Review Essay

Salvation or Destruction?
The Meaning and Consequences of Lubavitch Messianism

Benny Kraut
Department of History/Center for Jewish Studies
Queens College, CUNY

The Rebbe, the Messiah, and the Scandal of Orthodox Indifference, by David Berger. London: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2001. 195pp. $29.50.

At supper one night at a friend's home in Montreal in the mid-1960s, I was seated next to a very prominent Orthodox rabbi/scholar/teacher of mitnaged heritage, himself linked by marriage to an even more illustrious Lithuanian gadol, who shared the profound historic disdain of mitnagedim for hasidism. Strikingly, however, he expressed willing ness to reconsider his stance on hasidism generally because of his regard for the religious direction of the Lubavitch movement. "Only in our day and age must we consider whether hasidism is consonant with Judaism," he declared, "and that is because of the Lubavitchers and their emphasis on Torah study." How ironic, then, to read one generation later the charge of David Berger, another eminent rabbi/scholar who is by and large far more sympathetic to hasidism, that the belief of an influential sub-group of Lubavitcher hasidim in their deceased Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, as the "King-Messiah," represents a "catastrophe," a dire threat to the integrity of Judaism and its fundamental messianic idea.

This reversal is ironic perhaps, but, in light of the events and trends discussed in the work under review, quite understandable. In this thoroughly engrossing book, which is at once memoir and intellectual history, theological tract and religious polemic, ominous jeremiad and clarion call to action, David Berger traces in detail his evolving seven-year battle with Lubavitch messianism and messianists. Berger has waged this war of words virtually single-handedly, through published essays in the Jewish press and periodical literature, as well as through personal oral appeals and letters to the key Modern Orthodox and Yeshiva-world rabbinic leaders and institutions in the United States and Israel. (Some of these earlier writings are, in fact, reprinted as chapters in this book.) He has tried to galvanize Orthodox opposition to what he perceives to be the calamitous gradual legitimization of Lubavitch's false messianism, a legitimization based on the booming silence on this matter emanating from Orthodox quarters. This [End Page 96] book summarizes his past efforts, while simultaneously pondering and castigating the critical failure of nerve of Orthodox Jewish leadership, which, with only a few excep tions, has not publicly joined his struggle. (He has received private support and commendations from such disparate sources as Yeshiva University President Norman Lamm, Former Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth Lord Immanuel Jakobovits, individual members of the Moetzes Gedolei Hatorah, and members of the Israeli rabbinic establishment. Only the Rabbinic Council of America, by official organiza tional resolution, has taken a public stance against the false messianic idea implicit in Lubavitch messianism.)

Berger's abiding Orthodox religious commitment, deep familiarity with religious texts and ideas, and specialized training in historical scholarship have singularly positioned and qualified him to embark on this defense of Judaism; indeed, his biography is integral to this story and vital for comprehending his self-conceived mission. ¹ His case against Lubavitch messianism is clear and distinct. The Rebbe died on June 12, 1994. Proponents of his messianic status, therefore, not only must believe that the messiah can be a dead man resurrected—an utterly problematic claim within the corpus of traditional Jewish texts, given that there is only one possible talmudic source, read according to one interpretation of Rashi, which could possibly support this view; even more implausibly, they have to believe that a redeemer [read the Rebbe] has come, has announced the beginning of redemption, has died before consummating his messianic mission, and that he will one day return to complete his unfulfilled task. This idea, Berger insists, cannot be substantiated by any halakhic or hashkafic sources and is unprecedented in Jewish history. Moreover, this notion of a Jewish "second-coming" is too redolent of messianic claims made for another dead Jew, Jesus of Nazareth, rendering it altogether untenable within the precincts of Judaism.

Berger also demonstrates that the few public attempts by Lubavitch messianic enthusiasts to win acceptance for their views are as absurd as they are misguided. In November, 1997, a psak din signed by six prominent Lubavitcher rabbis proclaimed it halakhically mandatory for all Jews to believe in the messiahship of the Rebbe because, as a prophet—a datum accepted as a given by many Lubavitchers—he had proclaimed the onset of the messianic redemption and because he, the Rebbe, had fulfilled all the conditions stipulated by Maimonides' Mishneh Torah for the messianic mission: being of Davidic descent, compelling all Jews to study and observe the Torah, fighting the wars of the Lord, rebuilding the Temple, and gathering dispersed Jews back to the Holy [End Page 97] Land. Notwithstanding the Rebbe's many achievements and luminous spirituality, to argue that he has actually fulfilled these preconditions is an enormous stretch, to say the least. Moreover, Maimonides concludes his prescriptive evaluation of all messianic aspirants by declaring that any such claimant who does not fully accomplish these goals, or who is killed before being able to execute them, is manifestly not the messiah. The casuistry and sophistry used by Lubavitch messianists to reconcile Maimonides' religious demands with current Jewish and Lubavitch historical reality, especially in the wake of the Rebbe's death, is a wonder to behold. And yet, this psak din was reissued in the Israeli paper Hatsofeh in January 2000, now bearing 150 signatures of Lubavitch prominents from around the world.

All this would be laughable, Berger believes, if these developments were not so potentially religiously disastrous. And to those who are puzzled by the zealousness of his very personal joust with these Jewish messianists, he has ready answers. He believes that Lubavitch messianism fundamentally revises a cherished principle of Judaism, and hence dramatically alters Judaism itself. Further, he reminds us that false messianic movements within Jewish history, such as nascent Christianity and that of Shabbetai Zvi, have led to wholesale idolatry among Jews, and he fears a similarly grave outcome in the wake of contemporary Lubavitch messianism. Berger points to and derides astounding expressions suggesting the deification of the Rebbe already heard from messianist believers—statements that the Rebbe is "divinity in physical garb," that he is "liberated from corporeal existence," that he be referred to as boreinu (our creator), and that "he never died in the first place." All these represent to him not "mere" doctrinal deviance but quintessential avodah zarah (idolatry). Berger, moreover, declares that Lubavitch messianism undermines Jewish defense against Christian missionaries and furnishes implicit legitimacy for such groups as Jews for Jesus and Hebrew Christians. In fact, it makes a cruel mockery of the deaths of medieval Jewish martyrs who gave up their lives rather than give in to the exhortations of Christians urging them to adopt belief in the second coming of another messianic pretender. Finally, since much of Berger's scholarship is devoted to demonstrating the historical chasm between Jewish and Christian doctrines of the messiah, accepting or even tolerating Lubavitch messianism within Judaism would subvert a significant portion of his life's work. His battle, then, is personal indeed.

In light of these awful consequences, therefore, the relative silence of Orthodox leaders, Berger contends, is scandalous. But not wholly inexplicable. Astute historian that he is, he offers trenchant and compelling explanations for this lack of aggressive Orthodox reaction to this latest false messianism. Some, he notes, proclaim the need for Jewish unity and the overriding concern of mitigating strife in the community. Others allude to the piety and observance of these Lubavitchers and their efforts on behalf of increasing the level of observance of other Jews; "they do so much good," is the standard refrain. Some suggest that these Lubavitch messianists are just a marginal [End Page 98] group, not at all significant within the wider movement of Habad hasidism, while still others dismiss them as kooks and crazies.

Berger rejects these excuses and rationalizations. For him, the overturning of a cardinal tenet of Judaism renders the otherwise religiously meritorious deeds of these messianists of no account and, by religious definition, makes them "non-Orthodox." Moreover, he asserts, it is folly to assume that they are marginal within the Lubavitch and even broader Jewish community. On the contrary, citing innumerable examples, he illustrates that their ranks consist of some of the primary rabbis, principals, teachers, general educators, publicists, ritual slaughterers, heads of communal rabbinic courts, and religious functionaries, both inside and even outside Lubavitch communities, around the world. Their influence, authority, and public presence in places such as Israel, England, the former Soviet Union is not at all limited, but central.

In sum, Berger demands Orthodox social and halakhic ostracism of these Lubavitcher messianists. They ought not to be appointed as rabbis, judges, kashrut supervisors, yeshiva teachers, or synagogue heads, and those currently serving in those posts ought to be removed. Schools operated by these messianists should not be supported; kashrut supervision done by them should not be trusted and eateries under their certification should not be frequented. Ritual objects produced by them, such as tefillin, should not be used. With these and like measures, Berger would have the Orthodox world officially, publicly, and unanimously proclaim its censure of Lubavitch messianism, delegitimate it as a valid expression of Judaism, preserve the purity of Judaism's messianic ideal, and avert religious disaster.

David Berger has written an articulate, thoughtful, and passionate book. He is honest and forthright in giving his Lubavitch messianist interlocuters a voice, fairly and fully citing their best efforts to root their views in traditional Jewish sources and religious thought. To those not confirmed in or predisposed to Lubavitch messianism, it is apparent that Berger's narrative and informed appendices, which highlight relevant, significant, historic rabbinic positions on messianism and ancillary ideas, demolish the messianists' religious and intellectual arguments. Nevertheless, it is remarkable to consider once again the fantasy of believers who reinterpret long-established religious texts and historical reality to sustain their avowed faith convictions. Berger does not explore how or why this can happen, or what socio-psychological mechanisms and historical and religious forces are operating that impelled Lubavitch messianism. Clearly, however, this phenomenon constitutes yet another example, both within Judaism and without, of the faithful holding fast to religious views contravened by established religious principle and historical evidence.

Some comments on Berger's explanation for Orthodox silence on this matter and why his herculean efforts to mobilize Orthodox Jewry to his cause have mostly foundered are in order. His explanations for this phenomenon are certainly accurate and [End Page 99] reasonable, but I would like to push the analysis somewhat. On the simplest level, I presume that most Orthodox Jews who are aware of Lubavitch messianism, consciously or not, feel that the Rebbe's death left many of his followers bereft and looking for ways to "keep him alive." Over time, this attitude goes, this overt but deluded messianic enthusiasm will gradually wane and burn out. That Lubavitch messianists could some day capture the Orthodox world seems so far-fetched that nobody within Orthodoxy need be concerned. As a practical matter, that seems to me to be the overriding per spective within the Orthodox world, which is why many may feel Berger's apprehen sion unwarranted.

Another factor tending to undercut the urgency of Orthodoxy's reaction to Lubavitch messianists, I believe, is that the latter generally do not preach their views in an ongoing sustained, vulgar, and obstreperous manner. True, Lubavitch ads display the English or Hebrew formulaic acronym pronouncing long life for the King-Messiah, while, periodically, messianic spokesmen defend their belief in the Rebbe-as-messiah on Jewish radio shows in New York. True, messianist in-house journals preach and explain the new gospel to the already devoted, while the psak din mentioned above was promulgated for the general public as well. Nevertheless, Lubavitch messianists do not accost Jews in the streets to win them over to their vision, as Jewish-Christians do; they do not inaugurate publicity blitzes in the media to convert all Jews to Lubavitch messianism; their leaders do not initiate debates with non-Lubavitch rabbis or the masses particularly to advocate their cause; and they do not inject messianic ideology into the quotidian affairs of Jewish communal and organizational life. Lubavitch educators generally stress the need for "Moshiach Now"—in their lectures and publications, and even in the souvenir apparel they sometimes distribute; yet even the messianists among them do not repeatedly pound the message in these venues that "the Rebbe is the messiah, and all Jews must believe in him." Affirmations of their messianic beliefs vis-à-vis the general Orthodox community, therefore, are, for the most part, muted and not conveyed with an "in-your-face" attitude. Even if this reticence is merely tactical, it makes it much easier for Orthodox Jews to dismiss Lubavitch messianism, for the movement does not really impinge upon their Orthodox reality.

There are intellectual considerations as well for Orthodox indifference to Berger's challenge. Berger has tarred these messianic enthusiasts with the brush of Christianity, and accused them of breaking down the walls between Judaism and Christianity and of giving credence, however indirectly, to groups such as Jews for Jesus and the like. But in the contemporary Orthodox world, these charges are not likely to resonate or inspire Jews to action, for several reasons. Although a few Orthodox individuals are quite active in the anti-missionary movement, for the most part Orthodox Jewish leaders and organizations see themselves and the Jews in their communities spared from this scourge of American life. Moreover, the fact is that these Lubavitch messianists— doctrinally, religious deviants to Berger, and hence, non-Orthodox—behaviorally are [End Page 100] observant Jews, just as they claim to be; and their leaders are correct to distinguish themselves and their standing within historic Judaism from the received portrait they have of Jesus and the Christians who followed him. Whatever Jesus' personal relation ship to Jews and Judaism was in his day—a topic of monumental scope and the subject of enormous and diverse scholarly theories—inherited traditional Orthodox texts and oral tradition depict him as a sorcerer who led Jews astray and removed them from a life of Torah. Judged against this perception, which is held by all stripes of Orthodoxy, how can Lubavitch messianists, who look pious, who act pious, and who try to lead non- identifying Jews to Jewish piety truly be compared to or linked with the deleterious impact of Christianity on Judaism? It is understandable, therefore, why Berger's identification of Lubavitch messianists with Christological movements has not quite convinced the Orthodox or spurred any appreciable numbers of them to action.

I also suspect that most Orthodox Jews reflecting upon the greatest dangers threatening contemporary Orthodox Judaism would not concur with Berger's assess ment that the doctrinal deviance of Lubavitch messianism is a more potent hazard than, say, the practical challenges of American materialism or social/cultural degeneracy (which he does not deal with), or the doctrinal deviancy of Reform and Conservative Judaism (with which he does). Although Berger certainly underscores that—despite their adherents' claims to the contrary—the latter two are not legitimate expressions of authentic Judaism (whether this judgment is based on religious belief or historical evaluation he does not say), he asserts that "at this point in history" (p. 88) they do not seriously threaten Orthodox Judaism. In fact, he muses that indirectly Reform and Conservative Jews even help Orthodoxy by serving as a buffer against the outside world and by providing the Orthodox with the triumphal comfort of being able to feel more religious than other Jews. Hence, he proposes that the Orthodox should keep the door open and try to win them over, and should engage them with "a policy of constructive cooperation and dialogue" (p. 89). This approach to the "non-Orthodox" Lubavitch messianists, however, especially to the more extreme among them who attribute divinity or aspects of divinity to the Rebbe (cf. p. 89), for Berger is unthinkable.

Yet even were one to accept his logic of the potential calamitous tragedy of this messianism for Judaism, his identification of it as the most serious threat at this time to Orthodox Judaism in comparison to the threat of the other Jewish denominations is not historically persuasive. Pragmatically, Reform and Conservative Judaism are magnets for some lapsed Orthodox Jews, who do find their way into these alternate Jewish religious expressions. Although I know of no sound statistical study of Orthodox Jews' departure from Orthodoxy, nor any that has analyzed their entry into other Jewish religious groups, anecdotal evidence, reinforced by periodic literary publications, suggests that the numbers are far from trivial. More significantly, intellectually and theologically, Reform and Conservative Judaism are still perceived by Orthodox thinkers as the religious competition, and for good reason. Their members represent [End Page 101] approximately 80 percent of denominationally identifying American Jews, forever reminding the Orthodox of their minority status and of the hollowness of their claim to speak on behalf of klal yisrael, which Orthodox sermons do with regularity. And of absolute paramount importance, Reform and Conservative Jewish theology controverts fundamental Orthodox teaching on the principle of torah min hashamayim, "Torah from Heaven." Is this core doctrine any less sacrosanct or important than the messianic ideal that Berger vigorously defends? After all, it is the critical theological marker separating the Orthodox from the other two. To be sure, Reform and Conservative Judaism do not claim to be Orthodox, which for Berger is the key point: Lubavitch messianists, who do claim Orthodoxy, stand inside the religious system, and hence pose the more significant subversive threat from within. But Reform and Conservative Judaism do claim to represent totally acceptable instantiations of authentic Judaism, no less than Orthodox Judaism. Yet, according to Orthodox theology, their dismissal of the Orthodox conception of Torah from Heaven renders them complete deviants from Judaism and deniers of its elemental and primary normative conviction. Is this not at least equally as doctrinally shocking and scandalous as Lubavitch messianism and its fringe idolatry? Finally, the repeated Reform and Conservative articulation of ideals and practices that are anathema to Orthodoxy on a whole host of issues here and in Israel—from women rabbis to patrilineal descent, from homosexuality in the rabbinate to lobbying for recognition in Israel—are perceived by most Orthodox as far more pertinent and direct challenges to established religious truth and established political Orthodoxy (in Israel) than any Lubavitch messianism now represents. Are they wrong to believe that?

Berger avers that they are. But one can well understand those Orthodox who might counter that if he is prepared for constructive dialogue with the doctrinal heresy of Reform and Conservative Jews, why not try the same, first with Lubavitch non- messianists, with whom Berger has no dispute, to help them confront the messianists within their own ranks? And second, why not do the same with Lubavitch messianists themselves? Why not try to dialogue with them in an effort to show them the error of their ways, and that one can still believe in the greatness of the Rebbe without elevating him to a false messianic status? Should such an earnest attempt not be made prior to, or at least simultaneous with, moving for their ostracism from Orthodoxy? Berger argues that "at this time" Reform Judaism is not a primary threat, although its acceptance of increasing numbers of gentiles as Jews may require his re-evaluation in the future. Can one not in the same way contend that, for the reasons listed above, "at this time" Lubavitch messianism is not the major menace depicted? On the other hand, should its momentum gain in strength and not wane in the future, should its "conversionary" tactics become more aggressive, and should its extremist deification-of-the-Rebbe impulses come to dominate the messianic inclinations from which they emerged, then one could unequivocally justify an Orthodox reassessment of Lubavitch messianism. Not only that, I am confident that such a turn of events would unquestionably elicit a [End Page 102] prompt and vehement Orthodox reaction. To Berger, "the house is on fire now," but it strikes me that there are thoughtful reasons why Orthodox Jews do not share his alarm "at this time." ²

Should they? That is the debate between Berger and others within Orthodox circles. And that leads to my concluding observations. First and foremost, this book is a tale of intra-Orthodox in-fighting, which for a variety of reasons—not all of them clear—has attracted the wider attention of even those outside the Orthodox ambit, such as Commentary magazine and Israel's Ha'aretz newspaper. To be sure, Berger's portent does have implications for those lesser identifying Jews, whether unaffiliated or affiliated with other Jewish denominations, who might be more susceptible to Christological proofs in the wake of Lubavitch's judaization of the second-coming idea. And those concerned for their welfare might have some reason for worry. That said, at its core, this story is most relevant to the Orthodox, as it charts a fascinating intra- Orthodox squabble.

But one might also ask how the dispassionate scholar of Jewish history and of Judaism should perceive and respond to this fractious quarrel, as well as to the immediate and personal role of a distinguished historian such as David Berger in the very religious history that he recounts? The specter and consequences of historicism loom large, as does the tension between religious belief and historical truth when a religious historian contends with a topic in the history of religion in which his own faith is at stake. Berger is acutely aware of both issues. He records being chided by "several people" (p. 142) who wonder why he, the historian and historian of ideas no less, has devoted so much time and energy to this ideological issue. History and ideas change, as he knows only too well; why, they query, does he wish to "remain in a state of arrested development, embalmed in the world of the Barcelona disputation?" (referring to the dispute featuring Nahmanides, the Ramban). His questioners have a point, and I would flesh it out and apply it to Lubavitch messianism this way. If religious practices change over time, if religious ideas evolve—even God-concepts develop fundamentally, from the biblical text to midrashic elaborations to medieval philosophical and kabbalistic conceptualizations—why can't Berger allow for the historical efflorescence of the messianic idea, granting its reconsideration in a new context with a new hero, the Rebbe? If that is how the idea is evolving historically, so be it! Let "history" judge the truth or falsity of this idea! After all, "history" dictated which Jewish sect was to determine the Jewish religious future—Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, the Dead Sea [End Page 103] sect, Jewish-Chrisitians, or Zealots; "history" proved Rabbi Akiva's projection of Bar Kochba as the messiah to be false; "history" established, contra the Gaon of Vilna's ban and repudiation of hasidism as a genuine manifestation of Judaism, that hasidism would be accepted as a variation of authentic Judaism. The academic historian who studies these phenomena retrospectively applies the methodological tools of his discipline to analyze precisely how and why history unfolded in the way it did. Why then does Berger the historian not simply ply his trade, and why does he intervene in the con temporary situation? Why not allow history to take its course, and why not allow for Lubavitch messianism, even if he, Berger, the Orthodox Jew, does not religiously subscribe to it? Why chase windmills? ³

Berger the Orthodox Jew retorts: "It should not be necessary to say that historians are permitted to have commitments to abiding principles." That is to say, historians, no less than any other folks, are entitled to religious beliefs, to assert their enduring truth, and to influence the forces and people that shape history to validate them. Candidly and ingeniously, then, Berger the historical scholar adopts historical argumentation to substantiate the religious axioms of Berger the Orthodox Jew, in what to him can only be seen as a seamless, harmonious intellectual position. Religiously, he asserts the centrality and inviolability of the messianic ideal as propounded by Maimonides, which has been reaffirmed over centuries by klal yisrael, the Jewish collective. Historically, he declares that this principle has been the defining marker of Judaism over and against Christianity throughout the last millennia, and that any Jewish historical move to deny or alter it has proven disastrous and has led to idolatry. Bluntly, the authentic religious messianic ideal when abandoned or changed has an awful track record in Jewish history, and hence the deadly seriousness of the threat of Lubavitch messianism to David Berger, the Orthodox Jewish historian.

I applaud and much appreciate Berger's response invoking history to defend religious truth, although each scholar will have to decide for himself whether the author has solved the historicist challenge and adequately defended the traditional messianic ideal in historical, not fideistic, terms. Ironically, however, Berger cannot take much comfort from the precedents of history as to the successful outcome of his labors to squelch Lubavitch messianism. The historical record suggests that no figure in Jewish life who opposed what turned out to be false messianic claimants or movements impeded their historical efflorescence or impact; nor did anyone succeed in effectively stamping out schismatic or idolatrous tendencies that emerged from among them. Once erupted in history, messianic personalities and movements play themselves out [End Page 104] according to their own timetable and according to the degree of fervid support they generate. On the other hand, the Jewish experience also illustrates that demonstrably false messianic beliefs in history have never led the entire community astray, although Christianity and Shabbetai Zvi had enormously deleterious consequences, to be sure. Over time, therefore, one can assume and hope that as Lubavitch messianist promises remain unfulfilled, the animating fervor undergirding them will wane,quite independent of Berger's polemical initiatives. (How Lubavitchers will explain the tardiness of their messiah will be interesting; I am sure they will come up with something.)

Since I concur with Berger that on religious and historical grounds the Lubavitcher Rebbe is not and cannot be the messiah, I believe that history will indeed judge his understanding of the doctrinal limitations of the Jewish messianic idea to be correct, though I hope that his worst fears for the extreme trajectory of Lubavitch messianism (deification of the Rebbe) will prove unfounded. At this juncture, however, it is fascinating to contemplate whether posterity will remember David Berger as the valiant defender of the faith, reminiscent of the heroic Ramban at Barcelona, or as the alarmist champion of good causes more in keeping with the image of Don Quixote? For the sake of the Judaism that I love and share with him, I hope he turns out to be the latter, knowing full well, however, that he has cast himself in the role of the former. History will decide!

 

Benny Kraut is Director of the Center for Jewish Studies, Director of the Jewish Studies Program, and Professor of history at Queens College, CUNY, as well as a member of the graduate faculty of the Graduate Center, CUNY.

Notes

1. Ordained by Yeshiva University's Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, currently Professor of History at Brooklyn College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York, Fellow of the American Academy for Jewish Research, and past President of the Association for Jewish Studies, Berger is a distinguished scholar of medieval Jewry, Jewish-Christian relations, and the history of Judaism and Jewish theology.

2. I write this review in December, 2001, not knowing its future publication date. It will be interesting to see whether Berger's fear will have been more justified at this later date. Lubavitch messianists and their supporters have already launched a full counterattack against him and his views, which may indeed polarize the issues and stimulate a greater degree of assertiveness and aggressiveness on their part in disseminating their beliefs.

3. A religious historian might identify "history" with the guiding hand of Providence, but I would not begin to know where Berger stands on this. But most certainly he would have to believe that his efforts against Lubavitch messianism reflect divine will, or, at least, earn divine approbation.