OzTorah

Q. A Christian woman in Pakistan is being tried for blasphemy. She is accused of making derogatory remarks about Islam and if found guilty she could be put to death. What does Judaism say about blasphemy?

A. As early as the Seven Laws of the Sons of No’ach there was a strict Jewish prohibition of Bir’kat HaShem, “cursing the Name of God”. (These Seven Laws are the Bible’s first code of law, even more basic than the Ten Commandments.)

The Hebrew bir’kat literally means “blessing (of)”, but here it is a euphemism. The same euphemism is used later in Tanach in relation to sedition: in the story of Jezebel, Naboth is told, berachta Elokim vamelech, “You have blessed (i.e. cursed) God and the king” (I Kings 20:10).

Ex. 22:27 says, “You shall not revile God”, which not only prohibits cursing God but cursing the judges who are sometimes called Elohim (e.g. Psalm 82:1), because human judges are regarded as partners with God and serving His purposes (Shab. 10a).

The third of the Ten Commandments is a broad rule against taking the Name of God in vain (Ex. 20:7), which safeguards the sanctity and honour of the Divine Name, but it does not provide a definition of blasphemy.

Lev.24:16 says that anyone who blasphemes God’s Name is to be put to death. However, the rabbinic sages understand this as publicly cursing the Divine Name (not just any synonym for deity, but the authentic sacred Name), and Mishnah Sanhedrin lays down the procedure if someone is accused of committing this act. Unless a person has specifically done what the law prohibits, it is not blasphemy in the technical sense, though it is certainly a grave moral wrong.

For a Jew to make derogatory remarks about Judaism as a whole is certainly wrong, but it is not technically blasphemy. Similarly, saying negative things about another religion is not blasphemy in the eyes of Jewish law, nor does Jewish law prohibit a gentile saying something that has the effect of reviling his/her own deity or prophet or criticising his/her own religion.

Judaism takes it for granted that human beings give respect to their religion but would not impose the death penalty on someone who failed to act in this way, whether to their own or someone else’s religion.

Some years ago there was national debate in Australia about whether blasphemy should remain on the statute book (it was an early British import) and I was amongst those who argued that the blasphemy law had no place in a modern democratic society in which the marketplace of ideas included the airing of many points of view.

If persons made hurtful comments that brought a particular religion into contempt or incited racial, religious or ethnic hatred – not to speak of violence – there were other legal sanctions and means of redress available.

Q. Why do some blessings say le (“to”, e.g. le’hadlik ner shel Shabbat) and others say al (“concerning”, e.g. al n’tillat yadayim)?

A. There are many theories. None works consistently.

Rabbenu Tam says al is used when an action immediately follows the blessing, e.g. al hamilah (“about circumcision”) but le when the action is prolonged, e.g. le’hadlik ner shel Chanukah (“to kindle the Chanukah lights”).

Maimonides says le applies when the action is personal, e.g. le’hitattef batzitzit (“to wrap oneself in a fringed garment”) but al when the action is for others, e.g. al hash’chitah (“concerning animal slaughter”).

These rules sound plausible but they have major exceptions, e.g. le’hadlik ner shel Shabbat and al achilat maror.

For some reason the Torah calls it a test: “He fed you in the wilderness with manna in order to put you to the test” (Deut. 8:3,16).

Abravanel remarks, “Surely this was a great kindness, not a test!”

Rashi explains that the people were in fact being tested to see whether they obeyed the command not to leave any manna overnight and not to collect it on Shabbat.

The manna was a gift that came with conditions. If the people fell on it like savages and ignored the rules imposed by the Almighty, they would have failed the test.

From this we learn a wider lesson for life. Life, like the manna, is a gift, but it comes with conditions.

If we say, “It’s my own life and I can do what I like with it,” we fail the test. It shows we cannot be trusted with a precious gift.

If we live without restraints and standards we injure ourselves and waste our potentialities. If we cherish every moment and act with moderation and responsibility, we pass with colours flying.

It is this sidra which teaches us to bensch.

It says, “You shall eat and be satisfied and bless the Lord your God” (Deut. 8:10).

From this sidra the Talmud also derives the rule that one should say one hundred blessings a day.

“Now, O Israel,” asks the sidra, “what does the Lord your God ask of you?” (Deut. 10:12). “What” is mah, and Rabbi Meir (Menachot 43b) reads it as me’ah – a hundred.

A hundred blessings a day: does this mean a little notebook in which every b’rachah is religiously recorded?

Not in that sense, and indeed it would be very difficult on Shabbat when one should not write.

But living a Jewish life and conscientiously bensching and saying the daily prayers in itself provides the set number or even more: 15 early morning blessings, 19 blessings three times a day in the Amidah, blessings before and after food, and other blessings that respond to the day’s experiences.

A hundred blessings suggests on another level that we should make every day a day-long act of worship filled with the recognition of the presence and beneficence of the Almighty.

This is the recommendation of the Book of Proverbs when it says (3:6), “Know Him in all your ways”.

It is the experience of the Psalmist, who says,”I have set the Lord always before me” (Psalm 16:8). Every moment is an opportunity to sense God in the world.

There is an ethical connotation to a hundred blessings a day too. Every honourable deed is a b’rachah, a blessing in action. Every act of love, compassion or justice is a b’rachah.

The Torah says, Heyeh b’rachah – “be a blessing” (Gen. 12:2).

Q. I know that there have been famous Jewish boxers. But since boxing involves mauling and hurting another person, is it actually allowed by Jewish law?

A. You are of course correct that there have been famous Jewish pugilists.

One, Daniel Mendoza in 18th century England, is considered the “father of scientific boxing”. A plaque to his memory in the East End of London reads, “Daniel Mendoza, 1764-1836; Pugilist, British Champion who billed himself ‘Mendoza the Jew’ lived here while writing the ‘Art of Boxing’.” The Jewish Museum in London has a Staffordshire jug which depicts a fight between Mendoza and Humphreys in Hampshire in 1788. The upper cut used to be known as “the Mendoza”.

In contemporary times, Ukrainian-American Dmitriy (“Star of David”) Salita has become famous not only in the junior welterweight division, but also for being a Lubavitch chassid who refuses to fight on Shabbat and yom-tov.

Mendoza, Salita and other Jewish boxers presumably do something for Jewish public relations, but it is difficult to find a permissive stance towards boxing in halachah, even though boxing seems to have been known in the Talmud (Sanh. 20a, etc.).

Not only does the Torah forbid us to hit one another, but, despite some authorities who hold the contrary view, the Shulchan Aruch HaRav rules that it is “forbidden to smite one’s fellow even if he gives him permission to smite him, since no human being has ownership of his body” (Hilchot Niz’kei Guf VaNefesh).

There is also a moral dimension to the question – is it really a “noble art” to celebrate brute force and aggressiveness?

If a person has energy and quick reflexes, there are surely other ways of using them than indulging in activity that by definition seeks to catch someone off guard and to hurt them.