Reviews of "Nehama Leibowitz:
Teacher and Bible Scholar"
Reviews
(click on Roman numeral
for original page, where applicable, or scroll down to read):
I
- "The scholar who happened to be female," Feb.
19, 2009, Dr Rachel Adelman, THE JERUSALEM
POST
II
- Rabbi Francis Nataf,
BOOKJED
III
- "A 'towering' teacher of this generation," April 23, 2009, Rabbi Jack Riemer,
SOUTH FLORIDA SUN-SENTINEL
IV - "A revolution of the old," May 1st,
2009, Shoshana Kordova, HAARETZ
V
- "The influential ‘granny’ of
Bible teachers," May 21, 2009, Vicki
Belovski, JEWISH CHRONICLE
VIa
- "Was Nehama Leibowitz a Feminist?" June 16, 2009, VIb
- "Was Nehama Leibowitz too traditional?" June 24th, 2009. Rabbi Gil Student,
HIRHURIM BLOG
VII - Chaim Seymour,
Bar-Ilan University. AJL Newsletter, Sep/Oct 2009
VIII Journal of Hebrew Scriptures Vol 9. Igal
German (University of Toronto (Wycliffe College)
IX
Marla L. Frankel, Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women's Studies and
Gender Issues
Articles referencing
I Judah
S. Harris: Studying Nechama Leibowitz.
January 2010
__________________________________________________________________
I
The scholar who happened to be female
Feb. 19, 2009
Dr
Rachel Adelman , THE JERUSALEM POST
After 10 years of labored
love, the biography Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible Scholar
finally came to print and proves to be well worth the wait. By the
author's own admission, the biography of the first prominent woman
Bible scholar was problematic from the outset: How can one write about
someone who adamantly shunned the limelight?
Prof. Leibowitz (known to
all, at her own behest, as Nehama)
was exceedingly modest and covetous over her privacy to the point of
hanging up the phone when asked for an interview. To people who wanted
to meet her because she was famous, she declared: "I am not a museum!"
She wished to be known as an educator, not a scholar and commentator,
and requested that only one word be written on her gravestone: mora
(teacher).
Yet Yael Unterman valiantly
rescues Nehama from what might have
been self-willed oblivion. It's not surprising that this biography
required a decade of gestation. It serves as an invaluable record of
Nehama's legacy to the world, peppered with anecdotes, photographs and
extensive quotes from her own writings, as well as from the teachers
and scholars most influenced by her method and personality, all
systematically organized under the rubric of such topics as
"pedagogical methods," "Zionism," "religious identity" and "Bible
scholarship".
Born in Riga, Latvia, in
1905, Nehama grew up in a well-to-do,
enlightened, Orthodox home, alongside her brother, Yeshayahu Leibowitz,
two years her senior. Together they were educated primarily at home,
until the family moved to Berlin in 1919. Unterman records an incident
that happened one snowy morning when Nehama was just nine. Having woken
up late and in a hurry to get to school, she missed her morning
prayers, ran out, slipped on the ice and was struck by a passing tram.
Upon returning home, she told her father that it must have happened
because she had not prayed that morning. He scolded her: "Do you think
you are such a saint that God immediately reacts to your actions?"
Unterman comments: "This kind of outlook, shying away from
superstitious thinking, or an assumption of direct knowledge of God's
ways, would later characterize both Nehama and Yeshayahu's thought."
She completed her doctoral
dissertation on Judeo-German
translations of the Book of Psalms at the University of Marburg,
managing to circumvent the trend of source criticism so prevalent in
academic Bible departments at the time. She made aliya in 1930 and, on
principle, never left Israel again, except for one brief trip.
While Unterman did not have
access to the family annals, as
Hayuta Deutsch (author of the recent Hebrew biography) did, she manages
to eke out some interest in this very private woman's life without
being voyeuristic. Perhaps the most intriguing personal detail is that
she married her much older, ailing uncle, not for altruistic reasons,
but for love. Soon after they made aliya, he went blind and she began
teaching out of necessity to support them financially. Tragically, she
never had children and, by her own admission, would have traded her
illustrious teaching career to raise a family. To a delegation from the
feminist movement, who asked for Nehama's permission to use her name to
spearhead their cause, she declared: "Writing books? That's nothing!
Raising six children, now that's an achievement!"
In the chapter on "Feminism
and Femininity," Unterman engages
the reader in a complex portrait of Nehama's relationship to gender.
Overtly rejecting feminism, she never wanted to draw attention to her
novelty as a female Bible scholar (seeing herself, rather, as "a
scholar who happened to be female"). The inroads she made were in
Bible, not Talmud, a realm from which women were still largely
excluded. Following the Lithuanian analytical style, she raised the
study of Bible to a serious level, perhaps because she used a rigorous
"male" approach. But she never let go of her sensitivity to emotional
innuendo, drawing on ethical, imaginative and psychological readings of
pivotal scenes.
Shrugging off the label
"revolutionary," she served as an
important role model for such women writers, scholars and teachers as
Blu Greenberg, Simi Peters, Bryna Levy and Erella Yedgar. She taught
men and women, at university and in the yeshiva world, never behind a mehitza.
It wasn't until her 80s that her role as a woman scholar and teacher
became controversial. As the best Bible teacher, she was hired by Rabbi
Shlomo Riskin to teach in his program that trained rabbis for work in
the Diaspora. Spurred by a pernicious report, Rabbi Eliezer Schach
issued an edict against the program, many haredi students felt
compelled to drop out, and Riskin was excommunicated; the fact that a
woman taught there served as a pretext. Deeply embarrassed by the
controversy, Nehama offered to resign but Riskin adamantly refused. In
Unterman's words, "for the first time in a lifetime of tiptoeing
between the raindrops, Nehama had got wet."
This biography is a must read
for anyone engaged in Jewish
education, the chapters on "pedagogical methods" and "looking to the
future" especially valuable. She demonstrated a unique teaching style,
perhaps impossible to emulate, including dramatics, storytelling, the
use of humor, with clearly articulated goals: to impart knowledge, to
activate the students, to imbue a love of Torah and not to lecture.
In her rejection of biblical
criticism, Nehama turned almost
exclusively to comparing and contrasting medieval and modern
commentators. Her question "What's bothering Rashi?" still reverberates
throughout classrooms, her method now mainstream in the religious
school system. When Yoel Bin-Nun tried to introduce historical,
geographical and philosophical approaches to the study of Bible, Nehama
and her students adamantly rejected them, and his proposals were ousted
from the Israeli religious curriculum. Consistent with this
conservatism, she refused to write her own systematic commentary,
because she saw "herself not as a commentator but as a teacher of
commentaries," declaring, "I do not innovate."
Unterman, however, refuses to
take Nehama's words at face
value, gleaning, instead, her innovations from between the lines.
Nehama was one of the first to systematically engage in a comparison of
parallel biblical passages, and to point out the use of repetition and
key words.
In the words of Dr. Gabriel
Cohn, "The idea behind her method
was not to write a commentary, but to enable the student to arrive at
his or her own interpretation - the most accurate and personal
interpretation possible." Unterman's biography has placed Nehama alive
among us once again in a love's labor that has not been lost.
* * *
II
BookJed review
Rabbi Francis Nataf
In her final chapter of Nehama,
Teacher and Bible Scholar, Yael Unterman bemoans that all of
Nehama's key followers "are busily engaged with his or her own Nehama."
Accordingly, while reading Unterman's study of the woman who could well
have been the 20th century's greatest Jewish educator, I could not
escape the comparison between my Nehama and Unterman's.
Unterman makes a brave attempt at collating and coherently organizing
the whirlwind of voices who all knew their own Nehama. And if Unterman
occasionally speaks admiringly about post-modern approaches, her volume
does not attempt to be a post-modern study of unmediated perspectives.
Rather, she tries to organize all of the data painstakingly collected
to recreate her own Nehama, which at times seemed very familiar to my
own experience and at other times very foreign.
This book is brave in other respects as well, sometimes overly so. On
some level, Unterman attempts to cover everything, something that
simply can't be done even with the voluminous length of this book. Even
after her death, Nehama remains larger than life and cannot be
encapsulated by one author, even one as generously inclusive as
Unterman.
The book is divided into three major sections, the first biographical, the second about Nehama's worldview and
the third about her
approach to the Biblical text and its study. Each section could have
been a book in its own right, as is also the case with the final
stand-alone
chapters - which may be the most interesting - on her relationship with
her famous philosopher brother, Yeshayahu, and on the educational
future of Nehama's approach.
Trying to overlook my own biases, I would still say that the book is
somewhat uneven. In the biographical section, we sometimes feel
pleasantly guided by the author, feeling the voice of Nehama in all her
unadulterated grandeur. Other times, one feels that the author is too
heavy-handed in interpreting (and occasionally misinterpreting) material that needs little or no comment.
Likewise, especially in the later sections where we justifiably hear
more from the author, she is sometimes extremely insightful, yet at
other times seems to miss the
mark.
An example of the former is when she points out that Nehama's approach
to the text can be best be described as a continuation of the
rationalist school of classical Jewish Biblical interpretation, which
explains why she was willing to accept certain elements and ideas from
various modern approaches while rejecting others. Similarly, the author
is entirely correct when she points out that Nehama never lost sight of
her educational goals as a teacher of Torah in the finest sense of the
word. As such, no matter what her academic credentials,
she was much more of a rebbe than an academic. Indeed, she clearly
wanted all those that she met to love the Torah and be influenced by
the moral teachings she saw so clearly in her own studies. This
included her taxi drivers about whom we always heard stories, some of
which are appropriately included in the biography. (In the 1980's, we
used to wonder why her drivers all seemed to be Torah scholars, whereas the ones we met were always trying to
overcharge us! Of course, the answer was that these were the same
drivers, but the
difference was that this is what Nehama brought out of people.)
One serious shortcoming in the book is Unterman's section on Nehama's
favorite commentators. This section should have been greatly
expanded. To take the most extreme example, the second item on the list
of commentators is the Talmudic sages, about whom we correctly read
that Nehama revered. The author then proceeds to devote no more than
two additional sentences to this. Granted, it is addressed somewhat in
other chapters, but Nehama's view of the sages' centrality is clearly
why she was such a fan of Rashi (whose commentary is almost completely
comprised of their words) and thus, certainly worth more
than three sentences in a book of nearly six hundred pages. Another
unfortunate lacuna is the lack of focus on Nehama's impact outside of Israel and
especially in North America, where the hundreds of students who studied
under her at Yeshiva University's Gruss
Kollel took her
approach and ran with it -- often with better results than in Israel.
For several reasons, some of which Unterman mentions in the final
chapter, Israel
may ironically be less suited to Nehama's approach.
Similarly, Unterman tries too hard to describe Nehama as a
post-modernist, as an original commentator and as a pioneer of literary
Bible scholarship. Of course, none of these claims are without
foundation. But it is somewhat like looking to Albert Einstein as a man
who changed the way we look at religion or at pacifism. Indeed,
Einstein had interesting ideas about both of these topics but this is
not what made him great. While Unterman is correct that Nehama was more
than a teacher, being a teacher is what made her great.
So when the author tells us that Nehama's gravestone and the street
named for her followed her wishes in how she wanted to be remembered,
namely as a teacher, one can't help but wonder if the author erred in
not respecting these wishes as well. In fact, Unterman's questionable
insistence that Nehama was so much more than a teacher is made
apparent from the very subtitle, Teacher and Bible Scholar, as if the
first were not enough.
There is often debate as to whether teachers should be trained
primarily as experts in the field of instruction or in pedagogy. Nehama
was uniquely situated at the top of her discipline in both fields,
something I have never experienced in a teacher before or after.
Moreover, Nehama taught us just how much impact a teacher
can have. She gave us a role model and made us realize that Jewish
education is about the relationships that are created when teacher and
student work together to honestly understand
our treasured texts.
Her sincerely encouraging view about Jewish education is cleverly
summarized by the well chosen quotation on the jacket flap, which tells
us that she disagreed with the rabbinic statement that teachers get a
special place in the next world due to all that they suffer in
this world, believing instead that teachers undoubtedly get more than
their fair share of otherworldly bliss in this world. One cannot help
but be certain that in her case this will not be counted against her.
All criticism aside, Jewish educators as well as the general reading
public owe the author a debt of gratitude for all the time and effort
she spent in gathering all of the information eruditely presented in
this important biography. Certainly, the ten years of voluminous
research that the author put into this serious work speaks for itself.
(I was told that each time she was ready to finish the book, a new
contributor would tell her that she couldn't possibly publish it
without this one last story.) The book reads easily in most parts and
is attractively presented, enhanced as it is by photographs of Nehama
and her world.
The bottom line is that the student of Nehama will read this book very
differently from one who never knew her. And as Nehama had thousands of
devoted students, the former will certainly be a significant part of
this book's readership. Be that as it may, the book is not only worth
reading - it is a great starter for many discussions about topics
important to us and more critically, important to Nehama. And, no doubt, such discussions would have pleased
her.
III
A
'towering' teacher of this generation
April 23, 2009
Rabbi
Jack Riemer SOUTH FLORIDA SUN-SENTINEL
It
may seem a bit strange to use the word "towering" to describe Nechama
Liebowitz, for she was — how shall I say this politely? —
somewhat
height-challenged, but she was indeed a giant of Jewish life in our
time. And so I rejoice that she has been given this fulsome biography.
Any
one who strives to improve Jewish life has to have moments in which he
or she feels pessimistic, and so it is good to have this biography to
remind us that it is possible to do great things. Urim has given us
this biography of Liebowitz, whose life is one of the great success
stories of Jewish education in our time. Working in an age before
e-mail and IPods, before computers and even before Xerox machines,
Liebowitz stenciled her Torah lessons and sent them out to students all
over the Jewish world. She taught wherever and whenever there were
students — whether in the yeshiva world, the
university world, or in the general Jewish community. Her study sheets
were taken along by soldiers when they were called up from the
reserves, and were filled out by taxi drivers as well as by academics,
by students of all ages and all backgrounds, by anyone and everyone in
Israel and in the Diaspora who wanted to study Torah in a fresh and
thoughtful manner.
This biography provides much useful
information about the woman who made the study of Torah a shared value
across all the denominations and political lines in Israel. Unterman
has done an immense amount of research. She has interviewed almost
everyone who knew Liebowitz, and has diligently studied everything that
she wrote on and has gone through her correspondence carefully. She
deals with many substantive issues in her life and thought such as her
relationship to Biblical criticism and to feminism, and her book will
be a valuable resource to future scholars who want to study this woman.
However,
her book has one defect, a defect that I suspect would have upset
Liebowitz herself. Liebowitz was a woman who sought for and needed no
honors. In fact, she simply could not stand honors. She looked upon
them as a distraction from the real work of studying and teaching. She
was content with the title "morah," which means teacher, and she needed
no other title, not "doctor," not "professor" — just morah. This
is the
only word that appears on her tombstone, besides her name and the dates
of her birth and death, and this is the only word that appears on the
sign at the street that is named for her in Jerusalem: "morah." And so
I must wonder: what would she make of a book of more than six hundred
pages of lavish praise?
If I got tired after a
while of reading
about how saintly she was, how modest she was, how devoted she was, how
far she would go to teach, how she marked the papers she received
herself, etc. etc. etc. I wonder what she would have said about such a
book. I do not mean, chas vishalom, to minimize her
greatness — which is unquestionable — but the constant
recitation of
her virtues in this book reaches a point of diminishing returns.
Nevertheless,
what we have in this book is not only a glowing tribute, but also a
thoroughly researched work of scholarship that will be of inestimable
value to anyone who wants to study the teaching methods or the insights
into the Bible of Liebowitz.
And since Liebowitz had a forgiving
nature, since she was quick to get angry and quicker to get over her
anger, I will emulate her by forgiving the one defect that this book
has and will urge you to read it so that you may have the privilege of
meeting — at least this way — one of the most creative and
significant
teachers of Torah in our time.
* *
*
IV
A revolution of the old
May 1st, 2009
Shoshana Kordova HAARETZ
Whether
or not Nehama Leibowitz can or should be seen as a feminist role model,
the Torah scholar was certainly viewed by many as both a pedagogical
and a personal one.
We’ve all been told not
to
judge a book by its cover, but as it happens, the cover of
“Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible Scholar” is actually
quite instructive, especially when compared with another recent book on
the same subject. On the front of Yael Unterman’s English
language book is a fuzzy photograph of an elderly Leibowitz standing in
front of a blackboard, her face dominated by the thick black rim of her
glasses and her hair modestly concealed beneath her signature beret. By
contrast, the cover of a recently published Hebrew-language biography
features a crisp image of Leibowitz as a young, smiling woman, her
heavenward gaze unmediated by spectacles as a breeze ruffles her
unrestrained hair.
And indeed, Hayuta
Deutsch’s
“Nehama: The Life of Nehama Leibowitz” (Yedioth Ahronoth
Books and Chemed Books, 2008 ) allows the reader to see just how the
old woman the one remembered, respected and loved by the many former
students quoted in Unterman’s book – went from being the
young Nehama facing the wind to the venerated, yet eminently
accessible, Torah scholar and role model she became. Though
Deutsch’s book does more or less gloss over Leibowitz’s
role in Diaspora Judaism, it is much more of a classical biography than
Unterman’s; it progresses in chronological order, and puts
Leibowitz’s accomplishments squarely in the context of her family
(including her outspoken and controversial philosopher-scientist
brother, Yeshayahu Leibowitz ) and of the events and prevailing trends
in her native Europe and adopted homeland of Israel, lending an added
depth to the reader’s understanding of where Leibowitz was coming
from. In eschewing chronology as the guiding structure of her
well-researched and exceedingly readable – but unnecessarily
lengthy and repetitive – tome, Unterman, who grew up in
Manchester, England, and lives in Jerusalem, is left to come up with
her own organizing principles. She settles on splitting the book into a
roughly biographical section, which comes to a book-length 249 pages,
and a dissection of Leibowtiz’s beliefs and the methodology of
her analysis of the Torah and, especially, its commentators, both
traditional and modern.
Married her uncle
The first section devotes a single cursory chapter to Leibowitz’s
youth, from her birth in Riga, Latvia, in 1905, all the way through to
her early years in Mandatory Palestine, where she moved in 1930 with
her husband – her father’s younger brother, Yedidyah Lipman
Leibowitz. (Though there has been much speculation about the reasons
behind Nehama Leibowitz’s marriage to an uncle three decades her
senior, with whom she never had any children – including the
possibility that she was
motivated by an altruistic decision to take care of him without
violating the religious strictures that would otherwise have prohibited
her from touching him – Unterman concludes that the two married
for love. ) Unterman’s book is in part a kind of oral history
based on the memories of English speakers who knew Leibowitz. In that
sense, it resembles a 2003 English-language book called “Tales of
Nehama: Impressions of the Life and Teachings of Nehama
Leibowitz,” by Leah Abramowitz (Gefen ), which Unterman cites.
Though the new volume is the more sophisticated and analytical of the
two, both authors make it clear that their books reflect, as Unterman
puts it in her introduction, “more than how Nehama actually was,
how she is remembered – a composite remembering based on each
person’s own Nehama.” (Unterman explains in a
reader’s note that her use of Leibowitz’s first name
“is not meant disrespectfully, but is in keeping with her own
insistence that she be called ‘Nehama’ by all.” )
Unfortunately, some of the people she cites are identified (at least
initially ) only by name, leaving it to the reader to guess whether the
people being quoted were students of Leibowitz’s and whether they
are reliable sources. They are sometimes identified more fully later
on, and there are references to quotes, biblical passages and ideas
that are distractingly repeated throughout the book – giving rise
to the suspicion that after almost a decade of grappling with the
subject matter, Unterman had difficulty figuring out exactly how to
structure all the material. The reader gets the impression that various
sections of the book were moved around throughout the writing and
editing process, without the final product getting the vetting
necessary to make for a smoother read.
Even though identification of
the
interviewees is often scant to nonexistent, those who travel in
English-speaking modern-Orthodox circles will probably recognize at
least some of the names in any case (two former teachers of mine were
quoted at length and, in the interest of full disclosure, let me say
here that my husband’s name appeared in the rather extensive list
of acknowledgments). The more biographical section of Unterman’s
book, which is the third volume in Urim Publication’s
“Modern Jewish Lives” series, also discusses some of
Leibowitz’s major achievements, like her gilyonot, the worksheets
in which she posed questions of varying difficulty on the weekly Torah
portion and mailed them out to respondents all over Israel and abroad.
This was significant in that it provided a forum for Torah study not
only to the learned, but also to those who were unwilling or unable to
attend traditional Torah classes, including soldiers deployed to
Israel’s borders, avowedly secular kibbutz members, and
working-class people – like the cabdrivers who played a prominent
role in the many stories Leibowitz liked to tell as a way of bringing
her lessons to life with dramatic flair. “In her day, Nehama
functioned as a bridge between two worlds, connecting religious and
secular Israeli populations to one another’s values – to
Zionism and to tradition, respectively,” writes Unterman.
“She introduced secular Israelis to traditional commentaries,
demonstrating to the university-educated that the Tanach [the Hebrew
acronym for Torah, Prophets and Writings] could be an accessible and
enlightened text; while those from very traditional homes, such as the
members of the old Yishuv (Jews living in Palestine before the Zionist
settlement ) and the simple
Zionist laborers, had their eyes opened to the riches of the Tanach and
to analysis of the commentaries, as well as to modern ideas and
scholars.”
The extensive time and effort
Leibowitz spent marking the answers to thousands of worksheets mailed
to her over several decades, asking only for postage so she could send
back her responses, was a sign of her dedication to her students, many
of whom she had never met, and to her steadfast encouragement of Torah
study. She began producing the gilyonot in the summer of 1942, when
young immigrant women she had taught over the year asked her for more
work. Though she stopped creating new ones in 1971, she continued to
send and receive existing worksheets, and had marked more than 40,000
of them by 1986.
‘What’s bothering Rashi?’
The gilyonot also showcase a major element of Leibowitz’s
educational philosophy, in that they asked questions that challenged
people to think for themselves. A teacher of teachers, Leibowitz
– a professor in Tel Aviv University’s education department
and the recipient of the Israel Prize in Education in 1956, though she
modestly downplayed her scholarship and disdained honors – was
unabashedly critical of teachers who bored their students by asking
them to regurgitate factual information. She was renowned for
popularizing the question “What’s bothering Rashi?”
– compelling students to look behind the words of the medieval
biblical commentator and critically examine both the exegesis and the
passage being interpreted in order to uncover the textual difficulty
that prompted Rashi’s remarks. Unterman quotes Israel Rozenson,
the rector of Efrata Teachers College in Jerusalem, as saying of
Leibowitz: “She played a vital role in the battle to prevent the
decline of traditional commentary into an assortment of random
explanations often left to the mercies of various sermonizers; and in
turning it into a ‘science’ with stringent methodological
requirements.’” This “movement” affected Jewish
studies both in Israel and abroad. Though Leibowitz was adamant that
Torah classes be taught in Hebrew and regularly turned down speaking
invitations abroad because she didn’t want to leave Israel, she
did teach many native English speakers who are themselves teachers,
thus extending her influence to the next generation. And though
Leibowitz was initially resistant to writing her “Studies”
series of insights into the weekly Torah portion and to having her
writing translated from the Hebrew, the English translation of the
series has resulted in a widespread familiarity abroad with
Leibowitz’s name and work, to the point that whereas her brother,
as Unterman points out, is the more well known Leibowitz in Israel,
hers is the better-known name abroad.
It can be argued that
Leibowitz has
also done worlds to show women that they too can be recognized as Torah
scholars in the Orthodox world. She was in favor of women studying
Talmud, which has since become de rigueur in some Orthodox
institutions, and refused to be treated any better than other women,
announcing upon arrival at a yeshiva where she was about to give a
class that, “If all the women are over there behind the curtain
then I must join them!” – at which point the women moved
into the men’s section so the lesson could begin. In addition,
Leibowitz never took an interest in cooking or cleaning, leaving it to
her housekeepers, with whom she developed close relationships.
But at the same time, she rejected the idea of women taking on
commandments or practices that are customarily seen as the man’s
province. She refused to speak from the synagogue dais, was strongly
critical of women’s prayer groups and could not understand why
women would want to wear tzitzit or lay tefillin. Unterman writes that,
“in Nehama’s own eyes she was not a feminist of any stripe,
and she adamantly refused to be classified as one. She saw herself as a
teacher, and any other title or agenda was extraneous.” Leibowitz
also explicitly said she would have given up a life devoted to
scholarship in order to have a child, and responded to a disparaging
comment regarding women who choose children over career by saying:
“Do you think I’d be writing these gilyonot if I had
children?!”
Whether or not Leibowitz can or should be seen as a feminist role
model, she was certainly seen as both a pedagogical and a personal one,
legendary for her warmth, humor, humility and a material simplicity
that shocked many of the American students seeing the cramped apartment
of her later years for the first time. (“She slept on a
shelf!” Unterman quotes one astonished student as saying. )
The
question of whether Leibowitz
– who died in 1997, at the age of 92 – can or should be
seen as a Bible scholar in the academic sense, given university Bible
departments’ emphasis on the biblical criticism she opposed, is
rather less interesting, but the author devotes three chapters to the
subject. She did address the seeming repetitions and contradictions in
the Bible (as did the commentators she analyzed ), but she did so by
reading the text closely to draw psychological and ethical insights
from the differences and similarities of different passages relating to
the same subject. While Leibowitz – whom Unterman describes as a
literary Bible scholar rather than a critical one – operated from
the traditional Jewish assumption that the Torah’s source is
divine, some Bible critics use such textual difficulties to bolster
their theory that the Bible was authored by different people at
different times. The length of the author’s discussion of this
issue is presumably related to the fact that, as she notes, much of the
material comes from her thesis for the Israel branch of Touro College,
where Unterman earned a master’s degree in Jewish history; she
also has a master’s in creative writing and a bachelor’s
degree in psychology and Talmud, all from Bar-Ilan University. Overall,
Unterman’s familiarity with her material, extensive interviews
and clear writing come through in her book, though those qualities do
not preclude the need for a more tightly edited volume. Those who can
read Hebrew and are interested in a comprehensive and telling biography
of Leibowitz’s life are advised to pick up Deutsch’s
“Nehama.” But “Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible
Scholar” is a worthy read for English speakers looking for a
critical and in-depth analysis of Leibowitz’s beliefs and
writings, as well as insight into the way her students viewed their
revered teacher.
Vicki Belovski, JEWISH CHRONICLE, May 21, 2009
This
biography looks at the life and methodology of Nehama
Leibowitz, certainly one of the most influential Tanach (Bible)
teachers of modern Israel. Born in Latvia, she was educated in Germany
after her family moved to Berlin in her teens, gaining a doctorate
before marrying and moving to Palestine in 1930.
Nehama,
as she was widely known, is famous for her unique gilyonot,
worksheets on the sidrah, which she originally distributed as homework
to students attending her classes. As their popularity grew, they
became widely available over a period of 30 years: to soldiers,
kibbutzniks and anyone else who asked for them.
The
book describes her progress from teaching small groups, to
becoming the savtah melamedet Tanach the Bible-teaching granny
(although she never had any children). It displays clearly how her
distinctive style could only be the product of an incisive rationalist
background, combined with a German passion for truth and exactness,
imparted by her general education.
The
second section of the book looks at Nehama’s beliefs and
opinions, often very different to those of her equally famous brother
Yeshayahu Leibowitz, to whom a chapter is devoted. The third section
deals with Nehama’s methodology, which was formative for many
current
teachers of Tanach as well in curriculum development in both Israel and
the diaspora.
The
biography is a fascinating depiction of an old-style religious
Zionist. Nehama left Israel only once after her aliyah, to escort her
parents there, and insisted on speaking Hebrew in all her classes,
believing it to be the appropriate language for Bible study. It also
reveals the sharp intellect and refined character that enabled her to
relate to the whole spectrum of Israeli society, from university
academics to some of her favourite people — taxi drivers.
Overall,
an essential read for Nehama aficionados, but worthwhile, if slightly
slow-moving, for everyone.
* * *
VIa
Was Nehama Leibowitz A
Feminist? 16 June 2009
Rabbi Gil Student, Hirhurim
Blogspot
The recent biography
by Yael Unterman, Nehama Leibowitz:
Teacher and Bible Scholar
is fascinating, exhaustive and thought-provoking. The book is divided
into three parts: Nehama's life, her beliefs and her methodology. In
each section, Unterman provides extensive background and then takes you
through the subject with copious references to published materials and
the seemingly endless interviews that she conducted. If anything, you
can say that the book was too researched because there are so many
people quoted with stories and facts. I particularly liked that aspect
-- the many stories and interviews -- because it really brought Nehama
to life. On her own, she was very modest and did not give away too much
about herself. However, through extensive research, Unterman was able
to put together the bits and pieces Nehama had told to students over
the years, often accompanied with a story about how the information was
revealed.
The book
raises many interesting questions about
Nehama (that's what she liked to be called), and I don't think one blog
post will suffice. This is the first in a series of planned posts on
issues raised in the book.
Chapter
14 is titled: Feminism and Femininty: "A Woman in the Inner Courtyard?"
The
main question discussed is Nehama's relationship with feminism. On the
one hand, she was a female Torah teacher long before they became
common, as they now are in some communities. And she was such a unique
educator with only one agenda -- to teach Torah -- that she broke
through most barriers. In that sense, she was a feminist.
But
her agenda was solely in regard to teaching Torah. She believed that
she had something to teach and she was going to teach it. Other than
that, though, she was entirely traditional. She was dead set against
any type of religious innovation and often debated her students about
this, some of whom devoted their lives to feminism -- like Blu
Greenberg and Prof. Tamar Ross. Students like Greenberg and Prof. Chana
Safrai tried to convince Nehama, but Nehama consistently rebutted their
advances. One time, R. Avi Weiss (not a student) visited her and gave
her a copy of his book advocating women's prayer groups. Nehama
responded with a letter opposing the innovation (anyone have a copy of
the letter?).
Unterman writes:
In keeping only
those mitzvot customary for women, Nehama did not feel deprived in any
way. She viewed the desire to take on more mitzvot as a modern
innovation resulting not from authentic religious emotion but from the
influence of secular feminism. She was very outspoken on this issue.
Had women fulfilled all their present obligations that they needed to
go pursue some more? Had they run the gamut of charitable deeds? If God
did not want women to lay tefillin then they should not -- what
need had they for a black box on their heads? Whoever wanted more
devotion every morning should get up early and visit the sick.
I
think in some respects Nehama was a feminist, but in the sense that
nowadays almost everyone is. Some feminist attitudes have become so
mainstream that they are almost not noticed. Concepts like "equal pay
for equal work" are also feminist ideas, and Nehama embraced them just
like almost all of us embrace them. However, the ideas that are
currently associated with feminism are those that she rejected.
VIb
Was Nehama Leibowitz
Too Traditional? 24th June 2009
Rabbi Gil Student, Hirhurim
Blogspot
The final chapter in
Yaul Unterman's Nehama Leibowitz:
Teacher and Bible Scholar
discusses the next generation(s) of scholarship after Nehama. It lists
approaches and techniques that Nehama did not use but many of her
students developed and adopted. This theme also comes up in some other
chapters. It seems to me that the author was too sympathetic with these
new approaches and failed to adequately defend Nehama. However, a few
weeks ago I had a pleasant conversation with a prominent educator who
is a Nehama traditionalist, and he gave me a spirited defense of
Nehama's approach.
The
main competition for Nehama's approach is
that of R. Yoel Bin-Nun. R. Bin-Nun's approach is described by R.
Hayyim Angel in an article in Tradition.
R. Bin-Nun and those who loosely follow his approach (and that of R.
Mordechai Breuer) read the Bible with fresh eyes and, using a number of
innovative methods, arrive at fascinating interpretations of familiar
passages.
Nehama,
on the other hand, generally surveyed the commentaries and evaluated
their various interpretations. On rare occasions she offered her own
interpretations, but mainly she dealt with the merits of previous
commentaries and how they relate to the biblical text.
In other
words, Nehama dealt with commentaries while R. Bin-Nun deals with the
Bible itself. That is how someone partial to R. Bin-Nun's approach
would put it. A defender of Nehama would say that she believed that
part of studying the text and exploring interpretive possibilities is
to find out what earlier commentators said. Confident in their wisdom
and insight, although reading them criticially, she first looked at the
great commentaries of the past before offering her own innovation. In
fact, ignoring those commentaries can be seen as a sign of arrogance.
You think you are smarter than them and will be able to figure out
everything that they have? If you understand them properly and still
don't find them convincing, then offer your own explanation. But first
study what those greater than you had to say.
I'm no expert in
R. Bin-Nun's approach but from what I've heard, he does, in fact, look
at other commentaries. However, and this is the real critique, he
doesn't teach them. Therefore, his students receive mainly his own
insights and not primarily those of earlier great commentators.
Personally,
I always look at the commentators first. But I consider R. Bin-Nun and
those with similar approaches to be new commentators, whose ideas I
include in my collection of commentaries. I'm not sure why Nehama did
not do this as well, unless it is simply a matter of age and timing.
VII
Chaim
Seymour, Bar-Ilan University, Israel
AJL Newsletter (Sep/Oct 2009)
In
1930, the newly-married Nehama Leibowitz left Germany
and emigrated to what was then Palestine.
There she taught Bible in a variety of different frameworks including
university, radio, school, and her own one-woman large-scale
correspondence
course entitled “Gilyonot.” She unobtrusively played her
part in a number of
revolutions. Through her work, the Bible became
important
and relevant. For many Orthodox and Ultra-Orthodox institutions, she
was the
first woman teacher. She was the recipient of the Israel Prize for
Education in
1956.
Two
weeks ago, I was at the Herzog
Teacher Training College
in Alon Shvut.
Every summer they have a four-day “happening.” Each day
some 1500 people come
to hear lectures about the Bible. Since most people do not come for
four full
days, we are probably talking about 3000 people who are willing to
travel to a
remote spot and sit down voluntarily to listen to lectures on the
Bible. This
successful institution certainly owes something to Nehama.
Nehama
was the subject of Yael Unterman’s master’s thesis, which
she has expanded into
a book. To call this book a biography is a mistake. About 40% is
devoted to
Nehama’s life. The author then discusses Nehama’s beliefs,
her methodology, and
her brother Yeshaya Leibowitz, who was an important influence on her
life. The
book concludes with a discussion of future directions and developments.
Nehama’s approach to teaching Bible was to start from the
classical
commentators and to step backwards and consider what stimulated their
comments
and analyses. Her approach was primarily literary, treating the text as
an
independent entity. Hebrew speakers will be pleased to know that Ms.
Unterman’s
book was preceded by a biography in Hebrew. Ms. Unterman mentions that
the
Hebrew text came out as her work was in press. The two works were
written
independently.
Hayuta
Deutsch has produced a far more detailed biography and pays more
attention to
Nehama as a young girl and as a student. The author’s wealth of
information,
however, sometimes results in repetition.
I
think both books succeed in presenting Nehama’s very special
personality.
Deutsch had an advantage in that she was in contact with the family and
had
access to Nehama’s papers. The Unterman work is better organized.
Both authors
used available sources liberally and conducted interviews with many of
Nehama’s
friends and admirers. There is inevitably a lot of
duplication
between the two books.
The
Unterman book is highly readable. It is recommended for the so-called
general
reader, and is a must for educators, feminists, and Zionists. The
bilingual
reader has a choice of two good works with slightly different emphases.
VIII
Journal
of Hebrew Scriptures Vol 9
Igal German (University of Toronto (Wycliffe College)
This book
is a new extensive and updated biography of Prof. Nehama Leibowitz
(1905-1997), well-respected and much loved teacher and Bible scholar.
This enormous project was undertaken by Yael Unterman, an Israeli
scholar currently lecturing and writing in the area of contemporary
Jewish Studies. A brief biography of Leibowitz's academic career is as
follows: In 1925-1930, Leibowitz pursued higher education in the
Universities of Berlin, Heidelberg and Marburg, studying English,
Germanics and biblical studies. At the same time, she continued her
Jewish studies at the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des
Judentums, or Higher Institute for Jewish Studies, a rabbinical
seminary established in Berlin in 1872 and destroyed by the Nazi
government in 1942. In 1931, she completed her doctoral thesis,
“Techniques of Judeo-German Bible Translations in the Fifteenth
and Sixteenth Century, as Exemplified by Translations of the Book of
Psalms” at the University of Marburg. The thesis explored the
Yiddish translations of the Hebrew Bible, based on manuscripts in the
Parma and Berlin libraries. Her scholarly interests ran the gamut from
Jewish classical commentaries, Hebrew philology, and pedagogy to
Germanics and literature. Well-versed in Jewish sources, Leibowitz
became a distinguished Bible teacher, enthusiastically educating
generations of students and teachers.
Unterman notes in her opening that “The book is based on the
reading of numerous primary and secondary sources, as well as close to
two hundred interviews and conversations.” (Notes for the Reader,
10) The “Notes to the Reader,” “Key to
Abbreviations,” and “Acknowledgments,” are followed
by an introduction dedicated to this female Jewish Bible scholar who
embarked on a career of teaching Hebrew Scripture in Israel and abroad.
The book is designed to unfold the life story of Nehama in chapters
1-12, with an eye towards her pedagogical methods (cleverly collected
in Part I under the title “Meet Nehama Leibowitz”). The
following issues are addressed here: early years, the Gilyonot, and
teaching career are thoroughly discussed in Part I. Chapters 13-24
focus on some of the topics elaborated in Parts II, III, IV, and V.
Leibowitz's Zionism, feminism, religious values, methodology, her
brother's influence and their relationships, are followed by a look to
the future of Leibowitz's legacy. By immigrating to Israel with her
husband, Leibowitz has offered an example of religious-Zionist spirit,
stating that Israel and Hebrew represent the Torah's natural
environment. Addressing Diaspora Bible teachers, she said: “May
you also succeed in inducing your students to come up to Zion so that
they may study our holy Torah in the holy language in which it was
given, on holy soil” (252). There is an unmistakable coincidence
between her admiration of Zionism and the cultural environment in which
she was brought up, as noticed by Unterman: “The city [Berlin]
was boasted Jewish clubs and societies, schools and synagogues, as well
as significant Zionist activity. Nehama's family integrated all of
these elements. It was strongly religious, including some Rabbis on the
Leibowitz side; and also broadly educated. They were also Zionists, and
the children spoke in Hebrew with their father...” (25) The
author, however, makes it clear that Leibowitz was different, to a
certain extent, from secular Zionists who read the Bible merely
“as a guidebook to human nature, and also to the flora, fauna and
topography of Israel” (368). By contrast, the main driving force
behind her Zionistic spirit was a traditional Jewish reading of the
Bible. Interestingly, Unterman points out that she did not draw
attention to herself as a female Bible scholar (chapter 14, Part II).
In “Part III: Methodology” (368-514), Unterman unfolds
Leibowitz's negative approach to biblical criticism, extensive use of
midrashim and medieval classical commentators, and her belief that
knowledge of the Hebrew language in its entirety is a must for every
earnest student of scripture. She was involved in adult Jewish
education, mainly in teaching Bible per se, and rarely referring to
ancient Near Eastern traditions and texts. Though Nehama worked to
counter David Ben-Gurion's statement that “the Bible shines with
its own light,” Unterman observes: “The commentaries were
not intended to be studied on their own, but alongside the Tanach, so
as illuminate, she believed” (369). Leibowitz imparted biblical
interpretation to her students by utilizing drama, storytelling, and
Hebrew poetry. In Unterman's words, “‘All of life is
parshanut.’ Certainly, all of her was parshanut and parshanim.
This was the arena in which her work made the most impact.” (368;
italics original) Jewish scholars of the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries, both Orthodox and non-Orthodox, were also highly regarded
and utilized by Leibowitz throughout her teaching career (chapter 19,
413-436). Though trained in scholarly circles, Leibowitz strongly
disregarded their hermeneutical methods as inappropriate to biblical
exegesis. The author notes that Leibowitz was rather critical towards,
what she claimed to be, their poor knowledge of the classical Hebrew
and anti-Semitic attitudes (415-19).
The volume concludes with an epilogue, bibliography, and a general
index. Unterman's book would have been enhanced if she had included an
index of scripture. Furthermore, a significant biographical query is
lacking and probably needs to be addressed: what was Leibowitz's
position on inter-faith dialogue (especially in light of her Jewish
legacy)? Though it is quite understandable that an one-volume biography
cannot be all-encompassing, I suppose that recovering her approach to
other religions would enlighten other aspects of her life and career
(e.g., some aspects of biblical interpretation).
In sum, Unterman's book is generally clear, well-written and
well-documented. This book achieves its purpose of presenting
Leibowitz's life along with some interesting photographs and stories (a
number of them peppered with anecdotes and are quite funny), and
investigation into her contributions to the field of HB/OT studies. It
is filled out with many quotes from students and scholars deeply
influenced by her scholarship. I would recommend it as a guide to all
interested in the history of biblical interpretation, feminist
scholarship, Jewish education, and contemporary Israeli Bible
scholarship outside that of the “usual” scholarly, academic
world. Indeed, Unterman's Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible Scholar
is an enduring resource for scholars engaged in recovery of female
Bible interpreters in the past and present.
IX
Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women's Studies and Gender Issues
Marla L Frankel
Yael Unterman’s recently published volume, Nehama Leibowitz,
Teacher and Bible Scholar, is a welcome addition to the series
“Modern Jewish Lives.” Leibowitz (1905–1997), an
extraordinary woman who paved the way for women to be full participants
in the discourse of Jewish textual study, is certainly worthy of a
comprehensive biography.
Nehama, as the volume, following its subject’s own preference,
refers to her throughout, was a pioneer in her day. Arriving in Israel
in 1930 with a doctorate in biblical studies, a decade of teaching
behind her, and newly married to her uncle, Yedidyah Lipman Leibowitz,
she immediately immersed herself in teaching. Initially, Nehama taught
in the Mizrahi teachers’ seminary in Jerusalem, but her fame grew
as she began crafting individual worksheets on
the Torah portion of the week, which were mailed to anyone who
requested them. These worksheets were tackled by students and teachers,
farmers and soldiers, waitresses and nurses, judges and laborers
throughout the yishuv (Israel’s pre-state Jewish community).
Subscribers, religious and non-religious alike, enjoyed the weekly
challenge and eagerly looked forward to receiving comments from the
master herself. For over three decades, while teaching in seminaries
and kibbutzim, in universities and in small groups in her home, Nehama
diligently corrected devotees’ answers, never tiring of this
weekly personal correspondence.
Her questions were often provocative, articulating those a modern Jew
might raise while perusing the weekly portion. Was Sarai justified in
harassing Hagar, who provided Avram with a child? What is the true
nature of a man of faith? To what extent must man be responsible for
his fellow man? What were the leaders’ roles (and
responsibilities) in the sin of the golden calf? Why were sacrifices
deemed a valuable form of worship? To what end were the chosen
people chosen? These issues (and hundreds more) were hammered out
through rigorous analysis and close study of biblical, rabbinic and
modern exegetical sources. By laboring over Nehama’s worksheets,
students were assured acquaintance not only with the classic Jewish
thinkers and writers of centuries gone by, but also with thinkers,
writers and exegetes who informed the Jewish and general cultural
milieu of her time.
For those who were privileged to know and study with her, Nehama was a
giant—a woman scholar whose knowledge was as vast as it was deep;
a charismatic teacher who captured one’s attention and maintained
it easily; a commanding presence whose classroom became her stage. Yet
everyone present in that classroom had an active part to play, and each
of her numerous students is convinced of having had his/her own direct
relationship with Nehama.
Yael Unterman, who holds degrees in psychology, Talmud, Jewish history
and creative writing, defines her biography of Nehama as an “act
of collective memory.” Admitting never to have studied with
Nehama herself, she delves copiously into sources both primary
(Nehama’s own writings) and secondary (books and articles
recently published on Nehama’s methodology, pedagogy and
educational philosophy). Mostly, however, she depends upon a
vast number of interviews that she enthusiastically carried out with
Nehama’s students—generations of teachers and scholars,
rabbis and educational leaders,
whose memories of Nehama are clearly etched in both their personal and
their
professional lives.
Unterman succeeds in capturing Nehama’s memorable personality,
and in reconstructing her classroom and the lively discussions that
took place there. The reader—scholar and non-professional
alike—can appreciate Nehama’s humility, admire her sharp
mind (and tongue) and enjoy the humor that so characterized the rich
repertoire of lessons and the countless individual encounters portrayed
here.
Nehama’s worldview, or her view on the world, as her older
brother, philosopher and scientist Yeshayahu Leibowitz, would have it,
is well drawn. The reader discovers Nehama’s position on core
issues, including feminism and feminist hermeneutics. Nehama was not
alone among intellectual European women of her day in leaving home to
pursue advanced academic studies. From a Jewish point of view, too, her
superior Torah education was a characteristic
product of the ideological orientation of the modern Orthodox community
(forged by the German Jewish leader S.R. Hirsch). Nevertheless,
becoming the first female link in the chain of traditional Jewish
exegetes was an outstanding and unique achievement. That she herself
denied any affinity with feminist politics and avoided feminist
readings of the Bible cannot detract from her ongoing status as a role
model for learned women in Bible studies and fields
far beyond.
With broad strokes, Unterman attempts a comparison of Nehama with her
brother Yeshayahu. The result is an interesting discussion of two
opposite personalities who shared similar theologies and ideologies
(with the exception of some of their political views). The intellectual
pursuits and cultural postures of the extraordinarily talented
Leibowitz siblings (Yeshayahu held doctorates in medical science and
philosophy) are rooted in their historical biographies.
And it is here that Unterman’s volume falls short.
The volume’s first 250 pages are ostensibly devoted to
Nehama’s biography, but this section quickly detours into
Nehama’s pedagogy, methodology and legacy—all of which are
dealt with again, in detail, in later chapters. A mere 17 pages are
dedicated to Nehama’s life before she arrived, at the age of 25,
in Eretz Israel. The formative years of home schooling in Riga and of
attending the Berlin Gymnasium and three institutions of higher
learning in Germany
are dealt with only cursorily. “Blau Weiss,” the Zionist
youth movement that Nehama and her brother attended faithfully
throughout their years in Berlin, receives no mention at all. It was in
this framework that middle and upper– middle-class youth gathered
in the scenic countryside, to discuss Zionist ideology and to nurture
their interest in Hebrew language, Hebrew poetry and Yiddish folklore.
Ideologically, the movement was known for its rebellion against
expressions of affluence, and Nehama’s modesty of dress and her
disdain for any material excess—well documented by
Unterman—are likely to have been cultivated here. Nehama’s
ease with fellow Jews not nearly as committed to tradition as she was,
and her ability to communicate with Jews at large, including members of
the assimilated intelligentsia throughout the Jewish world, may also be
attributed to her youthful, informal social interaction with Jews of
varying backgrounds. Why, then, is this left out of the narrative?
Nehama and her family were typical members of the German modern
Orthodox community. The cultural and intellectual underpinnings of this
community are key to understanding the development of Nehama’s
lifestyle, worldview and hermeneutics. But Unterman gives them only
superficial attention, and so her attempt to compare Nehama’s
ideas, intellectual style and way of life with those of ultra-Orthodoxy
falls flat for lack of context. Historians of the Weimar period
describe the Jews of Berlin as citizens of the world, who succeeded in
embracing European culture in all its facets, learned its languages and
adopted its discourse. The Leibowitz family, patrons of culture and
worldly knowledge, possessed a family library (of books and music) that
clearly reflected this breadth. Mordechai Breuer, a scion of the same
community, claims that its members straddled two paths. Opening the
gates to emancipation, they allowed their children to participate
unreservedly in the economic and cultural achievements of the modern
world outside. At the same time, they succeeded in
providing their children with a religiously enlightened worldview that
allowed them to combine absolute loyalty to tradition with relative
spiritual openness and an ability to discern between the advantageous
and the unacceptable in what the outside world had to offer.
The duality of this orientation is fundamental to understanding
Nehama’s posture towards the study and teaching of sacred texts
in modern times. The tension between tradition and modernity was
clearly reflected in the curriculum and instructional approach of the
Hochschule that Nehama attended while pursuing her undergraduate
studies at the University of Berlin. Unterman describes the Hochschule
as “the nearest thing to a yeshiva.” In fact, the
Hochscule was virtually the opposite. As an institute of higher Jewish
learning, it sought to “preserve, advance and cultivate Jewish
scientific scholarship and its instruction.” It was here that
Nehama was exposed to critical Jewish scholarship in an atmosphere
where she was totally at home, among Jewish intellectuals and rabbis,
who pursued their thirst for Jewish scholarship in an open, liberal
atmosphere. Eventually, Nehama would choose her own particular path of
Torah study. However, she would never deny herself (or her students,
the teachers of the future) the general knowledge reflected in the
libraries
that nourished her intellect and her spirit, whether at home or in any
of the
institutions she attended.
While the identity of fellow students is certainly of interest, more
significant to her intellectual biography is what she studied and from
whom. Unterman mentions that Nehama admitted to having studied with the
“best of biblical critics,” but their identities remain
undiscovered, as do those of all of her other pedagogues and
instructors. German institutions are known to maintain records, and
Nehama’s course outlines and report cards are likely to be
available upon request.
Equally difficult is the lack of cohesive structure throughout the
volume, salient in the numerous repetitions throughout. Thus, the Table
of Contents informs the reader that Part Two is devoted to
Nehama’s “Opinions and Beliefs.” However, these
topics are also touched upon in Part One (“Meet Nehama
Leibowitz”), discussed again at length in Part Three
(“Methodology,” particularly chap. 19) and receive yet
another airing in Part Four (“Yeshayahu
Leibowitz”).
As a result, it is often difficult to follow a line of thought. For
example, in Part Three, Unterman sets out to define Nehama’s
hermeneutics of the biblical text. The first two chapters in the
section survey the traditional and non-traditional sources cited in
Nehama’s work, but the second chapter detours once again into
issues of pedagogy, both in the classroom and in Nehama’s
writings. (This chapter is particularly frustrating, because its
terminology is not always consistent with the usages in other
sections.) The third chapter, “Nehama’s Bible
Scholarship: Straddling Worlds,” is introduced by “taking a
step backwards” to explore the larger academic context in which
Nehama studied and taught. The next two chapters provide background
material to the background. Finally, in the last chapter, “The
Medium and the Message: Pshat, Drash, and What Lies Between,”
Unterman explores core hermeneutical issues relating to the traditional
exegetes mentioned in the section’s first chapter. Clarity would
dictate that the hermeneutical discussion begin here.
Rigorous editing in a volume of this length is mandatory, not only to
enable the reader to absorb the breadth of topics explored, but also to
avoid inner contradictions, some of which are significant. For example,
Unterman asserts that Nehama wished not to be a “modern academic,
but rather to be loyal to a traditional rational model of old, in the
footsteps of great medieval Jewish pashtanim [elucidators of the
text’s plain meaning] such as Rashbam, Ibn
Ezra et al.” (p. 430). However, it is misleading to imply that
Nehama sought to follow in Ibn Ezra’s footsteps, for although she
may have agreed with the Spanish exegete and linguist in his comments
on particular passages, she was explicit in her disapproval of his
hermeneutics. She repeatedly taught Ibn Ezra’s lengthy
introduction to the Ten Commandments, in which he declares the
insignificance of the parallel versions of the texts (in Exodus and
Deuteronomy), as a lesson in how not to approach the biblical text. She
rejected Ibn Ezra’s methodological declaration that the words
themselves were but “bodies” that could be replaced; only
their “souls,” the meanings, were worthy of preservation.
This attitude towards the sacred text was unacceptable to Nehama, whose
close reading of parallel texts (both narrative and legal) revealed the
significance of every nuance. In her view, as Unterman herself attests,
changing one word could change the entire sense of the verse (pp. 440,
455, 456).
The final Section in Unterman’s volume, “Looking to the
Future,” is one of her finest. Her analysis of traditional Bible
education in Israel addresses the question of Nehama’s lasting
influence. Here, Unterman succeeds in creating a link with Jacobus
Schoneveld’s study, in the 1970s, of Nehama’s influence
upon Bible studies in Israel’s schools (he, however, includes the
secular school system in his analysis as well), bringing the issues and
dilemmas raised by Schoneveld directly into the twenty-first century.
Comparisons between
Nehama’s methods and those of contemporary teachers such as R.
Yoel Bin Nun and Dr. Aviva Zornberg are enlightening, as is
Unterman’s discussion of the negative influence of the
matriculation examinations on the approach of the religious state
system. Her conclusions may be unsettling, but she is to be commended
for squaring with the truth and articulating the challenges facing the
field of Torah education today.
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