is clear from the talmudic explanations for the destruction of the Temple: “Why was the First Temple destroyed? Because of three things that prevailed there: Idolatry, forbidden sexual relations and bloodshed.” That is to say, the First Temple was destroyed and Israel exiled because it failed to fulfill not the special demands made upon Israel in the Tora, but the moral rules incumbent upon all humanity—the three prohibitions which no one, Jew or Gentile, is to transgress, even if this means sacrificing one’s own life instead.90 Going on to explain the destruction of the Second Temple, this statement relates specifically to those who, relying upon the Tora, denigrated the “way of the world”: “But the Second Temple, in which people engaged in Tora study, commandments and acts of kindness—why was it destroyed? Because of needless hatred. This teaches that needless hatred is equal to the three transgressions of idolatry, forbidden sexual relations and bloodshed.”91
Another rabbinic statement, discussing the conditions of redemption from exile, reflects a similar view: “Rabbi [Yehuda Hanasi] said to me: ‘Israel was exiled twice, from the First Temple and from the Second. In the First Temple they were given a reprieve, and in the latter one, they were not given a reprieve.’ I said to him: ‘My son, those living at the time of the First Temple, even though they were idolaters, possessed the way of the world, and they engaged in charity and acts of kindness.’” The people of the Second Temple period, however, were well-versed in Tora but not in the way of the world, and as a result, the period of their exile was left unspecified.92 The implication is clear: In order to remedy the destruction of the Second Temple, it is not enough for Israel to amass knowledge of Tora. Israel must also rediscover the way of the world.
V. The Book of the Righteous
In the rabbinic literature, the “way of the world” refers to a system of prescriptions that are not exclusive to the Tora. Put another way, the “way of the world” is the Israelite common sense. However, as a term from the mishnaic and talmudic periods—that is, from the destruction of the Second Temple and the consequent exile—it relates mainly to the interpersonal aspect of natural morality, and is lacking in one important respect: Reference to the public sphere of the Israelite nation, to Israel as a political community.
In the time of the Bible, when the Israelite common tradition still included a crucial, political dimension, the term that was used to express the idea of the natural morality upon which the world is founded, was hayashar—“righteousness.” The most important use of this term was in Israelite political thought. In this context, it referred to the state as an instrument not merely for defending against enemies and attaining economic prosperity but, first and foremost, for ensuring a moral, and morally viable, social order.
The book of Judges is the starting point for examining the biblical view of “righteousness” in the political order. Judges depicts a period in Israelite history when the fledgling nation is struggling to manage its affairs without benefit of an institutionalized government. The Israelites no longer enjoy the divinely inspired leadership of Moses and Joshua, but have yet to adopt the monarchy. It is during this period that the people’s ability to stand on its own—both physically and morally—is tested most severely.
Most of the book of Judges is dedicated to episodes of backsliding by the Israelites, when they engage in what is “evil in the eyes of the Eternal” (referring mainly to idolatry or marriages with idolaters). As punishment for these evils, all or part of the nation is conquered and subjugated by its enemies.93 After the people repent and seek mercy, they receive a heavenly reprieve in the form of a judge-ruler who leads them out of danger. Victory is accompanied by Israel’s promising to observe the Tora, and the judge’s undertaking to maintain justice and righteousness—and then “the land rested” for forty or eighty years.94 In most instances, this appears to be an almost mechanical relationship between the people and God: When the people violate the Tora’s commandments, they are punished with war and subjugation; when they mend their ways and return to the laws of the Tora, they are rewarded with peace and security.
The two concluding episodes in Judges take an entirely different shape, however. In both, the central concept of “righteousness” is mentioned in a verse commonly understood as having negative connotations. This verse reads, “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right (yashar) in his eyes,” and it has come to symbolize the popular perception of the entire period of Judges as a dark phase in Israel’s history. But these words appear specifically, and only, in these two unusual stories which mention neither an obvious evil of which the people are accused, nor a judge who saves the day. A close examination of these two episodes raises the possibility of a very different interpretation of the verse: In both instances Israel contends with a problematic situation and, with no clear divine guidance, chooses a course of action that is neither condemned nor punished. Not only that, to a certain degree the biblical accounts seem to commend the nation for dealing with major difficulties in a tolerable fashion on their own.
The first case introduces Micah, from the hill country of Efraim, who builds a private sanctuary where he can worship the God of Israel. Within he places graven images, statuary and priestly garments; he even appoints a Levite to act as priest.95 Although contrary to ritual form as prescribed in the Tora, his efforts nevertheless are directed to the God of Israel, not to other gods. The only commentary on these activities is that “in those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his eyes.” The narrative then describes members of the tribe of Dan, who stop at Micah’s sanctuary in their migration northward in search of new territory to settle. In the end, they take with them all of Micah’s ritual implements—and his priest—in order to be able to worship the God of Israel in their new territory.96
